“HONEY, YOU HAVE to make some effort,’’ my mother pleads for the third time since she called me ten minutes ago. Unfortunately for me, she’s caught me before I could take my first sip of coffee.
I roll my eyes and sigh. “I don’t see why I should, Mom. I’m not the face of Cox Company.’’ I open my large fridge made with mirrors and ignore my wild mahogany hair and my long Harvard sweater that stops mid-thighs from my college years. Unfortunately, the fridge’s content is awfully lacking. There was only yogurt and beers for Brock. It’s blatant that I don’t eat here often, and when I do, I order take out.
With a sneer for my fridge, I close it and lean against the spacious kitchen island, eyes down to the light gray tiled floor.
“You will be the active CEO next year, Adeline. It's your duty to attend such events to represent the company and create new contacts. I shouldn’t even have to explain this to you!’’
I repress an unwanted giggle at hearing my mother’s voice getting all squeaky as her nerves rise. It’s something that has always amused me and landed me in troubles growing up. After all, when your parents are teaching you a lesson or lecturing you, and you laugh at your mother’s face instead of showing remorse isn’t the best approach to avoid punishment.
“Mom—‘’
“At twenty-seven, you shouldn’t be whining anymore,’’ she butts in, but I swear I can hear her smile on the phone. “If it makes you feel better, Brock will be there. At least you two can mock the guests all night long.’’
I perk a little at Brock’s mention.
As predicted, because of him I had a restless night, overthinking everything he said and how strange it was to consider sleeping with him, but he is still my best friend and my partner in crime. If there is someone able to make an otherwise boring charity event fun, it’s him.
“Do I have a choice?’’
My mother laughs in the receiver her crystal, and carefree laugh that rings and draws out of me a smile. Even at sixty-four, she is still a very young spirit when it comes to her relationship with me. Though, the shock of generations is there.
“I have a whole week to harass you with phone calls, emails, and text messages. You know what it means. Oh, and let’s not forget the wonders of Facebook.’’
I groan and agree to go before I hang up and slouch on one of the four stools taking one side of the kitchen island. With my elbows planted on top of the sleek surface, I hide my face in my cold palms.
I hate those social events. They are taxing on energy and mine is very dwindling these days. Spending hours in a fancy hotel, talking with other people while trying to sale my family company and listening to other’s endeavors made only to impress their peers is not my idea of fun. That’s when I realize the gap between my twenty-seven years to these people in their late fifties living for these social events. After all, I’m closer to my college years than to retirement, which is quite the opposite to most attendees.
The sound of keys in my front door’s lock reach me, but I don’t look up. When the door opens, and heavy footsteps come in toward my open kitchen, my heartbeat doesn't even speed. Only one person has the keys to my place.
“Did thinking about me naked keep you awake all night?’’ Brock asks and puts a paper bag on the immaculate island.
I will my cheeks to not blush. Seriously, in close to three decades of friendship, we have never talked about sex as in sex together or hinting at it. Fortunately, I have enough self-control not to feel my cheeks heat. I remove my hands from my face and place them under my chin.
Brock’s smirk is maddening. He’s having way too much fun at my expense. Even his dimples, white teeth, jet black hair in disarray are bugging me. He chuckles as if he can read my mind and pulls up to his elbows the sleeves of his dark gray v neck sweater.
“Tell me you brought a bagel.’’
“Open and see for yourself.’’ He pushes the paper bag to me, and I greedily grab it. My stomach growls loudly at the same time, and I smile at Brock, thankful for his thoughtfulness. I can never stay mad at the man.
Inside, a big bagel is calling my name. I take it out, and without missing a beat, I take a bite and groan like an animal. “Damn, I love bagels.’’
He chuckles and walks around the island to sit next to me while I devour my breakfast. Three more bites and I’ll already be finished with it. I’m eating like a pig, but in front of Brock, I don’t care. He’s seen me at my worst and vice versa.
“Did you hear from your mother already? She called me at the crack of dawn.’’
I nod and shrug. “The woman is unquestionably desperate. I can’t say that I blame her. She knows how annoying these things are and while she doesn’t like how I don’t take these seriously, she enjoys my company to distract her.’’ I eat the last of my bagel and then glance sadly at the now empty paper bag.
