Page 46 of Smoky Mountain Dreams
Jesse sat opposite him, sliding the coffee tray across theglass desk. Christopher tossed the bag with the muffins between them andgrabbed the paper cup marked with his initials. He took a deep gulp as Jessewatched his throat work. Jesse wanted to reach across the desk, wrap his handaround the back of Christopher’s neck and drag him in for a long, searching tasteof his mouth—coffee and spit and toothpaste, he was sure. Instead, he asked, “Worriedabout something?”
Christopher laughed softly and shook his head. “No. Morelike I was a little too excited.”
“Me too. I woke up before my alarm went off this morning. ThoughtI’d never get Brigid and Will to school and get here. Then when I did, Ifigured out that I’d made the classic mistake of hurrying up just to wait.”
Christopher’s lashes lowered and raised seductively, andJesse grabbed his own coffee cup, taking a big sip to keep from dropping to hisknees and crawling over to Christopher, nuzzling his crotch, and—
“What are you working on?” Christopher asked, interruptinghis fantasy. He nodded toward the collection of items Jesse had moved to theright side of his desk.
“A pearl necklace for a client.”
Christopher’s head tilted as he examined the tray of loosepearls and the drill. “How much is each of those worth?”
Jesse smiled. “Pearls are sold by weight. These aren’t verylarge, but the shape and luster is high, so they’re still worth more than manyother pearls their size.” He swallowed more coffee and swiveled in his chair,holding up a hand. “Here, look at these.” He pulled open the drawer in which he’dstored the beads when his disgusted client had told him just to keep thestrand.
Christopher whistled as Jesse held out a necklace ofgood-sized pearls. “Wow, this is beautiful,” Christopher said as Jesse passedit into his hands. “I’ve never held real pearls before.”
“You still haven’t,” Jesse said. “These are fakes.”
“Really?”
“A client came in to have them authenticated after spendinga pretty penny on them in Turkey. I had to let her know that she’d been taken.”
“Is it unusual that you have to tell a client they’ve boughta fake?”
“It happens occasionally. It’s never fun.”
Christopher pulled the necklace closer to his eyes, studyingthe beads, and then cast searching glances toward the pearls in the tray Jessewas working with. “They look the same.”
“To the naked eye maybe, but there are always tells.”
Jesse unlocked a drawer in his storage box and pulled out asmall, simple pearl bracelet he’d put together for a tourist who’d been passingthrough—and had never come back for it. It wasn’t really a problem since he hadan experimental pearl design for earrings he wanted to try out and the pearlsin the bracelet would do just fine.
He handed it over to Christopher, who put the fake necklacedown on the desk to look over the bracelet more closely. “These are real?”Christopher asked, running his fingers over the pearls.
“Yes. I’ll show you how you can tell. It’s simple. You justneed teeth and tongue.”
Christopher glanced up at him, eyes hot with what he seemedto hear as a double entendre. Jesse smiled. That was fine with him. He stoodand walked around the desk, approaching Christopher and moving their coffeecups to his filing cabinet.
He pulled Christopher up to standing and took the realpearls from his hand.
“Open your mouth.”
Christopher cleared his throat and licked his lips, pupilsdilating and his pulse thudding visibly at the base of his neck, and that wentright to Jesse’s cock. He held up the pearl bracelet and said, “Pearls arecovered in platelets made of a calcium carbonate known as nacre. It makes thema little gritty when you rub them against a tooth.”
Christopher’s lips spread slightly and Jesse took hold ofhis chin, feeling the slight scratch of stubble against his fingers. “You justrub the surface of a pearl against the flat of one of your top teeth.” Hepressed his index finger against the soft flesh of Christopher’s top lip andrubbed it gently, his cock going breathtakingly hard. “Like this.” He slid oneof the pearls on the bracelet against Christopher’s tooth, feeling the wetcling of his lip, and then the tentative touch of Christopher’s tongue on histhumb.
Jesse whispered, “Did you feel the grit?”
Christopher nodded, his cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide,and his breath coming in fast, harsh pants. Jesse pushed the pearls fartherinto Christopher’s mouth, sliding them into the wet hollow under his tongue,feeling the slick of his inner cheeks on his fingers and thumb, and theslippery softness of his lips. He leaned in and breathed in the scent ofChristopher’s neck. It was now excitingly familiar: a musky shampoo scentedwith what seemed like possibly bourbon and old books, an earthy aftershave witha hint of mint, and the sweet, unique, layered odor of his Gran’s cabin thatclung to his clothes and skin.
“Christ,” Jesse murmured. “You’re just delicious.”
He kissed his mouth, the pearls still dangling fromChristopher’s lips, and as their tongues slid together, Jesse pulled the strandfree, the sensation of pearls sliding between their lips new and unexpectedlyerotic. The kiss didn’t break as Jesse tossed the pearl bracelet on a sidetable and grabbed Christopher’s T-shirt, dragging him closer, tasting his spitand hunger as they pawed at each other’s hair and clothes, shoving hands upunder shirts and scrabbling at jean buttons and zippers.
“Door,” Christopher muttered.
“Got it.” Jesse kicked it shut and turned the lock beforeturning back to red-faced, tousled, need-consumed Christopher, who had workedhis jeans down to his knees and now leaned back against Jesse’s desk with hiscock standing up proud in his hand. “Holy shit. Look at you. Goddamn.”
