Blow

by Fall, Lucy

  My cock is so hard it hurts; it twinges in my jeans, and I’m sure if she looked down she could see how hot I am for her. I take a step toward her, and she shudders, licks her lips.

  “I…feel kinda sick,” Christina interjects, pushing between us. She turns to Lauren and exhales, and Lauren cringes at the puff of boozy breath on her face. “I’m gonna…” Her face pinches and she staggers to the women’s bathroom about twenty feet away.

  “Shit,” Lauren says, and gives me an apologetic smile. “I should make sure she’s not going to puke everywhere. She drank a lot more tonight than she usually does.”

  “Is she okay?”

  Lauren’s eyes shutter. “She’s fine,” she replies coolly, then follows Christina to the bathroom.

  The girls are gone for several minutes, and Dave is practically impregnating Patricia, so I stand there and rack the balls, then sip my beer, unsure what to do. If Christina isn’t well, I should take her home. Maybe Lauren will hang around and wait for me—Christina’s place is only about fifteen minutes away, I believe.

  When they emerge from the bathroom, Christina looks green around the gills. “I…wanna go home,” she says on a sigh, frowning. “Sorry. Ugh. It’s been a hard week.”

  “Totally fine. I can take you if you like,” I offer.

  Dave unlatches from Patricia’s mouth, traces of her red lipstick smeared on his lips. Patricia moves her attention toward nuzzling his neck. “No, I got it,” he says. “We’re gonna take off anyway, so we can drop Christina on our way out.” His hand darts around Patricia’s waist possessively.

  “I don’t mind taking her home,” Lauren protests, “but thank you guys.”

  My stomach sinks. Fuck. I don’t want her to go, not when I feel like we’re finally getting somewhere.

  Christina leans in and whispers in Lauren’s ear. Since she’s drunk, her whispering is loud, and I can hear snippets of words, like “bad impression” and “help” and “nervous.” Lauren nods, her face tight.

  Then Christina grabs her purse and moves to Dave. “A ride home would be great, thank you.”

  They leave the bar a minute later, Patricia with her arm looped though Christina’s. Lauren and I watch them go. I’m dying to ask what the fuck is going on, but I’m nervous about Lauren freezing up on me again, like she did before she followed her sister into the bathroom.

  She sighs and fidgets with a strand of hair. “I should probably go too.” I can hear the edge of reluctance in her tone, though.

  I make a split-second decision and turn to stand in front of her. We’re not touching, but given the electricity zinging between us, we might as well be. Both of us are charged, aroused, and it’s crackling in the air. “If you want to head out, that’s fine,” I tell her. “But you owe me a game of pool first.”

  I can see the indecision in her eyes. She’s weighing the dangers of being alone with me versus the safety of retreating to her home. I stretch a hand out and stroke the flesh of her inner wrist, and her breath gives that sexy little hitch again.

  “One game,” I press. I feel her pulse jumping under my thumb. Maybe a sexual bet would be a good way to go. If only she’ll agree to play…

  She nods, acquiescing, and my heart jerks in my chest. “Okay,” she says in a throaty whisper. “One game.”

  Lauren

  I head to the wall rack housing the pool cues and take my time studying them. I’m sure I look like I’m scrutinizing, but really I’m struggling to regain the thin, precarious control I have left over my body. Everything in me is throbbing, aching for Cole, the way I did on Wednesday night. I can barely focus on what’s in front of me.

  I nibble my lower lip and force myself to stare at the sticks. Reach a hand out and check the straightness of one or two. This is my game, and I’m pretty good at it, if I can just pull it together and not fantasize about how good Cole smells or the way his muscles strain against his black shirt.

  “I propose a bet,” Cole says, just inches behind me. His body is hot, and I can feel the temperature of his skin pouring into mine. I want to lean back, press against him.

  Friend, friend, friend, I keep chanting in my head. We’re friends, and my sister wants him, and I can’t do this to her. Not again. That sobers me up a bit.

  I turn around and cock a brow. His lips are parted in a casual smile that shows a light flash of teeth. My heart gives a strange kick at the sight. God, Cole smiling…I missed seeing that in person so much. “So you think you can beat me?” I ask.

