Page 12 of Dean (Unexpected #9)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

AVERY

Where I’ve gotten this confidence I have no idea. But when Dean entered me with the tip of that thick dick of his, I was done for. I was fighting for this.

And I refuse to let him push me away. He can be unsure, he can be curious, but I’m going to be here the entire time, reminding him of how good this can be. I tuck myself under the covers of his bed and watch as he appears in his room. That tattooed chest, those thick arms. He’s perfection. My dream come true.

He stops near the edge of the bed and drops the towel, showing me his dick—the same one that was just inside of me—and I wet my lips.

“Should I put on clothes?” he asks, looking slightly unsure.

“What do you normally do after fucking someone?”

He runs a hand over his jaw, the scrape of his scruff loud in the otherwise silent room.

“Don’t know, Avery. It’s been…a long-ass time.”

I blink at him and then sit up, the sheets pooling around my waist. “How long, Dean?”

My heart is frantic in my chest, my hands are shaking .

“Years. Maybe ten?”

“What the hell? But…I’ve seen you with women…”

“Yeah, those didn’t go anywhere near the bedroom.”

He looks almost sheepish, but doesn’t he know that this just makes me want to crawl toward him and kiss him.

Good fuck.

“Get in here, mister. Naked. Very naked.”

He pulls the covers back and his body disappears beneath them.

I look at him, the way he stares up at the ceiling, his fingers clutching the sheets.

“Can I cuddle?” I ask, not sure if I’m pushing boundaries right now. I know we just fucked, but this is intimate. And I’m technically still his employee.

His head turns and our eyes meet. “Yeah.”

His arm moves out and I shuffle closer, bridging that gap, rubbing my face against his chest, my fingers tracing across the colorful art on his chest. I want to know the story behind each one. I’ve always wanted to ask but never had the opportunity. But now I do.

It’s something to talk about. And it’s better than asking him why he didn’t have sex for ten years. Good god. That poor man.

Did he just get off with his hand for all that time?

I want to know, and yet I know I can’t ask. He looked almost embarrassed. He can tell me when he’s ready, if he’s ever willing to.

I wiggle closer and notice something in his bed, just near the headboard.

“Dean, why is there a soup spoon in your bed?”

His cheeks flush.

“Sometimes my back gets itchy. Can’t reach certain parts.”

My eyebrows rise. “Well, you have me now. You don’t need this damn thing.”

I snatch it and toss it onto the ground, and it clatters noisily.

Dean huffs in response, and I grin at him.

“Now that I have you naked, can I ask you about your tattoos?”

His arm shifts beneath me, and I feel his fingers trail across the base of my spine.

“Sure. If you want to know. ”

My thumb brushes against the one near his left pec, right where my cheek is resting. A dove. Black and white, carrying an olive branch.

“What’s this one?”

“Just something to remind me to always mend fences. Things were hard with Elaine’s parents when she died. The cancer took her pretty quickly. It all happened so fast. And they were distraught and wanted to hold on to Ben for as long as they could. They fought me every step of the way, and yet I knew why they did it. I understood, and I always tried to extend the olive branch…until they passed away.”

“Oh god,” I say, my throat scratchy from his admission. “Are all of them sad? I may end up crying if they are.”

He huffs a laugh. “No. Not all. Many were just me being a young asshole. You just started with the most poignant one.”

“Ah. I see. Well then, show me an asshole one. I want to know the story behind it.”

His hand moves down his chest to his abdomen, a small barbed wire with writing on it is etched into his skin.

“What does it say?”

“Just some stupid song lyrics I thought were deep when I was twenty. Was gonna cover it up, but decided against it. It’s a part of my journey, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have any tattoos? I think no but then again, you’re full of surprises.”

“No tattoos. I want some, but they’re expensive.”

“Yeah, some of these were done by friends who were just starting out. Would not recommend.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“You’re still young. You have a lot you need to experience…”

“I’m old enough, Dean. I’ve lived lifetimes with the childhood I had. I’m happy to be an old soul.”

“Tell me about your parents.”

