CHAPTER ONE - NINA

The first time I ran into Brent Colton I was five years old.

I was rushing back to my kindergarten class, late from having wandered farther than usual over the course of the break, and I came across a tumble of action—obvious among the deserted grounds.

I realized three boys were beating the hell out of a smaller one crumpled on the ground, who was trying to fend off the blows with his tiny arms as he covered his head, his body curled in defense against the vicious attack.

The boys were older than me, and although I was a little chubby (a characteristic that stuck with me for a while), I was still much smaller than any one of them, yet I charged toward that group like I had hidden judo skills and guardian angels, and yelled for them to leave him alone.

I didn’t know anything about the situation—whether their victim was guilty of anything or not—but what I saw didn’t look right, and it sure as hell didn’t look fair.

If it had been two guys fighting each other, I might not have intervened, but three against one?

I must’ve looked a sight, or maybe they didn’t like having a witness—in any case, one boy got in one last kick before another tugged at his shirt and the three of them sped off.

I ran over and knelt by the crumpled boy.

“Are you okay?” I asked, despite the obvious.

I only got a grunt in return.

My eyes scanned him and the space around him.

His thick dark hair was ruffled, his otherwise smooth, creamy face blotchy, his glasses askew, and the contents of his lunch box all over the place.

I started gathering them together while he slowly raised himself to a sitting position.

“Thanks,” he said, looking sort of adorable with his glasses all slanted, leaving one blue eye free and the other trapped behind cracked glass.

He adjusted his spectacles as best as he could to sit properly on his face.

“I’m Brent,” he said.

“I’m Nina,” I said with a smile, trying to cheer him up. “Why were those guys beating on you?”

He shrugged. “Because they can,” he said.

I helped him the rest of the way up.

Not surprisingly, we became fast friends and we stayed that way for two years—until my family moved from the area and I had to go to another school.

I later realized our move was due to my father losing his job and our lifestyle as a whole being downgraded.

I also learned later what a competitive private school I’d been enrolled in; my parents had tried to get me on the path to Ivy League and thought attending that special school would help, but I ended up in public school for the rest of elementary through high school, which brings me to the second time I ran into Brent.

The first week of freshman year of college I felt a little scared and a lot alone.

Brent and I hadn’t stayed in touch or anything, so I had no idea he’d be attending the same university as me until I saw him strolling toward me as I headed to the cafeteria.

We both sort of stared at each other for a while, slowing down our steps until we figured out about the same time that we knew each other.

“Nina?” he said wondrously, his beautiful blue eyes—sans glasses—widening a bit and a small smile beginning to spread on his face, almost dazzling me.

“Brent!” I pretty much squeaked in joy.

Jesus, the years had been good to him—he was a certified hunk.

I ran toward him, closing the distance between us in a hurry and we slammed into a tight hug.

At first I had just been tickled by seeing a familiar face and I was relieved that it belonged to someone I felt I knew pretty well—someone who’d been my best friend at some point—but as Brent’s hard, muscular body gripped mine, his strong arms enveloping my soft body, it began to sink in even more what the years had done to us.

We were a bit past the teenager stage, but still very young and hormonal, and very distinctly male and female.

My generous, pillowy breasts pressed against his hard chest, and other parts of us lining up sent awareness shooting through my body, raising my temperature astonishingly quickly.

I was still a virgin, but my usually quiet pussy suddenly got chatty, begging for a bit more of what she got a hint of as our pelvises pressed against each other.

I pulled away, startled at the sudden animal lust taking over me.

I took a step back and examined Brent again—this time from up close.

He was well-built and handsome, no doubt, and he looked a lot different without his glasses—so much so that it was a wonder I recognized him at all.

I suppose the general way he held himself tipped me off, helped along by the way his blue eyes bore into mine when he realized he might know me.

Brent and I launched into a quick catch-up conversation, filling in the years with places lived, schools attended, intended majors.

At some point, in the new deep voice I still couldn’t get over, he said, “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you, Nina. Of all the college acceptances, I picked this one, and here you are. Looks like we’re destined to be friends!”

I tried not to show how much my heart had fallen at his words and chastised myself for expecting anything else.

How could I think for a moment we could be anything more?

We’d been separated for ten years, and we’d only ever been friends way back then—what else was he supposed to say?