“She took me at a moment of weakness. I was still half asleep, and I agreed to go without realizing what I agreed to. It was too late when my brain decided to join the little chat.’’
I pat his big shoulder and stand up, stretching my aching back while tugging down my sweater as to not flash him. Brock glances at my legs, but looks away quickly, balling the empty bag and standing to throw it away in the basket.
“She’s good. She used to be a lawyer after all.’’ I round the island and put my mug in the dishwasher and then glance at the clock above the stove. It’s already half past ten. “What are your plans today?’’ I ask before I walk out of the kitchen and turn on the Bluetooth speaker to play a random playlist on my iTunes account in the big living room decorated simply with black furniture and a few colorful objects. The decoration isn’t exactly my taste, but I rented the place already furnished, and I never decided to change anything, always claiming that the first time I’d buy an apartment or a house would be my first attempt at decorating to reflect my personality. I have enough money to buy a respectable place in a good neighborhood, but I never did. I guess having my best friend as my neighbor is one of the reasons why I’m still living here.
“Following you until you make a choice. I told you last night.’’
I freeze and turn around to see him casually sitting on my comfy black couch with both arms on the back and his legs spread in front of him. His stare is challenging me to say something, expecting me to, but nothing comes to mind.
Instead, I nod and walk to my bedroom, mumbling something about taking a shower and getting ready. Getting ready for what is a mystery, though.
I rush to my en-suite bathroom, strip off my sweater and jump in the Italian shower, keeping my eyes closed to try and enjoy the hot jets of water pouring over my head and down my aching back.
I quickly wash and then dry myself without taking the time to lather my body with my body lotion. In my bedroom, I walk to the walk-in closet and grab the first black jeans and blue sweater I find and put them on. I run back to the bathroom to brush my hair and teeth and walk to the living room where Brock is still sitting where I left him, now reading what I assume are his emails on his phone.
I push a few damp locks of hair over my shoulder and seat on the couch opposing Brock. He tucks his phone back into his washed up jeans and smiles again at me, probably finding it comical how much I rushed my morning routine.
“Eager to see me?’’
“In your dreams. We just need to talk so stop teasing me or else I’m going to ask for my keys back, and I’m not even kidding.’’ I snap and cross my arms defiantly.
He loses his smile and the amusement he’s been showed ever since he walked in. Instead, he nods, sits straighter and rolls his broad shoulders as if to prepare himself to go into a fight. “You’d take your keys back?’’ The disbelief in his voice and the underlying hurt makes me pause, but not for long. I’m too frazzled to go back on my words, so I approve with a single nod. “Addy…’’ he says in an exhale and runs a hand on his freshly shaved face. He appears younger when his face is bare like this.
“You don’t take me seriously, Brock! How do you think it makes me feel?’’ I avert my eyes and instead focus on the large windows overlooking the city. From my position on the couch, I can mostly see the upper half of the buildings and the gray clouds announcing impending rain.
“Why do you think I told you to let me help you to conceive a baby? I know you’re serious and it doesn’t sit well with me to think about you—‘’
“I’ll stop you here because I don’t want to know that you’re thinking about me having sex. It’s too disturbing, Brock.’’ I cringe and shake my head as if to forget about it. Why is my best friend a straight man? Why can’t he be gay or a woman? Things wouldn’t have strayed into awkward-ville that way.
“Am I disgusting you this much? Damn, it’s starting to get annoying,’’ he says, and his frown is guilt-tripping me.
I run a hand over my face bared of make-up. I can be such an insensitive bitch sometimes when I’m nervous.
“You know I’m not. It’s scaring me the hell out to have you so ready to bed me even though I know it’s because you want to help me and because you care about me.’’
His smirk reappears, but it’s not as bright as usual. In fact, I think he’s pretty much faking it to hide how he honestly feels. I guess I hurt him more than I thought.
He clears his throat and fidgets with his expensive watch on his thick wrist.
“Addy, either you want me to help, or you don’t. In other words, either you want a baby now, or you wait for the next guy to be lucky to have you.’’ He crosses one leg over the other, bending it at the knee. His eyes never waver from me as my brain is working at full capacity. In fact, I’m thinking so hard that my temples are already throbbing.
“I need time.’’
“So you’re willing to wait another month?’’
