Unfriended: A Geek and Stud Romance (Love in New Highland Book 1)

by Deana Farrady

  "We're so doing this for our next PvP game," I said, sucking on her earlobe.

  "I don't even know what this is." She rubbed her nose on me. "What's happening here. This is stupid."

  I wasn't sure what to tell her. I knew it wasn't anything like it had been with Aura. I knew it was exactly what I wanted. Anything else, my brain wasn't processing.

  I kissed her ear. "Fuck if I know. We're hanging out together." I rubbed my cock, sticking out of its open fly, suggestively against her.

  She gasped. "Did you dare to make a pun? At this very moment?"

  "Oh, I dare," I said, voice deep. I kissed the frown lines between her eyebrows. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you just experienced some genuinely apocalyptic orgasms, did you not, Sloane?"

  "Huh."

  "Are you blushing?" I turned her face. "Cool trick. I could actually hear you blushing. So…apocalypse?"

  "Apocalypse," she said reluctantly. "And why the need to point out the patently obvious?"

  I smiled, feeling awesomeness deep in my bones. "Because, sweetness, I'm sitting here like a dog with two dicks while you're having a cow. Why is that?"

  "There—you calling me sweetness. That's what I'm having a cow about."

  "What else should I call you?"

  "Something normal. Buddy. Amigo. Homey."

  I cracked up.

  "I don't know. This whole thing is crazy. You and me. Everything's gone back assward."

  "That is as it should be. Shit, you are so hot." My hand ran down her ass. Small, yes, but meaty and plump where she needed to be, and the skin. Everywhere on her body her skin was sleek and baby-soft. "You make me hard, Char. I want to do so many dirty things to you. Do you have any notion how badly I want you?"

  "I'm getting there," she muttered. "You, uh, you don't have to hold back. Obviously I'm willing."

  Motherfucker. She had to say it like that, casually. My heartbeat went out of control.

  But now I had to know. "How much experience have you had with fucking?"

  I felt her body jolt. "Some. A lot."

  I kept silent, and she added, "With one guy."

  "Dude from college?"

  "Reggie, yes. We did the act every Friday for years."

  Did the act? That was a strange way of putting it. Then her statement registered. Every Friday? As in, on a schedule?

  Oh hell no.

  I opened my mouth, but Charis's proud look stopped me. I guess she really had no idea how pathetic that sounded.

  So I just said mildly, "His name was Reggie?"

  "Is that a problem?"

  "Nope." Then it hit me. She was practically a virgin. I was going to be her tutor.

  "What's so funny?'

  I let my smile widen. "You're not really older than me where it counts. One random guy. Pshaw."

  "Long term, dumbass. And it was perfectly good sex."

  "Oh, it was, was it? Perfectly good sex. Kind of like a perfectly good pair of socks, or a perfectly good refrigerator, or a per—"

  "It counts. It does count!"

  "Was it as good as being tossed to the land of O just now?" I probed her from behind as a pointed reminder.

  "Tossed to the land of O?"

  "You know, the land of apocalyptic orgasms."

  "It was not that good, no."

  I smiled smugly. "So, just so we're clear, you're saying it was more fun getting off to my fingers than Reginald's pee-pee."

  She smothered laughter. "Yeah. I wouldn't use 'fun' to describe what Reggie and I did. It was more…interesting and businesslike."

  Businesslike sex? With Charis? Wild sex. Fun sex. Those I could see. But businesslike? I couldn't wrap my mind around it.

  "Tell me more," I demanded. Then, at the idea of another man fucking Charis: "On second thought, never mind, I'm not ready to hear that just yet. Just tell me…these were the best orgasms of your life. True or false?"

  She went into a fit of coughing. "True. Okay?"

  "Okay then. We're on the same page. Finally. I am going to love getting you up to speed. Because you. Are. Unbelievable."

  Her eyes shadowed. "I guess I have to ask, did you mean that in a good way, or—"

  Her very real uncertainty made me tighten my arms. "Charis Sloane, if I tell you that you are amazing, that there is nothing I want to do more than open your legs and drill you for hours, that I am a hundred percent sure that fucking you will blow my mind, will you believe me? Or will you assume I'm just trying to make you feel better?"