“Do I have to?”

He huffs a laugh. “I guess if you don’t want to, you don’t need to.”

“I mean, I guess I can.” I sigh, my fingers tracing the lines of his chest. “My mom and dad are…cold. Self-centered. They were gone a lo t. Kids were more of a nuisance to them than anything. I spent a lot of time raising myself and Amanda.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, and you know…when I realized I was gay, that was another issue entirely. They didn’t like it. Couldn’t accept it, like it was somehow a reflection on them.”

“They’re assholes then.”

“Yeah, they are. What was it like when Ben came out to you?”

“It was…well, I guess I always knew. I just gave him a hug. Told him I was proud of him for telling me.”

I sigh dreamily. “You’re a great dad.”

“I mean, I could be better, but yeah, I try.”

“I don’t think you need to be better. I think you’re amazing.”

I do. I think everything about him is wonderful. Might be rose-colored glasses I’m wearing, but fuck it. Dean has always been perfect in my eyes. From the way he treats his customers, to how he interacts with his son, and how he fucked me just minutes ago.

He can do no wrong.

I inhale him, my eyes drooping slightly from exhaustion and pure contentment.

“I’m going to rest my eyes for a bit,” I murmur, burying my face in his armpit and throwing my leg over his.

“All right. Get some sleep, Avery.”

“I’m not going to sleep. I’m just…well, I’m just resting is all.”

He chuckles lowly. “Whatever you say.”

My eyes close and without another word, I fall fast asleep.

When I wake up the next morning, I see the bed is empty and a messily scrawled note is sitting on the end table.

Off to work. Be back later.

I frown. He doesn’t go into work today. I know because I saw his schedule. I help make his schedule. So it’s me then. I’m the reason he’s run away.

I sit up and scrub my face. I can’t believe he managed to sneak out without me noticing. I must have really been dead to the world. I mean, wouldn’t anyone? After that fucking?

Not expected at all and yet so perfect.

I stand up and the twinge in my ass is noticeable. I didn’t get a good look at Dean’s hard dick because he was behind me when he stuck the tip in, but I know it’s big and thick. It will split me wide open when he finally gives it all to me. I’ll ache so good.

If he were still here, the pang of discomfort wouldn’t be so bad, but because he’s gone, it makes me feel worse. He went to work this morning to avoid me.

A sniffle leaves me and my nose whistles very unattractively. Oh god, what if I snored and he hated the sound? I don’t know whether I do or don’t, but it’s mortifying to think about. I rub my nose and move to the bathroom to scrub at my teeth and wash my face. Then I carefully pull my hair into two buns on the top of my head and swipe on some mascara and eyeliner before deciding that despite him leaving this morning, I’m not going to sulk about it. Instead, I’ll find something to keep me occupied until he comes home.

And then we will talk about it.

I will fight for whatever this is between us, dammit. I won’t let him go so easily.

Pulling on some clothes, I move toward my car and cringe when I see the state of it. “Shit, I need to wash you,” I murmur, deciding to go to the shops first to grab food for the week before taking a hose to my vehicle. It’s appalling. I really let it go to shit. But then again, I haven’t been thinking about my car. Not when Dean is around. All I can think about is him and how to get his engine going.

I slip inside the musty-smelling cab of my Corolla and turn the ignition on with an actual key. Nothing fancy here. No suave button or key fob. This car is old as shit and has been with me through a lot. I refuse to get rid of it until it actually dies on me. And even then, I’d revive it. Bring it right back to life.

As I go to put the gear in reverse, my phone lights up and I see a message from yet another unknown number. I glance down at it and my jaw tightens.

Unknown Number:

You have four days to return the money.

Or else.

I swallow and, without thinking, I tap out a response.

Me:

I don’t have your fucking money. Maybe ask Linc.

I don’t get a response, so I toss my phone onto the passenger seat and try to put it out of my mind.

Without another thought, I pull out of the long gravel driveway and head into town, trying to keep my spirits up about Dean.