  “Hands down,” he murmurs, and something about that cocky tone of his makes my pussy clench in response. My God, the man drips sexiness. I’m surprised he doesn’t have girls throwing themselves at him right now. Not that I haven’t seen them looking. Each time they do, I find myself moving just a fraction closer to him.

  For my sister’s sake, I tell myself, knowing that’s a huge lie. God, I suck.

  “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

  He reaches out and runs his index finger down my forearm, ending at the cue in my hand. My skin ripples along the path he touches, and then he takes the stick and chalks the tip. It takes every ounce of concentration for me to stand there and pretend like I’m not affected by him. How long can I keep this up?

  Kinda regretting agreeing to this game. I should just go home.

  “Okay,” I say in a strong voice, “if I win, you have to…give my car an oil change and rotate my tires.” I’ve been meaning to do that anyway, and it seems like a good bet. He used to help me with car maintenance with my piece-of-crap auto back in high school.

  His grin is toothy. “Remember that time I didn’t tighten all the lug nuts and your tire almost fell off?”

  I laugh. “I was so mad at you,” I say, shaking my head. “But I know you felt bad, and you fixed it. Hope you remember how to handle it.”

  “I can handle it just fine,” he says smoothly, and I know he isn’t talking about cars.

  I give a jerky nod and fight back that swell of sexual reaction that hits me at the thought of him covered in car grease, shirtless, those powerful thighs parted as he’s sliding under my car…

  “But if I win,” he continues in the same easy tone, “I want us to spend a night together. In a bed. No holds barred.”

  I swallow so hard I’m sure he can hear it. I can’t believe he went there. All night we’ve been dancing around this new chemistry between us. Pretending like we’re just old friends. Okay, I have been—it’s been kind of hard to miss a couple of the searing glances he’s thrown my way. How he’s accidentally-not-accidentally brushed against me.

  Now it’s out there in the open. And I’m so freaking torn, because on the one hand, Christina. On the other…I want him. I do. I can’t hide from it right now.

  Cole moves so close to me that I feel the warmth of his breath caressing my forehead. His eyes are hard on mine. “Are you brave enough to jump, Lauren?” The challenge in his voice is clear.

  Damn him. And damn me for being turned on by this new side of Cole I’ve never seen before. It makes me wonder yet again, what else do I not know about him? How long has he been feeling this way about me? What other signs did I miss?

  Honestly, I don’t know if I want to win or lose this game, and that scares me. My whole world is falling around me, and I can’t think straight anymore.

  Cole leans down and his mouth brushes the sensitive flesh of my ear. I can’t stop the shudder that racks my body. He’s so big and comforting and he takes up all the space surrounding me until I can’t see anything but him. “Don’t be scared, kitten. You know I won’t hurt you. Or make you do anything you don’t want to do.” The gentleness in his tone, a sharp contrast to the arrogance I saw earlier, is what melts me.

  I find myself giving him a jerky nod, even as my stomach pinches with guilt. I simply need to kick ass and win, and then I don’t have to worry about what my sister would think. It’s not like he wants her sexually or romantically—that much is clear. Plus, this isn’t the same s
ituation as what happened with her boyfriend back in college, not even close. She and Cole aren’t dating at all, and she’s not in love with him. It’s a simple crush. So I’ll just win this game and it’ll be fine, and then I can deal with the whole situation logically, not overcharged with raw sexual hunger.

  But if I’m being honest, it’s scary how much I’m rationalizing how badly I want this man, how I want to keep being around him. Even the weight of my guilt isn’t strong enough to help me resist him.

  The balls are already racked, and he lets me break. I get two stripes and one solid in. He gives a soft whistle of appreciation.

  “I call stripes,” I say.

  The game begins. I forgot that Cole likes pool too, and it’s clear that he’s done some playing of his own while we’ve been apart. Before I know it, we’re neck and neck, him behind by only one ball. Every time I go to shoot, he finds some excuse to be near me, for his hand to brush my bare skin, for his pelvis to rub against mine as he passes by.

