“Fuck,” he pants, reaching down and urging me up. He sidesteps, taking me with him. Then he spins me around and pulls my sweater dress up, exposing my ass.
He gives it a slap and pushes me down. I grip the edge of his desk, pussy aching to have him inside me. I spread my legs, eyes fluttering shut when he reaches around, fingers slipping inside my panties.
He strokes my clit, and I’m already so wound up, it doesn’t take long before I’m right there, about ready to come. He plunges his fingers inside me, finding that sweet spot right away, and rubs against it before pulling his fingers out and rubbing my clit again.
I clamp my hand over my mouth, muffling a moan as I come, knees threatening to buckle. My pussy is still spasming when he pulls my underwear down and lines his cock up with my entrance. Both of his hands go to my waist, and he enters me, moving slow at first and then speeding up his movements.
I cry out, unable to help myself as Dean fucks me. He brings one hand back between my legs, gently stroking my sensitive clit. I know he’s close, holding off on his own pleasure until I come again.
Sometimes, the pressure to have an orgasm would ruin the mood for me, but right now, I don’t think I could stop it if I tried. Dean plays my body like an instrument, and only a few minutes later, stars dot my vision and I start to fold over onto Dean’s desk. He wraps a strong arm around me, holding me up as he buries his cock in me. A groan escapes his lips, and he pushes in balls deep, cock pulsing as he comes.
“Holy shit,” I pant, knowing I’ll fall right to the floor if Dean legs me go. My legs are shaking and my ears are ringing. Dean and I awkwardly sidestep, keeping his cock inside me, until he can reach a box of tissues. I quickly wipe myself clean and pull my underwear up.
Still panting, I turn, perching on the edge of his desk. “I think this should be a thing too,” I say, still breathless. “Along with cooking naked, I should bring you lunch at least once a week.”
Dean pulls his pants up and strides over, taking me in his arms. “It’s definitely going to be a thing.”Chapter 31DeanMom: Who’s all coming over tonight? I need to know how much to make.
Logan: We’ll be there.
Me: I’ll be there. I’m bringing someone. Don’t be weird.
Mom: Rory?
Me: …
Owen: One-night stand Rory?
Me: …
Mom: I don’t need to know these details, boys. And Dad said Rory is a lovely lady. Are you, Charlie, and Olivia coming?
Owen: Yes. Charlie wants to know what we’re having for dinner.
Mom sends three emojis: a chicken, an eggplant, and a wedge of cheese.
Logan: On second thought, we’re not coming over for dinner.
Mom: Why? Quinn requested I make it.
Owen: Quinn requested you make chicken dick-cheese?
Mom: Why on earth would you think that? I’m making chicken with eggplant parmesan.
“What’s so funny?” Rory asks, coming back into the living room after using the bathroom. It’s Sunday afternoon, and she’s been here since last night. We fell asleep after making love, and when she said she was going to head home and would meet me back here to go to Sunday night dinner, I told her to stay. She has to work in the morning and won’t be staying the night again tonight.
We’re taking things slow, but I really fucking like where this is headed.
“Read this.” I hand her my phone and she cracks up. “They’re going to be weird too, just to warn you.”
She pulls the blankets back up over herself. “Then I’m in good company.” I drop my phone to the floor and put my arm around Rory. We’re watching reruns of the office, and doing nothing together is really fucking nice.
We both end up falling asleep, waking with just minutes to spare to make it to my parents’ on time. Everyone but Owen, Charlie, and Olivia are here, which is pretty typical.
“They can be pretty loud,” I forewarn. “Especially the kids.”
“Yeah, because they’re kids,” she laughs. I take her hand on the way to the house. The dogs all come running, and Rory crouches down, letting them sniff her so they stop barking.
Everyone but my parents and the kids are crowded around the bar, and a dozen or so whiskey bottles are on the island in front of them. Quinn is sitting on a barstool, looking both nauseous and annoyed she can’t partake in whatever drinking game is going on.
“Hey!” Archer calls when I walk in. He raises a shot glass in the air, and I can tell he’s borderline drunk already. He doesn’t drink often, since he’s on-call a lot. We’ve all had fun giving him hell about turning into a lightweight in his old age. “You’re just in time to—Rory, hey!”