The Anti-Boyfriend

by Ward, Penelope

  Looking deeply into my eyes, he confirmed it one last time. “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  After a long pause he finally said, “Let’s go to your room.”

  He stood, reaching out his hand. With my heart pounding in my chest, I took hold of him as he led me into my dark bedroom. He didn’t turn on the lights, but there was enough light coming in through the window to see him.

  Is this really happening?

  My knees shook as I sat down on the bed, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement, the muscles between my legs giving new meaning to the term eager beaver. I had no idea what Deacon was going to do to me; I just knew I was going to let him do it and that my body was incredibly excited, as nervous as I was.

  Apparently my nerves were obvious.

  He placed his hand on my legs to still them. “You okay?”

  “Yes, I promise. I am.”

  His voice was low and gravelly. “Is there anything that’s off limits? Anywhere you don’t want me to touch you or anything you don’t want me to do?”

  His words alone were unraveling me, never mind anything he might do.

  “No. Do anything you want.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, as if to compose himself. Standing at the side of my bed, he whispered, “Lie back.”

  Deacon’s eyes were glassy as he looked down at me. He placed his large, warm hand on my stomach and moved it lower to pull down my leggings. After he slid them off, goosebumps peppered the skin on my thighs.

  He sat at the edge of the bed as he rubbed my legs. “You’re cold. Let’s warm you up.”

  As he ran his calloused palm along my legs, I practically melted into my mattress. His touch felt so damn good—not to mention surreal. It had been so long since I’d been touched by a man. But being touched like this by Deacon? It was my ultimate fantasy come true.

  After a few minutes, I felt his fingers grip the elastic band of my panties. Then he slowly worked to move them down. My clit was already throbbing, and he hadn’t even touched it yet.

  “Take your shirt off.”

  The demanding tone in his voice made me quiver. I lifted my T-shirt over my head but kept my bra on, mainly because it was the only article of clothing I had left.

  Deacon lowered his head and gently kissed down the length of my stomach. If I’d thought his hands felt good, that was nothing compared to his mouth. The stubble on his chin was rough against my skin.

  Then I felt his fingers at my opening. It was almost embarrassing how wet I was.

  “Jesus Christ, Carys.”

  “What?” I asked stupidly.

  “You’re so wet. It’s beautiful.”

  As soon as I felt his fingers pushing inside, my body clenched. It had been so long. My muscles were tight, and it actually burned a little. But within seconds, he was fingering me with ease. Then he added his thumb to the mix, circling and pressing on my clit, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before my body gave in to this.

  I could hear the sound of my own wetness as he moved his fingers in and out, landing so deep each time he pushed in. He’d barely done it for a minute, and I could’ve come if I let myself.

  Deacon’s eyes were on my face the entire time. He seemed fixated on watching me come undone.

  He reached for my chest. I felt a nudge on my bra before his fingers fumbled around the material. “Front or back?”

  After a brief thought that maybe he was asking how I wanted to take him, I realized he wanted to know where the opening of my bra was.

  My nipples hardening, I unhooked it from the front and tossed it to the floor.

  He pulled his fingers out of me suddenly, and my clit throbbed harder than before, longing for his return.

  Deacon moved to hover over me, one leg on each side of my body. He was so much bigger than me, and I loved the feeling of being locked in under him. He lowered his mouth to my nipple. The sexiest groan escaped him when he took it into his mouth. His teeth nipped at my tender bud, and I grabbed the back of his head, pushing him into my breast as he sucked my nipple harder. My fingers raked through his silky, thick hair. I writhed beneath him as my body longed for more.

  And then he gave it to me. He lowered his hand and pushed his fingers back inside of me, moving them in and out in a rhythm that complemented the way he sucked my breasts.

  It nearly did me in when he mumbled over my skin, “Fuck me. You’re even wetter than before. Amazing.” Pausing, he looked up at me. “You’re amazing.”

  Even in my lust-induced haze, I warned myself to take those words with a grain of salt, given the circumstances.

  And now he was doing that circling thing with his thumb again, rubbing my arousal over my clit, which felt ready to explode. But if I thought that was the pinnacle, I was wrong. Because when he pulled his fingers out and stopped sucking my breasts, Deacon slid his head lower and lower until it was right between my legs. I hadn’t been sure he was going to go there. I’d REALLY hoped he would. And it seemed he was.

  Oh God.

  He spread my knees apart, and at the first touch of his tongue to my clit, I let out an unidentifiable sound—certainly not one I remembered making before. He groaned in response against my tender flesh.

  “You taste so good, Carys. I’ve always wanted to fucking taste you.” His words vibrated through my core. Then he lapped at me faster, pressing his tongue harder against my clit.

  It felt like my body was here, but my mind had been transported to some other realm. There was no more concern about how I looked, how wet I might have been. I was too far gone now, gripping Deacon’s head and guiding his movements as his tongue pushed all the way inside of me and he massaged my clit with the top of his jaw.

  “That’s it. Grab my head. Show me what you like. Use me,” he muttered.

  Use me.

  I nearly came. Instead, I clenched hard and pulled his hair in an effort to prolong this, because I never wanted it to end.

