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CHAPTER TWELVE

RORY

My eyes flick to the clock on the wall, and I check the time again before glancing back to the door. Jorge should be here any minute now. He’s been here every night this past week, and every night, I can’t wait for him to arrive.

I’ve spent years keeping men—and any semblance of a relationship—at arm’s length. It’s how I’ve survived, separating my personal life from my chaotic one. But Jorge… he doesn’t fit into the neat little boxes I’ve constructed. He lives neck deep in my chaos, knowing full well the things I do for the Evans family.

And while I could try to deny it, this isn’t a repeating casual, no-strings encounter. This is so much more. I want to be around him. With him . And while the sex is nothing short of amazing, it’s the moments after that I long for when he isn’t here. His laugh and sharp wit. The way he talks about life like it’s a story being written one chapter at a time. Connecting with him like I’ve never connected with another man—deeply. Even the quiet moments—curled up together in bed—feel significant.

A gentle knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. Standing from the couch, I make my way over and pull it open. Jorge’s face lights up when he sees me, his lips lifting slightly as a smile spreads across his face. He steps inside with confidence, and before I can say anything, his lips are on mine. Returning his kiss and matching his urgency, I use our bodies to close the door.

It slams with a thud as we land against it. With our bodies pinned together, I can feel his heart thumping against mine. My hands wander his body as my lips aggressively trail along the length of his neck. Kissing below his ear, I whisper, “How’s my good boy?”

Grinding against me, his chest heaving, he answers. “Good. More than good now.”

Tearing his shirt from his body as I drag him toward the couch, I tease, “Did you miss your Daddy?”

“Yes…” he pants, his fingers fumbling to undo my belt as I unzip his pants. Slipping my fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, I wrap my hand around his cock and slide up and down. His mouth gapes, and a breathy gasp blows over his lips. Fuck, I love that sound.

“I need to be inside you,” I groan, fisting him with one hand and working my pants over my hips with the other. Struggling to focus as I continue to stroke him from balls to tip, Jorge grabs the lube from the table and hastily slathers it over my length. As eager as I am, he shoves his pants to his knees and bends at the waist. “Such a needy boy,” I jest, throwing my shirt out of the way and carefully pressing myself inside him.

I slip into him with ease, his tight ass quickly growing accustomed to my size. “Fuck… I love the feel of you,” he groans, rocking his hips to take more of me.

Staying buried deep inside him, I move us to the couch with him on my lap. He kicks a foot free from his pants and plants his feet on the edge of the couch by my knees. Pressing his back against my chest, he works his hips and slides himself over my cock. “Fuck, mo rúnsearc . I love how you take my cock.” I spit in my hand and reach around his body for his cock. Sliding my slick hand along his length, I wrap the other lightly around his throat.

His head falls back as I stroke him, lolling on my shoulder as he rides me harder. Turning my head to breathe in the earthy smell of his shampoo, I crash against his lips. My tongue aggressively pushes between them, plundering his mouth and swallowing the sweet sounds he’s breathing into me.

“Are you trying to make me come?” I gravelly whisper against his cheek.

“Yes.” Jorge bounces vigorously over my cock. He feels so fucking good that I bite my lip to distract myself from my sudden overwhelming need to come. “I want to feel your cock throbbing as I come,” he pants. “Filling me with cum.”

Losing any resolve I have, I savagely slam into him from below and vigorously fist his cock. It takes only moments for Jorge to come, shooting ribbons across his stomach as I spill into him. Leaning against my chest, Jorge struggles to catch his breath—tiny, delighted whimpers spewing from him as I continue to leisurely stroke his thick, beautiful cock.

“I can’t get enough of you.” I pepper the words against the side of his neck with a trail of kisses.

My cock softening, Jorge slides from my lap. Grabbing my pants from around my knees, I pull them up my thighs as I stand. “You don’t have to do that,” Jorge mutters, gripping my hand. “I want to feel your skin on mine when I climb into bed with you.”

He’d feel differently if he actually saw me.

“I’d rather not shuffle to the bedroom with them wrapped around my ankles,” I jest with a smirk, trying to mask my discomfort.