Page 33 of Numbers Boy (Working Boys #2)

I lower myself to hover over him, our hands clasped together near his face, our chests barely touching.

Steve looks up at me, his green eyes luminous and filled with desire.

I try to tell him with mine just how much I want him, too.

I brush my nose to his, then pepper kisses across his cheeks.

Dusting his face with love before moving lower.

I continue this until I’m back down to his crotch.

His erection is pulsing behind his gray briefs, the tip leaving a damp spot that’s slightly darker than the rest of the fabric.

It reminds me of the jelly in Steve’s waffle, and my lips are curled in a smile as I lick a wide swath over the spot.

The gasp from above me, combined with a squeeze of our joined fingers, spurs me on, and I make quick work of lowering his underwear below his balls and sucking his length into my mouth.

It’s messy and quick, both of us dealing with pent-up lust that has been mounting since dinner.

My own orgasm is building rapidly, a sharp, needy edge to the feeling making me delirious with the need to taste Steve’s release.

Soon, there are fingers in my hair, letting me know when I do something extra right.

I use every trick I know, focus on every spot that I’ve learned drives Steve wild, in order to push him over the edge.

Still, it’s sooner than I expected that Steve’s gasping my name in warning, and his length is thickening.

Then cum is filling my mouth, hot spurts coating my tongue in his flavor. I can feel myself teetering right on the brink, but I suck him through it until he’s tugging on my hair, letting me know that it’s too much.

I pull off and lick the bit of his cum that leaked from the corner of my mouth.

Steve is the picture of indulgence beneath me.

His face is lax, eyes hooded and dark as they peer up at me.

His nipples are visible below the hem of his top, and his softening cock is flushed dark pink where it’s resting against his hip.

The sight of him so clearly debauched and satisfied has me unable to hold back anymore.

I unzip my pants and pull my aching erection free. My hand around my sensitive shaft makes me hiss, but I don’t stop as I start to stroke.

“Princess,” I rasp, fist flying over my length. “Can I come on you?”

“Yes, baby,” Steve moans, one hand pushing his top up even more. “Mark me as yours.”

His words, together with his fingers plucking gently at his nipple, push me over. I groan as my orgasm hits me, my hips punching into my tight fist, cum leaving streaks over his abdomen and groin.

“Fuck, Princess,” I pant, slumping forward and holding myself over him with one hand by his head. “You are so goddamn sexy.”

Then Steve grins up at me, a blush rising on his cheeks even as his fingers scoop up a bit of my release. He licks it off, and my cock makes a valiant effort to rally at the action. “So are you.”

I huff a breathless laugh and carefully lower myself so I’m stretched out on the bed next to him.

I pull off my shirt and wipe him up with care.

As soon as I’m done, Steve cuddles into me.

He glances down to where his pants are still around his legs and giggles.

I follow his gaze and see his freshly painted toes have smeared.

“Oops. That didn’t last very long,” Steve jokes, wiggling them a bit.

“Guess I just have to fix it.”

“Leave it,” Steve says, blush growing darker. “I want the reminder.”

“Of course, Princess.” My heart wants to burst with the pride and possessiveness filling it at Steve’s request. Pulling him even closer, I run my fingers soothingly up and down his back.

The motion must make him sleepy, his eyelids drifting shut.

My own are heavy, body content after dinner and a satiating orgasm.

“I think Waffle Day is my new favorite holiday.”

“Hey, speaking of waffles,” Steve begins as he tilts his head to look up at me from where he’s lying against my chest. His curls are ruffled, and his lipstick is smudged after our date and subsequent activities.

But his eyes are soft and warm, and his lips are tipped up in the barest hint of a smile.

The sight of him so relaxed and clearly at ease makes something deep inside of me rumble with satisfaction.

I love that I can do that for him. That we can do that for each other.

“What about waffles?” I prompt when he doesn’t continue. Steve’s eyes are locked on mine, looking at me like maybe he likes seeing me like this, too, even though I’m sure my own hair is a mess after having his fingers running through it.

“Would you want to come to our Working Boys brunch on Saturday?”

That gets my attention. My hand stops where it’s trailing along his skin, and my chest feels like it’s filled with helium now. It’s light and airy, heart expanding within it as I think about what a big step this is.

