by Jane Anthony
Jesse’s gaze heats my skin like that setting sun, burning me from the inside. The constant click of the ceiling fan spins above us. Thoughts of last night swirl in my mind like the lazy blades. I chew on my lip, glancing at him from the corner of the couch, and he smiles that gorgeous smile that kills me slowly with every nose crease.
“This is weird, right?”
“A little,” he admits.
Normally, Jesse and I would fill the quiet with a steady stream of impish insults and blithe bickering, but that behavior almost seems wrong now. As if putting a name to this thing between us alters all the things I loved about our relationship. Why does sex have to change things? It should just be the cherry on a splendid sundae instead of the hot fudge melting everything and making it a mess.
Should we cuddle?
Hold hands?
Can we still watch TV curled on opposite ends of the couch?
What are the rules for your best friend becoming your boyfriend?
“But it doesn’t have to be.” He reaches over and the traces the shell of my ear with the tip of his forefinger. Chills radiate down each arm. I shiver from the contact, wanting more but feeling too vulnerable to make a move. What if this doesn’t work? What if we realize we’re better as friends? I don’t think my heart can take losing him a second time.
“What do you wanna do?” I ask.
His face twists in a salacious grin. “I can think of a few things.”
I cross one leg over the other, soothing the dull ache forming between them. I can think of a few things, too. Memories creep to mind like a ghost. I saw him naked. Every peak and valley of sculpted muscle, each glorious inch bit by bit as he molded me in his hands like clay. We decided to take this slow, but all I want to do is tear off his T-shirt and run my tongue up his rock-hard abs.
He leans forward and latches onto me with both hands, then pulls me across the divide in the couch cushions. “How about this,” he starts, feathering his lips across my temple. “I’ll get us a pizza . . .” A soft kiss lands on my cheekbone. “And a movie . . .” He sweeps his lips down my jaw to just under my lobe. “And we’ll see what happens from there.”
The blood rushes my ears, turning that dull ache into a deafening pound. I’m four seconds from saying screw the movie and pouncing onto his lap, but he releases his grip and stands. “Wait for me.”
I don’t bother telling him I’ve waited for years. I’m done punishing him. I’m done being angry, and I’m done pretending. “I will.”
The second the door latches behind him, I jump off the couch and scurry to the bedroom. Every girl has date underwear and daily ones, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar. Peeling off my uniform, I throw it in the corner. I push my undies down my legs next and kick them on top before rifling through my drawer for something a little sexier than polka-dot briefs.
The colorful fabrics bunch around my hands. I push aside cotton panties and go for the lacy ones. A powder-pink thong and matching bra catch my eye. I shimmy inside them, bending over to scoop the girls into the cups of the balconette. I don’t have much, but there’s a reason they call it the Wonder Bra. It does wonders for what little nature’s given me.
I stand back and take a long look at my own reflection. The airy material hugs the soft curves of my breasts and hips. With trembling hands, I finger the cluster of freckles splattered across my collarbone, remembering the way Jesse’s lips felt stealing across them. Every inch of my skin bears his fingerprints. He marked me, scarred me. We burned like embers, the fire between us too hot to handle. Only time will tell if the blaze inside me will hold us together or engulf us both in flames.
Wasting no more time, I throw on yoga pants and a T-shirt before stripping my bed and making it back up with clean sheets. Everything needs to be perfect. We’ve both waited too long for this.
By the time he returns, I’m back on the couch, flicking through the channels. A large white box balances on his palm, a blue plastic bag swinging from his other hand. “Miss me?”
“With every bullet so far,” I quip with a wink.
The savory scents of cheese and pepperoni waft in my nostrils as he drops the box on the table. Saliva pools on my tongue. I lift the lid and swipe a slice before he’s even gotten a plate. Pizza is a gift from the junk food gods. It has everything a person needs—grain, dairy, vegetables, and meat—all pieced together in one divine circular disk.
“I’ve never seen anyone deep throat a slice of pizza the way you do.” He chuckles.