“This doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you,” I tell myself when I find a parking spot. “It just means he had to go to work. That’s all. Maybe an emergency came up…”

Even with the lame pep talk, I still wander the aisles with slow steps, looking for the ingredients I need for the week while mentally telling myself to calm down and think about this rationally. I’m so in my head that I almost run into an older woman who is trying to reach something on the top shelf.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry. I almost barreled over you. Do you need help?” I ask, and she sighs, turning her gaze to me.

“Yes, please. Why do they put everything so high? I’m old and shrinking.”

“Fuck if I know. Everyone is gigantic apparently.”

She lets out a small laugh and then grins when I hand her the bag of flour from the shelf.

“You’re a gem. What’s your name?”

“Avery, and you?”

“Agatha. I have a brood to feed back at home and this was the last ingredient I needed. So thank you, Avery. You almost running me over was perfect timing.”

“You’re welcome, Agatha.”

“Hopefully we run into each other again while in the grocery store. I could use someone with long legs. ”

“I hope so.”

She sends me a wave before meandering away, and I’m left staring after her.

I glance at my full shopping cart and decide it’s time to go home. There’s no need to draw this out. And if he’s still not there when I’m back, I won’t take offense.

I really won’t.

On the way home, I make a short detour to the hardware store where I grab a can of paint and some rollers. He did say I could after all, and why the fuck not?

After putting the groceries away, I stare around the empty house and decide I’m angrier than I want to admit. So, I take it out on the wall. It takes me nearly two hours to prep for it and move all the furniture, but I paint the shit out of the living room. And I do it well. It looks fucking awesome. Dean is going to think of me when he’s here.

But when even that doesn’t stave off the anxiety-fueled anger, I stomp outside, grabbing the hose and a bucket from the garage, and decide to give my car the best washing it’s ever had. So I scrub at it aggressively, taking out my mood on the poor paint. But I do feel better, sweat beading on my skin as bubbles move up my arms.

Halfway through, I’m distracted by Ben showing up, his car pulling sadly into the driveway, his body slumped against the steering wheel.

I’m almost positive he’s not dead, but I still move up to the driver’s side and tap on the window.

“Hey there. You okay?” I call out. He turns his head and offers me a grim smile. He doesn’t look well, dark circles sit under his eyes and he looks like he’s about to hyperventilate.

“I’m fine.”

“Get out of the car, man. You look too sad.”

He sighs but does as I ask. And even so, he does it incredibly slowly. Almost like he can’t be bothered to actually put effort into moving his muscles.

“Jesus, do you normally move like this?” I ask.

“I find the motivation to move my appendages lacking,” he replies, and I shake my head, feeling the two buns on top of my scalp bob dramatically. He’s not well. Something is going down and I need to know what it is. It better not be about me and his dad hooking up. Dean said Ben didn’t mind it…

Do not make this about you, Avery .

This is about Ben. Maybe he’ll open up. He’s quiet and shy, but he still needs to let it all out once in a while.

“Look, your dad is out. Let me make you a margarita and you can spill all the beans.”

Ben looks horrified, his cheeks reddening, his eyes widening. “Oh god. I can’t tell you anything.”

“Why not?” I ask, nudging his shoulder as we walk into the house. As we do, Ben eyes the space.

“Wow,” Ben whispers, looking at the still-damp bright lavender wall. “You did this?”

“Yeah, your dad just needed a pop of color in his life,” I comment on this dryly because if I don’t, I may cry. Painting the wall and throwing some pillows on the couch only made this place feel more like home, and well, this may not be my space if Dean tosses me out. Maybe he’ll hate the wall and throw me out.

Fuck. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have left it bland and wanting.

I should stuff the pillows away in a closet. Maybe all of this is too much—the sex, the pillows, the wall color—it may throw Dean over the edge.

Regret sits heavily in my stomach as I try to compose myself. This isn’t about me. This is about Ben. I need to focus on Ben.

“I like it. He will too,” Ben says, looking at me intently. “You make him happy. I can tell.”

