Leakage: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance

by Harley, Karen

  He glanced up. "You look like you could cheerfully rip out my genitals."

  "With my teeth," she confirmed.

  "And what would you do to her, I wonder, if I'd screwed her?" He leaned his head back tiredly. "Probably claw her to shreds."

  "Are you saying you didn't? That is such a load of B.S., Matt."

  He smiled, but didn't confirm or deny.

  "Tell me," she said fiercely. "You tell me the truth."

  "I always tell you the truth." He seemed to reconsider. "Sometimes there's more than one truth."

  "Excuse me."

  A gray-haired neighbor smiled at them pleasantly as she passed, having just obviously ascended the staircase, though Jasmine hadn't noticed a thing—making her aware of their location in the now not-so-empty hallway. If they kept on like this, they'd end up drawing out all the neighbors.

  She said stiffly, "I'm going inside. You may come."

  He did, following her into her apartment and shutting the door behind them, and when she turned he was right there, inches away.

  "The girl you saw today was not a fuck," he said clearly.

  "There were others."

  "Yes. For what it's worth, I didn't fuck them. I intended to. But you should know, Jasmine. You should know what happens when you want someone so bad it feels like you'll explode out of your skin if you can't have them. You should know that when that happens, you can't want anyone else for a while."

  "How should I know that?" she said thinly.

  "Because that's how you wanted me the first night."

  For a shocking moment, she thought he meant the first night she'd met him. Then it hit her. He meant the first night of the Challenge.

  "You're sexually skilled," she said dismissively. "It must have been easy to make me want you like that."

  He didn't deny it.

  "That's not why I didn't have sex with Harrison. I just didn't care to, but I would have anyway, for the sake of the Challenge, only the feeling was mutual. Anyway, you don't want me like that. You never have."

  He opened his mouth—to agree, she'd bet. But he said, "I do now."

  She sucked in a breath and took a little step back.

  He let her create the distance, even stepped back, himself, to increase it. But he used his voice like reins, pulling her short. "Now it's you I want, and only you. Specifically, I want you naked. Completely."

  Her mind raced frantically. "Naked, like I was last week."

  "Yes."

  "You want to do the Challenge," she clarified.

  His hesitation was almost undetectable. "All right, yes."

  They were negotiating now, way scarier than fighting. "And if I do get naked, are you going to…"

  "Am I going to what?"

  Say derisive things about my piercings. It was far easier admitting to jealousy than to what that would reveal.

  "I don't know," she evaded. "But if we do what we did before. And it ends at midnight. Then tomorrow…"

  "Tomorrow it's over. Like before. Eight to midnight, Jasmine. Just tonight."

  "And we'll be friends again?" Mistake, she realized immediately. Their friendship was so past it…

  Matt swallowed. "I don't know. What do you think?"

  "Not much of our chances."

  "Then there's your answer."

  It wasn't satisfying. "I still want to hit you."

  "I guess that's an improvement. You can, you know. You can do whatever you want to me. Any time."

  "Even claw your eyes out?"

  "Especially claw my eyes out. You do, anyway. You're a force of nature, Jas."

  Her? No. A force of culture. Decency. She was not like her parents. They operated on a simple principle: Ravage for their own comfort. If she was fierce, then it was out of self-defense, not greed.

  "Is it really that important to you that I'm naked tonight?"

  "Jasmine, in some ways, I'm pretty basic. You gave him your nakedness. I want that. Your nakedness. Now, in fact. Time's vanishing. Hurry up."

  Stripping in front of him before had been simple. Now, she couldn't bring herself to move.

  "You do it," she said.

  He shook his head. "No. Your hands have to do it."

  Until now, Jasmine hadn't been aware of feeling sexual. Just furious. Now she knew what lurked below that fury, because it made her skin suddenly feel supersensitive to her clothing.

  "You can start with your shoes."

  Oh. Easy. She kicked them off.

  He looked at her bare feet, then took her hand and led her into her own bedroom before she realized his intentions. He'd never been in her room before. She wasn't sure she wanted him here. It was her sanctuary.

