Page 60 of Dean

“This fucking skirt,” I say gruffly, and I watch as Avery’s cheeks flush. “This damn tiny shirt.”

He blinks up at me, and oh my god, I want to spin him around and bend him over. I want to spread his cheeks and slide my cock right inside of his tight little hole.

Oh fuck, I want that.

I never ever thought I’d say that, but fuck, I want to try it. I want him to let me try.

“This is so inappropriate,” I murmur, and Avery’s cheeks darken.

“Dean, seriously? You said it was fine,” he bites out. “You said you didn’t have a problem with it.”

He’s growing angry, his beautiful gray eyes filling with tears, and I swallow roughly, realizing how my words could be misconstrued. Oh, I’m fucking it all up. I’m making him hate me.

“I’ll go home and change,” he mutters, his voice a little broken, but before he can step around me, I reach out and grab his hips.

I stifle a groan in my throat. Oh fuck, he feelsgood.

“You don’t understand,” I begin but I’m cut off by Avery’s biting words.

“I understand men like you perfectly. I thought you were different. You said all the right things, but you’re just the fucking same.”

The accusation does me in. I spin him around and press my body into his back, my hard cock shoved right against his ass, right where it wants to be.

“You don’t fucking understand,” I growl lowly, and Avery lets out a shaky breath.

Oh yes, he gets it now. He fucking gets it.

My hands clench against his hips as I rock into him, just once, and Avery whimpers.

Oh god, this is sexual harassment. What the fuck am I doing? I can’t do this.

I take a step back and run a hand over my face, trying to catch my breath, trying to steady my thumping heart.

Avery looks over his shoulder at me, a question in his eyes. Hishands are splayed across the desk, his ass jutting out, and I just stare at him.

He wets his lips, his pupils dilating.

And then he spreads his legs and leans down on his elbows, arching his back and thrusting his ass toward me.

Oh fuck.Fuuuuuuck.

It’s an invitation. He’s inviting me to get up close and personal with his ass, and I want to.

I want to meet it.

Without a second thought, I take a step toward him and another until I’m right behind him, my hand reaching out and sliding up the outside of his leg. Fuck, why is he so soft?

He has to shave or wax. Oh hell. He’s just as smooth everywhere else, I’m sure. I felt some of him last night. It’s seared into my brain.

My fingers clutch the hem of his skirt, and I inch it up, up,up. I can hear his breath rasping from his lungs, and I wonder if this is what he sounds like when he’s getting fucked. Does he sound this wrecked? He said he was a screamer. He told Ben one time, I overheard it. Can I get him to scream for me? Would he scream my name?

His body is trembling slightly and mine is too. This is so far past inappropriate, I don’t know what to do. I want to peel him out of his clothes, drop to my knees, and lick my way up his crack. I have never in my life wanted to do that, and yet here I am, envisioning it, in detail.

I’d do everything to him, if he let me.

He’s driving me crazy. I’ve gone completely insane.

“Dean,” he whispers as my fingers travel across his thigh, toward the front of him—toward his dick.

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