“Fuck you,” I warble around a bite. My nerves slowly melt away with each pensive chew. I don’t need to pretend with Jesse. Most people only stick around when you’re at your best. It’s when everything falls apart that you realize who your true friends are. That’s Jesse. He’s seen me at my worst, and he loves me, warts and all. “What movie did you get?”
“I got Singles and Reality Bites,” he replies, pulling two plates from the cabinet and handing one to me.
My stomach churns. I force my massive bite down before replying, “You hate those movies.”
“You love them.” He shrugs, plating a slice. “And I never want you to settle for something you don’t love ever again.”
“What about you?”
He lifts his palm to my cheek. “I already have mine.”
Raw emotion stings my eyes. I squeeze them shut, but the dam opens, spilling tears down my cheeks.
“What’s the matter?” His gentle tone doesn’t waver. He brushes his fingertips over my wet skin, and I’m instantly reminded of the day he left.
“I don’t know,” I sob, sucking in mouthfuls of air yet not finding enough to appease my aching lungs. “You’re so good to me, and I’ve just been such a fool.”
He chucks his plate on the table, then takes my hand and pulls me off the chair. I fall between his arms, burying my face in his chest. His heart beats against my cheek, all the masculine scents of Jesse wrapping me in their warm embrace. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“It’s not your fault. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just got stupid emotional for a second.” I lift my head and press my chin between his pecs, peering up at him through sodden eyes. “The last couple of weeks have been a lot, ya know?”
“I do,” he croons, pushing my hair off my temple. He dips his head and drops a kiss to my hairline. “Which movie do you want to watch first?”
I inhale a deep, comforting breath, pondering his question, but it’s a futile exercise. I already know exactly what I want. “Just take your pants off.”
“What happened to taking things slow?”
“What for? To get to know each other?” I stalk backward and swipe the Blockbuster bag off the table. “There’s nothing I can tell you that you don’t already know.” Dropping the bag at my feet, I finger the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head. His eyes flare with hunger and heat. I dip my thumbs in the waistband of my pants next and slowly slide them down my hips before toeing them to the side. I stand before him, his needy gaze drinking me in as I seal my fate. “I’m all in, Jess. All yours.”
“There are a few things I don’t know yet,” he utters, whipping off his tee. A swirl of desire pools in my belly as he unhooks his fly and releases the zipper. The crown of his cock peeks from the top of his boxer briefs. “What it feels like sliding against your tongue.” Reaching inside, he wraps his fist against the shaft and pumps up once. “The view of your sweet ass when you’re on all fours.” He lets his pants fall and steps out of them as he moves toward me. “And how hot you’d look riding my cock.”
The words hang in the air, my heart rate quickening. Before yesterday, my sexual experience consisted of two—some random guy I met at a frat party and Asher—but neither of them lit me up the way Jesse does. Neither of them made me beg and burn and twist with want the way I do right now.
A pounding ache sits between my legs as his fingertips dance across my collarbone and over the swell of my breast. My breath beats in shallow bursts. Til
ting my face, I lean in. His lips brush mine, but soft and tender aren’t what I want. With aggressive urgency, I reach for his head, my fingers drifting into his thick hair as I open my mouth, but he keeps the pace at a steady rhythm, teasing my tongue with tiny licks as my impatience begins to grow. “What are you waiting for?”
He finds my throat next, a hand coming up to push my hair over my shoulder. “I don’t want to rush this,” he murmurs against my skin.
“You’re torturing me,” I managed to whisper as he devours my neck.
“That’s the plan.”
The taunting words and roaming hands turn my ache to a smoldering need. "Jesse," I pant.
He only chuckles at my distress and unclasps my bra, letting it flutter to the floor before taking my hardened nipple into his mouth. A moan flies from my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut, my head falling to the side.