Plus, it was obvious that’s all he’d ever see me as—I was still chubby and unremarkable-looking, in general—no lustrous, eye-catching hair to offset my staggering plainness, no sassy beauty mark adding allure to my face or neck.

Of course I was destined to be friend-zoned—how could he see me as anything but his chunky, brown-skinned friend?

But no matter how much reason I tried to talk into myself, I couldn’t stop wanting more from him, more of him.

Where the hell had it come from?

He was a fine specimen, but I didn’t know current Brent at all, despite having talked to him for a while as we reacquainted ourselves.

All I knew was that the sound of his new rich masculine tones had sunk into my memory, and I longed to hear him when he wasn’t around.

We easily became good friends again, and this time, we had way more to talk about than games and toys.

We ended up having a few classes together, and Brent ended up having particular trouble with one, so we spent quite a bit of time going over class material.

At the end of an all-nighter before a test, he thanked me and said, “You saved my ass again. How is it that you always manage to rescue me—one way or another—whenever we run into each other?”

I didn’t really know what to say to that so I just shrugged and smiled as I looked away, unable to take his eyes on me.

“You have a really pretty smile, you know,” he said in a suddenly serious tone, and I felt myself blush furiously, my skin heating up so much, I almost wanted to dunk my head in ice before I got brain damage.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, though I’m not completely sure it came out intelligible; the attention he was giving me at that moment was absolutely demolishing my faculties.

Sure, I’d had a small crush on him that crept up on me during our friendship as kids, but what I felt for him now felt far more dangerous.

I was too invested in every look and smile he gave, too curious about what he looked like underneath his casual school wear.

The sight of his bicep jumping whenever he moved an arm deranged me, and it seemed like I couldn’t stop my eyes from going to his lips.

I wanted to look after him in a way that was inappropriate for what we were—just friends.

To make things worse, I watched him change girlfriends every few months—all attractive, slim women who seemed nice enough and never threatened by me, of course. Why would they be?

That is, until one particular girl—Stacey.

“She thinks you’re in love with me,” Brent said lightly as we headed for the library one day, as if the notion was absolutely ridiculous, but his eyes searched my face for a reaction and response.

I didn’t blame Stacey for being concerned about the time Brent and I spent together, but it’s not like I was going to embarrass myself and make a move on him; I was clearly not his type.

I forced a laugh and said, “What?” then changed the subject.

I know, I know—smooth.

I did the next best thing to make up for the fumble—once a classmate took interest in me, I started entertaining it.

It was nice to get some attention finally, and the guy wasn’t bad-looking.

Plus, I didn’t want to stay alone, longing for something I couldn’t have.

What a loser I’d be if I kept pining after Brent, right? Especially when it was clear as a Spring morning that beautiful Brent wasn’t about to give me the time of day.

This big girl needed some love too.

I introduced my interested classmate to Brent one day, not really expecting anything, but a strange change came over my old friend’s face.

Brent’s eyes locked on the guy in a way that alerted something in me, but I couldn’t figure out what was going on.

Everything else about the interaction was neutral—the greeting words chosen and his tone of voice—but it was as if Brent didn’t blink the whole time the three of us shot the breeze.

Things took a definite turn after that.

My admirer backed off inexplicably, and when I finally worked up the courage to approach him and ask why he hadn’t asked me to lunch again, he said the oddest thing, “Obviously, you’re taken.”

He shrugged, not meeting my eyes.

“Excuse me?” I said.

I’d almost said that I never even had a boyfriend, but phew! Dodged that embarrassment.

“Your friend, Brent,” he emphasized, finally looking me in the eye. “Clearly, you’re his property.”

My body heated with anger.

I definitely resented this guy’s choice of words, despite how much a part of me wanted them to be true.

I also wanted to confront Brent, but what was I supposed to say? It’s not like I had solid evidence of relationship tampering.

Ultimately, I decided Brent had done me a favor—a guy as spineless as my classmate had no business being with me. Scared off by a glare? Come on, now.

I pushed him and his words from my mind, not daring to dignify his reasoning with further examination; after all, that dude was way off—no way Brent thought of me as his, not like that.

But when Brent called me over to his dorm just a few days later, my primal alarms started sounding; something was definitely off.

CHAPTER TWO - NINA

Don’t get me wrong—I’d been to Brent’s room countless times: to pick him up before we headed to the caf, to shoot the breeze, to work on a project or toss test questions around or whatever, so I had no reason to think this time would be different and ignored my gut.

