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

by Deana Farrady

  Trying not to laugh.

  And damn. If I'd had any idea banging a woman could be this fun, my life would be very different by now.

  I shrugged out of my shirt and she subsided. Her eyes swept broadly over my chest and arms. I'd caught her eying me appreciatively before, but never so openly.

  I was moved to know she approved of my dude parts.

  When I lowered my fly, she went motionless. It was extremely cute, like she was preparing for the unveiling of a national treasure.

  I shucked my jeans and briefs and rolled them up to pitch them into the laundry bin.

  "Oh, boyoboy."

  Forget national treasure. The way she was looking at me, I was nothing less than a pepperoni pizza with olives and mushrooms.

  "You saw me before," I couldn't resist teasing her.

  "Not like this. Oh, my God." She gulped.

  "Still see me as a kid?"

  "N—o. That would be a no. And no. Can I touch you?" Her teeth captured her bottom lip. "Please, can I just eat you?"

  "Depends which part." I grinned, climbing onto the bed.

  "Every part." She fluttered her hand at me to indicate the whole pizza.

  "Do anything you want. I told you before, you have my permission to make free with my body."

  Not even remotely trying to hide her admiration, she ran her fingers through my chest hair and lightly over my pecs, brushing a nipple. I hissed in a breath and she did it again.

  "You do realize this is why I never stick around to play games in the pool on Independence Day," she said dreamily. "No guy should look like you do. It's unfair."

  Her voice had gone husky. It stroked me, stroked my cock. My eyes soaked her up. Charis half naked was an incredibly lewd sight. I couldn't look away from those long, luscious berry-nipples playing peek-a-boo with her shirt. Yeah, I drooled.

  Literally. I swallowed back the saliva. "And here I was thinking you had no holiday spirit. Lift up for me…"

  Attending to me as she was, she didn't seem to notice when I peeled off her clothes—north of the border, anyway. When I slid her bottoms down over her feet, though, she lost her relaxation, going as rigid as a board. Her hands came down to fist at her sides.

  I was too preoccupied eye-fucking every inch of her to much pay attention.

  For except for two pink footies, my bestie was finally, utterly naked.

  I slipped those off, taking a second to caress her sweet little toe with its gold ring.

  Then leaned back.

  "You are…." I cleared my clogged throat. "Shit. This skin." I traced the bone of her hip. "A twelve-year-old boy you are not. You're gorgeous as all fuck. Why the hell do you cover yourself up all the time?"

  I watched the flush rise up from her breasts to her cheeks. "Hey, I wear shorts and t-shirts."

  "Loose and bulky ones. You must be trying to hide just how pretty you are." I propped myself up on my arms to drop a kiss on each nipple.

  She was exquisite, like a sleek thoroughbred. I'd always gone for blatantly hourglass figures. Now, seeing the whole of her, I couldn't imagine anything hotter than the subtlety of her curves outlining the raw sexuality of her tits and pussy.

  "You're seriously enchanting to me."

  "Enchanting. Come on."

  "Don't laugh." I stretched out alongside her, wedging a leg between hers and nudging her thighs apart. "Would you rather I say hot? Eminently fuckable? Christ, I can smell how sexy you are."

  My eyes went straight to her pussy, followed by my fingers.

  "You're always turned on," I whispered. "That's the hottest thing of all. Is your clit like this all the time, Sloane? Do you ache for cock all the time underneath your preppy clothes?"

  "Asher…" Her voice broke. "I can't think when you talk like that. When you touch me like that."

  "You don't need to think with your brain right now. Your pussy can do all your thinking for you."

  Her laughter turned into a moan. "That is such a corny line. Do you use it with all—oh, God!"

  I growled. "Are you insulting my lines? Are you? Are you?"

  I'm fairly certain I'd never tickled a woman and worked up her clit at the same time. Yeah, Charis was definitely the first. She writhed to get away, but her giggling and moaning egged me on. That and her silky skin, which I wanted to go on touching forever.

  Trapping her, I began licking her taut belly, loving the way she tried to clasp me with her legs. Every once in a while I poked her ribs, though. It was fun.