  I want to call him out on the dirty pool, but I also know it’s just ramping up how badly I want him. All the little touches are driving me insane.

  A stubborn streak stiffens my spine. If he wants to play like that, fine. I can do it too. Besides, I really should win this bet. I’ll get my oil changed, and I can go back to quietly thinking about him instead of my mind wandering all hours of the day, wondering what he would feel like inside me.

  When he lines up to take his next shot, I bend over at the opposite end of the table, making sure the scoop of my shirt exposes my whole front to him—bra, cleavage, even my stomach. I lick my lips and slide a glance at him, then part my lips ever so slightly as I dart a glance at his crotch.

  He hisses a breath. I see his jaw ticking as his eyes darken, and a feminine thrill makes me ache in my lower belly. Clearly he didn’t expect me to retaliate.

  I straighten, with a slow motion, and slide my hand along my bare shoulder, fingers wisping along the neckline of my shirt. “What’s wrong?” I ask him innocently. “Can’t focus?”

  His face breaks into an evil smile that makes the air lock in my chest. “Oh, it’s on now, kitten. I’ve been taking it easy, but I’m going to win, and I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t walk for a week.”

  God help me, my pussy spasms so tight at his words that I can’t reply. Cole bends back down and cracks the cue, and his targeted ball goes right in the pocket.

  So. Hot.

  My brain can hardly reconcile this new side of Cole I’m seeing. And my need for him makes my entire body ache. It’s hard for me to pay enough attention when it’s finally my turn to sink my next ball, but it wobbles in. I’ll take it.

  We play for another few minutes, inching our way toward the end of the game, until he has one striped ball left and I only have the eight ball. I have my cue ball lined up so I can sink it fairly easily into the left side pocket, which I call in a quiet voice. Cole stands there, not saying a word. Just watching me, his pool cue in hand. I want to know what he’s thinking—does he hope I’ll miss? But I can’t miss. I can’t let myself get caught up in this sexual tension between us, not until I’ve at least talked to my sister. See how she feels and maybe try to find a way to divert her from Cole, if that’s even possible.

  I stare down at my shot. My skin is on fire, every cell in my body focused on this moment. Do I give in to this searing ache in me? Or do I be a good girl?

  Aim the cue. Pull back the stick and crack the ball. The eight ball smacks the corner of the pocket and bounces out.

  I missed.

  Cole doesn’t move for a moment. His steps are quiet as he sinks his striped ball, then the eight ball. My whole body is locked so tight I don’t think I can move. I blew it. Intentionally. Because I’m a terrible sister, and I crave Cole with an intensity that leaves me dying to feel him again.

  Cole comes to my side and takes the cue from my fist. “Did you lose on purpose?” His gaze is a laser on me, and I can’t escape. He’s so intense he looks pissed. Now regret mingles with guilt in my stomach.

  I draw in a shaky breath and lift my chin, knowing the answer is right there in my eyes, in the heated flush on my cheeks. But before I can speak, Cole’s mouth is on mine, his free hand slamming my pelvis against his, and he’s kissing the breath right out of me.

  When he rips his mouth away, I’m panting, lightheaded.

  “You’re mine tonight, Lauren,” he promises with an animalistic growl.

  * * *

  The ride to his place seems to take forever. Cole’s truck is a stick shift; in between shifting gears, his hand curls around my thigh, his fingers digging into the flesh and making me wish I didn’t have jeans on.

  We don’t speak for a while. We don’t need to. The anticipation of what’s about to happen fills the car.

  One time only, I tell myself. I’ll give myself this one night to experience it, get it out of my system, and then we can go back to being friends. Or…if for some reason we don’t…do I ever dare start thinking beyond tonight? What do I want? Will this screw our friendship up if we go all the way?

  Right now it’s hard to tell myself to be responsible. Not when my panties are soaked and my breasts are swollen and his hand keeps inching closer up my thigh.

  “Stop thinking so hard,” he finally tells me.

  “I can’t help it,” I admit. There’s a little tremble in my voice, and I don’t know if that’s from guilt or hunger or something else altogether. Like fear. What if this is a mistake and we can’t come back from it?