Well, that makes me want to cry so I wave it away. I don’t want to blubber all over Ben. He needs me to listen to him, not the other way around. I’m just happy he’s not mad about me being into his dad. I’m so fucking happy about that.

“Anyway, what do you want? I can do a strawberry margarita or,” I suggest as I shuffle through some cabinets, “I can totally do a lemon drop. I bought a lot of shit at the grocery store.”

“Oh,” Ben breathes. “How about both?”

I grin widely at him. My kind of man indeed .

“Fabulous taste,” I reply, working on making us both drinks. As I do, Ben lowers himself into a kitchen chair and watches me put together the ingredients.

When I set the full glasses down on the table in front of us, I waggle my eyebrows at him and kick him gently with my shoe.

“So, Benjamin, what’s the deal? Why were you having an existential crisis in that car of yours?”

He takes a large gulp of margarita and then chases it with the lemon drop.

“I can’t tell you details, but I can tell you I’m in a bit of a pickle.”

“Oh, I love pickles,” I reply, leaning my elbow on the table and taking a large sip of my drink.

“I do too.”

“Especially when they’re dick pickles.”

Ben snorts a laugh, and I grin widely as well.

“So, whose pickle are you on?” I ask.

“Two pickles,” Ben replies, and I nearly choke on my drink. I mean, I had my suspicions, but holy shit. It’s true. I knew it. I won’t ever question myself again.

“Two?”

He nods. “You cannot tell my dad.”

I pretend to zip my lips and wave my hand around.

“Two. How is it?”

“Oh god. I mean, yes, two but not together, not yet, but… oh hell .”

“Not yet?” I catch his slip-up.

He gulps down some more lemon drop. “I wish.”

“Oh, Benjamin. I know.”

I make the sign of the cross over my chest.

As we continue to drink, Ben opens up a little more, giving vague details about what his predicament is. And I can piece the rest of it together. He’s fucking both of Dean’s best friends, and shit, now that I know…well, I know.

I’m not quite sure what to do right now except just listen.

“Oh god, you do have a predicament,” I finally say as I bring us our third set of drinks. I wobble a bit as I go and some sloshes over onto my hand. No need for that to go to waste. I lick at my skin after I set them down and look at Ben, who is listing to the side in his chair. I’m really not much better off. Should have offered him some chips and salsa to help with the alcohol. Should have eaten some bread.

“I do. Told you. Two pickles. And one doesn’t want me anymore. And I think the other one doesn’t either. They don’t want to stick their dick pickles in me.”

“You know what you need to do?” I ask, waggling my finger around his face with a hiccup.

“What?”

“Communicate.”

“Pfft,” Ben snorts and closes his eyes. “What I really need is a straw. The cup is too far away.”

“I know. Who made these? Not alcoholics,” I say as I wobble toward the kitchen, but it’s farther than I think and I slump to the ground. My legs are not legging.

Just as my butt hits the ground, the front door opens and Dean strolls through.

Finally home , I think but don’t say it out loud. At least, I don’t think I do. Who knows anything anymore?

“Jesus,” he says and moves toward me, staring down at me. I’m currently sprawled out on the floor, arms askew, eyes closed.

“Hello, handsome man. What’s your name?” I slur, hearing Ben snort a laugh. But everything else disappears when Dean bends down and picks me up, carrying me to his room. And as we go, I may nestle into the side of his neck and inhale.

I shouldn’t have done that.

“I see you’ve painted the wall,” he says as he sets me on his bed.

I stare up at him. “I was bored and you left for ages. Do you like it?”

Dean glances down at me, and my bottom lip pushes out in a pout. “I do like it.”

“You better say that after you left me all day.”

“I was just at work.”

“After fucking me. You snuck out. And Nick messaged me and you weren’t around to save me from it.”

Dean’s face falls and he scrubs a hand over his mouth. “Fuck. ”

“Yes. Fuck.”

I fall back on the mattress, and Dean sighs.

“It’s fine. I don’t need your help with Nick. I’ve been on my own forever. I can deal with this alone.”

