IT TURNS OUT Everett warning me about the weather wasn't a metaphor. There actually was a rainstorm, and I had to pull over twice to put on my hazards. It took me twice as long to get back to his townhouse, and I'm shivering as I fumble with the code.

Darting from the car inside got me completely drenched, and my boots are squeaking against the hardwood floors as I stride through the door and set my things down on the counter.

The television is still on, but the rest of the lights are off. As I round the corner of the couch, a smile tugs on my lips when I spot Everett fast asleep on it, his long body covering the entire piece of furniture.

I've never seen Everett asleep before, but when he's like this, he seems...peaceful.

The rain is still pouring down outside on the borderline of a monsoon, and knowing he stayed up to wait for me makes a billion damn butterflies erupt in my stomach.

It urges me not to leave him just yet.

I shrug my coat off, let it land on the ground, and step out of my boots, lingering awkwardly by the couch as I try to figure out the best way to wake him up. He said he wanted to have sex, but he seems so relaxed. The last thing I want to do is ruin his sleep, and honestly, I'm beat from another shift of answering questions about home improvement projects, cutting rope, and dragging a flat around the entirety of the store.

Yes, I say internally with a decisive nod. I'll let him sleep.

But when I reach down to pick up my boots, Everett grasps my hand instead and tugs me onto the couch with him.

In seconds, before I can avoid it, my body is entirely on top of his, my chest pressing against his stomach.

"Everett." I try to brace myself on my elbows, but there's not enough space on the couch from his bulky body. "I'm heavy this way. I'll suffocate you."

He lets out a tired whimper cuter than it should be, wrapping his arms around my neck to hold me against him. "You're perfect, Em. Just go to sleep."

Fuck.

The way his body is a damn heater beneath me, his sweatshirt and sweatpants a blanket, it's an effort not to snuggle in closer. But what does this mean? He's asking me to sleep with him without sex, and Liam... We can't do this to Liam.

We agreed to keep this casual, and while sleeping all night together is definitely crossing that boundary, falling asleep after sex is still sticking to our agreement, right?

I know that's a bullshit mentality, but it makes me feel better about it.

He's hard, and with the way I'm laying on him, it's pressing right against my lower stomach.

I'm unsure if he fell asleep again, so I make it seem like an accident when I run my hand over it and bring it up to rest on his chest. The moan I get in response tells me he's not asleep yet. Not at all.

So I do it again, running it over his cock's full length.

I'm still drenched from the rain, but Everett doesn't seem to care as he runs his fingers through my hair, cupping the back of my head to bring my lips to his. He kisses me deeply, and this kiss...

God, this kiss.

He keeps it torturously slow, entwining his tongue with mine and running his hand from my hair to brush down my spine, finally settling on my ass. I should be squirming beneath him, desperate to get friction, but for whatever reason, I'm content with keeping this makeout session slow.

And when was the last time I made out with someone?

I feel like I'm back in high school as I tease him with gentle brushes of my hand over his length through the material of his sweatpants, and it only makes him greedier with his kiss.

He sucks my damn tongue, and my eyes roll to the back of my head from the pleasure. I can't remember a time when I felt this...giddy. Like I'm floating on a cloud or feeling so good that I—

Everett pulls away, scanning my eyes. "Did you just laugh? Am I that bad of a kisser, Em?"

I shake my head, giggling harder, knowing I  laughed out loud. "No, not at all. I think you might be too good. I feel...light. I don't know how else to describe it."

Now he's chuckling, nuzzling his head into my neck, causing me to laugh even more. "Okay, good, because that little laugh was the sexiest thing I've ever heard. How else can I get that sound out of you?" He licks my neck, and I fully lose it, tilting my head back in hysterics as his fingers grip my sides.

"Okay, stop!" I beg. "I'm ticklish."

"Fine," he concedes, squeezing my love handles that I'm beginning to appreciate more every day. "You win."

A silence falls over us, but in this silence, the way he's staring at me, it's like we're having a conversation in our heads. He's telling me things I've wanted to hear for years, and it gets so intense that I have to force myself to look away.

Casual.

Just fucking.

Keep this casual.

Sinking to my knees beside the couch, I tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, loving the way those eyes darken from the faint lights of the television passing across his face. "Emery, I..." He heaves out a massive sigh.

"What?" I ask, blinking innocently up at him. "Do you not want me to?"

"Are you kidding? I think I've dreamed of—" He clears his throat, and that little sprinkle of admission causes me to gulp, forcing everything I've ever felt for him to be shoved deep, deep down before it all comes up like word vomit. "Truthfully, I'm not going to last a minute with you doing this, Em, and I want you to get pleasure out of this, too."

I never thought I got to him that much, but knowing he's so weak because of me makes me want to devour him completely.

"What if I want to taste you?" I ask with a raised brow. Slowly palming him again over his sweatpants, I watch every expression on his face. The slight jaw drop...The large inhale of breath... His hooded eyes... "What if I told you I've pictured your cock inside of my mouth probably as many times as you?"

