by Eden Finley
My gaze drops to my forearm where our matching tattoo is. I thought getting rid of it would mean I was moving on and forgetting about him, but there’s a difference between pretending he never existed and accepting it for what it is.
Ollie’s and my relationship taught me so many things—compromise, patience, comfort … It taught me some hard lessons too, like knowing my worth and refusing to settle. It might’ve taken me a while for those lessons to be implemented, but after Taylor, I know I’ll never settle again.
I’m holding out for the guy who gives me the future I want.
All he has to do is come home.
The last thing I remember is working on some sketches while waiting for Max. Next thing I know, I’m flat on the couch clutching my sketchbook with warm laughter rousing me from sleep.
A soft hand cups my cheek. “I’m home.”
My eyes open slowly, and my best friend kneels beside me with the biggest smile on his face.
I lean up on my elbow and take in the room. The lights are still on, but I have no idea what time it is.
“It’s two thirty,” Max says as if reading my mind.
“You went all the way to New York,” I croak.
“I had to.”
“Why?”
“Because if I had to go another day without doing this, I don’t think I could’ve done it without hurting him.”
“Do wha—”
Max’s lips land on mine, taking me off guard, but within mere seconds, I melt against him. I throw my arm around his shoulder and pull him closer, moaning when his tongue pushes into my mouth.
He kisses like he’s savoring me, like he’s been waiting a lifetime for it.
I want to be as cool and calm as he is, but this is Max.
Then it actually registers what’s happening right now, and I push him off me.
His warm eyes stare down at me, dazed and confused. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re kissing me.”
Max chuckles. “No shit.”
“You. Max. My Max.”
He nods. “Your Max. Your everything, if you’ll let me.”
I reach for the scruff on his face, my fingers moving over his unshaven jaw. A small nod is all I can manage, but it’s enough.
He kisses me again, maneuvering himself so he’s on top of me and pinning me to the couch.
His big body blankets mine, and even though I’ve been with bigger guys before—who am I kidding, it’s my only choice when I’m a short-ass—the way Max feels on top of me is different.
It’s as if my soul recognizes his. My heart beats only for him. With our mouths together, our hands exploring, our parallel lives become one and promise to never part again.
Max groans, and his hips grind against mine.
My mind blurs. Between the sensation of Max's mouth on mine, which I’m finding out he really knows how to use, and his hard cock grinding against my hip, it’s easy to believe I’m dreaming, because no reality has ever felt this good.
“Bed,” Max mumbles.
“Mmm.” Apparently, that’s all I’m able to say even though I want to tell him to slow down. To savor this. To explore each other in a way we never have before.
Hell, up until I saw him with Jordan, I didn’t even allow myself to think of this ever happening.
But here we are, his tender hand running down my side, gripping my hip and squeezing hard.
Next thing I know, I’m being pulled off the couch and up into Max’s strong arms as he lifts me. My feet automatically go around his waist and my hands around his neck.
Max moves us about the apartment effortlessly, with his eyes still closed and his mouth assaulting mine.
We move into his darkened bedroom, but the light still filters in from the living room.
He throws me on the bed like I weigh nothing, which admittedly, to Max, I probably do.
Something in the back of my head keeps needing to remind me that this isn’t some random guy and it isn’t some random hookup.
Max reaches for the hem of his shirt.
“Wait,” I blurt.
But his shirt is already over his head and being dropped to the floor.
His brow furrows. “What’s wrong?”
“I … I, umm … I’m sure I was going to say something, but now I can’t remember what it was.” I've seen Max shirtless before. Lots of times. But seeing it and being allowed to look are two very different things.
“Ash?”
I shake my head and force my gaze up to his eyes. Aw, fuck. That doesn’t help because it’s his eyes that hold the true beauty that is Max Strömberg. “This is weird. You’re still Max.”
“Does fooling around usually turn your dates into unicorns or something?”
Smartass.
“Yes.”
Max smiles.
“No, I don’t know. This doesn’t feel weird to you?”
“This feels like something I’ve been dreaming about for six years.” His knees hit the bed. A hand lands by my side, and the other above my head until Max is hovering over me but not touching. “You have no idea the things we’ve done in my head.”
“I probably do. My first dirty dream about you was when I was eleven.”
“Then how about we make eleven-year-old you happy?” Max screws up his face. “I didn't realize how creepy that would sound until the words were out of my mouth. Eleven-year-olds do not do it for me. Just in case you wanted me to clarify there.”
I laugh. “I knew what you meant. But the thing is, I have no idea what does do it for you. We’ve never talked about sex before. I don’t know if you have any kinks or—”
“Hard-core latex fetish,” he deadpans.
“I’m serious.”
“We’ve talked about sex before. I told you when I lost my virginity.”
“Yeah, and I was totally in love with you at sixteen, so I blocked that out. We don’t know each other’s preferences, or—”
“Isn’t that what we should be doing now?” Max’s hand lands on my thigh, and I flinch. Not because I don’t like it, but because it’s still Max. And this is weird.