  She saw him stop and survey her stuff. She tensed as his gaze rested on the shelf where her two stuffed animals sat. A badger and an owl.

  Waited for an acerbic comment.

  But all he did then was stroll over to the bed, noting the unmade covers and rumpled sheets.

  "I don't make my bed," she said defensively. "There's not much point when you mess it up every night again."

  "Yeah. Take off the dress."

  She fingered the neckline of the thigh-length shift, then reached behind her neck and undid her zipper.

  He settled on the edge of the bed with his hands propping him up. It was the same position he'd assumed last time, only now he was clothed.

  When the dress dropped at her feet, he said, "The necklace and earrings."

  She did so without fumbling.

  "I like the underwear."

  Her fist tightened around the jewelry. Just like that, he'd brought attention to the parts of her that were oversensitized. She didn't fool herself anymore that it was accidental. During the Challenge, everything with this man was foreplay.

  "It's underwear." She glanced down at the plain triangles of white silk and cotton. "I didn't dress for you or anything."

  "Why would you?" he said reasonably. "Take that thing out of your hair."

  She removed the clip.

  "Put that stuff on your dresser."

  Jasmine felt heat in her face. This bossy side of Matt was new, although he'd shown a bit of it the first Challenge night. New to her, she reminded herself. Maybe his women liked him giving orders. Maybe they got turned on by—

  "Now, Jasmine."

  She marched over to the dresser and turned to face him.

  "You look like you want to pound me."

  "I'm not your slave girl."

  As soon as she said it, she had a brief, from-out-of-the-blue mindfulness of her heritage, and of his. Was he aware of it?

  "Put yourself on the market, and I'll buy," he said instantly.

  A tiny shiver traveled up her body, from scalp to feet. She couldn't let the notion go so soon, though. "To a white boy? Not happening."

  His brows rose. "Point to you, Jas. But no. These are ancient shackles. Beyond culture. Can't you see mine?" And he held up his wrists.

  Oh, God.

  "Come here."

  Her legs, amazingly, obeyed her neural impulses.

  "Now take off the bra and give it to me."

  The command took a few moments to sink in. Her spine stiffened.

  "What are you going to do with it?" she stalled.

  He didn't answer. Nothing about his expression conveyed impatience, yet Jasmine knew if she delayed much longer, she was going to hear about it.

  He'd seen her breasts already, she told herself. Her secret was out. He knew what to expect. But she still didn't trust him, or maybe it was herself she didn't trust. Nobody had the power to weaken her like Matt did.

  She had no real leverage here, but it was distantly possible he didn't know that. "I'll make you a deal, Matt," she said, affecting a yawn. "I take off the bra tonight, and you don't start spouting off your boring views."

  "Which ones are those?" he said, after a beat.

  "'Nipple piercings are for girls who need daddies,'" she quoted. "They're a lame attempt at pseudo-rebellion by cowards too w
impy to stand up for themselves, yada, yada, yada."

  "Did I ever say that?"

  "I'm not making it up."

  He looked stunned. Then angry. "Take off the fucking bra, Jasmine!"

  She ripped it off and threw it at him, hitting him in the face with the hooks. It hurt, she saw.

  "Is that what this is all about? Something I said in a foul mood, when? When?"

  "I don't know, a couple of years ago."

  "Was I talking about you? No, I wasn't talking about you. I didn't even know you had the fucking things. It's not even my fucking opinion. I was probably pissed at someone."

  She didn't reply. Just looked at him.

  He dropped back on the bed, then, flinging his arm up so it rested over his eyes.

  It was odd. She watched him lying there, in his tee shirt and jeans, his torso supine, his sprawled legs opening his hips, and he seemed as vulnerable to her now as when he'd laid in his bed naked two weeks ago.

  He'd told her she could do anything to him she wanted.

  She sat on the bed beside him and unsnapped his jeans.

