Leakage: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance

by Harley, Karen

She shivered. She heard the rustling of fabric and guessed he was getting undressed. Her mind went kind of blank. "It's there. My clit is there. It's, uh…"

  "Wet? Warm?'

  Ooh, yes. "Uh-huh," she said.

  "Swollen?"

  "Yes, that it is. That it is."

  "You don't read much smut, do you, Sara?"

  "Nah. Do you?" She had a hard time imagining Harrison poring over sex magazines or scrolling through porn sites on his tablet. X-rated videos, though….

  "Not lately, certainly. Okay, Sara. Your tits. It's cold, you said. So, are your nipples hard?"

  "Hold on, I'll check." The neckline was too ruffly, and her chilled fingers kept fumbling with the buttons, so she came at it from the other direction. It was a bit of a maneuver to pull up the hemline enough to reach underneath and palm her breast. "Yeah, they are," she said, impressed. "But I honestly don't know if that's because of the cold or what you said about my clit."

  "You mean how wet and plump it gets? How all I have to do is stick my hand down there and you go crazy squirming all over me?"

  Sara figured she should respond but had a bit of trouble getting her breath back after the image he'd just put in her head.

  "I wish I were there to warm you up," he said, sounding a bit hoarse. "It's too hot in this place. They heat everything to death in the winter down here. Sara, there's something I've always wanted to know about females. How do you not spend all day squeezing your own tits? They're so beautiful. If I were a woman, I'd grab them every few minutes."

  A giggle burst out. "Well, I do squeeze them if I want to, like right now. But I sure wish it was your hand. You have a point, though. I always wonder how you guys keep your hands out of your own pants. Do you know what a spectacular tush you have? And your yummy cock when it stands up like that, and it's just squishy enough to make you want to squeeze it harder, and the more you squeeze, the more it…."

  "Sara, hold on." More rustling. "Okay, I'm in bed now. On top of the covers. Bare as the day I was born. The light's even on. Is that graphic enough for phone sex?"

  "It's great," she said eagerly. "Is your shaft that deep pink it gets when you're aroused and pointing to the ceiling in the middle of all that curly blond hair?"

  "I guess. Actually, it's pretty damn hard. Fuck, I want you here now."

  "I want to be there. I'd kneel down right there on the bed and open my mouth over you so wide, Harrison, and just swallow you up. Oh, God. I am so horny now."

  "Sara."

  She moaned. "This maybe wasn't such a good idea."

  "Is your hand in your pussy?"

  "Okay, yes, now it is."

  "Jesus." She could hear his harsh breathing. "This is nuts. You're right. This was a bad idea. Stupid phone."

  "Please," she said foolishly.

  "Please what? I can't do any fucking thing to you. I want to shove my hand under your ass and bring you up all over my cock, and you're lying there three thousand miles away. What the fuck were you thinking?"

  "Eight to—midnight."

  "That's bullshit. The whole plane flight…every night…I'm done with this Challenge. It's driving me insane."

  "Don't go. Please don't go."

  "The leakage is murder. I want all my fingers up your cunt, like, now."

  "It's not leakage at the moment, it's eight to—"

  "You know what I'm talking about." He sounded really agonized, and Sara felt guilty. "I could take the occasional frustration before the whole Challenge thing started. But now it's out of control. I want you when you're not even in the room and I haven't seen you in days. That's daft."

  "Are you touching yourself like I am?"

  "That's the plan, isn't it? Unless you've figured out a way to beam your maddening, redheaded—"

  "You're right, it's awful. I should have just not texted you tonight. It's just that I've been missing you something fierce this whole week."

  He groaned. "Tell me how close you are to coming."

  "I don't know. I don't even know if I can get there without you inside me. Or something. I usually use a whatchacallem, vibrator if I'm alone. And my fingers don't—quite —"

  "You can get there. Imagine my hand ramming into you. You're so tight you could probably come just from clenching your pelvic floor muscles. Ah, damn, now I…."