Good weird. But still fucking weird.
His hand moves up to my hip. “Exploring? Getting to know each other in a way we never have before?”
I like that. “Who would’ve thought after twenty goddamn years of friendship, we’d still be having firsts together.”
Max leans over me, slowly closing the small gap between us. “I want this to be your last first time ever.” His lips land on my cheek. “I want to take care of you. Love you. Claim you and make you mine.”
I close my eyes to remember every single part of this moment—the moment my best friend gave me everything I ever wanted. But with one small confession, I’m about to make shit awkward again.
“I don’t bottom. Like ever.”
Max doesn't say anything, so I start to ramble.
“A lot of people think I do because, well, I’m small and guys still seem to think typical gender roles should belong in a sexual relationship, but—”
Max starts laughing.
“And now you’re laughing at me.”
“I’m not laughing at you. I promise. I already knew that about you, Ash. We may not talk about sex, but I know you. Plus, Ollie might’ve said something when you two were together. I mean, he didn’t come right out and talk about your sex life, but he hinted at your dynamic, and it kinda stuck, because, well, it was about you, and I remember everything about you.”
“Y-you’re okay with that?”
“I’m willing to explore that. I’ve done some of my own exploring and don’t hate it. Don’t know how I’d feel with anything bigger than my finger though. But I want to.” Max cups my cheek and lowers his voice to a whisper. “I want to give you everything.”
“How in the world did you get to be so perfect?”
He grins. “Easy. I was made to be yours.”
In a split second, I fall for my best friend all over again.
<
br /> 7
Max
Everything happens fast after that. Our clothes are practically torn from our bodies and strewn around the room.
Kisses and more kisses—the best fucking kisses in the world—are shared.
Our naked bodies move against one another and grind, seeking friction and craving heat.
Ash’s skin tastes like sweat, and his moans sound like fucking angels singing.
I’ve wanted this for so long. So fucking long.
We take our time exploring each other, only laughing half the time because while it’s so hot, this is also Ash. My best friend from next door.
I remember asking my parents when I was a kid to adopt Ash so he’d have brothers just like I did.
I’ve wanted to be his forever since I met him. It just took me a long time to realize in what capacity. For a long time, I thought it was brotherly, but I definitely haven’t felt for my brothers the way I feel about Ash.
I roll us over so Ash’s leaner body is on top, while I continue to nip and suck on his skin.
He runs his hands through my hair and lets out a loud moan of impatience.
Our cocks, trapped in between our bodies, rest against one another, both hard and leaking.
Ash slowly works his way down. Slowly. Agonizingly. Over my pecs, my stomach, then hip until I feel his breath on my cock. “Are you sure about this?”
I chuckle. “If you want to pretend like I’ve never gotten a blowjob before, we can, I don’t care. I just need it. I need you, Ash.”
He glances up at me. “You’ve never gotten a blowjob from a guy before.”
“Guys do it differently?” I snark. “Did you learn that in gay school?”
Ash laughs. “No, but …”
“If you don’t want to—like, if it’s too weird.”
“Oh, I want to. So much. I guess I’m worried about you not being ready or somehow taking advantage of you.”
I snort. “Sure. Advantage. That’s what’s happening here.”
Ash playfully slaps my chest.
“Now you’re beating me up. You’re just treating me horribly today. But I totally know how you can make it up to me.” My hips shift, bringing my cock closer to his mouth. “Please.” I’m so not above begging.
Bright green eyes blink up at me as Ash closes the gap between my aching cock and his lips. The first touch has my whole body trembling. Anticipation fills my veins, and when Ash’s tongue sneaks out and licks the head of my cock, the trembling turns to shudders of pleasure.
He teases me with light licks and slow movements as his mouth tortuously covers the length of me.
His light stubble scrapes my skin, adding something I’ve never experienced before.
How long have I been fantasizing about this happening?
I have to remind myself that Ash Carmichael is sucking my dick.
Nope, that doesn’t comprehend correctly in my brain. Over twenty years it took us to get here.
I want him like this for another twenty.
No, thirty, forty, fifty years.
Ash adds a hand, gripping me at the base of my cock and stroking slowly. His masculine, tattooed hand works me over, and who the fuck knew that could be so hot? When his mouth and hand start moving in sync, I know I’ve reached the point of no return.
My orgasm is coming; it’s coming fast.
“Do I need to warn you?”
Ash shakes his head and hollows his cheeks until I spill over. My hand flies into his hair, my hips buck off the bed, and I empty into his mouth.
My whole body uncoils, my muscles relaxing as I sink back into the mattress.
Ash’s lips trail my sweaty stomach and chest, and those green eyes pierce straight through me.
Then his mouth is on mine, the salty taste of my release on his lips, and for some reason I find that hotter than any other sexual encounter I’ve ever had.
I try to think back to another time where a woman has kissed me after swallowing my load, and I don’t think it’s ever happened before. Is it supposed to be out of politeness or something? Because up until this very moment I didn’t realize how claiming it is to taste yourself on someone else.