“I…’’ I clear my throat and go again. “I just can’t picture myself with you! I’m sorry Brock, but I’ve known you all my life, and it never crossed my mind so I can’t…’’ I trail off and wave at him and then at me, words failing me.
“Stand up,’’ he demands with a crisp voice. He jumps to his feet, keeping his shoulders straight and his gaze on me, urging me on. Seeing that I have yet to move, he frowns at me. “Stand up, Addy.’’ He clenches his big hands into fists, flexing the muscles in his forearms and upper arms. His gray v neck sweater can’t hide his muscles.
I bite back a few choice words at being ordered around, and slowly stand up, tugging my blue sweater down when it rides up my hips. “What now?’’ I open my arms wide as if to say 'bring it on, buddy.'
He stalks toward me and stops close. Very close to me. I gulp and make a move to step back, but he takes hold of my shoulders before I could. I glance up and quickly avert my eyes, suddenly assaulted by a shyness foreign to me.
He’s tall, towering way above me. His rich scent envelops me, and his heat warms me without touching me elsewhere. I bite my lip and keep a tight leash on my breathing before it rises and increases. His spread fingers above my sweater aren’t moving, aren't biting in my shoulders either, but I feel every one of them, and I don’t know what to make of my wrecking nerves. It’s not like it’s the first time Brock ever touched me.
He brings one hand under my chin and tilts my head up, ensuring that our eyes lock. His smirk is long gone now. His lips, so well defined and in a shape of a bow, are pinched in a straight line. But in his eyes, there is something I can’t put any word on to describe it. Or so I thought until just one word comes to my mind and it’s something that shouldn’t be there at all. Not when he’s looking at me, his best friend. It’s not precisely lust, but it’s hot nonetheless.
H-O-T.
“I’m going to state the obvious, so don’t roll your eyes, all right?’’ I nod weakly, unsure if he catches it, but when he opens his mouth to talk, I guess he did. “You’re a woman, and I’m a man.’’ Now I can see why he warned me not to roll my eyes. His smirk comes back for a brief second at watching my face probably reflecting my thoughts. “I’m sure that we can forget we’re friends and have sex, enjoy it even, and then go back to being friends and putting it behind us.’’
I brush his hand away from my face and step back. Impatiently, when I feel him resist, I push at his chest and glare. Of course, he doesn’t budge, but he drops his hands. “It would be difficult to put it all behind us if I get pregnant and I gave birth to your child!’’
“There’s a good chance you won’t get pregnant on the first try.’’ He shrugs casually and glances at the sky when a flash of lightning breaks out. I jump and crosses my arms tightly.
I’ve always hated storms. It all started after I went on vacations at my aunt’s who lives right in the middle of Tornado Alley in a small town. Since then, every time the sky is acting up I freak out.
Brock looks back at me and smirks. I sneer at him and turn around, ready to lead him to the door and see him out. It’s useless to try and have a real talk with him, not when he’s in such a mood. He’s always been the kind of man to never takes things seriously aside his work.
Everything is a game or leading to some fun, and while I enjoy that devil may care attitude most of the time, I hate it when it’s at my expense.
“Hey, Addy.’’ I jump when I hear his voice coming from just behind me. I glance over my shoulder. Brock is standing so close that I can’t see his face, just his wide chest, and his gray shirt. I turn back around and tense when his hand lands on my shoulder. “I’m here.’’
I shake him off and back away a few steps to put distance between us. I don’t like showing any weakness, and this one is so childish that even when mentioned by Brock I'm ashamed.
“Just go, Brock. You know how I hate fighting with you and I can tell that we’re going to fight.’’
I hear his steps on the floor, the noises of his shoes squeaking and how his jeans scratch each time he takes another big step toward me and the door. In the corner of my eyes, I can make him reach for the door and stop just before his fingers touch it. His head topped with wild jet black hair turns to me, and I can’t help but face him.
The gold in his eyes mesmerizes me. He shakes his head, takes two steps in my direction and towers over me again. Without a word, he tilts my head up.
His eyes are on my lips, and he doesn’t even try to hide it or the way he flushes lightly, something I had only seen a couple of times when we were in middle school.
I don’t know what he’s trying to prove or do, but one thing is sure; at this very moment, standing a few feet from the door, for the first time in my life, I'm seeing my best friend as a man I could kiss, a man I could desire.