  "Hey, you're right, that's kinda neat." She'd practiced Kegels before, just to do it, but never in this sort of state. There might be hope.

  Sloppy, frantic fingers and visions of Harrison leaning over her, wearing his glasses and looking earnestly lustful, brought her swiftly to near climax. Pencil started barking.

  "Oh, God," she said. "I just scared the dog off the bed."

  He didn't reply. She had a pretty good idea why. She could hear his loud breathing, and she envisioned him touching himself, and that turned her on so much she wailed.

  It still wasn't enough, though. She clenched inside like nobody's business but still needed filling. "Harrison!" She realized she'd lost the phone, groped around, found it, and brought it to her ear. "Are you there?"

  No sound. She rolled to the side of the bed, heaved up, and rooted around in her nightstand drawer. Moments later, she was back in bed, easing the blessedly bulging thing up inside where she craved pressure. With just a little bit of a blush—this was another first for her—she grabbed the phone. "Harrison?"

  "Uh, yeah." Harrison sounded incredibly mellow now.

  "Oh, God, you're done, aren't you? I'm not. I couldn't come, so I got the vibrator."

  "Ah." She heard him take deep, sucking breaths. "All right. Vibrator. Damn, it should be me in your pussy. What do you need, sugar? I'm kind of useless at this point."

  Sara almost exploded right there at the endearment. She'd never heard him use one for anyone, ever, certainly not her, and it was suddenly as though she could see him right there, his face all slack with post-coital drunkenness. She already knew she adored him in gallant gentleman mode, but stripped of his control and vulnerable and happy after sex, he was at his most irresistible, and she loved that man so much.

  "I don't know—just talk to me."

  "Talk…right…I don't know what to say. I wish you were here. You make no sense half the time. But then you make me feel everything good. Your hair smells like peaches. You have the sweetest ass I've ever seen. I wish you'd stop listening to that weird, atonal music just because people tell you to. If you interfere in Matt and Jasmine's business anymore, I'm probably going to spank you. I like that yellow shirt you wear that always falls off your shoulder. I feel like an idiot talking like this."

  "No, I like it," she said, eyes closed. "Go on, it's great. Sincerely."

  "But is it arousing?"

  "Uh-huh."

  He sighed. "When I come back on Monday, you'd better not be there. Just keep out of my way until Friday. I have a shitload of work to do this week, anyway."

  "Harrison…more sexy."

  "Right. Uh…at the funeral, one of my cousins' friends came on to me. She wanted to go back to my hotel. I told her no. Using just that word. She was damn cute, too."

  Her fingers froze in mid-stimulation. "Why are you telling me this?"

  "Because you said to talk." He sounded disgruntled. "Sexy talk."

  "That's not sexy talk. That's hang-up-the-phone talk."

  "Dammit, this is what I've been telling you. Freaking leakage. Sara, why do you care who comes on to me?"

  "Because I'm a jealous cat," Sara said. "Normally I'd just sock you in the jaw, but I'm not there and I'm kind of preoccupied at the moment."

  "At least you admit it. Since we're on the subject, I didn't like it that that guy, whatsisname, asked you out. I don't like not knowing if you'll say 'no' to someone. Which is precisely why we should—"

  She read his mind. "I don't want to talk about the Challenge now. Remember? I've got a vibrator inside me and I'm in a tense mood. How about saying those seductive things again? Like how beautiful my nose is or something."

  "Your
nose is nice," he admitted. "I like the freckles under your belly button, too."

  "What are you talking about, are you on crack, I don't have—"

  "Yes, you do. Sara, my own mood is devolving. Rapidly."

  "Did you really say no to that chick at the funeral? Even though she was cute?"

  "Yes."

  "I guess that's progress. A month ago, you'd have gone all dopey-puppy for her."

  "Thanks. Did you say 'no' to Chamomile Man?"

  "Kind of. I told him I was into someone else."

  Harrison went silent. "Were you lying?"