  Finally I allowed her the upper hand, letting her invert us, so I was on my back and she was on top. Then it was her poking me in fiendish retaliation.

  Throughout it, I was laughing…until her thigh brushed my cock. I groaned then. And suddenly nothing was funny, and everything was urgent.

  "Rubber." I rolled over and groped for the drawer at my bedside table. "Now."

  "Yes, hurry. Do you have it?"

  I not only had it, I'd perfected the art of opening and assembly. Unfortunately, as I put it on, I experienced a brain fart—an Aura-related one.

  The simple act of unrolling the rubber made me freeze. Aura's face appeared before me like a ghost.

  Shit. Oh, great, not this, not now.

  What was this, the Fuck of Doom?

  "What's wrong?"

  I shut my eyes, opened them again.

  "If I tell you, you can't have a cow," I warned.

  Charis's hand flew to her chest. "No cow having here." She really did sound solemn, too.

  "It's crass to talk about," I hedged.

  "Dammit, Asher! Aren't we a little beyond concerns of etiquette?" Charis was no dummy. "It's about Aura, isn't it?"

  I nodded. "It's like this, Sloane. She wasn't on the pill, she didn't get along with hormones, so we used condoms. We fucked like bunnies, though. The very idea of getting her pregnant made me quiver with fear. So Karl taught me this method to help me not screw up."

  "I'm listening."

  She sounded wary, but not like she was about to jump out of my bed.

  "I classically conditioned myself to think chlorine right before I started to penetrate her."

  "Chlorine."

  "Don't ask. It worked. I'd say it mentally each time, and it made me think of condom through association, thus assuring I would never forget to protect myself."

  "Did it work?"

  "Every fucking time. No matter what orifice. Even when she went down on me, I'd find myself thinking it. Hey, Karl said overkill is better than the alternative."

  She giggled, and her giggle turned into somewhat hysterical laughter.

  I expelled a relieved breath. "Not funny, woman. Now I have to think of my ex every time I fuck for the rest of my fucking life."

  "I think you're fucked," she said and went into peels of laughter again. By now my cock was a pale shade of its former self and I unrolled the condom disgustedly off. "Wait! Wait! No. I have an idea. You can recondition yourself out of the habit. Every time you're on the verge of penetration, you should think of…um…squirrels."

  "Squirrels."

  "Or burglar alarms. Or fiber arts." She stroked my abdomen almost absently with all ten of her fingertips.

  I smothered a laugh. "And squirrels and fiber arts keep me hard, how?"

  "Slugs!"

  "What the hell?"

  "They're long and slimy."

  "You're not taking this seriously, girl."

  "Cucumbers."

  "Wrong sex."

  "Orchids. That's it, Asher! Orchids are erotic. Penetration equals orchids. It's perfect."

  "How about Chardium Condium," I said. Her eyes laughed up at me. And suddenly I was hard as a rock. "God, I need to fuck that pussy of yours. Are you still wet for me?"

  Her expression sobered that fast, and then she gasped as I probed her. She was still slick, but killer tight.

  "Good, good girl, Sloane, staying ready like that."

  A new condom went on, and not a single inorganic compound entered my head. In moment
s I was poised at her entrance, propped over her, staring intently into her eyes. "This might hurt the first time."

  She shook her head, not in denial, though. "Do it. Come on. I can't wait anymore."

  "Slowly." I gritted my teeth and pushed forward, the head of my cock sinking easily—deceptively so—into her wetness.

  Oh, fuck me.

  I was right. She was achingly tight.

  I grunted, driving in deeper, every new millimeter relishing the squeeze. Then she winced, and I stilled.

  Okay. She might be narrow, but she could take me. This was the culmination of a lifetime of fantasies and of course it would be fine.

  I just had to be patient.

  While her hips tilted up to receive me even as she flinched.

  "Sh, easy, take it easy, no hurry," I lied. Shaking with the effort not to violently ram up inside her, I dipped low, kissing her cheek, lips, jaw. "Hi, Sloane. This is nice."

