The Boy Friend

by Mika Jolie

  She flips her hair away from her face, lifts her chin, and smiles at me. Her lips are full, sensual, and they’re about to cover me—a fulfillment of my fantasies.

  My muscles flex with anticipation.

  “My turn to make you come with my mouth.”

  Before I can speak, her fingers creep south, past my navel, and encircle my rigid erection. I groan in pleasure as she tightens her grip and strokes.

  I’m a dead man.

  She continues to touch me without hesitation, owning me. When her mouth grazes my inner thigh, I prop my weight on my elbows and freeze, anticipating the brush of her lips, the softness of her mouth as it engulfs me.

  “Cori, I need to be in your mouth.” At this point, my heart is hammering in my chest.

  “Like this?” The rosy tip of her tongue sweeps over the throbbing head of my swollen dick and licks away a bead of liquid.

  I hiss and grit my teeth. I grow stiffer. Larger. “Fuck, Cori.”

  “Later.”

  Now that she’s reached her destination, she doesn’t appear in a rush, but ready to explore. She releases my dick and spends some time licking and sucking my balls . . . And fucking Christ, I’m in heaven. When she lets them fall from her lips, I contemplate begging for more, but after a long, slow lick from the base to the head, she resumes her appreciation for my cock. Wrapping her lips around, she uses enough suction to make me groan. I watch as her small mouth expands over the length of my dick, until I hit the back of her throat.

  “Holy shit, Cori.”

  She looks up.

  Eyes innocent and wild smile at me.

  Pleasure, awareness, spreads through my body. “You’re killing me, Moonchild.”

  “You’re so delicious, Dean. Come for me.”

  Oh, fuck yeah. From deep in my throat rumbles a low, rough noise. A helpless sound.

  Her mouth is on my dick again, working me over and over. Hot, molten desire shoots through me. With each brush of her lips, I take a step closer toward madness. My head falls back in resignation, accepting the torturous pleasure as she explores every throbbing pulse, building me up.

  And it feels unreal.

  My hands flex and fist in her hair, not to guide her, but to connect in any way. Needing to capture this moment, I force my eyes open and fix them on her lips, sliding up and down over my engorged flesh.

  Every nerve in my body is responding to her touch.

  The pressure builds.

  My leg muscles grow warm, fresh air enters my lungs, and blood flows into all my limbs.

  Her head bobs faster and faster.

  With each stroke, she preys on me a little more, takes me a little deeper, mauling me with her tongue, while her fingers fondle my thighs and everything in between.

  My hips buck, control slipping.

  I climb higher and higher. Panting. Grunting. Unleashing. Release is so close, I am practically vibrating with pleasure. “Coriander. I can’t hold back.”

  A wild groan slips from her throat. She squeezes my dick in her hand, increasing the pace of each stroke and sucking. She’s ready for all I’ve got, and I’m ready to subside.

  My thigh muscles twitch.

  My gut tightens.

  My vision blurs.

  After three hard, deep thrusts, all the air whooshes from my lungs as I come, hard and longer than I ever thought possible.

  For a stunningly breathless moment, my heart stops. Then my body collapses onto the bed, and I shiver. I haul her against my body, her breasts melting against my chest. “Give me ten minutes.”

  “How was it?”

  Is she fucking kidding me? That was the best blowjob ever. As an answer, I kiss her long and deep. I’m not one of those guys who’s sketchy about tasting myself in a woman’s mouth. The warmth, the salty flavor is strangely . . . satisfying. When I finally break for air, I ask, “Did I answer your question?”

  “I think so.” She laughs, a soft, melodious sound. “Is it strange that I want to be the best you’ve ever had?”

  My heart stumbles, before finding its rhythm once again. I shift my head a few inches away from hers and stare at Cori with a kind of wonder. “Everything about the two of us and tonight is bigger and better than how I’ve ever imagined it’d be between us.”

  “Are you sure?” she asks, her fingers smoothing along my chest.