“Avery…no. I’m going to string him up,” he murmurs and then glances down at me. “But there’s no point in talking about this now. We’ll talk when you’ve sobered up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I murmur, but Dean has left, only to return a moment later with some water.

“Come on, drink up,” he says when I glower at it.

“I’d rather have some chips and queso.”

“Water first.”

I give a long and exaggerated sigh, sitting up and sipping at it. A burp leaves me, a short and cute one so it’s forgivable.

“I’ll order some queso and chips and maybe a few tacos.”

“Yes, you should do that because what you did today was something unmentionable, Dean. Unmentionable.”

He blinks a few times and his shoulders fall.

“We will talk about it later.”

I snort and roll my eyes.

“Fine. If you give me some tacos and queso, maybe I’ll forgive you.”

Dean’s lips quirk and he pulls his phone out. “I’ll order it now.”

My eyelids are heavy but I force them open. “Dean.”

He looks up from his phone. “Yeah?”

“Did you sneak away because of me? I just need to know.”

“I—yes. I needed to process things. I should have called, but…I needed to think.”

My chest clenches. “Okay. Makes sense.”

“It’s not bad though. I have a lot of thoughts, Avery. And none of them include leaving you again.”

A happy sigh leaves my lungs and I meet his stare.

“Fine, good. Order the food and we can talk more.”

“Oh god, the queso is to die for. Where did you get this? It’s amazing. ”

“Just a local place in town. I’ll tell you the name when you can remember it.”

I roll my eyes and shove another chip into my mouth. Come to think of it, I guess I haven’t eaten all day. No wonder those few drinks made me tipsy. I really don’t drink all that often. I usually don’t drink at all. But here I am, getting drunk all the time now.

“Hey, where’s Ben?” I ask.

“Cash stopped by and offered to walk him home.”

“Ah yes, right. See, I can remember anything you tell me. I never forget a word you say, Dean. Just so you know. When it comes to you, I have a mind of steel.”

The man of my dreams meets my gaze. “That so?”

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m sobered up now.”

“Is that what you call this? Is this a new kind of sober?”

“Yeah, it is. And yeah, I might be a little buzzed, but I can understand you just fine. Now, tell me what you were thinking about when you left this morning.”

“Later.”

I sigh and then poke him in the chest.

“Tell me. We need to communicate if we want this to work.”

“So, we’re making this work?”

“Fuck yeah, Dean.” I grab another chip and shove it into my mouth. “We work for this.”

“All right. Fine, I was…processing things.”

“What kinds of things?” I ask, swallowing the chip and nearly choking. Damn thing. This is not giving off ‘I give good head ’ vibes. I can’t even handle a fucking chip.

“Here. Drink more water.”

I gulp it down as I wave my hand in front of my face.

“Avery, look, I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. And then here you are…” His throat bobs. “And you’re a man and…beautiful. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

My mouth opens and closes.

“You don’t need to have it all figured out.”

“I feel like I should. I’m twenty years older than you…”

“So? ”

“So, I should know something. But at this moment, I know nothing.”

I take a step toward him, laying my palm against his chest. I can feel the thud of his heart under my hand.

“You don’t need to know everything. Does it feel good—being with me? Tell me that.”

He inhales roughly and nods. “Felt fucking good.”

The way he nearly growls that last word has my cock perking up slightly. “Perfect. Then we keep going. And we can go slow. Really slow. We can even move in reverse if you want.”

His tongue peeks out, wetting his lips. “We could do that.”

My hand leaves his chest and I hold it out, offering him a handshake. He stares down at it and his thick fingers engulf mine.

“Slow?” I murmur.

“Slow.”

“Shouldn’t have told him to go slow,” I say as I wrap myself up in his jersey and lie on my bed. After eating my weight in tacos and queso, I showered and brushed my teeth, then watched a movie on the couch with him, sitting very far away. Too far away, in fact. But I told him we’d slow down.

My ass can wait.

I can totally wait.

My phone buzzes and I stare down at it.

The same unknown number flashes up with a text message lingering beneath it.

Unknown Number:

I know you have it. Linc doesn’t. Give it back or else!

