“You look like a naughty librarian,” I murmur as I lean down and kiss her. “When did you get glasses?”
She laughs. “Tenth grade. I just normally wear contacts. I took them off when I woke up to pee last night. I keep this backup pair of glasses in my purse.” She points to the little bag that I had slung over my shoulder alongside her last night.
“Well, they are sexy as fuck.”
She blushes and smiles. “Glad you approve. Now, back to the pancakes. We need food before we head to work.”
She turns around and I slap her ass. “Make me some pancakes, breakfast wench!” I say in a fake British accent.
She looks over her shoulder. “Bitches get stitches.”
I laugh and lean down to kiss her cheek. “Fuck, Megladon, I missed you so goddamn much.”
She flips the pancake and places it on my plate. “Your pancake, sir,” she says in an equally bad fake British accent as she curtsies with my plate in her hand.
I take the plate and start to pour maple syrup on the pancake. She reaches for a plate that already has a pancake on it and then grabs the syrup from me. She’s pouring it on her pancake when the idea hits me.
“I have a better idea for breakfast,” I announce as I grab the bottle from her.
She cocks her head to one side and looks at me. I know the second that realization dawns on her. “Oh no, no way. That is going to be so messy.”
“Don’t worry, I got us covered,” I say as I run to the hall closet and grab a towel. I lay it on the floor of the kitchen and motion for her to raise her arms. She complies with a pointed look. I’m rewarded with a very naked Megan. I grin as I start to push my sweatpants down. She grips my hands.
“Let me,” she says. I pull my hands away and she cups my growing erection through my sweatpants before she pushes them slowly down until gravity takes effect and they pool on the floor around my feet. I kick them off and watch her watching me. It’s hot as hell. “I love guys in sweatpants. It’s hot. I always wanted to do that.”
I chuckle and place my hand under her chin. She looks up at me. “You can do that any time you want. And now that I know you like sweatpants, I’m going to wear them all the damn time.”
She giggles for a second until I start pushing her toward the ground. She complies and lies down before me. I take the syrup and drizzle a little over her right nipple. She jumps from the cold sensation before I lick it clean.
“Should have warmed it up first,” I scold as I drizzle some over her left nipple and give it the same attention.
Then I pour it between her legs, spreading it with my fingers. I lean down and start licking her clean. If I thought Megan tasted good, Megan with maple syrup is some sort of next-level experience. I feast on her until she’s crying out my name and then I keep feasting. After she screams again, she pushes my head away. I look at her.
“My turn,” she states as she leans up and pushes me down. I comply and watch as she drizzles a little on my cock. She leans down and runs her tongue from my base to my tip and I nearly come right then.
“Fuck,” I mutter, but I don’t get out another word because she deep throats me, and I’m suddenly overcome by the sensation of her tongue running down my length, her lips wrapped around my cock, and the suction she’s creating.
“Jesus, Meg. How do you know how to do that?” I ask in a low gravelly voice as I try to compose myself and not come in three seconds.
She glances up and lets me pop out of her mouth. I immediately regret asking her a question because right now, I want to be back in that mouth.
“Porn, duh. I was a virgin, not a saint,” she states as though I’m some sort of village idiot before leaning back down and taking me into her throat again. The thought of little innocent Megs watching porn has my mind creating my own raunchy scenes. Why did she have to tell me that?
It only takes a minute or two before I come as I grip her head and fuck her face, groaning her name as I spill in her mouth.
She pulls away and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She glances up at the microwave. “We better ‘actually’ eat…and shower.”
I press my lips together to keep from laughing as I reach up and grab our pancakes. We eat picnic-style and naked on my kitchen floor. Both of us talk about our favorite shaped pancakes and how we both miss my mom’s Sunday breakfasts after we’d have slumber parties. It takes all my self-control not to call our internship and say we are sick so that I can have my way with her all day. How I’m going to make it nine hours without touching her is a whole other problem.
Chapter Eighteen
Megan
Torture. This is my penance for fucking my former-turned-current-best-friend-slash-boyfriend-or-fuck-buddy? What are we? Now, I’m contemplating that as I stare at the same rendering I was staring at fifteen minutes ago.
“Earth to Megan?”
I look over my screen and find Clark staring at me.
“Are you OK?” he asks. I roll my eyes because he’s smirking like a total ass.
“I’m fine. I just can’t figure out why this hinge isn’t working how it should,” I state. So, it’s sort of a lie. I know why it’s not working, it’s basic physics and geometry. I figured it out fourteen minutes ago and then started daydreaming about Clark.
“You want me to look at it?” he asks, his smirk slowly fading as he walks around to my desk.
“No. I got it. It just took me a minute,” I state quickly clicking some buttons and fixing the rendering before he can see it.
He steps forward and takes a look. “That’s good,” he praises as he watches the mechanics that I have formulated.
“It still needs a little work but it’s getting there.”
He leans over my keyboard to get a better look and I smell his cologne. Why does he have to smell so good? His bicep flexes and I watch it move under the thin fabric of his dress shirt. I think knowing exactly what that bicep looks like when it’s flexing while he’s fucking me makes it even worse. Now, I’m sitting here thinking about sex with Clark. I close my eyes and rub my temples.
“Are you sure that you’re OK?” he asks again. When I open my eyes, I find his face a mere few inches from mine.
“Yeah, I’m fine. A little tired, but I’ll survive.”
“I hope you aren’t too tired,” he quips before pulling away and walking back to his desk. He gives me a quick wink and starts tapping away at his keyboard.
I want to groan. How am I supposed to spend the rest of the semester working with him?
I take a deep breath and go back to work, doing my very best to ignore him for the remainder of the afternoon.
Our supervisor Raquel comes by and we both present to her what we’ve been working on while she asks some questions. It’s nerve-racking. I just want to do well, to have a shot at a job here. It’s like everything I’ve ever worked for is culminating in this very moment, all the fun times that I missed out on, all the trips I didn’t go on, all the hard nights of studying. It all leads to this job, my end goal, and now it’s in my sights.
By five o’clock, I’m exhausted. I just want to go home and sleep. I groggily follow Clark to his car and lean back in the seat, closing my eyes as he drives us back.