It’s one thing to know your best friend is very attractive, but it’s very different to feel it.
My heart tries to leave the protection of my chest, beating so fast and hard that my veins seem on fire. My skin is clammy as my nerves skyrocket into the stratosphere. And it’s without saying that I’m tingling, something I haven’t felt since my last boyfriend dumped me.
His thumbs trace an invisible line along my jaw and up to my lower lip. Against my better judgment, I close my eyes. He takes that as an invitation, and if I'm honest, I’m pretty sure it is one even though not a conscious one. After all, I spent a whole year—and a day—without any sexual contact with the opposite sex. At this point, the mere thought of a kiss seems like an orgasm-inducing event.
Just before his lips touch mine, he breathes out close to my face, bathing me in a mix of mint and cinnamon smell that has my mouth watering. I part my lips just slightly and then, he captures my mouth.
Oh, my God. I’m kissing my best friend. Or weirder thing, my best friend is kissing me!
His bow-shaped lips move over mine, and I unfreeze surprisingly fast. His lips are soft, supple and yet so very demanding. I comply without resistance, unable to battle it out. Instead, I let Brock take the control. I let him bite my lower lip, suck on it before he runs his skilled tongue along mine to draw out a breathless moan from the deepest part of me.
It’s the kind of kiss you only give or take as a prelude to more. It’s the kind of kiss you never let people see because it sizzles.
I wound my arms around his neck and go on my tippy toes, tilting my head just the right way to deepen the kiss. When my tongue brushes the roof of his mouth, his hands on my cheek and hip bite into me, pulling me to him harder. I gasp, but I don’t break the kiss. I can’t, not when my brain is still unresponsive and when Brock is resolutely not ready to let me go.
His hand on my hip pushes my sweater higher to have access to my bare skin and I snap back to reality. I step back suddenly and open my eyes so wide that I’m pretty sure I look insane, which isn’t that far from the reality of the mess that is my mind at that very second.
Brock’s eyes are still closed, tightly so while his eyebrows are scrunched up. His lips are swollen and of a darker pink than usual, the perfect consequence of the crazy kiss we just shared. His cheeks have that flushed hue I saw earlier, but this time it’s more visible, more enticing for a reason I can’t quite explain. But when he finally opens his eyes, and I see them so dark, so hard, so lustful, I jump away from him and his warm touch. I bring a hand to my mouth while I mutter something incoherent under my breath, breath that I can’t seem to find back as it spurs out uneven.
He blinks a few times as if to gather his bearing and then takes a deep breath, eyes never leaving my face. I can only guess what I look like, and if it’s anything like him, the lust I felt seconds ago must still be apparent.
“It was one hell of a kiss, Addy. You can’t tell me that you couldn’t have sex with me after that.’’ His deep voice sings the perfect tune to make my body sing for him, a desperate tune I know so well.
I clear my throat and lick my lips, still tasting him on my tongue. The muscle in his jaw clenches. “You shouldn’t have done that.’’
He rubs his left eyebrow. “Why not?’’
“You are already looking at me differently,’’ I mumble and fidget from one foot to the other.
“And you’re not looking at me differently?’’
I roll my eyes and groan. “That’s the point! Damn it!’’ I point at his face, and when he smirks, I just want to shave his perfect head bald, punch his wonderful mouth and yell at him all at the same time. “A kiss between friends can’t be just a kiss.’’
He leans against the wall right next to the door and crosses his arms over his chest. “You sound like an episode of Dawson’s Creek. Come on, Addy. A kiss is just a kiss. It illustrates what I tried to tell you. We’re adults, you’re a woman, and I’m a man so of course, it’s possible to sleep together.’’
I avert my gaze and feel myself blush, the heat in my skin gaining field as it takes up my whole face and down my neck. I must resemble a tomato at this point. “I can’t even look at you anymore.’’
He grumbles under his breath and grabs my hands before I can escape him. He’s no longer leaning against the wall. “Because you wanted me just then? Seriously, Addy, you don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s natural.’’
I jerk my head up and make a weird face at him, causing his smirk to get bigger. “I forgot, you’re so handsome, hot and all that shit that all women must want you right away just at the sight of your dimples and abnormal-colored eyes.’’
“You’ve never told me that I’m hot,’’ he shoots back, a laugh caught in his throat as he bites his lip, without a doubt, to keep it in.