My hands still lost in his hair, my fingers tighten, holding on for dear life as he laves at my breast like a starving man. "Please," I whimper again, my thighs trembling. But he continues his slow brand of torture, oblivious of my knees threatening to buckle with each flicker of his tongue. “I don’t think I can stand anymore.”
He releases his suction with a soft pop that makes my clit throb. "You need to sit?”
Embarrassment settles on my cheeks as I nod. He steals his arms around me and lifts me off the floor, my legs instantly wrapping around his waist as he sets me on the edge of the table. Hardness pushes between my legs. I arch my back, trying to build friction where I need it, but he steps back just enough to make me growl in frustration. “Patience, Bird.” The husky sound of his voice vibrates against my neck as his fingers trail over my stomach and swirl over my navel to reach my mound.
A breathy gasp fills my lungs. He pushes aside the damp strip of fabric. Shock waves spread through my body. I buck against his hand, but he only toys with my opening, slipping his fingertips across my wetness without venturing inside. “I can’t take it anymore.” The wanton sound of my own voice is unrecognizable.
“You want me to stop?”
“Please, God, no, fuck!” I fall back on my hand as his middle finger passes my clit, giving me the tiniest taste of the release I’m begging for. Clearly, he gets off on tormenting me. That’s the only explanation for the devilish grin splitting his lips as he sweeps his thumb across my nub a second time.
This is payback. Reparations for the last five months of flirting and friend-zoning. Our wicked relationship culminating with another fuck you, but this time, it’s coming from him.
I writhe on the edge of the table, working my toes into the waist of his boxers to push them down. His cock springs between us, hard and thick. I touch the shaft, scraping my nails from base to head. A hiss whistles between his teeth. I do it again, this time, lingering at the top as it twitches in my hand.
“Do you know how many times I dreamed about these legs wrapped around my body?” he whispers.
I throw my head back, a grunt leaving my throat. He’s making me wait on purpose.
“Do you have any idea how fucking delicious you are?” His hot breath leaves a trail down my stomach and across my pubic bone. For a split second, I’m shy. Spread eagle on my kitchen table with Jesse at the helm. But I come back into the here and now as his teeth graze my hip, and he heads farther south.
“Jesse.” My throaty whisper floats to the sky, my head swimming with need.
“I will take care of you.”
Another loud groan tumbles from my chest as he kisses past where I want him most and rains his passion on my inner thighs, leaving me in agony. He raises each leg to his mouth, kissing a trail to my knees and back up again.
My body trembles as he reaches my lips and slides only a single finger inside.
“Damn, Bird. You might be more turned on than I am,” he mocks, settling on his knees. Locking his gaze with mine, he dislodges his wet finger and sticks it into his mouth, then pulls it out slowly.
“Asshole,” I whimper, desperately needing him inside me.
“Asshole?” he exclaims, a delicious grin curling over his teeth. “I’ll have you know that I am a vessel of the lord.” I lift a questioning brow to his asinine statement. He moves in closer, his lip grazing my ear as hot breath fans over my lobe. “I’m gonna have you screaming to God in the next few minutes.”
He offers up a haughty chuckle, then uses two fingers to pierce my flesh this time. No more words pass between us. I throw my head back, falling on my hands as his mouth connects with my clit. He’s gentle at first, a series of lazy licks that drive me to the brink of insanity. He enjoys me like a dainty dessert. Savory swirls and slow strokes, a smattering of facial hair tickling my thighs.
I reach down and run my fingers through his hair, urging him to go faster. He picks up on my subtle request. His fingers pump in and out, his tongue flattening against my clit as he rakes it upward again and again.
“Fuck. You taste so fucking good, Wren.” His words rumble against my skin, but I can’t say anything. I’m too far gone, rendered speechless by his lips and hands and that goddamned tongue that twists like magic.
Pleasure churns low in my gut. Golden tendrils slip through my fingers. I ride his face, bucking my hips off the table with desperate mewls and wild cries, aching for the release that’s so fucking close I’m quivering.
“Fly high, little Bird.” A third digit joins its friends as they all curl and crook, driving in and out in perfect tempo. “Let me taste that sweet fucking pussy.”
