Rachel: *pouts* Why can’t I find someone who wants to fatten me up?
Me: You don’t go to the right places.
Rachel: You mean I have to turn gay? Will a lesbian feed me?
I had to snicker. Me: How the hell would I know?
Me: Out of curiosity, would you turn gay for food?
Rachel: We live in the same city, don’t we?
Me: The same one where it’s about twenty-five dollars for a plate of pasta? Sure do.
Rachel: I guess I can live off one-dollar slices of pie for a few more years.
Rachel: Seeing as you won’t share your spoils with me.
I laughed. Me: Not on your life. Speak later, Rach. Gonna be a crazy one.
Rachel: Oh, that means I get to be your server again then, hmm? You cut out on lunch dates with me AND expect me to bring you food? Typical man.
Grinning sheepishly, I tapped out: Me: I promise. Tomorrow. Mantelli’s Deli. My treat.
Rachel: What if I want you to buy two sandwiches for me? You know, because someone isn’t sharing their loot?
Me: I can afford your extravagance. xoxo
Rachel: Okay, then I forgive you. Speak later. <3
As a result of our text convo, my grin was deeper as I headed off the elevator, and I’d admit there was a spring to my step as I wandered over to my section.
Normally, seeing Cassandra and hearing Rhode barking at someone was enough to put me in a killer mood. But being aware of a gift waiting on me perked me up.
It was so hard dumping my stuff then going straight to the break room to make Rhode her gross coffee when that little white cardboard box was waiting on me, but I managed it, knowing it would earn me less shit throughout the day.
With one disgusting concoction made, my morning brightened up even more when Cassandra was on the phone as I placed the drink on her table for her to take into Rhode.
Sequestering myself in my cubicle, my eyes were wide with delight as I wondered what he’d brought me today.
Devlin—CEO, awkward at dating, Viscount, hot as fuck, and secret feeder.
I had only one thing there to complain about, and even that was starting to get endearing. Or maybe he was just winning me over with food. I mean, the way to every man’s heart was through his stomach, wasn’t it? I was okay with being predictable.
When I revealed a cronut from the Dominique Ansel Bakery, my stomach churned. It had been so long since I’d been able to afford one of these, and I took an eager bite, not even pissed when the crispy shards of pastry exploded all over me.
My phone buzzed with a text. Seeing Devlin’s name, I took another bite as I opened up the message.
Devlin: How’s it taste?
Maybe there was some devil at work in my mind, or maybe I just wanted to tease him. I loved the Devlin that was revealed to me through text chats. It was only when we were together, in person, that he was strained. So uber-controlled it might have been easier sitting with someone from the cast of Humans. Only difference was that nothing about Devlin was synthetic.
With that in mind, I told him: Me: Almost as good as you.
He didn’t reply for the longest time, enough for me to finish my treat, and for me to wonder if I’d scared him off.
The thought had me shaking my head at myself, because hell, he was a grown man. What about what I’d said was terrifying?
Devlin: If I wasn’t in the middle of a boring meeting, I’d call up for you.
My stomach twisted with happy knots. Me: What would you do with me IF I decided to obey?
Devlin: If? There’d be no ‘if’ about it. I’m pretty sure you’d be willing to appease me.
Me: Depends. Tell me what you’d want.
Devlin: To know if you taste better after coconut water or a cronut.
It was way too early for a boner.
I tried to remind myself of that, especially when the day was going to be long, and probably very boring. But it was too easy for our short time together to flash through my mind.
It was crazy to think that, this time last week, I hadn’t even known who Devlin Astley was—other than the boss of my boss. He owned a company I was interning for. Nothing more, nothing less.
Now? He was in my thoughts way too often, filled my stomach, listened to me, kissed like a dream, and, somehow, treated me with more respect than any other person I’d ever met.
What that said about the people I’d met before him, other than Rachel and Sadie, I wasn’t sure. Either he was special or they were just particularly shitty. Or maybe it was a little of both? He was, after all, unique. To me.
My first...
That night, in the dark room, was a blurred jumble of memories thanks to a post-orgasm adrenaline high, as well as the overwhelming anxiety of my first time with a complete stranger—an act that was both terrifying and freeing all at once. I just remembered the sticky heat, the scent of him in my nose, the crisp silk of his hair against my palms, the rough texture of his chin as it scraped over my throat.
My hands grew sweaty with the memories, and I knew my eyes were glazed as my mind tripped onto the next day, when he’d jacked me off in his office, when I’d slipped to my knees and sucked him off in front of the city itself...
Around Devlin, I was another person. Someone brave and out there, someone who was so ready to be me that it should be frightening—
A realization hit me, then.
If I was another person around Devlin, why shouldn’t he be too?
That realization was why the first thing that came to me was: Me: How come you can’t say things like that when we’re together?
His reply wasn’t forthcoming, but I didn’t worry about it this time. Not when I knew he was in a board meeting.
I’d already switched on my computer as I was eating my cronut, and had started going through my email even as my head was back in the whirl of the past few days. In such a short space of time, my life had gone from nothing but work to thinking about the CEO of Astley Publishing. I wasn’t eager to revert to my old ways. Something about Devlin made me crave more of him. We hadn’t had sex since that first day, so I craved that too, but it was more him.
I craved the real him.
Was this awkward version the real him? Or was it a complex mixture of the assertive owner of a progressive publishing company and the nervous man who I’d dined with over the past few evenings?
Before I could stew much longer, Devlin replied: I’m not looking at you - you make it hard to think.
My eyes flashed wide at his candor. Me: You really mean that, don’t you?
Devlin: Haven’t you figured it out yet?
Me: Figured what out?
Devlin: You’re the only person who has ever made me feel this way.
Devlin: I have to go. Enjoy your breakfast... See you at my place tonight?
Even as I wished that I didn’t learn more about him in a text conversation than in person over dinner, I felt bad too.
In the limo, he’d said that I made him tongue tied. Did that mean I was the only person who’d ever made him feel like that?
Me?
My lips twitched into a smile. It wasn’t a cocky one, wasn’t in anyway big-headed.
It was pleased.
Happy.
If I tied his tongue, then I figured that if I found other things to do with it to keep it occupied, it would unravel over time.
Because that sounded like a challenge worth taking, worth being patient for, I typed: Me: Looking forward to it.
And I was.
More so than was probably wise, but hell, you had to mess up your bed before you could make it again. I just wanted to rumple up the sheets with Devlin.