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Eighteen
Devon
So, I’m going to Paris. One of my French clients is in the middle of a board reshuffle, and they want me there as an advisor. Pretty standard stuff, but it’ll require me being away for several days. It doesn’t seem like a long trip, but I haven’t gone a full four days without sex for months now. I’m a little concerned my arsehole might close up out of protest.
“Are you going to see Em?” Wes asks casually as he watches me pack. I can tell he’s attempting to hide just how curious he is, and the thought makes my lips quirk with amusement.
I shrug. “I texted her to let her know I’d be there, but she hasn’t gotten back to me yet. I guess we’ll just wait and see whether we can fit anything in. I know how busy she is at the moment, and I’ll be working most of the time…”
He nods. “But youwantto see her? If you can?”
I glance up from my suitcase, taking a moment to study his expression more carefully. “Yeah, of course. I mean…are you okay with that?”
He lets out a soft chuckle. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I shrug. “You just seem…unusually interested.”
Wes rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure most people who wind up banging their sister’s ex-fiancé would be pretty interested in future interactions between said sister and said ex-fiancé slash fuck buddy.”
“Are there really that many people shagging their sister’s ex-fiancé?” I ask, offering a sceptical brow raise.
He shrugs. “Probably not outside Ramsay Street.”
I let out a soft breath of laughter. “I don’t remember there being any fuck buddies onNeighbours.”
“Not at that timeslot,” Wes allows. “But you know they were getting up to all kinds of shit off-screen.”
I nod. “I hear fictional, scripted characters have a habit of doing that.”
Wes grabs a ball of socks from the top of my suitcase and tosses it at my head, prompting me to stick my middle finger up at him.
He let out a dramatic gasp, holding a hand to his chest. “Devon Montgomery, what a crass and uncouth gesture!”
“I’m sorry, did I offend your delicate sensibilities?”
He grins at me. “Actually, I’m impressed.” He steps closer to me and grab my hand. “Now, do you want me to show you where you can put that finger? And I mean that in all seriousness.”
I stare at him for a long moment, heat flooding me at the mere thought. “You’re such a fucking slut.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. “Says the guy who was gagging on my cock not thirty minutes ago.”
I swallow hard before giving a sharp shake of my head. “I need to pack.”
Stepping away from me, Wes tugs his t-shirt over his head and tosses it into my open suitcase. Then he stuts over to my bedside table and retrieves a dildo from the top drawer. He chucks that in the case as well before turning back to me with a wide grin. “There you go, all packed. Now it’ll be like I’m there with you.”
I arch a brow at him. “You must be way less arrogant than I thought if you think a t-shirt and a six-inch dildo could serve as an adequate substitute.”
He places a hand over his heart. “Aww. I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
I try to get back to packing, but it’s impossible to concentrate on anything now that Wes is shirtless. And he must be able to sense my train of thought because he keeps touching me in ways that might be considered innocent if it were anyone else, but because it’s Wes I know better.
“Okay, you need to put your shirt back on!” I cry, after the third time he’s brushed against me under the pretext of putting something in my suitcase.
He quirks a brow at me. “Or maybeyouneed to take your shirt off?”
We stare at each other for a long moment, and then I just snap. Sod it, I can pack later after Wes has gone home. Who cares if I only get two hours’ sleep? Sex is more important.
We tumble onto the bed, tearing at clothes as we kiss and grind against each other. Shit, I honestly thought I’d be over this by now, but it’s been almost two months since we first hooked up and I’m still just as vulnerable to Wes’s touch as I was that very first time.
