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Twenty-One
Devon
“I thought you weren’t home until tomorrow?” Wes murmurs sleepily as I creep into his bedroom.
I shrug. “I decided to come home tonight. Managed to get the last train.”
He rolls onto his back, a slow grin stretching across his face. “You missed me.”
I scoff. “I absolutely did not. I missed England. And sleeping in my own bed.”
He quirks an eyebrow at me. “So, the first thing you did was come tomybed?”
“Fuck, you’re annoying.”
He smirks at me. “You keep saying that, but I’m starting to think you don’t really mean it.”
I step back from the bed, feeling Wes’s hungry eyes on me as I undress. I’m tempted to draw out the striptease and really work him up with my teasing, but the last four days feel like a lifetime and all I want is to have him inside me. Waiting even a second longer for that just isn’t an option right now.
Once all my clothes are off, I step over to the bedside table and retrieve the bottle of lube Wes keeps there. I squirt a little onto my fingers and then toss the bottle to Wes so he can slick up his cock. I don’t take long with the prep; I’m too impatient, and it’s not as though I mind a bit of pain. Right now, I’m actually relishing the idea. Maybe the burn might wake me up from whatever haze has taken over my brain lately.
This thing between us isjust sex.Great sex, yes, but still…just sex.I shouldn’t have missed him so much over the past four days. I shouldn’t have been mad at Natasha for taking his phone away. And this shouldn’t have been the first place I came to when I stepped off the Eurostar this evening.
“You know you should really lock your door,” I tell him. “I could have been anyone.”
“Actually, I was waiting for a booty call. So don’t be surprised if a guy named Lars interrupts us.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “Lars?”
He nods. “Yep. Big Scandinavian bloke. Way hotter than you.”
I let out a soft chuckle. “Lars will just have to wait his turn.” I climb onto the bed, pushing Wes down when he starts to move, and throw my leg over his body so I’m straddling his waist. He arches a curious brow at me, which is of course accompanied by his trademark smirk, but I ignore it. I suppose he has a right to be surprised; I like being fucked and fucked hard, so it’s rare that I take a dominant position like this. But right now, I want to take the reins for a while.
I grip Wes’s cock and line it up with my entrance, easing down slowly until I’m completely filled. As always, he feels incredible. The dildo I’ve been using for the past few days was definitely a poor understudy.
Wes lets out a long groan as I start to bounce up and down and swivel my hips.
I catch his eye and immediately regret it. He’s staring at me in utter captivation. His grey eyes full of hunger and a wanting I’ve never seen reflected back at me before. And I know this was a mistake. I’m not in control at all. I’m completely at the mercy of that mesmerising gaze.
“What’s wrong?” Wes grinds out when I stop moving, clearly agitated by the pause in proceedings.
“Nothing.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Have you forgotten how to do it?”
I punch him in the chest. “No, arsehole. I haven’t forgotten how to do it.”
He lets out a soft chuckle. “Then what?”
“Just…you’re looking at me.”
His brows shoot up at that. “Babe, you’re literally sitting on my cock, displayed right in front of me like a bloody god. How can Inotlook at you?”
The words fill me with an intoxicating rush of warmth. But that just makes it worse. “Can we just…can we switch?”
He lets out a huff of agitation. “Fuck, you’re annoying. This wasyourpick, remember?” The question is obviously rhetorical because he doesn’t give me a chance to respond before taking a tight grip of my hips and flipping me onto my back, pushing deep inside me as he looms over me.
I let out a soft groan and allow myself to just enjoy being taken like this. But then I open my eyes to find Wes staring at me again, that same look of captivation, as though he really is in the presence of a god.
