Sometime later the phone rings, startling us.
We’re both breathless and flushed, Luke’s shirt on the floor and
mine unbuttoned, pushed aside. My n*****s ache from the wonderful
things he does with his tongue, swirling around the hardened nubs
until I moan from his ministrations, and a dark red welt shines
wetly on his shoulder where I sucked at him, the beginnings of a
hickey that he’s going to have to hide from Kent. Kent—the
phone rings again and I push Luke away just as he starts to pick at
my zipper. “The phone,” I say, like he might not hear it. He kisses
me again before sliding off my lap.
I have to straighten my jeans when I stand,
the denim bites into my crotch and I have to shake it loose, I’m so
damn hard and just from kisses. I can’t imagine how
incredible it’d feel