  His thumb makes little swirls on the outside of my thigh, and I close my eyes and sink into the touch. “There’s nothing to be scared of,” he says. “Trust me.”

  I can feel him cut a hard right turn, and opening my eyes confirms we’re in his dad’s driveway. I forgot that he’s staying here. My lips curl up.

  “He’s not home,” he says, chuckling. “It’s just us.” His face loses the humor and his eyes heat, and suddenly I’m fumbling to get the seatbelt off.

  When we get inside, he drops his keys, I drop my purse, and we crash together, our mouths locked. His tongue sweeps in my mouth, and his hands grip my ass, and he picks me up so easily and lifts me against the wall, cupping my bottom to keep me in place.

  His hard dick is right between my legs.

  We’re wearing way too many clothes.

  He must be a mind reader, because he pulls away from me and barks, “Strip. Now.”

  There’s no way I can resist that order. My core tightens in anticipation, and I drop my feet to the ground and get out of my clothes. I’m too turned on to even be embarrassed standing there naked in front of him. Especially since he’s staring at me like he wants to lick every square inch of my flesh.

  Cole follows suit fast; I absorb the sight of his hard abs, the soft trail of hair that leads to his… Oh God, my face erupts as I see my best friend’s dick for the first time. It’s large and throbbing, and I swallow several times.

  My knees shake, and I give in and drop down to the plush carpeted floor. My mouth is inches from him. His whole body becomes a board, his eyes boring into my face as I stick my tongue out and taste the tip of his cock.

  Cole groans, a deep sound that vibrates right into my pussy, my breasts. I might orgasm from that sound alone. His fingers reach out and he strokes the top of my hair so gently it makes my heart clench. I want him to feel as good as he made me feel. So I open my mouth and draw him in, suck the warm, male flesh deep down my throat.

  “Fuuuuuuuck,” he says on a long sigh. “Lauren, I…” His voice breaks off and his fingers dig into my scalp, and suddenly he’s fucking my mouth.

  I drop my jaw to allow him as deep as I can, the head of his cock rubbing my throat. Small beads of pre-come slick my tongue. My skin pulsates with this devastating ache I’m feeling, and I swallow Cole, the head of his dick stroking my tongue. The flesh sears my mouth. I reach up and cup his tight ass—God, so tight—and keep him inside me.

  After a minute
, he withdraws, his dick leaving my lips with a wet pop. “Not like this,” he grinds out. His eyes are hooded and his muscles are tense. He jerks me off the floor and throws me over his shoulder, his hand swatting my ass to hold me in place.

  “What are you doing?” I squeal, laughing in shock.

  When he lands a harder smack on my bare cheek, I still, the sting reverberating right to my core. I feel myself grow wetter. Shit, that hurt…and felt good.

  Cole takes me right to his old bedroom. It looks different now, the walls bearing tasteful art, the bed no longer a twin but at least a queen-sized, if not larger. He throws me on top of the cover, then nudges my thighs apart and immediately thrusts a finger inside my wetness.

  I groan, roll my hips in time to the movement. God, it feels so good, and I’m growing dizzy and frantic with need. I want him inside me right now.

  “So fucking wet,” he says, then smears my juices across my bottom lip and sucks it off. “I want to taste your pussy everywhere.” His hand dips back into my channel, and he streaks my come across my belly, licks the damp flesh, then streaks down my thighs, and licks there too. Soon I’m wet all over from my liquid and his mouth. I feel dirty, sexy, wanted.

  I’m shaking so hard I can’t breathe. My hands are knotted at my sides. If he touches me one more time, I might explode so hard that I’ll die. My clit is pulsing frantically.

  Cole reaches to his bedside stand, and I hear the crinkle of foil as he gets a condom out and tugs it onto his huge dick. My mouth legitimately waters, and I swallow. When Cole lowers his body onto mine, he keeps his body hovering with one forearm, the other hand stroking my cheek, my hair. There’s a softness in his eyes that contrasts with the hard cock bobbing against my belly. It makes my heart flip in my chest.