  “One hundred percent.”

  LESS THAN TEN MINUTES LATER, we are, once again, seeking each other like wild creatures. We kiss each other’s face, mouth, throat, any piece of flesh we can find, until Cori rolls over me, straddling me, with my hard length thick between us.

  Our eyes meet, and hers look wild, reflecting the hunger burning within me.

  “My turn to make you come again.” My voice shakes with raw desire.

  “How about we come together?”

  “I love that idea.” Grabbing her waist, I place her warm entrance on the tip of my erection. “Ride me,” I say, and then I lower her until I’m buried deep inside her. Skin on skin.

  We both gasp, then she begins moving on me. The feel of her clenched muscles gripping me like a vise magnifies the exquisite friction of the direct contact. We’re like fireworks and symphonies exploding in the sky.

  This is so fucking good.

  It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

  I am flooded with pleasure.

  Mind in a haze, I let the significance of the action run through my veins.

  I thrust up into her, driving deeper, and watch as the pleasure mounts, until her breathing grows shallow, the speed of her movement increases, and cries of ecstasy fill the room.

  A little while later, I pull the white comforter over us, roll to my side, and press Cori’s back against my chest. Warmth and darkness envelopes us, along with a comfortable silence. And that’s how we fall asleep.

  “Is the old adage ‘friends make the best lovers’ true?”

  WAKING UP NEXT TO CORI is possibly the best feeling I’ve experienced. Seriously, it’s out-of-this-world amazing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking shit about the sex. That was incredible, like, fingernails down the back, can’t feel my legs, neighbors wonder if somebody is getting killed great. I’ve never had better sex with anybody, so don’t think I’m somehow dissatisfied. I don’t even know how to describe what we shared last night.

  The closest I can compare sex with Cori is perhaps being in the front row of a Mumford and Sons concert, while everyone else watches the performance on YouTube. The video is fantastic, until you’ve experienced the real deal. And although the English rock band is easily one of my top go-to chill mode bands, comparing Cori to them doesn’t do her justice. She’s not a random hook-up, the kind when I’m eager to leave as soon as the buzz wears off.

  No, I want to stay right here, in the spooning position, Cori’s back plastered to my front like a second skin.

  I run my hand over her arm, my fingertips gently grazing her skin. In response, to my delight, she writhes against my morning wood.

  See what I mean.

  This is fucking heaven.

  Groaning quietly into her neck, I inhale the scent of her hair, before it’s washed, when it smells like Cori, not the shampoo that reminds me of her.

  “Awake?” I ask against the softness of her skin as I leave a trail of kisses on her shoulder.

  “Barely.”

  Even her sleepy voice—sounding cute and cuddly—is a turn on.

  “I see you are.” She laughs into my arms, then turns her body toward mine as I roll onto my back. Her head is on my chest, one slender arm around me, our hands interlocked.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Great.”

  “Sore?”

  “A little bit.”

  I brush my lips against the top of her head. “We can take it easy.”

  “You can’t help your size.” She tilts her head, half-asleep, a smile on her face, and says, “I’m not complaining.”

  Phew! Relief washes over me.
Not that I was worried about the machinery, but let’s be honest, it’s a few inches above the average size and doesn’t lack in girth. I’m glad Coriander likes it. “Well, shit, in that case,” I say, feigning rolling over her.

  She laughs. “But this is nice.”

  “Beyond nice.” Life simply can’t get any better. This is the money shot. We’re talking like lovers, laughing like friends. My body is thrumming with emotions I’ve neither expected nor sought.

  Desire.

  Need.

  And something else. A new and unfamiliar feeling for me, nothing I can even begin to explain.

  “What did you love most last night? Which position I mean?” she asks.

  The answer comes to me without hesitation. You.

  I clamp my mouth shut.

  Holy shit! I’m in love with Coriander.

  This revelation hits me like a meteor crashing into earth, disrupting the composition of my mind, leaving me dazed by the powerful force.

