Page 6 of The Year of Us: June

Reese

Having Cory available to me for more than thirty-six hours was the gift that kept on giving.

He did a pretty good job of splitting his time between his rented apartment and mine, favoring mine on the nights that I worked so he could be in bed waiting for me when I stumbled through the door at the end of a shift.

The ready access had initially started with more orgasms than my body knew how to handle, but we’d quickly settled into a rhythm that gave us both a break. It also gave me the chance to be his boyfriend for the first time. Something I wasn’t quite used to, but far from ready to give up.

That was how I found myself with a brown bag in hand, standing in front of an office building in downtown LA just shy of noon on a Tuesday, because Cory had left early for work and I’d woken up with my face buried in a pillow that still smelled too much like laundry detergent and not enough like him.

We’d stayed at his rental the night before because, even though he clearly favored my place, he was hesitant to bring more than a change or two of clothes and sometimes his laptop over.

I realized, after he’d left and I’d gotten in and out of the shower, that we’d been dancing around each other for half a year, and I still had no idea what kind of sandwiches he liked.

We’d talked about a lot of things, especially the past couple months when things had started to get serious between us, but the distance was a hindrance that put restrictions on us that I hadn’t recognized.

In the end, I’d settled on getting one ham and Swiss and one roast beef and cheddar.

I liked either, but I’d let him have first pick.

It wasn’t flowers and whiskey, but hopefully the sentiment would feel the same.

At least, that’s what I told myself as I rode the elevator up to the twelfth floor and greeted the receptionist at the front desk of the firm Cory had contracted with.

She was sweet enough—Morgan would like her—then she pointed me toward an office in the corner and sent me on my way.

Another thing I learned was that even though I knew, in a figurative sense, that Cory was rich, and important, I didn’t really understand the scope of it.

Sure, he had his expensive watch and his condo in New York, but to be on site for less than a month and have managed to commandeer a corner office?

I rapped my knuckles against the half-closed door, pushing it open enough to stick my head inside.

Cory looked up from his laptop, expression tight, but as soon as he saw me, it was like every string of tension in his body unknotted itself and fell to the floor.

He closed the lid of his computer and stood up, curling the fingers on his right hand to beckon me closer.

I lifted the bag in greeting and stepped into the office. “I hope it’s okay I brought lunch.”

“More than okay.”

He came around the corner of the desk and took the bag out of my hands and tossed it onto the desk, then he grabbed my face and slanted our mouths together using his tongue to spell out my favorite kind of hello.

“The door is open,” I murmured, not knowing if I really cared or not.

“Should I close it?”

I swallowed hard, nipping at his bottom lip. “I didn’t come for that.”

“You come for me,” he whispered, walking us both backward until he reached the door and pushed it shut. “Every time.”

God, it was impossible to tell him no.

“Ham or roast beef,” I muttered, using my hips to push him back toward the desk. “If you don’t eat, you won’t have energy to fuck me later.”

“Oh, am I topping tonight?” He smiled against my mouth and took a step back. He pulled out both of the chairs on the guest side of his desk and we sat down, knees close enough to touch.

“If you want,” I said simply.

If I had a preference before him, I couldn’t remember it anymore.

“And ham,” he said, passing me the bag. “Thank you.”

I reached in and pulled out both sandwiches, passing him the one he’d asked for. I’d also gotten us water and chips, and he picked the plain bag of potato chips over the barbeque flavor, which I did make a mental note about.

“This is a nice surprise,” he said after his first bite. “And the sandwich is too.”

“It felt…like a boyfriend kind of thing to do.”

Cory smiled. “It does.”

“You looked a little pressed when I got here,” I said a few bites later. “Is everything okay?”

“Just dealing with contractors. Nothing that won’t pass.”

“Are they difficult?”

“When they want to be.” Another sly smile. “Just like you.”

I snorted, finishing the last couple bites of my sandwich. I crumpled the wrapper and tossed it into the paper bag, then leaned back and stretched my legs out, kicking my sneakers against the impeccable shine of his dress shoes.

“Don’t scuff me up,” he warned.

“Or what?” I teased, kicking him again.

Cory moved slowly, deliberately, setting his almost finished sandwich and chips on the desk before leaning forward and fisting my hair in an unforgiving grasp. He pulled me out of my seat and onto my knees, then shoved my head down until my mouth grazed the hem of his navy wool slacks.

“Or you can clean them,” he said softly, the hand in my hair loosening enough to let me up if I wanted or to keep me there if I didn’t.

Much to my dismay, my cock throbbed against my thigh, and I groaned, letting him guide me the rest of the way down until my lips brushed across the toe of his shoe.

Precum pulsed out of my cock, wetting my briefs, and when I relaxed enough to let my lips pucker, to dust a kiss across the polished leather, I was already on the brink of coming.

“Just a kiss or two, Reese,” Cory suggested, tone laced with that unforgiving edge of dominance that had always been impossible to ignore. “But make sure you use your tongue. I want them shiny and new when you’re finished.”