Page 37 of Better When Shared
I locked eyes with him, letting him see every ounce of desire as he thrust deep. My hands found his ass, digging in, urging him harder, faster.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, feeling the familiar tightening at my core. “Right there.”
Julian groaned, his control slipping. His thumb found my clit again, pressing down hard.
“Come for me,” he growled. “Come thinking about both of us inside you.”
The image sent me over the edge—Julian fucking me while his college roommate watched, stroked himself, waited his turn. I shattered around Julian’s cock, walls pulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed through me. Julian followed me over the edge, his head thrown back, cords of his neck standing out as he pumped his cum deep inside me.
He collapsed beside me, both of us breathing hard. Sweat cooled on my skin as the aftershocks of my orgasm rippled through me. Julian’s arm draped across my waist, his face buried in my neck.
“Holy fuck,” he muttered after a long moment. “That was... intense.”
I laughed breathlessly. “You could say that.” I traced lazy patterns on his back, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breathing. “So, this friend of yours... the one we’re having dinner with on Friday?”
“Mmm?” Julian sounded half-asleep already.
“Is he hot?” I asked, only half-joking.
Julian chuckled against my skin. “I guess you’ll find out on Friday.”
Chapter 4
Caleb
My client’s laughter filled the private corner of the hotel restaurant as we wrapped up our afternoon meeting, the conversation turning more social and casual. The marketing plan was tucked away in its leather portfolio. I'd spent the last hour convincing Marco and his wife, Juniper, that the Bindery Hotel needed a more targeted social media strategy, and it seemed like they were sold on it.
The two of them were a lot of fun, and a kind of wacky in an over-the-top way, but it fit their hotel, which was in a renovated bookbinding factory and had all these quirky, unique touches. I was here to make sure guests craved that.
Though there was a reason I’d accepted a job in Portland. I took clients in the States occasionally, but not on the West Coast, not until my boss laid the Bindery’s portfolio on my desk, and I realized that I knew someone in Portland. My mind wandered to the impending reunion that had my stomach in knots.
It had been seven years since I'd last seen Julian. Seven years of avoiding his social media, of pretending those heated nights in our shared apartment had been nothing more than college experimentation.
And after a short email exchanged, I’d learned that during those seven years, Julian had fallen in love and gotten married. So tonight, I'd meet his wife, smile politely, and bury those memories even deeper. Professional Caleb, that's who I'd be. Not the man who still woke up hard from dreams of his college roommate's hands.
I shook that thought off and focused on Juniper, who was talking to her husband about something.
"I love it," Juniper was saying, tapping her nails against my proposal. "That idea for the typewriter video series? Guests will eat that shit up."
Marco nodded, his smile warming his face. "My wife has excellent instincts about these things. If she's excited, we're golden."
Juniper shot him a playful wink. "Remember when I told you to buy that 1920s letterpress for the lobby? Instagram catnip." The two of them were a little chaotic, but I enjoyed their banter and humor—in fact, if I could just keep them on track, they’d be some of my favorite clients.
"How could I forget?" Marco turned back to me, extending his hand. "You've done excellent work, Caleb. We'll implement your plan starting next week. And we promise to do a better job of sticking with it this time."
I shook his hand, appreciating the firm grip. "Thank you for trusting my vision. The Bindery is a special property—you guys have worked wonders with the renovation. It deserves more attention than it's getting, and we’re here to help you with that."
"And more paying guests," Juniper added with a laugh, already standing and gathering her things. She adjusted the colorful wrap dress that complemented her light brown skin and wild curls. "We should let you enjoy your dinner in peace. You have friends in Portland?"
"It’s my old college roommate and his wife," I replied, hoping my voice sounded neutral. "Haven't seen him in years, but I knew he was in Portland, so I looked him up once we signed the contracts on this job."
"Well, Chef's doing the halibut special tonight—it's fucking transcendent," Juniper offered. "And if Paulo's behind the bar, tell him to make you his mezcal negroni. It'll change your life."
Marco beamed at his wife. "She's not wrong about the negroni." He wrapped an arm around Juniper's waist. "We'll leave you to it. Looking forward to your follow-up visit next month."
As they walked away, I sank back into the curved leather booth, alone with my thoughts for the moment. The restaurant maintained the literary theme of the hotel with bookcases along the walls and menus designed to look like vintage book covers.
I checked my watch—Julian would arrive any minute. My stomach twisted with a complicated blend of nostalgia, anxiety, and something darker and hungrier that I refused to name. Would I even recognize him? Would he have gone soft aroundthe middle, lost that sharp jawline I used to watch while he fucked women we shared?