  This feeling is strange—frightening even. It stretches throughout my whole body. It’s overwhelming, yet makes me feel complete. It has no bound, nor length, nor depth.

  It’s as if I’m in a dangerous fire; yet I’m safe at the same time.

  I feel light, on top of the world, yet my heart is constricting, pleading for oxygen.

  It’s just . . . absolute.

  “Dean?”

  Clearing my throat, I say, “Yeah.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Remember, I analyze shit for a living. This love thing is new to me, a path untrodden, twisting out of sight. Before I proclaim my undying love, I need to make sure this isn’t my dick ruling my heart because it had the best sex of its life. Fucking bastard. Until then, the greedy SOB is ready to go, and frankly, I desperately need the physical escape. After brushing my lips on Cori’s forehead, I lower them toward hers, but she quickly covers her mouth, blocking the kiss. “You’re not a fan of my kisses?”

  “Morning breath,” she muffles behind her hand.

  “Do you care?”

  “Not with you.”

  That makes two of us. Gently, I remove her hand over her mouth. “Neither do I.” Within seconds, Cori is on her knees, her tight round ass perked up in the air. For a split second, I think about grabbing a condom, but now that I’ve experienced that skin on skin friction, sex with Cori with a rubber is going to feel like showering in a plastic jumpsuit. I spread her legs, run two fingers over her sleek mound, and then I thrust forward, burying myself inside Cori in one rough stroke before the world catches up with us.

  EVENTUALLY, I DRAG MYSELF out of bed to clear off Cori’s car, then I park her Jeep in my garage next to my shiny baby. About thirty minutes later, I enter the bedroom and find the bed empty, the bathroom door slightly open. I can hear the shower running.

  My initial thought is to speak to Cori about us—our feelings toward each other. What’s next for Cori and Dean. But that conversation can wait. Cori is in my shower, in her naked glory, using my soap, rubbing her hands over her body.

  Sue me, I’m a guy. I think with my dick . . . a lot.

  Besides, we have all day.

  I strip off my sweater and damp jeans, push the door open and step inside. Steam rolls over me as the water beats against the tile floor. For the briefest moment, I stop and take in the faint outline of her body, before sliding the glass door open. Her hands are moving along her shoulders, her breasts.

  Desire flares.

  Initially, I assumed one night with Cori would satisfy this craving. Obviously, I was wrong, and now, there’s the whole I’ve-fallen-in-love-with-my-best-friend complication.

  What if she doesn’t love me back?

  Shit! I’ve never thought of that possibility. My cocky ass automatically assumed she feels the same way.

  She has to, right?

  I mean, she did drive here in a snowstorm . . . it couldn’t be just for the sex, could it?

  Shaking off the doubts, I slide the door open and ask, “Mind if I join you?”

  “I think there’s room for the two of us.” She steps aside to make space for my large frame.

  “Let me do that.” I take the soap from her and rub it between my large hands long enough to build some suds.

  “Thanks for cleaning my car. I could have done it myself.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I love doing it. The same way I’m enjoying doing this.” I drag the soap over her body, letting it caress her skin as if it is my kisses, down to the softness of her flat stomach, and freeze. I stand absolutely still, silent and rigid, as if my brain has short-circuited and needs to be rebooted. My heart is racing, possibly right out of my chest, but not in a good way. This is a pure fucking panic attack.

  Last night, we didn’t use a condom when Cori rode me like a porn star. The first time is easy to dismiss as being caught up in the moment. But a few minutes ago, when I plunged inside her while she was on her knees, that’d been a conscious decision. I wanted to feel and take all of her.

  In my thirty years, I’ve never gone bareback with a broad, not even when I was a horny teenager controlled by my penis. The idea of a limp dick because of carelessness has never been my thing. From my end, I’m as clean as fresh laundry. There’s no concern about Cori’s lifestyle. I know who she’s been with and like me, she’s a stickler for the old rubber.

  But there are other consequences with having unprotected sex. Babies are also made that way.