  "Don't be a dorkhead. Of course I'm into you. "

  She heard him take a shuddering breath. "Sara—"

  "Harrison, I swear to you now, I'm going to scream if I don't come in the next minute. I'm literally going to scream. Matt and Jasmine may even hear me where they are."

  Long pause.

  Long, indrawn breath.

  "I love slurping your cunt. Your sex smells like an animal. It makes me act like an animal. Your vaginal muscles could win a gold medal if there were an Olympic category for sex. Remember how you stuck your finger up my ass? I have dreams of parting your fat ass cheeks and sliding my dick deep into the same part of you. I have no idea if you'll like it but I frankly don't care. I'd like it. Because if your vagina is that tight, I have no doubt that—"

  Sara came like a popped balloon.

  She didn't know if he kept on talking or if he heard her yelling and went silent. But when she finally saw in focus again, she became aware of a few things. One, Harrison was no longer saying anything. Two, her body felt like a gooey, sticky marshmallow. Three, Pencil was looking concernedly at her. And four, she was now not only in love with Harrison, but hopelessly in love. As in, if he didn't figure out he loved her back very, very soon, she was going to become some kind of tragic heroine and throw herself off of a bridge.

  "God in heaven," she breathed.

  She heard him laughing. "Gee, Sara, if raunchy talk was what you needed, you should have just said something."

  "Fuck you," she said happily, reaching down to pull out the vibrator. "Thank you. That was lovely."

  Harrison had another coughing fit. "Jesus. What a night."

  "What time is it?"

  "Not even close to midnight. I'm beat, though. Long-distance sex is hard work after a day like today."

  "I think we did good for our first remote Challenge night. I…" Just in time, she stopped the words. Telling someone she loved them was something she never held back, except these days, with Harrison. "I'm glad now that I texted you."

  "Well, I'm a lot less frustrated, that's for sure. Can you sleep now?"

  "Actually, I think I'll get a snack. I wish you were here. I like it when you kiss me at the end."

  "Yeah."

  "I like sitting on your lap, too."

  "Yeah, okay. That's enough."

  "Why?"

  "Because I'm tired and you're starting to turn me on again."

  "Oh. That's a bad thing, right?'

  "Good night, Sara."

  "Good night, Harrison."

  FOURTH FRIDAY—JASMINE AND MATT

  Jasmine used her key card to get into the apartment building, emptied the mailbox, and checked her phone: 7:50. She walked up slowly, stopping at Matt's door.

  It was not quite close enough to eight o'clock to knock. Yet the idea of making a stop at her apartment and chatting with Sara right before her scheduled Challenge date with Matt held little appeal. Sara would be getting ready to call Harrison and start their Challenge date.

  Texting Matt a couple of hours ago in the pho restaurant had left her in limbo. For that matter, messaging him all week had been a big mistake. The exchanges between them were always short and sweet yet inevitably left her in a daze of lust that made it difficult to concentrate at work. Her mother had coolly pointed out her lack of attentiveness in meetings.

  All down to Matt. But she let it happen. Even encouraged it. Even occasionally initiated it.

  Like yesterday.

  JASMINE: Sara just told me she's working late and I'm stuck here all day. Pencil needs walking. Where are you?

  MATT: Home.

  JASMINE: I'll swing by about 2:00 with key. Will you walk?

  MATT: Yes. Leave it under the door.

  Nothing naughty in that exchange, except Matt's last line had made her very aware of why he didn't want to see her, and hadn't allowed himself to see her, for a week.

  If you see me before Friday, anywhere—the park, here—just run.

  She'd taken his proscription seriously.

  But they'd emailed. And texted. And last night when she got home, a very different email had been waiting for her.

  Jas,

  Dog walked. Jumped in lake. Key is inside your front door.

  I have a guess, but want confirmation. Do you remember telling me once about your uncle, your dad's sister's husband? The one you liked, who was good with his kids. You said he gave you two toys, the only gifts from anyone you've ever kept, and that you missed him when he and his family moved out of state. I presume those are the owl and badger on your shelf. True?

  -M

  Matt,

  True. You remember that?