“Really? You’d want me to meet all your friends?

” I’ve been waiting for a chance to meet Steve’s friends, who are more like his family, from the sounds of it.

Steve has told me that he and his dad are fairly close but that they don’t see each other very often.

It’s his Working Boys that will be the real deal breaker if we don’t click for some reason.

Plus, he’s already met most of my family, and they all love him.

“Of course,” Steve says, snuggling against me again, and my hand goes back to its relaxing circuit. “They’re all going to love you. And while it’s technically a book club meeting, that usually only takes up a little bit of the time.”

My smile widens before I press a kiss to his forehead. “I would love to come to brunch.”

“Yay,” he cheers quietly. Then he pops his head up again, excitement sparking in his emerald eyes, his next words mirroring what I was just thinking moments ago.

“Oh! You should totally bring Blake along! I haven’t had a chance to talk to him aside from that movie night and little bits here and there, and that way, you’ll have someone else that you’ll know.

I mean, I’ll of course be there, but there’s a lot of them, and I know sometimes we get overwhelming as a group. And –”

My lips cut off his rambling with a soft, chaste kiss.

“I’ll invite Blake,” I tell him. “Not because I think I’ll need the backup but because I think he would also enjoy meeting your friends. Will you tell me about them?”

And so he does. Steve talks all about his group, from how they met to what everyone is up to now.

The entire time, I make mental notes of things to remember, how to tell everyone apart, and just think to myself that I love that Steve has this tight-knit group in his life.

As we drift off to sleep, Steve cradled in my arms, I can’t help but hope that someday I’ll be considered part of his inner circle as well.

AS SOON AS we walk into the restaurant where we’re having brunch the following Saturday morning, I see a group of tables that has to be the Working Boys. Not only is it the only table filled with guys, but there’s a tiny twink glaring at us who can only be Henry.

To be more specific, he’s glaring at me. Steve, Stu, and Blake seem to be spared from whatever thoughts are running through his head. Once we get closer, ocean blue eyes ping down to where I’m holding Steve’s hand, fingers intertwined, and the glare softens a touch.

“You’re late,” accuses Probably Henry.

Steve and Stu share a look before pulling out chairs at the exact same time.

“Relax, Hen,” Stu says.

“Yeah, I had to get my face on,” Steve adds.

Henry’s eyes rake over Steve’s hastily applied makeup. Not that it looks sloppy, but I happen to know he didn’t have as long to get ready as he had originally planned, so he was a little rushed. Whoops. It’s not my fault that Steve looks especially edible first thing in the morning.

“Well, you look really nice,” Henry says, a smile finally gracing his cute face. He has a bit of makeup on as well, if the shine on his lips and the thick lashes are any indication. “I love that color lip on you.”

“Thanks, babe.” Steve smiles back, and Henry relaxes into his seat, reaching for his mimosa.

I feel like I just passed some sort of test that I had no idea even existed, and a weight lifts from my shoulders.

Since Blake and I are the only ones standing, we grab the last two open chairs and settle in.

We’re at one end of the tables, with Steve and Stu across from us.

Pouring myself a mimosa from the pitcher on the table, I bring it to my lips as I let my gaze travel along the rest of the guys, trying to match faces with what Steve has told me about his friends.

I’m pretty sure it’s Leighton next to Stu, followed by Mark, who I recognize from the bar.

I wave at him, and he waves back, a small, friendly smile on his lips.

Then Henry is at the other end, across from a bigger guy in plaid.

He must be Chad, since I vaguely recognize the next two, Greg and Andrew, from the photo Steve sent me from their football game.

And that brings us around to Blake. It’s nice to feel like I already kind of know everyone, even if we haven’t formally met yet.

From my other side, I hear Steve giggle at something Stu says.

The sound fizzes inside of me like the champagne in my drink and makes me feel just as bubbly.

I would do anything to keep him as happy as he is now, surrounded by people who love him and see him for the amazing person he is.

I’m so caught up in watching Steve across the table from me, I don’t even realize Blake has leaned in until he’s speaking low right in my ear.

“Bro, you’ve got hearts coming from your eyes. It’s kind of disgusting,” he teases, grin evident in his voice.

“Jealous?” I taunt right back, eyes reluctantly pulling away so I can turn toward my best friend.