  White lie. It is not actually nice being inserted barely two inches and not being able to drive forward.

  "It is," she breathed.

  I waited. Then:

  "Can you take a bit more?"

  "Yes?" She didn't sound too sure.

  I knew I should hold off some more, but I seemed to have flipped on my selfish switch.

  I inched up in there incrementally, by means of massive self-discipline and profuse sweating.

  Her thighs tensed around me, staying me from going very far. Well, not really staying me. It would be easy to ignore her feeble resistance and fuck her hard.

  But no. This was the fifth fundamental force I was dealing with, after electromagnetism, gravity, and the weak and strong forces—the drive-into-wet-pussy force.

  Yet I was not a dick.

  My cock did not rule me.

  Well, yes, it did. But I'd fight the bastard to the end.

  "How did you know it would hurt so bad?" she choked out.

  "You said—it's been a while. I felt how tight you were around my fingers. We have t—motherfucker."

  More than halfway in, her muscles clenched, her hips tilted in invitation, her hands on my hips drove me forward. I should have known better, but I lost it like a raw virgin. My cock had the reins and I was grunting and plunging in.

  Deep in.

  All the way in.

  Yes, oh fuck yes, what a blissful. Tight. Squeeze. Perfection. For cocks.

  Oh, shit.

  I froze.

  Char's body had tensed into a rigid board. Her muscles were clamping my shaft as a hostile invader. To me it was pure heaven; to her, agony.

  Shit shit shit shit. I couldn't move, terrified to hurt her more. Yet if I pulled out I didn't trust myself not to push right back in again.

  It was unacceptable that our first fuck would hurt Charis like this.

  I started counting electron shells.

  "Asher?"

  "Yeah." My voice croaked like a horny frog's.

  "Omigod, are you okay?"

  "I'm fine. I'm good. I'm fucking peachy."

  Her body relaxed ever so slightly. "Why do you not seem fine?"

  "I'm trying not to hurt you any worse, girl."

  "You knew? I didn't say anything." Her tone was awed.

  "I'm psychic that way."

  She sputtered with laughter. "Can you wait a minute? Maybe it'll get better."

  "That's what I'm doing."

  "I didn't think it would be so bad."

  She sounded apologetic. I brushed her bangs out of her eyes, then lingered to stroke her temple. "I'm kinda big." And you're exquisitely clamp-like, I didn't add. And fairly soon, you're going to appreciate both of those things…

  "Yes, but the fact that you're so big shouldn't be a problem. I mean, so is—"

  "What?"

  "My vibe," she sighed in defeat.

  I buried my face in her neck and kissed the pulse beating at the base, laughing. "What did I tell you, hmm? Much, much, much, much—"

  "Oh—oh, fuck."

  There we go. I literally felt Charis's pussy revise its opinion of the battering ram inside her. Her inner muscles slackened, still tight but now rippling and massaging me. And her head had lolled back and her eyes were at half mast, and damn, I was absolutely positive now this was going to rock.

  My tension eased. Everything was back on track.

  From this point on, she was going to love this as much as I was.

  "Right, Sloane," I said deep in my throat. "It's time to sit back, relax…and be fucked like you've never been fucked before."

  CHAPTER 25

  Two Years Ago—The Night Before An Exam He Aced

  Charis: What is the most egotistical thing you've ever said?

  Asher: What are you talking about? I'm never egotistical.

  Charis: Oh. My. God.

  Asher: Seriously. I'm not.

  Charis: Asher, m'lad, you are the very definition of the spoiled youngest sibling. Everybody fawns over you. Everybody loves you. You get treated like a minor god. Do not even pretend you don't act like one.

  Asher: What does that have to do with anything?

  Charis: Everyone's always telling you how amazing you are.

  Asher: So?

  Charis: So…if I asked you how good you are at swimming, what you would say?

  Asher: I own the pool, Sloane. You know that.

  Charis: And if I asked you how good you are at running, you'd say…

  Asher: I hold two track records. What exactly is your point?

  Charis: All right, all right. Let me rephrase the question. What are you best at?

  Asher: That's a tough one.

  Charis: I rest my case.