Me:

I don’t have it, pea brain. Or can you not read?

Unknown Number:

I will come over and make you give it to me.

Me:

Try it and see what happens.

My heart picks up at my blatant invitation to come over, but I won’t be intimidated by him. This started off with me thinking he’s just an idiot, but the fucker really thinks I stole his shit.

Turning my phone off, I close my eyes and inhale, trying to center myself just as the door opens and Dean appears, wearing only his sweatpants and nothing else. My anxiety evaporates, replaced with lust. Because I can make out the curve of Dean’s cock and the ripple of his muscles as he grabs onto the top of the door frame. It’s a dangerous position. It makes him look even more delicious than normal.

I’m talking Michelin stars.

“Hey, you okay?” I ask, sitting up and tucking my hair behind my ears.

He rolls his lips between his teeth and his hands fall to his sides.

“I was just thinking…” He takes a step closer to me, and then another. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing where I’m now sitting, his knees hitting the edge of the bed.

“What were you thinking?” I ask him, my words a whisper.

“I was thinking…I feel complicated, confusing things about you.”

“Oh.”

“And I think I’m scared of moving forward, but at the same time…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m also thinking…fuck going slow.”

“Oh. Oh my god.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s so a good thing.”

I peer down and see his cock growing, the curve now becoming something else, something hard and wanting. Something I want to touch.

“I want to kiss you,” he murmurs, and I let out a breath.

“You can kiss me anytime you want.”

“Just…if I kiss you, Avery…you can’t fucking leave. ”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not going to lose you too.”

Before I can ask what he means, his legs are on the bed, straddling me, his ass sinking onto my lap. Holy shit, Dean Hayes is on my lap. His hands tuck into my hair, holding my head and he lets out another long breath.

“I watched some porn.”

“Did you?”

“I did.”

“Did you like it?”

“I did. I want to know how to do these things with you.”

“I can show you. I can show you anything you want to know.”

“Fuck, that mouth. The things I’ve dreamed about doing to it,” he murmurs as his nose brushes against mine.

“Yes,” I moan as his lips move against mine, a mere stroke, but it has me arching into it, wanting to let him take the lead, but also feeling incredibly greedy. I want more. I never want this to stop.

He nibbles at my top lip, tasting me, trying me out, taking me for a test ride. And I let him.

I’ll let him all night long.

He pulls away, our eyes clashing, and I feel his warm breath on my mouth.

“You okay?” I ask, and his lashes flutter.

“Yeah…you taste so fucking good.”

His lips descend onto mine once more, and I clutch onto him, not wanting us to part. Fuck slow, indeed.

His fingers dig into my scalp as his tongue pushes between my lips. Warm like hot chocolate, sweet and unsure. I meet his thrust, tasting him back, letting our tongues swirl as we lick into each other’s mouths.

It’s sweet and sensual and absolutely perfect. The best first kiss of my life. What’s he thinking? Is this good for him?

The way he’s grunting little needy moans makes me think he does. He likes it, likes kissing me.

Oh fuck yes , I think as my hands move from his shoulders to around his back, tugging him into me further. His muscles ripple against my palms, a beautiful shiver that sets me alight. He’s panting, his moans shifting into groans as his hard cock meets mine.

And then we’re grinding against each other, desperate thrusts as we hold each other, our lips never separating as we kiss. It’s carnal and needy, overwhelming to my senses.

Dean’s teeth sink into my bottom lip, and I gasp, arching my hips up, seeking friction on the part of me that needs it. He must sense it, must know what I want because his hand snakes between us, the heel of his palm rubbing against my stiff length.

I moan and grip him tighter, loving the feel of his hands on me. He can touch me anywhere and I’ll want it.

I want everything with him.

Dean continues to torture me with his tongue, his lips, his hands until I’m pushed onto my back, Dean on top of me, my jersey rucked up against my neck, our bodies writhing together. It’s potent, his mouth sliding across my skin, his tongue pushing into my mouth, making me drool for more of it. For more of him. How is he this addicting?