  He didn't react. So she finished undoing his fly and then tugged the jeans off. The white briefs next. His penis was flaccid. She cupped it. He felt soft.

  He let out a sighing breath. "Jasmine, will you do me a favor? The next time I say something that hurts you, will you just take this—" he grabbed the fingers touching him and squeezed them together painfully—"and use these claws of yours, and tear out my heart?"

  She drew in a shuddering breath.

  "Because otherwise…I'll do it again…and years will pass…and…"

  "I barely knew you," she said. "The holes were still raw. I was washing them out with saltwater to keep them from getting infected. Anyone could have said it, and it would have bothered me, because I had no faith in what I was doing. I didn't have claws right then."

  With that, she knew she'd revealed too much. But so had he. And it couldn't be undone.

  He nodded and sat up and took off his tee shirt. His chest was as she remembered, with tiny, flat nipples surrounded by the well-defined pads of his pectorals and a fair amount of curly black hair.

  Matt turned and then unapologetically inspected her chest, his gaze caressing everything. He lifted a masculine finger to trace the silver disk that covered the aureola of her left breast completely, leaving only her brown nipple poking out in the center. "Titanium or stainless?"

  "P-pure titanium."

  "Sensitive skin?"

  She nodded.

  "Why did you get them?" And before she could answer, he went on, "For this?" and his fingers twisted, sending an electric jolt down to her sex. She gasped and arched in simultaneous reflex.

  "They can be a lot of fun," he added. "But you haven't experimented much that way, have you?"

  "Why do you say—ahhh."

  "Because of that. You seem surprised. Don't you play with them?"

  "N-not really. That's not why I got them."

  "So why?"

  "Freedom," she said. "Sara had just offered me the room. It was like she'd given me a pass out of prison. I'd been commuting to the university from Bellevue. I moved out, got a new phone, and my parents couldn't even reach me the first month."

  "And got your tits pierced."

  "You wouldn't believe how close I was to getting a tattoo. I still might."

  He laughed and tugged her back with him using just the shields, and Jasmine let out a shriek and followed helplessly. She fell on top of him and felt his rigid cock press warmly against her thigh. "What else did you do? To celebrate your freedom." He cupped her buttocks and stroked them with all his fingers.

  "I signed up for a motorcycle training course," she managed.

  "But no bike?"

  "I didn't like the feeling. Too out of control. Oh, my God." His cock was in the cleft of her sex, the thin layer of her panties the only barrier between his hardness and her ache.

  "You're wet," he whispered in her ear. "Did you know that?"

  "Matt…."

  "I'm glad you told me about that time. What else do you want to tell me?"

  "Nothing if you keep doing that."

  "I shouldn't. It's dangerous. I'm about to slip this bit of fabric aside and just…" His teeth nipped her earlobe and the exquisite pain sent out a gush of wetness that he couldn't possibly miss.

  "Don't squirm like that. Bad idea. You know how well I control myself around you." He crammed her hard against him, suppressing her, and she teetered on the edge of orgasm.

  Another nip at her ear. And another. The pain pulled her back from the edge before the sinuous thrusting of his shaft returned her there. She became grateful for his hindering grip on her hips, because there was no way she could stay still on her own, not with him rubbing like that. He made a low sound of pleasure.

  "Oh, Jas. The sad thing is, I'm going to have to go out."

  "Wh-what?"

  "No condom. I had zero hope you'd let me get my cock anywhere near your pussy tonight."

  "I have some," she offered.

  He shuddered against her and said, "Thank fucking God. Where are they?"

  "I'm not sure. Maybe in the…maybe my…" Her brain wasn't working. "I'll look."

  Her legs wobbled as he released her and she tried to get up. She balanced her arms to steady herself. Then she rifled through her purse, then in all the drawers. Then she opened the closet door and started rummaging in there.

  When she turned back with the small box, Matt was staring at her.

  "When did you last fuck a guy, Jasmine?"

  She stopped short, disbelieving. "What?"

  "Answer me."

  Her chin lifted. "You know the answer. Two weeks ago."