  His breathing and the sounds emanating from him continued to prove this wasn’t merely an act of kindness. He was losing it right along with me, and I wanted nothing more than to give him the same satisfaction he was giving me.

  I gasped. Holy shit.

  After a few minutes of hanging on for dear life, I panted, “I want to feel you inside of me, Deacon.”

  I could hardly believe those words had escaped me. But I guess when you need something badly enough, you have no choice but to ask for it.

  Despite the fact that I’d just begged him to fuck me, he didn’t budge. If anything, he buried his face deeper between my legs.

  Had he not heard me? Or was he pretending he hadn’t? I didn’t want to presume anything, so I chose not to repeat my request, as desperate as I was to be fucked by him.

  He slid his mouth down farther and began to fuck me again with his tongue. I gripped the sheets for dear life, because I knew this was going to be the end of me.

  His beard scratched against my ass as he continued moving his tongue in and out of me, stopping only long enough to say, “Fucking hell. I can’t get enough of this.”

  The muscles between my legs contracted. I was losing it. And he knew.

  “Come. Come all over my mouth. Give it all to me.”

  Those final words were enough to push me over the edge.

  I bucked my hips, circling my clit against the pressure of his tongue as a rush of adrenaline hit. It was painful to keep quiet as my orgasm coursed through me—more like barreled through me. Waves and waves of pleasure rocketed throughout my body. When I fully released it all, Deacon was still lapping his tongue slowly over my flesh, as if to eat up every last drop of the evidence.

  My body was blissfully limp as I recovered from the single most erotic experience of my life—one I knew I wouldn’t get over anytime soon.

  Eventually, Deacon kissed up to my stomach. He hadn’t kissed me on the mouth once. I assumed it was some sort of boundary he’d set, an attempt at not pushing what had happened into intimate territory.
I longed for at least one kiss, though, my lips practically trembling from the starvation.

  But I was too high to let that disappoint me right now. Because I’d just had the best damn orgasm of my life.

  When Deacon moved off the bed, even in the darkness, I could see the bulge in his jeans. I knew he had to be hard, but actually seeing it, the proof that he was aroused, pleased me. My body could have immediately gone for round two. I longed to lie naked with him, to do so much more.

  But that wasn’t happening.

  When he leaned down toward me, he placed a gentle peck on my forehead and said, “Get some sleep.”

  How does one even respond after the kind of orgasm he’d just given me? There was really only one thing to say.

  “Thank you.”

  “Happy birthday, beautiful,” he said. Then he walked away and slowly shut the door behind him.

  Happy birthday, indeed.

  * * *

  The next morning, the faint smell of Deacon’s cologne lingered on my sheets. Desire pooled in me all over again. As I forced myself out of bed, I could still feel his mouth on me.

  Once my feet found the cold bedroom floor, though, everything hit me like a ton of bricks.

  Holy shit.

  Deacon went down on me last night.

  He gave me an orgasm—on my birthday—then left like a bat out of hell.

  How would I ever look at him again? How would I ever have a casual conversation, stare at his lips and not remember what they felt like between my legs while his tongue was inside of me? How could I ever forget the way he groaned when he was pleasuring me, as if he’d been starving for it? Or the fact that he told me I was amazing while he sucked on my breasts and fingered me? God, his words. His freaking words.

  Use me.

  Use me.

  Use me.

  I walked across the apartment to Sunny’s room in a daze. She was awake but quiet, which was rare.

  “Thank you for sleeping in this morning, baby girl. Because Mommy really needed it.”

  My brain felt foggy.

  After I changed Sunny, I brought her out to the kitchen and placed her in the highchair.

  A few minutes later, my phone chimed.

  Deacon: Morning.

  What the heck do I say?

  Carys: Good morning.

  The little dots danced as he typed.

  Deacon: You okay?

  I wasn’t sure whether he was being polite or really wanted to know what I was thinking this morning. I wanted to type a diatribe about my feelings, how I was scared things would never be the same, how I couldn’t stop thinking about him, how I craved the return of his mouth, yet I opted for a simpler response.

  Carys: Yeah. I’m great.

  Deacon: Good. Just making sure.

  What else could I say? Thanks again for last night?

  Instead of making a fool of myself, I didn’t text back.

  And neither did he.

  CHAPTER 12

  Deacon

  THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM

  My friend Adrian waved a hand in front of my face. “Hey, man. What’s up? You seem distracted.”

  Adrian was one of the few close friends I had here in New York. When I first got to town three years ago, he and I had randomly met in Bryant Park and struck up a conversation. At the time, I’d been staying at a hotel while I apartment hunted. He ended up giving me a room until I could find a permanent place. He was probably my best friend now. But I’d never mentioned Carys to him, mainly because he was so good at seeing through me.

  It had been two days since Carys’s birthday “surprise,” and I decided to take Adrian up on his offer to meet for lunch just to get out of the damn apartment.

  I looked down at the menu in front of me and brushed off his concern. “It’s nothing.”

  “If you say so. But if you wanna talk about it, I’m here.”

  I let out a long breath. If I couldn’t talk about it with Adrian, who could I open up to?