No, I knew he would be. The minute I laid eyes on Dean, I knew he’d be the end of me.

He breathes into my mouth and I swallow it down, inhaling a piece of him. I had him in my ass. Just the tip, but still. And now he’s in my lungs as well.

The tingle of pleasure slips down my spine and into my groin where it sits heavily, my cock aching, my balls full.

I want to come again. With him above me. With him watching.

He bites at my bottom lip once more and I arch up, rocking into him. He moans, sucking on my tongue and making me squirm beneath him.

“I’m not going to last,” he murmurs, and I shake my head, unable to form words. My lips are swollen and my entire body is shaking with the need to find release.

“Hurry,” I whisper and his eyes spark with something I don’t recognize as he reaches between us and pulls his dick out. I let out a feral, disgusting sound as he starts to rock our cocks together, the perfect slide. His mouth descends on me once more and as our tongues tangle, I feel it, the snap of control. My legs twine around his back and I hold on to him as I’m pushed over the edge. I shudder and shake, my moans sliding down his throat as I feel my cum splatter between us, coating my stomach. Dean grunts and I feel him tremble as his release mixes with mine.

He doesn’t pull away, he just continues to lie on top of me, his warm body cocooning mine. His arms bracket my face, his lips perfect against my own. Everything about this is sensual and soft, so unlike what I’m used to. Usually, men fuck me and leave. No one takes the time to stay, to kiss me until I’m melting into the mattress, my body pliable and weak against theirs. To hold me while I come down from the high of it.

Of course, Dean would be the one.

He’s my dream man.

He rolls off me, his mouth only leaving mine for a moment before moving back to mine.

“Should go back to my room.”

“You so shouldn’t.”

He chuckles and kisses me again, my body turning into his and my leg wrapping around his hip.

“I’m making a mess,” I say.

“Who cares?”

“You’re probably not used to this. All this cum.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a long time since I’ve done anything at all,” Dean says.

He grabs onto my waist and pulls me into him further. My wet skin hits his and he says nothing, just kisses me again, our noses brushing, our tongues tangling.

When we pull apart again, I realize that the skin of my cheeks is abraded from his scruff.

“I’m happy to go back to going slow after this,” I say.

“Okay, but how about we take it day by day? Some days will be slow. Some will be fast.” His fingers curl into my ass cheek. “Some days I’m going to dream of entering that tight hole of yours again, and when I do, when I finally do that, I’ll just fuck you wherever I can get you. ”

“Dean,” I hiss and then let out a mortifying groan. “You can’t just say that. That’s…that’s detrimental to my heart.”

“Yeah, well…you’re fucking detrimental to me.”

“But in a good way, right?”

“Yeah, fucking painting my wall purple.”

“It livens up the space.”

“Just like you’ve livened up my life since you stepped into it. I remember that first day a year ago…the one where you came in for an interview.”

“I was so nervous. I was so sure I wasn’t going to get the job.”

“You smelled like cake.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that why you hired me?”

“Yeah, and you told Ford to back down when he got too rowdy. Knew you could whip that place into shape.”

“I could. I did.”

“And look at me now. In bed with you. I’m a terrible boss.”

“The best boss, honestly. I mean…multiple orgasms. Kisses that could melt me into the floor.”

“They were good?”

“The best. You haven’t lost your touch even after all this time.”

His hand threads through my hair and our foreheads touch.

“I’ve been alone for so long, focused only on raising Ben. Sometimes I think I’m too old for this shit…”

“You’re not. I promise you that. What we just did, the way you managed me, I’d rather you than anyone else.”

His eyes meet mine, just an inch away. “Well, you have me.”

“Good. I plan to make use of it. But Dean…” I touch his cheek, and he sighs into it. “I have some baggage. Like I have Nick and my parents and I’m in debt from school…”

“I have baggage too.”

“All right, but…we’ll have to work through it. Promise me we’ll always work through things.”

“Yeah, we will. ”

“Perfect.”

His lips meet mine once more, and I sigh. I think we can do this. I really think we can.