“Take this seriously, Brock! Isn’t it weird to you that your freaking best friend wants you to the point that she can’t look you in the eyes more than two minutes?’’
He loses the smirk, but the darkness of his eyes comes back. In fact, it changes so fast that I don’t have the time to register it that I’m already against the wall, trapped between the hard surface and his firm body. “Tell you what, Addy,’’ he says slowly, his voice very low, “you have one word to say, and I’ll tear off your clothes and take you against this very wall without a second thought. That’s what state I’m in right now.’’
This time, I can’t look away even though everything in me is screaming at me. I should break that trance, that dangerous road we’re on, driving at full speed and ignoring the risks of crashing.
But I don’t break it.
No, I do the very opposite.
I ball his shirt in my tiny fists and secure his body against mine. It’s beyond the ‘professional’ way things should have been handled, and I’m well aware of it. Somehow, we opened a door we carefully kept closed and locked for near three decades and what is behind it is way too attractive to be good for our friendship.
“I know you want it bad, Addy. I feel it, see it, and,’’ he pushes his hard length into my stomach, “I really want it.’’ He whispers that last part in my ear, his breath caressing my sensitive skin.
I grit my teeth and close my eyes. Knowing and having proof of his desire for me is something to behold. It’s been a year since I last felt a man’s desire for me, to give that kind of want, and need for me that I can’t think or feel anything else.
“Yes,’’ I breathe out, eyes still closed and body pressed against his while my hands venture over his chest, tracing the planes and dips of his abs and pecs over his v neck shirt. Under my palm, his heart is beating as hard and fast as mine, and it’s something he can’t fake.
“What?’’ he asks me with a confused look on his face, momentarily clearing the lust in his eyes.
“Tear off my clothes and take me before I change my mind.’’
He doesn’t smirk or smile as I would have expected, but instead, he leans down and grabs my thighs, putting his hands over the globes of my ass and hikes me up, my back pressed against the wall while my breasts are flushed against his chest.
“Your choice of location. Wall or bed?’’ He arches an eyebrow, and I can’t help the giggle so very girly that escapes my mouth. It all is so strange.
“Don’t care, but hurry before I change my—‘’
“Shut up and don’t think. Just feel, Addy. Feel me.’’ He kisses me then and I open my mouth to let his tongue play with mine, to dance and battle as I delve my hands in his hair, taking fistfuls of strands to better anchor me to him. I’m rewarded with a deep growl from within him.
I don’t open my eyes when I notice him walk away from the wall and back to the couches. I still don’t crack my eyes open to watch him when he pushes me to the sofa, and he lays above me, taking most of his weight off with the help of his elbows.
“Open your eyes.’’ His voice is hoarse, deep and goes straight to the pit of my stomach. I run my hands down his back and his muscles bunch.
I open my eyes and lock them with his. He’s riveted to my face, and in turn, I’m mesmerized. Between my parted legs his hard length is pushing in, teasing me relentlessly. His lips are parted, blowing out puffs of air down my neck and over my collarbone, causing me to shiver twice before I tighten my arms around him and my legs around his waist. I’m tingling all over.
“Brock?’’
He nods and dips his head and kisses me again as one of his hands runs down my arm and my waist. When it reaches the hem of my shirt, he plays with it, teasing it again and again just like his tongue is teasing me by brushing my lips, my tongue and retreating without deepening the kiss. Once I moan though, the teasing is gone, replaced by a new overwhelming intensity.
He fists the hem of my sweater and sits up, grabbing me behind my back with his free hand to bring me up with him. His eyes locked in mine, he jerks my sweater over my head before throwing it away over the back of the couch. He finally breaks eye contact, and I watch him take in my bare stomach and the contrast of the black silky bra over my milky skin. His eyes caress longer the small patch of skin just below my breast where lies a tiny triangle of beauty spots.
I bite my lip and reach for his shirt, but before I touch the soft fabric, he strips it off, revealing his chest. I had seen it many times over the years while going to the swimming pool on summers or two years ago when we went to Hawaii for a week of well-deserved vacations, but it used to be different.
Of course, as a straight, red-blooded woman, I can’t say that I never drooled over the perfectly muscled chest Brock religiously takes care of. But, before today I never wanted to kiss, lick and caress every inch of it, feel the muscles bunch and move under my hands while he’s inside me and filling me. And when I stare at the trail of dark hair running below his belly button and down to disappear in his jeans riding low on his waist, I can’t wait any longer.