Once I stepped into his room, smiling at him in greeting, as usual, Brent pulled me to him with one arm while shutting and locking the door behind me with another, setting off my alarms again.

“What?” I said stupidly, at a loss as to what had actually gotten into him.

Were we about to have a fight?

He looked sober and sort of steaming—almost like he was mad about something. I could practically see fumes coming off of him.

But before I could begin to make sense of his actions or try to figure out what could be bothering him, his lips were suddenly on mine—blanking my mind of rational thought completely.

I had dreamt about those lips many times, fantasized about kissing them many more times, and now those warm, beautiful kissers were on me.

It felt electrical and intoxicating all at once, and my arms wrapped around his neck while our tongues danced with each other.

The heat between his hard body and my soft curves increased, and I felt a tingle travel down my body until it reached my center.

My pussy came to roaring life, wanting more as he pulled me closer and pressed his hardness against me.

I gasped a little in shock—had I done that to him?

I couldn’t believe it. Where had all of this come from?

I didn’t really care about the answers—only that Brent kept doing what he was doing to my lips and my body as his hands gripped and caressed it.

When I felt him start working on his belt, reality suddenly set in.

Surely he didn’t plan for us to…?

I reluctantly tore myself away from him, slightly alarmed.

“Brent?” was all I could get out because my body was beginning to betray me and overrule the little bit of sense that had momentarily returned to me.

We were both panting heavily, and watching my gorgeous best friend overtaken by desire kept mine churning, but what we were about to do was so wrong.

I’d been on the verge of trying to move on from my obsession with him, and he still had a girlfriend as far as I knew, so there was no way I was about to become that woman—the other woman.

“Brent, we can’t,” I said more firmly, impressing myself with the sturdiness of my voice, considering how I felt.

“I want you,” he said huskily, his rumbling voice sending another sharp tingle from my ear to my hungry, wet core, and I started to lose the reasons why I was protesting at all.

Here was the opportunity I’d dreamed about countless times laid out before me—the chance to get even closer to the man I was madly in love with.

What was my problem again?

Brent’s jeans crumpled to the floor and he started working on my top.

I was bereft of words but not thoughts as I realized he was about to see a whole lot more of me—my lady lumps bare to his eyes pretty soon.

Since my words had failed us, maybe the sight of my thick, naked body will stop him, and he’ll suddenly start pulling my top back down and his pants back up in disgust—he was used to chicks who could fit the clothes on mannequins, after all.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, as if reading my thoughts, then he flung my top away, followed quickly by the toss of my sensible black bra, exposing my ample twin jugs.

“My god, you’re a goddess,” he said before bending to fill his mouth with one of my breasts.

My nipple hardened under his sweeping stimulation, his moist tongue flickering over my flesh as he sucked on one breast and fondled the other.

My underwear was pretty damp by then, and with Brent moving his mouth to my other breast while working on my jeans, I knew I was about to lose whatever moral battle I’d been fighting.

I was still a bit self-conscious about my body, but my longing and desire overweighed it by far.

Soon, I felt myself in a sort of daze—a state of paralyzing disbelief—because come on, how could this possibly be real?

“Lie down,” Brent suddenly said, indicating his bed with his eyes and a tilt of his chin. “On your back.”

His commanding tone left no room for disobedience.

I tried not to think about his hungry blue eyes assessing my chunky backside now exposed to him as I headed for his bed and did as he said, my chest lifting and falling rapidly as fear, joy, and desire mingled in me.

Should I tell him I’m a virgin? Will that ruin everything? What if he has a ‘no virgins’ rule?

Then again, what if he thought I was just awful at the whole thing? If he knows it’s my first time, he’ll cut me some slack, right?

I stopped thinking once he worked his shirt off and I was left to gape at his muscled torso and the tight, rippling abs leading my eyes down to his tented boxers.

Christ, it was all real.

His cock was hard, long, and ready, and in a few minutes or less, he’d be pushing it inside me.

He crawled over me and my fear grew stronger as the momentous occasion neared—fear of what engaging in this intimate act could mean for us.

If we made love to each other, there was no going back to the way things were.

I thought he was going to slip his dick inside me right away, but his lips sought mine again and I found myself relaxing with his gentle kiss, my hands coming up to cup his head while we explored each other’s mouths again.

Then his lips left mine to trail down my neck, and the sharp, tingling sensations kept up my distraction, making me twist and turn at the currents of electricity zipping through me.

