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“Oh, myfuck,” I mutter, realization dawning. “Donottell me…” I gasp as he eyes the ground and gnaws at his lip nervously. I use my finger to gently lift his chin and force his gaze to mine. “Was that your first kiss?”
His entire face is crimson now, and my heart gallops in excitement. Oh, this is so surprising and much, much too good not to use. And I will use it. I have no issues doing so. Who said morals were any fun?
“Don’t be embarrassed,” I whisper, reaching up and straightening his crumpled tie. “I think you could be fabulous at it with a little practice.”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I should go. This wasn’t…I wasn’t….”
I press into his hard body again, my hands smoothing across his chest, and ah, there it is, the phone I should have been searching for all along. I got a tiny bit distracted, but I’m back on track now. I slip it from his coat pocket as I let my lips brush his once more, for good measure.
I mean, this isn’t torture. I’m not kidding myself. I’m enjoying this more than I want to.
“Should you really go? Or perhaps, we should practice a bit more?”
He lets out a small huff of air and I swear I hear the slightest whimper.
“Perhaps we should try with some tongue…get a good taste of each other.”
Oh yes, my dick likes that suggestion very much. A little hate tongue-fucking. I’d like that with a side serving of cum.
“I can’t. I need to go back to work.”
“Scared?” I taunt and he swallows.
“Yes.”
Oh. Well, that is not what I was expecting. Vulnerability. He wears it so well. It makes him…likable.
Oh dear.
I step back, needing to regain some of my composure before I do something completely out of character. Like try to reassure him.
“Well, I don’t feel like being the big bad wolf today, Mr. Walker, so off you go. Maybe I can eat you another day.”
He stumbles slightly and then strides past me with my damn food still clutched in his hands.
I will not let a perfectly good pastry go to waste.
“Oh, William,” I call, realizing my faux pas of using his first name, not that his brain is functioning properly enough to catch it. Thank god.
He turns to face me, his cheeks still delightfully red.
“I need my motherfucking sweets.”
He wets his mouth, and my eyes are drawn to his plump pink lips.
“No, no. Not that,” I say, and then point to the bag in his hand. “My food.”
He looks down and it takes him a minute to catch onto what I’m saying before he’s striding back toward me and thrusting the bag against my chest. It squishes against me, and I groan my disappointment.
There goes my custard donut.
“Here,” he says and then ambles away, just his milk clutched in his fingers.
“What a fucking waste,” I say, watching his tight ass disappear around the corner.
I stride to my car, peeking inside the bag, and see that yes, my donut is crushed. But of course, I still eat it. I lick it right off the side of the paper bag. No way I’m letting that go to waste. He could have pulverized it in a blender and I’d still suck it up with a straw.
I pull out my phone and pull up the feed from his office, but he’s not there. He never went back. So, William lied. Huh. Puzzles and pieces. I hate this shit. It makes me crave answers.