"Emery." He releases a straggled breath. "Are you sure?"

"Very."

He proves how weak he is when that's all it seems to take to tug his sweatpants and briefs down. His cock springs free, smacking against his lower stomach from how hard he is and the sight of it... God, I want him.

"Wait," he pleads.

I rest back on my knees as he sits up and turns until he's directly in front of me on the couch. I'm kneeling between his legs, and as soon as I wrap my hand around his length and blink up at him again, he cusses and shuts his eyes tight. "Fuck, I'm already about to bust."

"I haven't even put my mouth on you yet, Ev."

"I know," he groans. "Trust me, I'm aware."

I love seeing him on the brink of no return, and knowing it's me who gets him there causes me to waste no time. I wrap my mouth over his head, running my tongue along the slit to gather the precome and relish how his thighs clench. I moan at the amount of self-restraint he's needing to hold himself back.

"Christ." He collapses back into the couch, running a hand over his face. "You know how many times I've imagined you like this? When you used your smart mouth, this is exactly how I wanted to shut you up."

I take him deeper just for saying that. I'll punish him for telling me I have a smart mouth, and I'm pleased when he hisses, his fingers weaving into my hair, clutching the strands in a tight fist.

"Look at me," he says. "Let me see those pretty brown eyes, Emery."

My cheeks are tinted pink from the compliment when I allow myself to meet his stare. It's breathtaking. Those ocean blue eyes are zeroed in on me and only me, and when I take him deeper, using my hand to stroke the area I can't fit, he bucks his hips uncontrollably. "Oh, fuck. I'm gonna come. I don't want to be quick but fuck, Em, the way my cock looks in that sweet mouth of yours, I'm—"

Hot ropes of come spurt down my throat unexpectedly, and I'm so wet I can hardly breathe. Everett's thrusts are messy as he continues to come, and my eyes widen when it seems to be never-ending.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he pants, clutching tightly onto my head. "God dammit, I'm not finished."

His head is thrown back against the couch as I drink every bit of him up. I run my tongue over his shaft, stroking the underside of his head, and I almost laugh again when he trembles beneath me.

I've thought about doing this to him more times than I care to admit, and he tasted just as good as I assumed he would.

"So?" I ask.

Before I can blink, he scoops me into his arms and trades places so that he's on his knees before me now, my thighs spread wide. I'm still wearing my work pants, so he works the buttons and tugs the damp material off my legs, revealing the bright pink thong I purposefully changed into just for him before I left for work.

"Oh, Emery..." He chuckles devilishly. "You're about to come so hard you won't be able to see straight."

I throw my head back in anticipation, letting out a damn growl when he tries to take my shirt off, swatting his hand away. "No time," I moan. "Put that fucking tongue piercing on my clit. Now."

"Yes, ma'am," he complies, and without another word, he moves my thong to the side, sliding that cool metal right against my sensitive bud.

He eats me like a starving man—like he can't get enough, and I've never felt so seen by anyone like this before. The other times I've gotten head from Liam, he was always tentative, always unsure, but with Everett... He knows exactly what he's doing, and with every sensitive spot of flesh his tongue meets, a burning sensation follows its path. I want him everywhere.

I'm spread wide for him on this couch, his fingers digging into my thighs as he flicks his tongue and works magic on my pussy. The sounds escaping my mouth are borderline unworldly, but it only seems to turn Everett on more.

And then he starts to stroke his cock, delving his tongue inside me to gather up the wetness he's created. "So fucking beautiful," he praises. "Love how wet you get for me."

"Oh, God," I whimper.

He slips two fingers in, bending them forward to coax out my orgasm, and I'm too weak, too turned on, to hold it back from him.

In seconds, I'm a shattering mess around him, tugging on those damn curls when he replaces his fingers with his tongue to taste every last ounce of my release.

His lips are shiny, the silver piercing glistening from my arousal when he finally pulls back, and holy fuck, I've never seen anything hotter.

He joins me on the couch, pulling me down on him again. He's still in his sweatshirt, and I'm still in my work polo, but neither of us seems to care when he grabs a fluffy blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over us.

I had an exhausting day. That orgasm just took any last ounce of energy I had with it.

"We should go upstairs into our rooms," I mumble, feeling my eyes begin to close.

"We should," he agrees, but we don't move a muscle. "Five more minutes?"

Yes.

Five more minutes.

Enough time to enjoy it, but not enough to feel bad about this in the morning.

We wait for the time to pass, seeming to hold our breath, and as the seconds tick down in my head, I bury my nose into his sweatshirt to inhale his scent before he has to let me go, and this fantasy falls apart.

But instead, he wraps his arms around my neck to keep me in place, and I don't fight him.

I snuggle closer into his chest as we settle into the couch, and with his scent filling my nose, I fall asleep with a smile for the first time in almost ten years.

Author's Note

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