Ash moves against me, his hard cock dragging against my exhausted one. It wants more of the action that’s happening, but I’m too spent.
While Ash continues to kiss me and grind against me, I reach between us and wrap my fist around his cock.
Ash fucks into my hand, but his mouth stays on mine.
Only when he gets close does he break the long and hard kiss. His breathing is ragged, and the tattoo on his neck pulses in time with his rapid heart rate.
“Fuck, Max.” Ash thrusts once more before his whole weight drops onto me.
With the hand that’s not trapped between us, I stroke up and down Ash’s back.
“Well, we’ve never done that before.”
I laugh. “No shit.”
He rolls off me and looks around the room with a dazed look in his eyes. I reach for the bedside table for a tissue for him to clean up, and I get what I can off me.
“Stay in here with me tonight?” I ask.
Instead of answering me, he finishes cleaning himself up, tosses the tissue, and curls back into my arms.
Where he belongs.
We wake up late and have to run downstairs to the shop where waiting customers are out front, looking confused.
I thought this morning would be weird, and if I’m honest, I’m kinda glad we didn’t have time to dance around each other all morning.
Not that I would. Last night was awesome. I just don’t know how he’s feeling about it.
Fooling around and confessing feelings that are years old is bound to put some pressure on us. But we don’t have time to dwell on it.
Our first break isn’t until lunch, but Ash manages to slip out and bring coffee and muffins around ten. I want to pull him close and kiss him, but I have a client in my chair, so I can’t.
He leaves it on my bench and gives me a wink as he walks back out.
Concentrating after last night is damn near impossible, but somehow I manage to make it through the day without accidentally tattooing a lifelike cock on someone in the distinct shape of Ash’s dick.
Seriously questioning the quality of my last piece that just left though.
Eh, I’ll fix it at our next session. It’s a big tattoo that will take a few appointments.
All I’ve been able to think about all day is wanting more of last night. More of Ash. I want to know what it feels like for him to move inside me. I shift uncomfortably as my ass clenches at the thought, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting it.
Ash must feel the same way, because when his last client leaves for the day, he turns to me with heat in his eyes. “Do you know how hard it’s been to be in the room right next to you all day without being able to walk a hundred feet to touch you?”
“I do know how hard it’s been all day. At least, if it’s been anything like my day.” I step forward and reach for his hand, placing it on my seemingly forever hard cock. “I want you inside me.”
“Upstairs?” Ash rasps.
“Cleanup.”
“We’ll do it later.”
We can’t run up the stairs quicker if we tried.
Our clothes come off the second we walk in through the front door of the apartment. We paw at each other, removing piece by piece of cloth covering our skin until we’re bare and pressed against each other.
Warm mouths exploring.
Hard cocks rutting.
If I didn’t want him to fuck me so bad, I could do this until we both came.
“Bed. Fuck. Now.”
“Wanna speak in full sentences?” Ash asks.
“I want you to fuck me in my bed right now.”
Ash growls and leads me to my bedroom so fast he almost trips over his damn feet. He pushes me down on the bed, and I love it when he acts all strong and bossy.
He makes his way to the bedside drawer. �
�I assume you have supplies in here?”
“Yup.” I lift my arms behind my head and watch as the most gorgeous man ever walks around my room naked. He’s lean but toned, and his tattoos practically glow in the dimly lit room.
The way he stares at me, condoms and lube in hand, he owns me with his predatory smile.
I lift my legs so my feet are flat on the bed and spread my thighs.
Ash climbs on the bed in between my knees. His face is intense as he lubes up his fingers and leans over me. It’s as if he’s studying me for a reaction—good or bad—when he teases my hole.
I can sense his hesitance, just like last night. As if he’s corrupting me or some shit. So I reach between us and grab his wrist, pushing his finger into me. I bear down and accept him willingly, my eyes fluttering closed at the initial sensation.
It doesn’t take long for Ash to understand I’m okay and he doesn’t need to be gentle, and when he adds a second finger and starts pumping them in and out of me, I’m able to let go and just feel.
He takes his time opening me, taking extra care to make sure I’m ready.
When his fingers brush my prostate, I cry out.
My toes tingle.
My ass fucking pulses around his fingers.
It’s not enough.
“I need all of you,” I rumble between heavy breaths.
And when he pulls away to roll the condom on and add more lube, I whine with impatience.
Ash lines up his cock but doesn’t push all the way in. Just the tip brings a burn to my ass. I breathe deep, and he sinks inside me a little more.
“You doing okay?” he whispers.
I nod, unable to form words. My eyes squeeze shut.
“Max?”
"Mm?"
“Open your eyes, babe. I want you to see me. What you do to me.”
When I do, the completely blissed-out expression makes me relax enough to take a bit more.
“That’s it,” he encourages.
He pushes in harder, and I call out something so unintelligible I don’t even know what it’s supposed to be.
He moves in and out of me smoothly. Expertly. He knows how to drive me crazy without pushing me too far.
“Max. Eyes.”
I didn’t even realize I’d closed them again.