  Her eyes searched mine. "I'll believe you, Asher."

  "Good. I'm sick of being told I'm full of shit. I've never seen anything hotter than you coming. It was pure sweetness, which is what you are, which is why I call you that, and I can't wait to do it again."

  Her eyes widened. She seemed to brace herself. "Okay, you told me that. I can say this. I have wanted you, Asher. I've wanted you for a long time. A…really long time, actually."

  With that breathtaking admission, that hand, the one on my butt, eased around, and Charis delicately touched my cock.

  I'd been so intent on her, I'd almost lost track of our intimate entangling. With that one gesture, my body surged.

  Yeah, I lost it, really lost it, like a punk kid in Stage One.

  Now, I'd had a lot of women touch my cock.

  A lot.

  It's not even funny.

  Touch, kiss, suck, pet…if anything, they went for it sooner than I was always comfortable with.

  But this wasn't any woman.

  This was Charis.

  My programming looped.

  Char wanted me, she'd just given herself to me with abandon, she was hesitantly wrapping her hand around my shaft, and how was this not my fucking lifelong dream again?

  Pleasure engulfed my body; heaviness took my limbs. I pushed her onto her back, driving myself through her hand, butting the tip against her belly. "Harder. Oh, fuck, yes, please, squeeze me harder, girl."

  Her hand tightened; my balls contracted dangerously. Now there was zero thinking happening. I grabbed her hips. With the dangerous surge that followed my pleasure-seeking thrust, a glimmer of sense awakened and I tried desperately to control the roiling need.

  Had I really implored my best friend to squeeze my dick?

  That wasn't the plan. Fucking her today wasn't the plan. What was I doing?

  Stage Three, you bastard. Must control cock.

  She ruined that plan.

  "Asher, I want to touch you however I want. It's like a crazy need. But I feel like I should ask. Or I don't know, I don't know what I should do."

  It took a split second to absorb.

  Then I almost shot my load.

  Oh, fuck, no. I would not come in Charis's hand like a snot-faced adolescent. I was supposed to show her I was the experienced one, not the immature jerk who cared about only one thing. Not gonna happen, especially not with Sloane.

  Not. Gonna.

  How many electrons in calcium? Two in the first shell…

  "Go ahead and touch me any way you want," I managed. "Just be careful."

  She froze. "Why? What could happen?"

  I rolled onto my back, clutching my cock protectively in my tight fist. A wimp? Maybe.

  "The problem is, I'm kind of on the edge here."

  "Edge? You mean irritated, don't you? Crap, I was inappropriate. I knew I—"

  "Fuck," I groaned, "are you messing with me now?"

  "No! I don't understand! I just want to know a simple thing. May I touch you or may I not? Apparently there is a risk of which I am unaware, and before I do something really bad I sh—"

  A laugh burst out of me. "The risk is that I'll lose control, Sloane. If you want to watch me lose control, sure, take that hand of yours and go right ahead and touch me."

  "Oh." The look she gave me then was of dawning delight, like a kid who'd just been awarded her first prize from the gumball machine.

  I could practically see her brain calculating her options. After a few momen
ts, she took me literally. She shuffled in close and reached out to stroke between my fingers. The tantalizing contact of just her fingertips on my cock had me swearing under my breath.

  "I take it you don't mind the idea," I gritted out.

  She met my eyes. "I want you to lose control. That would be perfect."

  Fuck me.

  I expelled a breath, then cautiously released myself and spread my arms out to my sides, giving her access.

  I won't say I wasn't excited. My cock bobbed like a pupil wanting teacher's attention. Call on me, call on me!

  And she noticed. But since she muttered, "It's criminal how good looking you are," with her eyes far south of my face, I believe it was a good thing.

  Somewhere I found the wherewithal to tease her. "I always knew you dug the way I looked, Sloane."

  "Oh, I do. I'm probably the shallowest person in the world in that respect."

  "Yeah, that's you," I joked. I was relaxed by our banter, but when she went and delicately stroked the length of my shaft with one fingernail, it was like the zing of a burning match.