And I do.
A kaleidoscope of colors passes before my closed lids like fireworks on the Fourth of July. My body jolts. Wave after wave of pure ecstasy ripples through me, hurricane Jesse leaving nothing but destruction in his wake.
Panting, I collapse to my quaking elbows, but the growl radiating between my legs tells me he’s nowhere near close to done.
“Bird.”
The glimmer in that cobalt stare sparks my body back to life. He rises to his feet, his cock angling toward me, hard and thick.
I watch as he grabs it in his hand, his gaze burning a hole in mine as he slowly strokes himself from base to tip. Fluid builds on the crown. I lick my lips, parting my thighs as he moves in closer.
The head of his cock grazes my entrance. Fighting the urge to wrap my legs around his waist and force him inside me, I lie back and allow him to take the lead.
Slowly, he parts my folds, inch by agonizing inch. My slanted mouth releases a quiet murmur of passion as my lids flutter closed.
“Open your eyes, Wren. I want to look into them as I fill you. I want to see the pleasure as it radiates out. I want you to see mine.”
Our eyes connect as he drives home the last few inches, and we both moan, reveling in our coupling once more. He stays like that, and I can feel him holding back as I wrap my legs around him.
“I’m yours, Jesse,” I whisper, my eyes and mouth pleading with him.
He rests his palm on the edge of the table and gently kisses my forehead before smashing his lips into mine and absorbing my gasp. Our tongues battle for dominance in the other’s mouth. He withdraws his hips and slams against me, the table sliding with every heated thrust. I twine my arms around his shoulders, holding tight as his fist closes in my hair. An invisible switch has been flipped. The electrical current zaps around us, and neither of us can control it. We can only feed the flames and let them burn us alive.
A dark, dirty groan rumbles in his chest. I press my feet in deeper to the small of his back, his cock throbbing as my inner walls quake around him.
“Come with me,” he barks.
As I close my eyes, a second swirl of ecstasy scatters through me. My release takes hold, jolting me like an out-of-body experience. An explosion of stars as his body stills and he empties himself deep inside me.
His strength gives out, his torso sagging against mine. I wrap my arms around his head and kiss him with a yearning and a passion I didn’t know I possessed.
“Jesse?” I
pant against his mouth, his tongue sliding lazily over my lips.
“Hmmm?” The sated sound of his response makes me smile.
“Let’s do it again.”
CHAPTER 20
Jesse
“WE SHOULD HAVE DONE that in high school,” Wren purrs, sandwiching my leg between hers. Residual heat warms my thigh, her center pushed up against it as she melts into me in post-coital bliss.
“I’m not sure I had the same stamina in high school. I probably would have messed myself the second you took your shirt off.”
She pushes to her elbow, resting her chin on her palm. The evening moonlight shines through the slats in the plantation shutters, coating her creamy skin with a light gray hue. What started in the kitchen ended in her bed, and neither of us had the foresight to stop and close the blinds. Whoever’s backyard butts up to hers got one hell of a pornographic show.
“I guess that means you’ve been with a lot of women.”
“That’s not what I said.”
She nudges me with her chest. “How many?”
“Bird, we don’t need to talk about this, do we?”
“C’mon, I wanna know.”
I look up into her waiting gaze, wondering what to say. The way I see it, I have three options: I could keep deflecting her absurd line of questioning, I could make up a number that might appease her, or I could tell her the truth, which will likely piss her off.
Door number two it is.
“A few.”
She rolls her eyes and kicks my leg away. “Fine, be a jerk.”
“What do you want me to say, Wren? I banged a bunch of women, baby, but I thought of you the whole time,” I jest, deepening my voice to drive home my acerbic statement. “I’m a guy. We lay it down without keeping score.”
“So, I’m just another score?”
I roll to my side to meet her face to face. “Anyone who came before you was merely practice for the big game. You’re not just another score. You’re my victory. My greatest win.”