My yearning pussy started begging for him, and I felt myself thrust as if to encourage him to get going and start plowing me.

But he kissed his way down my chest, holding on to my generous boobs as his tongue and lips skimmed my eager, desperate flesh all the way down my stomach.

Then he started nibbling at my inner thighs.

“You’re so wet,” he said before his mouth clasped my pussy, and I arched and probably yelped my pleasure loudly. Whatever sound escaped me was definitely more than a moan, and I felt helpless to what he was doing to my body as he licked and pulled at my sensitive folds, his tongue darting between them and over them, and then making me almost lose my senses when it flickered over my oversensitive clit.

I was a brainless mush by the time he raised himself back up and guided the smooth head of his thick, stiff cock to my dripping entrance.

Reason and logic still had a few points to make, but desire had them bound and gagged, and when Brent leaned forward a little as he started pushing his hard cock into my tiny, wet hole, everything but the need for more silenced.

“You’re mine,” Brent growled into my ear, his words almost distracting me from the sharp pain of his rigid penis forcing my tight walls apart as my heart soared.

Then he stopped moving, only partway in.

“Shit, you’re so tight, Nina,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’ve never…” His face suddenly contorted as it seemed something took over him, and he pushed deeper inside with a bit more force.

I thought he was all the way in until I chanced a glance downward and noticed he still had more to go.

I gritted my teeth against the ache deep inside me, and despite the discomfort, Brent’s thick cock filling me felt right, and my slick, eager pussy was soon yearning for more.

“Don’t stop,” I begged, though I knew he wasn’t going to.

Instead of jamming the rest of his hard dick in, he started sliding it in and out, and my body relaxed under the new sensation, appreciating the gentle cock massage.

Soon, I wanted him deeper, and I adjusted myself to wrap my legs around him and try to push him further inside.

His pace increased, his thrusts got deeper and deeper until our pelvises slammed against each other.

Pleasure overwhelmed me, and I matched his thrusts greedily, taking as much as I could get while still wanting more and more.

His cock fucking my needy pussy felt like the most natural thing in the world, and when he started moving even faster and more desperately, I instinctively knew he was close to the edge of orgasm.

Knowing he was about to come from the tight squeeze of my cunt on his engorged dick took me closer to the edge myself, and when his thumb suddenly touched my clit and started massaging the oversensitive nub, I lost all control.

As he slammed against me in his finishing thrusts, I came loudly and unexpectedly, shocked by the initial paralyzing contraction and the pulsating aftershocks of my climax as he squeezed our bodies together with a final tightening of his firm ass as he came inside me, our bodies flooding each other with orgasmic juices.

I didn’t think about what that could mean then—I couldn’t think at all, still lost in the glittering emotions overtaking me—love, joy, and wonder.

Ecstasy.

Brent soon collapsed on top of me, and I relished the feel of our hearts beating hard and fast against our heated chests.

I wrapped my arms around him, feeling like nothing could bring me down, grinning wide.

It took Brent long enough to come around, but there we were—college seniors soon to graduate, and we had finally taken an important leap forward in our relationship.

“I love you,” I said, the words escaping me in a breathless whisper, coasting on unadulterated affection and bliss.

Brent stiffened, then said one of the worst things he could say—a phrase that never showed up in any of my fantasies after making love to him at last, “I’m sorry, Nina. That shouldn’t have happened.”

My heart didn’t shatter exactly—it felt more like someone had shoved a knife through it and then tore a path upward.

The feeling seemed astoundingly literal, the sudden searing chest pain leaving me speechless.

Brent couldn’t have possibly meant those words—not after knowing how I felt about him and after taking what he had from me.

He can’t possibly think he can just take it all back with an apology—that, with a snap of our fingers, it would be like it never happened. There’s no way he figured things could ever be the same.

My throat started closing up, and I fought hard against the tears welling in my eyes, my mouth trembling with the effort, but I lost embarrassingly.

“Listen, this doesn’t mean I won’t see you again,” he said, tucking some of my hair behind my ear. “We’re friends—always been—and it seems we’re destined to be, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in pain, I probably would have wanted to knee him in the balls.

Well, that’s what I thought once sorrow gave way to anger—I don’t know if I would have actually been able to inflict physical pain on him like that, no matter how much I wanted him to feel a smidgen of what he’d made me feel.

Which finally brings me to today.

