Page 61 of Dean

I want to touch it. I want to feel that stiff cock in my hand.

I want to hear him moan.

Suddenly, the office door opens and my son steps through, his eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him—Avery bent over, my crotch pressed firmly against his ass, my hand up the front of his skirt.

“Oh. Shit,” he says and then he stumbles backward, shutting the door quickly, leaving me and Avery just standing there in shocked silence.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, and I take a step back, needing to give him space. My hand falls from his body and I stuff it into my pocket.

He stands up, his skirt falling back in place, and I just stare at him. He’s so damn tempting. I haven’t been this obsessed with someone since my late wife. And even then, it wasn’t to this level.

Why am I so enamored with him? And why aren’t I freaking out more that he’s a man?

Probably because it isn’t as big of a deal as you’re making it and you already came to terms with it.

“I should go talk to him,” I say, and Avery nods and swallows warily. I don’t know what else to say.

What the fuck do I say?

“You should and please tell him I’m sorry he saw that. I don’t want Ben to hate me.”

“He’d never.”

He worries his bottom lip.

“Can we talk when we get home? Or maybe on the car ride there?” I ask.

He nods again, his eyes wide, his cock pressed out against the fabric of his skirt. I can’t peel my eyes away.

I have never in my life wanted another man, and now I can’t stop thinking about it—about what it would be like. Maybe the mental breakdown will come later, but I realize this has been slowly building for months.

I have wanted Avery since he first walked into my office. I just didn’t realize it at the time.

I sure as fuck realize it now.

“Right,” I say, clearing my throat and adjusting myself before turning on my heel awkwardly and stomping from the room. I need to find Ben and explain.

He’s probably so damn confused. I’ve never given him any indication that I had a thing for men. And maybe I don’t, maybe it’s just Avery. I’m not sure other men do it for me. But Avery is definitely my type.

I find my son standing outside, his phone held in his hand, his eyes blinking out toward the busy street. He looks uncomfortable, not thatI blame him. What he walked in on was…it was not something he should have seen.

“Hey,” I say, shifting next to him, side-eyeing him in awkward silence.

“Hey,” he says and then shakes his head with a sigh. “Dad, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to walk in on…whatever that was.”

I don’t know whatthatwas either, but here we are.

I run a hand over my face and eye him again. He must be so damn perplexed.

What must he be feeling? God, I can’t even begin to fathom it.

“I didn’t know you um…” He waves his hand in front of him and then blushes. Hell, I’m blushing too.

“Me either.”

He bobs his head, looking down at his phone, obviously distracted. Maybe he won’t even remember this conversation. Maybe he won’t even remember that this happened. “Cool.”

We stand there in awkward silence, and Ben clears his throat. “Um, well, I like Avery. He’s really nice.”

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