  "Ah! What just happened?"

  I refused to believe she didn't know. I forced my spine back down on the mattress. "It's fine. You're good. Keep on."

  She did it again, exactly as before, on the other side. Somehow I managed not to arch off the bed completely.

  Now she was cupping my balls. I sucked breath in through my nostrils. "This all right?" she asked, this being a fairy-light circling of my glans.

  "Yep," I managed. "You could go a little harder there."

  Whether she meant to tease me or not, she was really into this exploring shit, but I knew I couldn't last much longer. How many electrons in the next shell? Twenty in all, making eighteen more with eight in 2S, then another eight, filling up three orbitals and two free…

  Even as I gained a small degree of self-mastery, those fingers left my cock entirely to trail up the center of my abdomen and over my pecs and circle one of my nipples.

  "You like this too?" she asked. "Around your nipple? That's pretty neat."

  "Yeah, it's…awesome." Abruptly I was done with this passivity shit. I rolled to my side and cupped the gentle rise of her breast, swallowing it completely with my palm. And now I had to kiss her.

  I pressed her down, my mouth taking hers. Our kiss was messy, crude, lascivious. Now we knew what we were doing, and were doing it together, our kiss was amazing, like a journey we were taking together. With our tongues swirling, her hand on me, my hand on her…it just got better and better.

  She pulled away. "So how do I make you come?"

  "By doing what you're doing."

  "Tell me how," she gasped. "I'm fuzzy on the details. I need clear instructions, with examples."

  This was classic Charis Sloane. Laughing at her a little, I gave her the graphic instructions she wanted, but honest to fuck, it was like handing a two-year-old a lethal weapon. She applied herself with the dedicated precision of a woman determined to earn Olympic gold at hand jobs. Her goal was to race to the finish line.

  Mine was to make it to the finish line before I expired.

  "Time out," I managed, and she went motionless.

  "Crap. What if I can't do it?"

  "Sorry, Sloane—the problem is not—how to make me come. It's how to—make this last more than two seconds." As I said the last part, I felt her hand pump from base of shaft to head, and she bit my nipple with her cute little teeth, and I was done for. "Ah, ah."

  I managed to pull away right as I lost control.

  On her coat.

  A crazy part of me thought it would be more gallant than spending in her hands. I started having doubts about that when my body was racked by one of those rare, earth-blasted-to-smithereens orgasms, the kind that knocks you sideways, the kind that makes you swear all through it because it's so intense you get a foot cramp.

  "Not typical!" I huffed out. "Results are—not typical."

  Panting, sweating, my muscles lax at last, I turned my head and focused gradually on her stunned expression.

  I flopped over and grabbed her hand to kiss it, thoroughly enjoying the shit-eating grin that slowly spread over her face.

  "Something funny, babe?" I went for her breast, the right one, the one I hadn't touched yet, slurping it up. I lay there next to her, suckling her. My cock softening. Feeling fucking fantastic despite my epic fail.

  Her coat, for chrissakes.

  I chuckled, and after a second, she started giggling in a, dare I say it, girly way.

  "You. This bed. It's drenched. My coat…my coat. Freaking hounds of hell, I still have my boots on. Do you? You do. You just…I just…and…"

  "And? And? You got any other complaints?" I poked her in the precise spot to launch her into peels of laughter.

  "No!"

  "Good, because this is all down to you," I growled. "If you weren't so fucking sexy, your outerwear would be clean right now. You know it's your fault, right? For being the hottest thing since erections were invented? Right?" I sucked on her, smiling and still tickling her.

  "Yes!" she screamed."Yes, yes, yes!"

  CHAPTER 20

  Two Years Ago—Probably Not

  Charis: Do you believe the sun will rise tomorrow?

  Asher: Uh, yes, yes, I do. And now I suppose you want me to ask the obvious question.

  Charis: What is the obvious question?

  Asher: Do you believe the sun will rise tomorrow? I warn you, Sloane, if you say no, I'm gonna have to kick your ass out of the Sane Society.