  “I fucked up,” I finally said, closing the menu and sliding it away.

  “Okay. Be more specific.”

  “I crossed the line with someone I shouldn’t have.”

  “Someone meaning a woman, I take it.”

  “Yeah, one who’s supposed to be a good friend. That’s the fucked-up part.”

  “So you crossed the line with a friend? That’s a tale as old as time, man. Nothing wrong with going out of the friend zone if it feels right. You’re an adult.”

  “There’s more to it than that. This girl…she’s different. She’s been through a lot. And she deserves someone who has his shit together, someone who’ll be there for her and Sunny long term. I’m not that person.”

  “Wait…” He narrowed his eyes. “Sunny? Who’s Sunny?”

  “Her daughter.”

  “Ah. She’s got a kid.” He now seemed to understand why this was complicated. “How old?”

  “Nine months.”

  His eyes went wide. “A baby?”

  I chuckled at his reaction. “Yeah.”

  “Where’s the father?”

  “He’s not in the picture. He left when he found out she was pregnant. Sounds like a real gem. Went back to his ex-wife.”

  “What’s this chick’s name?”

  “Carys—with a C.” I smiled. “Carys like Paris.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Yeah, so is she—in a good way.”

  He squinted. “You really like her. I can tell. I haven’t heard you talk about a woman like this since I met you.”

  I pondered his words. “She and I have a strong connection. We also have a lot in common. She was a ballet dancer before an injury took her out.”

  “Oh, shit, like you.” He laughed. “Well, not the ballet part. But same idea.”

  “Yeah, so we can relate to each other. But also, we just jibe, you know? Our conversations are comfortable and easy. She’s beautiful on the inside and out. And the way she handles everything life’s thrown at her? It’s like the personification of grace under fire.”

  A look of amusement crossed his face. “Yeah, you don’t like this chick at all.”

  Though my feelings were apparently transparent, I shook my head and laughed in an attempt to brush off his statement. “And her daughter is a sweet little thing. Even in the short time I’ve known them, Sunny’s gotten used to me. She knows me. That’s dangerous. I don’t want her to wonder where I am when I inevitably stop coming around.” I sighed. “It’s just hard because they’re right next door.”

  “Shit, okay. This is your neighbor. The one you mentioned having coffee with.”

  “Yup.”

  “I hadn’t put two and two together.” Adrian looked perplexed. “So, we never really talked about this, but why is the kid thing a problem? You don’t want to be a dad someday? Or is it just that you don’t want to be a dad to someone else’s kid?”

  The thought of rejecting Sunny because she wasn’t my blood hurt my heart a little. It wasn’t about that. This was about me, not her. She deserved better.

  “I made a decision a long time ago not to have kids.” I had my reasons; I just preferred not getting into them right now—maybe ever.

  “Why?”

  “Just a personal decision. If I know I don’t want kids, it’s not fair to get involved with a woman whose entire life is her daughter.”

  “So if you feel that way, what happened? You just slipped?” He leaned in and whispered, “You fucked her?”

  “Actually, no. Things didn’t go that far. But they shouldn’t have gone as far as they did.”

  “What kind of stuff did you do?”

  For some reason, I didn’t feel comfortable telling him. It felt like I was exploiting what had happened somehow, which was weird because I never hesitated to talk about sex. But I felt protective of Carys. I wasn’t going to kiss and tell.

  I held my palm up. “It doesn’t matter what we did. I just don’t think I can look at her the same way now.
That really sucks, because I don’t want to lose her friendship.”

  He scratched his chin. “If you didn’t live right next door, it would be easier to avoid her.”

  “That’s the problem. I don’t want to fucking avoid her. I just don’t want to mess things up any more than I already have.”

  “You think she has feelings for you?”

  Deep down, I believed she did. “Possibly.”

  For a long time, I hadn’t been sure. But lately, even before her birthday night, there was something about the way she looked at me—probably the same way I looked at her. And what happened between us had confirmed that she was attracted to me, at the very least. For as long as I lived, I would never forget her begging me to fuck her. Pretending not to have heard that in the moment was nearly impossible, and I’d thought about little else since. My mind kept wandering back to her words, to the need in her voice. I’d spent that entire night hard, even after I jacked off. I’d stayed up until morning, unable to forget how she tasted, still savoring her on my tongue and smelling her on my body. And right now, I was nearly hard again just thinking about it.

  Adrian snapped me out of my thoughts. “Well, if you think she has feelings for you, and if you’re a hundred-percent sure you don’t want anything more than a friendship, continuing to be around her is a recipe for disaster. You can’t have it both ways, you know? Sounds like you’ve reached the point of no return. You can’t go back to being friends once you’ve crossed the line with a woman. Speaking from experience, it just doesn’t work. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.”

  There was that fucking saying again. It kept haunting me. Except now, the word eating conjured up images of her sweet pussy. My jeans tightened.

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to lose her as a friend, but I also don’t think I can forget what happened between us.”

  “I don’t think you have a choice. You already did ruin the friendship. Honestly, was it ever really ‘just a friendship’ if you were attracted to her from the beginning?”