  And did you at least towel him dry before he got on the sofa?

  -Jasmine

  Jasmine,

  Nope. Sofa filthy.

  Why would I not remember?

  Also, I want to watch you eat tomorrow. Tiramisu?

  -M

  Matt,

  Yes to tiramisu.

  I'm sure I'll regret asking, but why do you want to watch me eat?

  -Jasmine

  Jasmine,

  Why? Because you just reached near-orgasm reading the word "tiramisu." I can only imagine what it will be like when you're here, eating it.

  -M

  Matt,

  :)

  -Jasmine

  Now she loitered in the hallway, undecided. Should she wait until eight on the dot? Or linger out here?

  You're overthinking it. Do you really expect him to taunt you if you show up early to the Challenge?

  Jasmine knocked. Waited. No answer. Knocked more loudly.

  From inside, she heard Matt's voice speaking and another, feminine, one. Before she had time to react, even to be surprised, the door swung open.

  Jasmine hadn't set eyes on Matt since last week. His jaw was covered in a dark stubble, as though he hadn't shaved in a couple of days. His jeans and white tee shirt each had holes. His feet were bare. He stood there and stared at her as if paralyzed.

  "Hello," she said idiotically.

  "Is that her?" came a woman's voice from behind him.

  His head turned slightly without his eyes leaving Jasmine. "Yeah."

  That's when the shock of realization juddered through her. Before she could react to the discovery that there really was a woman in Matt's apartment, he grabbed her arm and pulled her inside in one motion.

  But it was worse than that. Jasmine had only gotten a quick glimpse last week, but she was pretty sure it was the same girl—long black ponytail, workout clothes, striking eyes, gorgeous mouth.

  Not a fuck, he'd said.

  Matt squeezed Jasmine's hand as though in warning. "Jasmine, meet Regan. Regan, Jasmine."

  The woman looked at her unsmilingly, then reached out a hand that Jasmine took automatically. "I'm Matt's sister." She glanced at Matt. "Did I say it fast enough?"

  "It was fine. Except your coming without notice again. That was not fine."

  "I told you, I just got out of class." Regan scowled. "You're on my way to yoga."

  "You have a phone, don't you? Time to apologize."

  "Fuck you, I already did."

  "To her, Regan."

  During the lightning-quick exchange, Matt did several things. He pulled off Jasmine's coat, took her purse, nudged her forward, and the net result was that before Jasmine's brain started working, she was sitting in front of him between his fold
ed up legs on the couch, his arm firmly around her abdomen. The suddenness and the intimacy of the contact threw her. It looked like a public display of affection, but she felt more like a human fortress.

  "I—am—sorry," the woman enunciated with exaggerated politeness.

  "Real nice," Matt said, his hand tightening around Jasmine's waist. "How about trying it again, and look at her this time."

  "Why are you so pissed? So I barged in on you. I've done it before."

  "Not with her here."

  "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I hope he's not this much of a bastard with you," Regan said to Jasmine.

  The vitriol between them was palpable. Jasmine was still recovering from the shock. "Um," she said.

  "Look, what's your name—Jasmine?—I really am sorry for taking up a precious five minutes of your date," Regan said.

  Jasmine nodded wordlessly.

  "So? Are you going to call him?" Regan demanded of Matt.

  "No." Matt shifted to pull Jasmine's stiff body closer. Jasmine again had the sensation he was using her as a buffer between himself and his sister.

  "You know he's just going to keep bothering me about it if you don't."

  "And I care…why again?"

  "Matt, it might be about Mom."

  Matt didn't reply, but Jasmine felt his muscles go steely. She didn't think Regan noticed, but then, Regan didn't seem aware that Matt was especially tense in the first place.

  "Maybe something to do with the will," his sister continued. "Or the house."

  "Forget it," Matt clipped. "Not calling him."

  "But don't you even care if—"

  "Nope. Four minutes gone. One left."

  Regan went into the kitchen and came back with a backpack. "Matt, just answer one of his messages. He'll stop harassing you if he hears from you."