About five years have passed since that delicious deflowering ended so unceremoniously, and right now, I’m heading back to work from my lunch break.

My car suddenly starts jerking, and I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with it this time, but the highway’s not the best time for shit to happen.

My eyes go to the gas gauge and I see the needle’s at the halfway mark, so I’m not out of gas.

I flip on the hazard lights and start heading right, hoping to safely make it to the shoulder.

Lucky for me, I get there without incident, and I try not to think about how late I’ll probably be. My eighth-graders probably won’t be too mad, though.

I bought this car off of Craigslist four years ago, once I had finally secured consistent work and decided public transportation wasn’t for me.

About seventy-five percent of my campus job earnings went toward my college fees in an attempt to pay them off sooner than later, and then the expenses afterward…oh boy.

Money was tight, so I figured it was easier to pay a lump sum and buy an old car rather than come up with money down and monthly car payments due over two to three years, because as far as I had gathered, I could own a car for the price of that same money down plus just one or two of those monthly payments.

A better deal, I thought.

Ha!

Anyway, it’s broad daylight, so I’m not too worried about leaving my car to check out the exterior and see if the problem is something obvious, like a flat tire.

I’ve had a few of those, and the jerking I felt could be a variation on that theme.

I never got a flat tire while on a highway—it was always after cutting through some alley or during a drive down a residential street—so perhaps the difference in speed accounted for the slight difference in feel.

I hop out and check the driver’s side.

Both front and rear tires look fine, but I kick them anyway and they both hold firm.

I head to the other side as a gorgeous, sleek, expensive-looking black car zooms by, looking like it popped out of the future.

I turn my eyes away, checking the passenger’s side tires, giving them the same treatment as the others.

Tires firm, more than enough gas—what the hell else could it be? Please, don’t be the transmission.

Armed with a bit more information, I call AAA.

I’m not really surprised something went wrong again—this car has had to have something major fixed at least once a year since I bought it.

Usually, when I’m excited about having saved up a good chunk of money, not long afterward the car goes, I’ll take that now! and the next thing I know, the head gasket has blown or the brakes have failed (luckily, that one happened as I was pulling out of my parking spot, so with a panicked pull-up of the emergency brake, I didn’t end up in a dangerous position).

Obviously, this car is on its last legs—it was already fifteen years old when I got it and had a hundred and fifty miles on it, and it’s not exactly one of those reliable brands that you still see on the road here and there—thirty years old and still going strong.

I sit and wait for the towing service.

To my utter surprise, I realize the sexy black car I’d glimpsed is now also in the emergency lane, backing up toward me.

My heart starts to speed up.

Part of me feels a little assured that it’s an expensive-looking car instead of a white van with tinted windows, but criminals could lurk in either, and who knows what kind of psycho could be hiding behind such a sparkly, opulent appearance?

I immediately lock all doors, making sure the windows are up all the way.

I start digging around for the Mace I keep under the passenger’s seat, and for good measure, I make sure the heavy flashlight I keep inside is also within grabbing distance.

I type 911 on my phone, ready to hit dial as the black sports car backs right up to my car, mere inches from the front of it.

Then, trying to calm the fear passing wildly through me, I watch as the driver’s door opens and a leg covered in immaculate gray slacks and topped off by shiny black shoe emerges.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say softly as the rest of the body emerges, and the tall, broad, well-suited form of Brent Colton walks toward me with twinkling blue eyes and a slight smile, straightening his suit jacket.

My heart pounds even harder.

A lot has happened since our graduation, which came about a month after our sexual encounter.

We didn’t keep in touch at all; in fact, Brent’s number soon changed and his social network pages eventually disappeared, so I pretty much had no way to reach him.

As far as I know, he and Stacey are probably still together, even though the few times I came across her on campus back then after the deed, she shot me such dirty looks that I just knew Brent told her about us.

I wonder how he painted our encounter? Did he make it seem like I was the aggressor? That I’d seduced him? Or did he come right out and say that we had been friends so long, he was curious and had to get it out of his system? Did he tell her that now that it was out of the way, he was one hundred percent devoted to her? Are they married now?

I glance at his hand and notice no ring.

I didn’t really have a connection with any of his other friends, so I’ve been in the dark about his life.

Maybe now I’ll get some answers to my questions; after all, now that we’ve crashed into each other again, there are some things I can no longer keep to myself.

Particularly the fact that he and I have a daughter…