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Twenty-Five
Devon
“So how come I’ve never met Millie before?” Wes asks as he lathers soap all over me. He was right; this is definitely way sexier than the cold-water rinse out back in the studio’s bathroom, but at least I didn’t have to travel home from Clapham with clay in my hair. “I feel like all those family gatherings would have been way more tolerable if she’d been there.”
I let out a soft breath of laughter. “Is it weird that you’re thinking of my sister-in-law while running your hands all over my naked body?”
“Only if you make it weird.” He squirts some shampoo into his palm and starts scrubbing at my hair.
I let my eyes fall closed and am unable to stop myself from letting out a moan of satisfaction. It really is one of the best feelings in the world to have someone else wash your hair.
“So…Millie?” Wes prompts.
“Yeah, this is weird.”
“It’s not weird.”
“Uhh, fine. It’s not really that big a deal. She just works really weird hours. And she’s kind of introverted—doesn’t really like to be out of her comfort zone.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” he allows, tilting my head back to rinse the shampoo out. “You didn’t tell me about what you’re doing for them. With the money,” he clarifies.
I stand still for a moment, letting the words sink in. I must have been drying my hair for way longer than I realised if there’d been time for the conversation between Millie and Wes to take that kind of turn. “It’s their private business,” I finally say, offering a little shrug.
“I suppose…” Wes’s tone is a little strained, and I can tell he’s not quite sure what to make of this revelation. I know he’s always thought of me as a stuck-up snob, which is a little ironic considering he was the one born into money. I know I can be a little snobbish at times, but no one’s ever accused me of being selfish.
Rather than taking offense, I decide to lighten the mood. I cast my gaze backward, offering a wry smirk. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to suddenly start being nice to me just because I’m giving my sister some money I don’t need.”
He lets out a soft chuckle. “Definitely not. Actually, if we’re being honest, this just makes me hate you even more. I mean, helping your sister start a family? Talk about a fucking dog act. How do you even sleep at night?”
I turn around so I’m facing him, sliding my hands over his inked biceps. “Well, truthfully, I was having trouble with it, but now I have this new system—the world’s biggest prick comes into my bed every night and fucks me to sleep. No more tossing and turning.”
I know the second the words are out of my mouth that I’ve just handed him the kind of ammunition he’ll be hurling back at me for weeks to come, but it’s too late. His brows shoot up and he glances down between us. “World’sbiggest? Wow. I knew I was on the larger side, but the biggest in the wholeworld?I don’t even know where to begin with that. What an accomplishment!”
I give his chest a hard shove, feeling my face form into a scowl. I’m more annoyed at my own stupidity if we’re being honest. “Sod off.”
Wes lets out a bark of laughter. “Well, I was going to offer a blow job, but if you’d prefer—”
He moves to exit the shower, but doesn’t get very far, almost losing his balance as I tug him back towards me and crash my lips to his. He presses me back against the shower wall, moulding his hard, wet body to mine as our mouths consume each other.
We should probably turn the water off—no doubt it’ll go cold before long; that doesn’t seem to be high on either of our lists of priorities right now, though.
I slide my hands down Wes’s wet body, over the hard muscles of his torso and around to cup his firm arse. He groans against my lips before I break the kiss, moving my mouth over his jaw and down his neck.
“Dev,”he rasps out in that deep, sexy voice that I’m struggling to remember why I ever hated so much.
I moan against his skin, gripping his arse tighter as he ruts into me, our cocks sliding together with incredible friction.
The intended blowjob seems to be forgotten for the time being, both of us caught up in kissing and touching and frotting. I feel Wes’s fingers teasing my crease and groan, my lips finding his again for a needy, desperate kiss.
“Your choice, babe,” he murmurs in my ear. “What do you want?”
“This…” I wrap my hand around our joined cocks, stroking firmly. Wes lets out a deep groan and continues to rut into me, the pleasure almost unbearable.
“Fuck…Wes…”I groan as fingers push inside me, fucking me in time to our rutting dicks.
Almost undone by the multitude of sensations, I grab back of Wes’s head and draw his lips back to mine, feeling grounded by his kiss.
I wonder if it’s remotely possible that he could be feeling what I’m feeling. Sometimes, when he kisses me like this—as though he’ll die if his lips can’t maintain contact with my skin—I think it might be. But there are other times where I’m sure I must be deluding myself. Truthfully, sometimes I wonder whether what I think I’m feeling is even real. I’ve never felt this way about a man before. If I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this way aboutanyonebefore. And this isWes Holt.The most infuriating, exasperating, migraine-inducing person on the planet; how does it make sense thathe’sthe one I’m falling for?
I feel my orgasm building, like fire burning through my body, stoked by Wes’s expert touches. I drag my lips from his and bury my head in his neck as it rips through me, the lukewarm shower water washing away the mess on my hand.
I give myself a few moments of just clinging to Wes in blissful [?] before releasing my hold of him and dropping to my knees. I wrap one hand around his straining cock, ducking my head so I can swirl my tongue around the tip.
Wes lets out a sharp hiss and thrusts his hands into my wet hair, his grip a little gentler than usual. I part my lips and allow him to feed me his cock, rocking in and out, a little deeper each time until he’s hitting the back of my throat. I move my hands to his arse, giving a firm squeeze of encouragement, urging him to let loose. There’s a flicker of a question in his eyes, but all it takes is the slightest of nods from me for him to let go, thrusting forward and fucking deep down my throat, over and over as he chases his release.
“You alright?” Wes asks with a wry smile, his hand cradling my face as I recover from choking and gagging on a mix of his cum, my own stomach acid, and some shower water.
“All good,” I manage to croak out.
He helps me to my feet, and we finally shut off the shower and step out into the bathroom. Wes grabs a bath sheet from the heated rack and wraps it around my shoulders as though I’m a four-year-old. “There we go,” he says, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. “Nice and warm.”