  Asher: Hey, I'm crappy at yoga.

  Charis: You've never done yoga.

  Asher: Which is why.

  Charis

  BE FUCKED LIKE YOU'VE never been fucked before.

  Okay, this was seriously unreal.

  This man, this familiar and formerly inaccessible man, was kneeling between my legs, connected to me in a strange, intimate, grown-up way, looking at me like I was a feast he'd been anticipating all his life…

  How had this happened again?

  I felt high. Well, I've never actually been high. I smoked weed one memorable time, but I've never done any of the hard stuff. The idea of getting high loses something when your parents do it regularly. But like I imagine it must be.

  He was grinning, a cocky, just-wait-I-have-a-big-surprise-for-you grin. I felt like a little girl who'd been promised the most giant swirly lollipop in the candy store.

  He was my best friend, possibly the person who cared about me most in the world.

  And he was the man who wanted to fuck me hard. That was obvious.

  Yet the kisses he kept brushing over my neck and jaw were so sweet and warm. His firm lips, softening on my skin, slightly moist, slightly cool…the little licks of his tongue…his little savoring "mmm" sounds…it all made me feel teased and adored.

  And inside, I was hurting, good and bad. Mostly good. The ouch factor was still there, but his shaft was doing this powerful pulsing thing I liked.

  Did I mention that size-wise, he's a bit much?

  I've spent more than my fair share of time sneaking peeks at Asher's body. It's one of my bad habits. That and picturing him in all manner of swimsuits—or without all manner of swimsuits—while finding relief for myself in bed. So bad, I know. Why couldn't I picture Colton Haynes or Alex Pettyfer like a normal human being? Or better yet, why couldn't I find another man to get busy with?

  I've tried. But my heart isn't in it, and I have to admit to turning away a few dudes I might have been attracted to in another life.

  I had an ideal in my mind, and that ideal matched Asher.

  What I could see of him.

  Unfortunately, I'm not what you'd call an expert on male anatomy. There are lots of places I can look at dick pics, but can I just say…ew? And videos…porn just makes me curious as to what's really going on while they're waving their va
rious penile objects about.

  So whenever I envisioned Asher naked, I only had this vague idea of what the reality was underneath his clothing.

  I'd touched him the other day, but you see I'd been in a kind of shock and not all in attendance. I knew he was big, but I hadn't caught the whole panorama, if you catch my drift.

  Just now when he'd stripped, I saw. I saw beyond his drool-worthy proportions to the whole man.

  Asher Norrell has always been large for his age. As a thirteen-year-old boy he was already man-size, his voice already deepened. Over the years he's gained breadth and definition and body hair and confidence.

  Now there was no remnant of the kid about him. His smile was boyish, but that's it.

  The man I knew now was bossy, confident, sharp, and even wise.

  I hissed in a breath in revelation.

  In a confusing way, he was more man than I was woman.

  When had he grown up on me?

  Oh, and his erection was actually beautiful.

  I say "actually" because even in person, I didn't usually find guys' junk that fun to look at. My one boyfriend had been okay, I supposed, but his embarrassment about his own body had been a serious turnoff.

  The only other live penis I'd seen was, get this, in a laundromat in the village, where a strange fellow in Bermuda shorts flashed me. I'm sure it was unintentional—at least I hope so. I winced for days afterward remembering the way he'd lifted his leg onto the chair and…yeah. Let's move on.

  Asher is not winceworthy. It isn't about perfection, funnily enough. He has flaws. Years ago playing some sport he'd managed to bang up his hands, and they're pretty rough looking, some of the knuckles too big and his fingernails scarred.

  And…let's see what else. He has tan lines at his waist. He must have moles, scars, and unsightly hairs somewhere.

  Yet he knows he's hot. His confidence alone is an awful turn-on.

  Looking at him now, I personally thought his body was better than some of the male dancers Mom used to perform with.

  Which was all very shallow and I shouldn't care.

  But I did, especially now it was obvious that huge erection was for me.

  So I'd blurted out that line about wanting to eat him. Stuff I would have bitten my tongue on before this.