IRL: In Real Life (After Oscar, #1)(44)

I couldn’t stop myself; I glanced down at his lips. They were full, fuller than they should be for such an angular face. As if he could read my mind, he traced his tongue around them. I swallowed a groan, my cock straining even more. Imagining those lips taking my crown, sliding down the length of me.

I typed without thinking.

Conor: I would take you all at once. Without warning. Without hesitation. I would take as much of you into my mouth as I could and then more.





Trace: All of me.





Conor: Yes.





Trace: And I would hold you there like that, with me filling you.





I let out a groan, not even trying to hide it. There was no way Wells wouldn’t have heard it. But when I looked up at him, he had his elbows on the table, his head cupped in his hands, his fingers thrust into his hair as he hunched over his laptop. The muscle along his jaw twitched.

He didn’t look my way, and I hastily returned to my phone.

Conor: Yes. And when you let me go you’d be wet from my mouth, slick, and you’d spin me around and swipe the documents from the table, letting them shower down in a rain of paperwork. You’d put the palm of your hand between my shoulder blades, pushing me over, your other hand reaching around me, tearing open my pants and freeing my cock and I would be so fucking hard for you.





Wells sat up abruptly, slamming his computer shut with a sharp click. “I think that about does it for the night. Don’t you? We can finish up the rest of these documents tomorrow.” He started to stand but then changed his mind and pulled his chair closer to the table before reaching for the various stacks of documents.

I blinked, glancing at the work we hadn’t gotten to yet and then back at him. “Are… you sure?”

“Yes.”

I didn’t move, confused by this sudden change of plans. Finally, he looked up at me. “You should go back to the hotel. Good night.”

I thought about my sexy stranger. Back at the hotel I would be free to indulge in my fantasy of him. But I also felt a pang of something like disappointment at leaving Wells. I’d been enjoying sitting across the table from him, imagining him naked.

Except he’d just made it clear he wasn’t interested. Wells was the one telling me to leave. And I’d told himself a long time ago that when someone tells you they’re not interested, you should listen to them. I swallowed, my throat feeling oddly tight. “Okay, then. I guess… I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

Wells barely glanced up long enough to grunt.

Feeling dismissed in such an abrupt and uncaring way seemed to negate all the warmer feelings I’d begun having toward Wells that day. Earlier, in the city together, we’d finally seemed to find common ground. There had been brief moments of connection, and at one point I’d even caught him looking at me in a way that made me wonder if he found me attractive.

But now? Now he was acting like I was an annoyance again. Which only served to put me right back where I was when I’d arrived in the city two days before. I felt unsteady and unsure of myself. Out of place.

And that pissed me the hell off. Without another word, I turned and left.

I pulled out my phone as I stormed out of the lobby and into the frigid night. There was one person in this city who made me feel good. If there was anyone I could count on to get Wells Grange out of my fucking head, it was Trace.

Conor: My meeting ended earlier than I expected. I’m free for the rest of the night.





I took a deep breath. Held it. Then typed some more.

Conor: I could… come meet you. Continue our previous session in person.





There was a long pause. Long enough that I started to regret having asked. My steps slowed until I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, phone clutched in my hands, waiting. Crowds of late-night revelers surged around me, but I ignored them.

Why wasn’t he answering? This shouldn’t have been a difficult question.

Three dots appeared on the screen and I held my breath.

Trace: I don’t think that’s a good idea.





I sucked in a breath, my stomach dropping in disappointment. It wasn’t the answer I’d been expecting. I blinked several times rapidly, trying to clear my head. I had to respect his desire to keep this anonymous, right? At least that’s what I told myself. Especially since I’d originally felt the same way.

My fingers felt numb, but I forced them to move, to respond to his text. To pretend that what he’d just said hadn’t gutted me.

Conor: Oh. Okay. I’ll text you when I’m back in my hotel room then.





Another long pause.

Trace: I don’t think that’s a good idea either. I think maybe we should take a break from this.





Everything around me froze; even the sounds from the street traffic vanished. I read the message again in case I’d misread it the first time.

Stupidly, I felt my chin begin to wobble. I looked up at the crowds on the sidewalk. There were couples and families, groups of friends and people chatting animatedly on their phones. It was one of those moments where it seemed that everyone had someone in their lives but me.

But what had I really expected would happen? Where could things with Trace have ever gone? Trying to have any of my relationship needs met by some random stranger in a city hundreds of miles away from where I lived was ridiculous. He could be married for all I knew. Or a criminal. Or prefer DC over Marvel. I felt a gurgle of disgust escape my throat. I was pathetic.