  "And before that?"

  "I don't know. That asshole cheater. Remember?"

  "And before that?"

  She shook her head. "How do I know? A while. Does it matter?"

  "I'm going to take the fifth on that." He held out his hand. "The expiration date's good. Barely."

  She watched him open the packet. "So when did you last fuck a woman?" she challenged rashly.

  "I told you, two weeks ag—"

  "Before that."

  He smiled, rolling the condom on his cock. "August."

  Her eyes almost popped out. "But that's over six months ago. Matt, be serious. They come through your place in droves."

  "Jealousy eating you up?"

  "No more than you," she retorted.

  "That's what I thought. Come here. You've probably dried up like a crone. Condoms are good for that." He pulled her forward by her bottom and gazed at her chest admiringly. "I knew your nipples were long. They're very pretty, Jasmine."

  That was her only warning; then his fingers were there, pinching both nipples.

  "Too hard?" he asked.

  She couldn't answer with her vocal cords, just her head.

  "Pull down your underpants."

  She pulled them down as far as her knees, stopped by the hold he had on her nipples.

  Her brain was foggy. She knew Matt had to know what he was doing to her; she was obviously not the first girl with piercings he'd been with.

  "Feel inside, Jas, and tell me if you're wet."

  "You know I'm —"

  "Do it, please."

  Her breath coming quickly, she let one finger probe her slit. She swallowed. She'd never felt her folds so slick. "Yes, I…am."

  He released her tits and laid back fully on the bed.

  "Now I want you to squat over me and take my cock into you as you come down. All in one movement. Till you're seated. Can you do that?"

  "Y-yes. Maybe." She stepped forward and almost fell face-down. She'd forgotten the panties. "Damn it!" as he laughed, and then she couldn't help laughing, too, practically ripping the things from her legs.

  "Sorry, sweetheart. I forgot them, I swear."

  "Some slave master you are." And she walked on her knees to him until she was rising over him.

&nb
sp; He drew in a sharp breath. She looked down at him and recalled that feeling last week of being able to read Harrison's mind, because it happened again now with Matt. She looked, and he was so beautiful and hungry and open, and she saw his expression, a reflection of her own, worshiping her exactly as she worshiped him.

  And she almost told him she loved him.

  It was the memory of the Challenge that stopped her.

  If he felt anything for Jasmine beyond that, beyond the parameters set up by the Challenge, it was new. A product of impulse.

  Now it's you I want, and only you.

  For now.

  Tomorrow…?

  Besides, it was probably an illusion, even now. Because she wanted it.

  Jasmine closed her eyes tightly. And when she opened them again, his own eyes were shuttered. And something that had been easy and relaxed in them was gone.

  "Okay?" he asked.

  She searched his face. He was still aroused. Still affectionate. Still Matt. The Matt she was familiar with, the Matt whose look was a closed book, who could put her on the defensive in an instant.

  "Yes," she said.

  "Good." His finger slid into her cleft and teased along her clit. "You're right. You are wet. Get busy, Jasmine."

  She focused on following his instructions, easing down slowly, matching the blunt head of his cock to her entrance and reaching down with her fingers to keep it there. Her legs trembled to keep the movement strong and steady. The problem was, as soon as he was inside her, she couldn't hold back. She drove forward with a soft moan, impaling herself on him all the way to the hilt, falling on him clumsily with a huff.

  "Get up," he told her, pushing her by the shoulders till she was vertical.

  And then she knew why he wanted her sitting on him this way.

  "They really are pretty," he said, and brushed his palms as light as a breath over her nipples.

  And then, shifting slightly to adjust her on his hips, he started to play with her.

  In the midst of the daze of eroticism that followed, an image came to her from the inconsequential—Matt, turning a toy around and around in his hand, pulling it this way and that, examining how it moved, how it retracted and articulated.

  That's what he did now with her shields and flesh, pulling on them, figuring out how they worked, how she worked, until she couldn't hold herself upright any longer. Until the sounds she uttered were no longer recognizable.