  A heavy weight settles in my gut. I’m not ready for a baby. Nervous energy fills my chest.

  “You’re okay?” She drags her fingers through my wet hair, her brown eyes searching mine.

  My thoughts fumble, panic attacks like a bird of prey. I give myself a mental shake then say, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  But inside my head is a mental war. Cori openly admitted to wanting to start a family. Sure, I love her. In some way, I probably always have. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to go buy a ring, take the walk down the aisle, the two point five kids, and the picket fence. Honestly, I was going to propose we start dating, see where things go . . . which includes lots of sex, by the way. Now, there’s a possibility of a baby. I exhale. Everything is changing too fast. I feel drawn in, and that makes me want to pull back.

  She takes the soap from my hand. “My turn.”

  “Why don’t you rinse off,” I suggest, my head still spinning at the transition from friends, to lovers, to what-the-fuck.

  We know what makes each other tick. She holds me in a stare down for a beat, then she nods and says, “Sure.”

  A vicious silence hangs over us. The water continues to beat on the tile. Cori and I need to connect through the familiar and lead the conversation in a new direction. Quickly, I search my brain for a topic of discussion that will vault over the awkward pause and fill it with common ground. Instead, my mind comes up blank. I stand, muted, rooted to the spot, and watch her rinse the suds off her body.

  When she finishes, she flashes a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I should get dressed.”

  I nod. “I’ll be out shortly.”

  After the door closes, an empty sensation takes root in my chest. I turn the knob to the hottest temperature my skin can handle. Leaning my hands against the warm tiles, I close my eyes, lower my head, and let the steamy rivulets beat over my back and soak into my skin.

  When I enter the bedroom, Cori is fully dressed in the same outfit from last night. After putting on her boots, she rises to her feet.

  “Cori, we should talk.”

  Her brown eyes roam over me, my face, chest, the towel wrapped around my narrow waist. When she meets my gaze again, her facial expression is closed.

  “Moonchild,” I say her name in a low tortured voice.

  Her chin trembles. She sucks in a breath, closes her eyes for a moment before opening them. “Don’t say anything, Dean.”

  Silence, stifling and itchy as a wool blanket, hovers over the room. She’s shutting me out. I can make t
his . . . us . . . better.

  “Please look at me.” I’ve never begged a woman in my life. I’ve never fucked without a condom. I’ve never brought a woman to my house or spent the night with anyone. I’ve never fallen in love before, either. Welcome to the ‘firsts’ in Dean Conrad Morello’s life.

  The guilt sits on my chest, my heart sags under the weight of being responsible.

  “I panicked earlier.” Again, my stomach lurches and gurgles. There are two Deans inside me. The one who desperately wants to be with Cori, and the one who’s not ready to have a high chair in the middle of my dining room.

  Roadblocks I should have thought of before.

  I run a hand through my wet hair. “We didn’t use a condom.”

  Cori’s eyes have their own vocabulary and always show the antiquity of her soul. When I stare into them, there’s no hint of the fun-loving artist I adore. Instead, hurt and sadness looks back at me.

  She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m on the pill, Dean.”

  A wave of disappointment sweeps over me. Why the fuck am I disappointed?

  “I thought you wanted a baby.”

  “I also want love.”

  Silence falls between us, not the good kind either. You love her. Tell her, you dimwit. For a talker, I’m speechless, completely unable to find the right words.

  “Don’t worry.” Cori keeps her eyes steady, resting on my face like I’m her home, but just briefly, before glancing away. She walks past me with long fluid steps, and pulls out her keys from her pocket. “I didn’t expect anything to come of us.”

  “Why not?” I ask in a gravelly voice, my heart struggling to keep a steady beat.

  “Because one of us will get hurt.” A hint of a smile forms on her lips. “Most likely me.”

  With a few quick strides, I’m by her side. I cup her face and tilt it up so that we’re staring at each other. “I’d never hurt you.”

  “Promise me something.”