Page 2 of Dean

I’ve never had sex with two men at the same time, but perhaps that’s something Ben is into.

Before my mind can move to things like double penetration, I step into Dean’s office and close the door, my arms immediately folding across my chest. I need to take a defensive stance so Dean knows I won’t be barreled over. I mean, really, Dean could bend me over any day, but I’m not a doormat.

“Spill,” Dean says, like he has any authority over me. Like he’s my father.

He could be, technically. He’s old enough. I’m a measly twenty-two, and he’s forty-something.

And straight as an arrow too. It’s a damn shame this man will never veer off course. Doesn’t stop me from imagining that he would though.

I wish he’d pull a big fat detour, right into my ass.

He leans back on the edge of his desk, his thick thighs spread before him, and I wrench my eyes away before I start drooling. There was a puddle once. Had to use a mop and everything.

But now, I need to be discreet. I have to keep this little crush between me, myself and I.

“Oh god, stop looking at me like that,” I grumble, shifting on my feet.

He doesn’t say a word, just stares.

Gah, this man! He’s just pulling the truth right out of me. Like a wizard. He should be in some kind of supernatural prison running interrogations. That would be just the job for him.

“Fine. It wasn’t a doorknob. I had a…scuffle with one of my roommates,” I say cautiously.

He continues staring, and I wave my hand around in front of me, feeling somewhat flustered at the intensity with which he cares. I’ve been working here for a little over a year and he’s always given me the utmost attention. Too much sometimes.

No wonder my crush is huge and overpowering. I stood no chance when it came to him.

“Go on,” he murmurs.

“I mean, Dean, you really don’t need to know the details?—”

“Spill it.”

I sigh like a bratty teen. “I might have slept in my car last night because technically, I’m homeless now. You happy you pulled that out of me?”

His hands clutch the edge of his desk tightly, his nostrils flaring.

“And you didn’t think to call me?” he finally asks.

Okay, so we might be a little closer than your average boss-employee relationship. We joke around often, and I occasionally bring him little treats I’ve baked. But like, no way I wouldevercall him in a time of need. He’s my boss…kind of a friend maybe. But he’s most definitely not my lover. I won’t call him. I refuse. That would be crossing so many lines.

It’s bad enough that I masturbate to thoughts of him. Really, he needs to just stop it.

I fold my arms back across my chest and arch an eyebrow at thisridiculousman. It’s all a bit of bravado though because if I knew he felt even an ounce of what I feel for him, I would step between those legs of his and let him hold me.

I could use a hug after last night.

But it will never be like that between us.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth and chewing on it. It’s not like I haven’t experienced this before. This is a story as old as time.

With parents like mine, who needs enemies?

Dean’s eyes swivel down to my mouth briefly and then he asks, “It does matter. Where will you stay tonight?”

I shrug, not feeling overly concerned because I’ve been on my own for quite a while and have always managed. “I’ll figure it out.”

He taps a rhythm on the wood of his desk, the ring on his thumb clanking against it noisily. I love those rings. Sometimes I daydream about how they’d feel if he ever touched my dick.

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