  Charis: Well, let's just say I'm skeptical.

  Asher: You're skeptical. Oh, wait. Is this some shit from your class on formal logic? To show it's not logical somehow?

  Charis: Actually, it is logical to expect the sun to rise tomorrow. Just not deductively logical. The statement "The sun has risen every day so far and thus it will rise tomorrow" uses inductive reasoning.

  Asher: How the fuck do you see the sun not rising tomorrow?

  Charis: Seriously, do I even have to say? I can think of dozens of things that could stop the sun rising tomorrow.

  Asher: Could. It's a possibility. Not a likely probability though.

  Charis: Same difference.

  Asher: Not at all the same. According to quantum mechanics, there's a theoretical chance that I will spontaneously turn into a dodo bird. I am not going to spontaneously turn into a dodo bird because the probability that it will happen is almost zero. Thus, the sun will rise tomorrow, yo.

  Charis: Mmm, I guess.

  Asher: The bigger question is, who the fuck cares?

  Charis: I the fuck care! Even a small probability can be scary. I want to know that I'm doing the right thing. How can I know it's right if there's a chance it's not the right thing?

  Asher: Like right in what sense?

  Charis: In the sense of going for a doctorate…deciding to do one thing and not the other…deciding to say something or not to say something…you know. Don't you doubt? Don't you wonder if you're doing the right thing? Like, like with Aura for example. What if you aren't meant for each other? Or with, where are you now, your third patent. Don't you worry?

  Asher: Rarely. You have to take it for granted that you're fucking up.

  Charis: Fucking up? Really?

  Asher: You'll always fuck up. I'm probably fucking up right this moment. The world, the universe is a fuckup. So who gives a shit? Just do the best thing you can and call it good.

  Charis: It's not that easy. The best thing is hard to see sometimes. If you do A, then B will happen, with its resultant problems, but if you do C, then D will happen with its own entirely separate set of resultant problems. It's all a mess. I'd much rather believe in absolutes. They make things simple. A is absolutely the right thing to do. That's what I believe.

  Asher: Good for you. Believe whatever you want.

  Charis: I will, dammit. I do believe in absolutes. I do believe in absolutes.

  Asher: So do I, Dorothy. There is a
bsolutely a hundred percent probability that you're cute scrunching up your nose like that.

  Asher

  WHAT I FIGURED WE'D DO THEN was shower, head over to my place, grab a bite to eat, and fuck each other spineless for the next five days.

  All right, maybe that was a touch overambitious. It's not that I'm incapable of going slowly in a relationship. I definitely am. Hey, last summer I went for three weeks without fucking when Aura went to visit relatives in Wales, right? If I endured that, I could endure not pushing Charis too far, too fast.

  Only someone had triggered my panic button.

  I had this need to…cement my position? Stake my claim?

  Charis's negative feelings about her body made me uneasy. Aura had burned me badly. I didn't think Charis approached Aura's level of fuck-upedness, but women were funny.

  I'd learned a couple of key facts recently, namely, A) my friend had no idea how desirable she was, and B) Mel had nailed it about her carrying a torch for me—some kind of torch, anyway.

  Maybe I didn't know her as well as I'd thought I did.

  I wanted there to be no mistake in her mind about us.

  Or in mine either.

  Charis, however, had different ideas. She restored her clothing, threw me out of her bed and sent me home, saying she needed to clear her head without me around to cloud it. I was ordered not to call her or text her while we were apart.

  Reluctantly I modified my plan, kissing her thoroughly at the door so she wouldn't forget our place.

  "You've had the swoons for me for a long time," I reminded her when I came up for air.

  "The what?"

  "The swoons." I laughed as she swatted me. "A long time. A really long time. Those were your exact words."

  What a long time meant in Charisspeak I wasn't sure, but I was thinking it might be several weeks that her pussy had been creaming for me—maybe longer, maybe even before I went underground to bond with Aura.

  And all that time, I'd had no clue. It pissed me off that I'd had no clue.

  "Yeah." She looked like she was regretting the words in question. Just another reason to solidify my stance. Char was the Queen of Doubts. She could doubt anything.