I woke up in darkness, not quite conscious enough to think of anything other than how hot I was. Not a bad hot, like the summers back in Ecuador where the sun beat down on your head and the humidity tried to smother you. No, it was a comfortable warmth. A soft heat, one brought about by physical contact with someone else. By snuggling. A thought that brought me from half awake to fully awake in the blink of an eye.
Connor was wrapped completely around me. Or I was wrapped completely around him.
His arms—those muscled, freckled arms I’d noticed a million times since I’d moved in to the building—clutched me to his chest. So tight around me. So strong. He had his face buried in my neck and one calf lying across mine as if he wanted to touch every part he possibly could. All the parts I wanted him to touch.
But this was Connor…my neighbor and best friend. My only friend, really. As much as I wanted to stay there, to take advantage of every second of my own personal fantasy coming true, I knew he didn’t mean to hold me like that. Connor was sweet and kind, a true caretaker. An overprotective bear of one, but a caretaker nonetheless. I couldn’t take advantage of that trait.
I rolled back, slowly trying to extricate myself from his hold. Knowing I’d miss the heat of him as soon as there was space between us again. But Connor had other plans. He gripped me tighter, tugging me almost underneath him. We became connected from shoulders to toes, skin on skin where the shirt I slept in had pulled up. The trail of hair leading from his navel down into his sweat pants scratched against my stomach, and the weight of his thigh resting on top of mine pinned me in place. A fact I wasn’t unhappy about.
There was nothing I could do, no way for me to escape him, so I lay in the dark and stared at the man I knew so well. He was handsome in his sleep. He was handsome all the time, but with his eyes closed and his jaw relaxed—with that sleepy-little-boy thing going on—he was irresistible. And I was so tired of resisting.
Giving in to my desire, hidden away as we were in the manufactured safety of his bedroom, I took a chance and reached for him. I ran a single finger down his cheek, smiling at the stubble that always darkened his jawline. He called it a five-o’clock shadow—I called it a five-day beard. I’d touched it before, teased him about his constant lack of shaving, but this was different. This was…sensual.
I touched, unable not to. Fearful I’d destroy everything, worried I was risking my heart and his career on the off chance of getting more. Wishing for things I could never have no matter how badly I wanted them. No matter how long I’d craved them.
Connor grunted in his sleep, his eyes fluttering as he pushed me onto my back and moved with me. Covering me. Laying his weight on me.
His weight, and his very hard, very large cock.
I froze, not sure what to do. I knew what I wanted to do, but he…he’d never looked at me as if he wanted me. Not really. Connor had never acted as if I were anything more than a friend. And after last night, after likely hearing that John call me a whore, I couldn’t imagine he wanted me. His body betrayed those assumptions, though. And mine…well, it called to him. I was hot and wet for him already, and not just because of the temperature of his room.
“Lo,” he mumbled, tugging me closer and brushing his nose along my cheek.
I closed my eyes and gripped his arm, something like desire brewing inside of me. Something unfamiliar in my life. It had been so long since I’d done anything physical for the sake of my own pleasure. Too long. I wasn’t even sure if I remembered how to have a normal, sexual relationship with a man. I especially didn’t know how to have one with a man like Connor. But I wanted one. Immediately. Desperately.
Digging deep to pull together every ounce of courage I had, I pushed against Connor’s chest. He rolled, bringing me with him, his eyes popping open and meeting mine as he ended up flat on his back.
“Lola?”
I swung a leg over his hips, making sure to rub my thigh against where he was already so hard and hot. “Connor.”
He groaned and tugged me until I was straddling him. Riding him. Only two thin layers of fabric between us.
“Lo…” Oh God, he groaned like he wanted. Like a man who needed. “What’s this?” he asked as I rocked slightly, keeping my hips against his. Keeping that hard ridge trapped between us. I wanted to answer him honestly, to tell him I was offering myself to him. That I wanted him. That I’d always wanted him. But the words wouldn’t come, my bravery petering out as my eyes adjusted to the low light in the room.
“What do you want it to be?” It was a dishonest sort of question, one that hid my own desire behind the possibility of his. He had to feel me against him. Had to know I was soaked for him.
“Oh Jesus. Don’t ask me that, beautiful. Not when you’re grinding your pussy on me. Please. I can’t—” He shook his head, pulling me closer. Gripping my hips so tight I was sure he’d leave marks. Hell, I hoped he did.
Bravery and lust building into an inferno, I dropped down and pressed my lips to his. Stole a kiss from the man I’d come to see as my true heart. It was soft and sweet…easy. No tongue, no open mouths or groping hands. A simple kiss. One that had been two years in the making. One that took everything I had to resist deepening.
“Please,” I whispered, pulling away for just a second. He wouldn’t let me, though. Wouldn’t let me put an inch of space between us. He tugged me back down and pressed his lips to mine once more. This time, the kiss turned hot and lustful. Turned deep and languorous. Turned into the stuff of my fantasies.
Connor kissed me like I’d never been kissed before, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with purpose. Every inch of him seemed to tense beneath me as he grabbed and pulled and devoured. I held on to his shoulders, needing balance, rolling my hips against where he was so hard. I was too far gone, too deep into my need to think about the consequences of what we were doing. I wanted him, and from the way he groaned into my mouth as I ran my pussy along his cock, he wanted me as well.
“Fuck,” Connor said as I pulled away from our kiss to catch my breath. He kept up his touching, though. Running his hands down to grasp my hips. Tugging my shirt—his shirt—up until we were flesh on flesh again. The feel of his skin against me, of his touch, had me rocking on top of him. Had me craving that release I had relinquished in my life. I hadn’t come in years, hadn’t even attempted to because of all the things I’d seen and done for my work. Hadn’t wanted to. Connor made me want.
“I need—” I gasped, fighting off the orgasm I could feel building within me. “Connor, please.”
“Take it, Lo.” Connor lifted his hips, thrusting against me as he pulled me down and made me gasp. “Take what you need.”
I couldn’t resist another second. I pushed up, rolling my hips as I balanced with my hands against his chest. He pulled and pushed me, moving me over him, thrusting up every few passes to grunt and groan and make me feel so fucking good. Too good.
For the first time in two years, for one of the very few times in my life, I came. The orgasm roared through me, my muscles clenching in response. A deep, needy groan escaped my throat, one that seemed to push Connor closer to his own release as he bucked in response. And still, he held back. His face was pinched, his hands tight on me. I could almost feel his hesitancy, his slowing down. His withdrawal from me.
“Oh, Connor,” I said, my brain a little foggy. My lips far too open and my secrets too accessible. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Connor froze, his body stiffening. His eyes going wide. I stared down at him, breathing hard. My hands still pressed against his chest.
“Connor?”
Without a response, he growled and flipped me over, rutting against me in too fast, almost out of control thrusts. Filthy words fell from his lips, things like, “You soaked right through your panties, didn’t you, beautiful? Can’t believe you let me feel you come.” I held on as best I could, my legs around his hips, my hands clutching at his shoulders as he bit and sucked and licked my neck. And then he groaned and pressed tight, his body rocking slightly. Jerking. Obviously coming.
Fuck, I’d made Connor come.
And I couldn’t wait to do it again.