I put my hands over his pecs, my fingers lightly playing with the fine dust of hair before my mouth quickly follows. When I take my first taste of his smooth skin just under his right pec, I’m embraced with his rich and spicy smell. I lightly bite his flesh and then brush his skin with the tip of my tongue.
I pull back a few inches and blow air over the love bite and only stop when he shivers and sucks in a breath. His smooth skin pebbles with goosebumps. My hands wander over his chest, my fingertips tracing the edges of his abs that flex at the contact. It’s impossible not to touch him.
I look back at his face and note he’s biting hard on his lip as if to keep a handle on his control, something I thought would snap as soon as clothes would disappear.
On my knees and facing him on the couch, I frown. “If you’re going to stay frozen like a statue, I think we should stop right here.’’
He cocks his head on one side, his gaze swiping over me from my bare stomach, to my face with a break at my heavy breasts still hidden by my bra. He leans closer to me, towering over me even though we’re both on our knees on the couch. His jet black hair falls in his golden eyes. “Are you in a rush?’’
“I just want to feel what you have in store for me. You bragged so much,’’ I say, smiling coyly at him, enjoying teasing him in spite of my better judgment. It’s so easy.
He runs the tips of his fingers over the bare skin of my arms and down my sides. They brush my bra and stop there, skimming the edge of my breasts and retreating just before he finally puts his hands on my breasts.
I moan and grab his shoulders, my nails dragging over his skin. He hisses under his breath and deftly unhook my bra to get rid of it.
Clumsily, I unbuckle his belt and go for his jeans when he captures my wrists in one hand. I glance up and see him detailing my naked breasts. Even though he’s not touching me aside from my wrists, I swear it’s as if his eyes are physically stroking my erect nipples. It sends my breathing into a frenzy I can’t hide anymore. He affects me so much, so much more than he should and I blame my one-year dry spell. It messes with my sexuality which explains why I react so strongly to his stimuli. That can’t be anything else.
“I knew you had perfect breasts,’’ he breathes out and runs the fingers of his free hand down my collarbone and over the swell of my breasts. I gasp but don't make a move to escape his grip or his touch. In fact, I lean closer, earning me another smirk along with the flash of a sexy dimple.
“You wondered?’’ I ask out of breath when he finally cups my left boob and teases my nipple. I shiver, moan louder and let my hair hide me as my cheeks blaze all over again.
But it’s useless. As soon as he can’t see me clearly, he releases my wrists and pulls his other hand away from my chest to push away my hair over my shoulders. “I’m a man. Thinking about my female best friend naked is a prerogative.’’ He winks and glides his hands down my body. When he gets to my jeans, he unbuttons it with an expertise that catches my attention, but I immediately push this thought away when he explores the silk of my small panties. “Lie down, Addy.’’
I do as I’m told, something that doesn’t often happen and help him undress me to my panties. He takes in every inch of me, stopping at every tiny beauty spot or small scars from my childhood he sees. I’ve never felt so, dare I say, sexy. That’s just the way he looks at me, touches me that makes me feel that way. He gives me that power without actually letting me have the upper hand.
He stands up suddenly and gets rid of his shoes and jeans. My eyes land immediately on his hard length pressing under his white boxers and playing peek-a-boo.
All of Brock is magnificent, and I can’t find a single flaw. Even the scar he got on his shin when he was nine and fought an older kid who bullied me completes his body.
He comes back to the couch and goes on his knees, placing them on either side of me until he’s on top of me again. He's holding off his weight while pressing his erection where I'm already pulsing, begging for him, for that part of him I don’t know and want to get acquainted as soon as possible. He pushes his groin in between my legs and we both moan, our breathing coming faster and louder than before. I can’t hear the music on anymore, all I hear is us.
He kisses me, heatedly, and trails one hand down my body, toying with my breast before his hand goes down, tracing around my belly button and then pushing down my panties until they’re off and I’m naked. I plunge my tongue into his mouth, bite on his lower lip and then, push his boxer past his firm ass and powerful thighs. When I can’t reach with my hands, I help myself with my tiny feet. Brock smirks against my mouth, and I downright laugh at my show of feet-ability.
He pulls away from my eager lips and trails open-mouthed kisses along my neck, my collarbone and over the swell of my breasts. I squirm under him, but soon he grabs my hips to stop my movements. I groan, or maybe it’s a moan. I don’t know and don’t really care. I make a sound, and in answer he pushes his hard length against my bare skin, again and again as his mouth lavishes my nipples, taking the time to make me moan louder and louder until I beg him for more.
His fingers join the party, exploring my wetness with an urgency that’s growing and growing in me, but he denies me. Of course, he does.
I dig my nails into his shoulders, and he crawls back up to me, locking his blazing eyes in mine. I have never seen such a look in Brock, and it’s blurring the lines more.
He hikes my legs higher over his hips, and I cross them over his firm ass when his tip is at my entrance. I’m not breathing anymore, and I don’t think he is either.
Then, he pushes in slowly at first and then hard all the way. I moan loudly both from the light pain I feel at his size—it’s been a while—and because it’s so amazing that I can’t form a word, even less think about one.
“Feel me in you, Addy.’’ He breathes hard in my ear, and the air coming from his mouth gives me shivers as it caresses my hot and already oversensitive skin. He tilts my hips upward and I moan again, contracting around him. He clenches his jaw and frowns. His eyes darken more. “You feel that?’’
I nod and try to move, needing him to move, but I can’t. “Brock, oh God, move.’’
Without a word, he pulls almost entirely out and then, pushes back in, growling while doing so. The muscles in his chest bunch tightly, showing edgier lines. I arch my back at the sudden move and bite on my lower lip to keep in the loud and primal moan I desperately want to release. But, when he does it again, moving his hips hard into me, tightening his grip on my hips as his skin brushes against mine and his low growls and moans embrace me, I can’t help the loud noises coming from me or how I claw at his back when I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.
We’re moving, battling harder and faster as the minutes pass. I need more, more of everything, more of these sensations, of him, of the sounds we’re making both with our bodies and from deep within us. Everything is heightened, everything is better, harder and so much more intense than I expected.
Then, suddenly, I can’t breathe or make a sound when a burning sensation invades my veins alongside tingles starting at my toes to end in between my legs at my core where Brock is buried so deeply that I just know I’ll feel him long after. I arch my back, buck against him and tighten incredibly more around him.
His movements become uneven, and he throws his head up, growling out my name in a deep and strangled voice as my eyes take in his taut face and bunched up muscles.
We stop moving and look at each other without saying a word. My heart is beating as fast as if I had tried for the Olympics selections for both the marathon and the sprint. My breasts sway, brushing against the light trail of hair over his chest. My hands wander from his back to his biceps.
He puts his forehead against mine, closes his eyes and pulls out of me. I press my eyelids tight together at the loss of him, already all weird and shy.
I slept with my best friend.
How can you forget that? If only it could have been strange or just half good, but when it’s been so… earth-shattering?
I will never see Brock the same way, not now that I know how it feels like when he’s buried as deeply as possible in me, not now that I know how he looks like when he comes, not now that I know what sounds he makes during sex. Beyond the act itself, these details make things different.
He sits at my feet, and I bring my legs to my chest before I mimic him, hiding my intimate parts that aren’t mysterious to him anymore. He brings both hands to his sweaty face and takes a deep breath. I glance down at my knees.
Not only did I sleep with Brock, but I could be pregnant now.
Oh, God. I could be pregnant with Brock’s baby!
I blink and bring a hand to my mouth, ready to hyperventilate. Maybe that idea of having a baby now isn’t such a great idea. What did I do? Am I crazy? Brock was right when he said that I’m deep in crazyville.
“Addy?’’ Brock’s voice snaps me back to the present.
When I meet his eyes, I see the concern in them and I want to cry. He has always been the protective kind with me, and even now he still is. I don’t deserve it when I just made him have sex with me to have a baby.
“Go home, Brock.’’ I avert my eyes and tighten my hold on my legs.
“Ad—‘’
“Please, just go home.’’ I hide my face in my thighs, and I don’t glance at him when he sighs or when I hear him getting dressed. I know him, and I’m sure it’s killing him to leave me without saying a word, but he listens to me. And he walks out while I’m still naked on the couch.
Am I going to lose my best friend?