by Jordan Marie
CHAPTER 20
WHITE
"You're being quiet again," I whisper. I feel out of my depth here. I can't read what she's thinking. Does she regret what happened in the shower? Does she want me to leave? I've never had to worry about this shit before. This is new territory. No. Kayla is new territory and I'm walking on eggshells.
"I'm sleepy," she whispers into the darkness, and that tells me exactly nothing.
After the shower, I stripped and washed us both off, mostly because Kayla was pretty boneless. A man should take pride in that—and I do. Then I dug around in her dresser for some old sweats and a t-shirt that I have here. We ate and watched a movie. It's been a great night, but it didn't go as I thought it would. Somehow in my mind, us having sex, or even just sharing what we did, was the cure-all. Once that was done, we'd either be on solid ground as just friends, or this fantasy of being with Kayla would be out of my system. Neither of those things happened. I'm still so fucking hard it feels like the top of my dick is about to explode. Worse, it feels like Kayla is pushing away from this arrangement even more. How did it go so wrong? I was supposed to tie her to me and stop her from backing away. Fuck, if the opposite isn't happening. Jesus, I used to be able to handle women so easily. They begged for my attention. Now, I feel like I’m the one on the verge of begging.
"Do you want me to go?" I ask because we're lying in her bed watching a movie. She's lying on my arm, her head curled so that it's right under my head. She's pretending to watch television.
"No," she whispers, then after a minute she adds, "Unless you want to."
"I'm good, honey," I tell her, kissing the top of her head. My fingers are moving back and forth in her soft hair without purpose other than I just want to touch her. I'd be totally relaxed if it wasn't for the elephant in the room. "Kay—"
"White—"
"You first," I tell her.
She's quiet. I want to throw something against the wall. It shouldn't be this difficult. Loving on Kayla, making her come, was the single most beautiful thing I've ever shared with a woman. How did I go from that to being pretty damn positive she wants nothing to do with me? As much as I hate to say it, it may be time for me to call my mom. If anyone understands Kayla more than me, it would be her.
"What we did…" she starts, and deep in my stomach I feel a knot form. Don't say it, Kayla. Don't say it, honey. "That probably shouldn't have happened."
And… she said it.
"Why?"
"Why?" she repeats.
"Yeah, honey. Why? Didn't you enjoy it?" I'd like to see her deny that.
"I don't think ‘enjoy’ is the right word," she stalls.
"I think it's the perfect one. Did you enjoy having me finger that sweet little pussy and eat you out?"
She squirms in my arms, but I don't let her go, choosing instead to hold her tighter.
"Answer me, Kayla."
"I think it's pretty obvious that I did," she grumbles.
"Do you want it again?"
"What? No!"
"I think you're lying. I think you do. I think you want it just as bad as I want to give it to you," I respond, kind of glad I'm not looking her in the face, just in case I'm wrong. I don't want to see the rejection there.
"It's not about if I enjoyed it. It's just, well..."
"Tell me. If you don't tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours, there's no way I can guess it."
"White, this whole thing… sex, making a child… it's going to cause things to go weird between us."
"No, it won't."
"It will! It already is! We're barely speaking," she says, pulling away to sit up on the bed. This time I let her so I can do the same, leaning back against the headboard.
"The only person barely speaking here, Buttercup, is you."
"I don't know what to say!" she cries, her voice laced with panic.
"Why do you have to say anything? Why does this have to change the way we always are with each other?"
"Because it's sex! You had your face… there!"
"I did, and I plan on having it there again."
"White—"
"I do. So you might want to get used to saying the word ‘pussy’, Kayla."
"I hate that word."
"I happen to like it. What would you prefer I call it? And if you say ‘lady garden’, so help me…"
"Why do we have to call it anything? And why are we talking about this? I just told you I think it was a mistake."
"I'm hearing what you're trying to say. I just don't understand why."
"We're best friends! Friends can't be lovers!"
"I think we proved that wrong in the shower. In fact, I think we are fucking amazing together."
"You can't say that. You didn't even get to… you didn't get to release."
"Release? Jesus. Say it, Kayla. I didn't get to come."
"White—"
"Say. It."
She lets out a large overdrawn breath and shoots daggers at me with her pretty brown eyes. "Fine. You didn't get to come."
"I sure as hell didn't. But I'm going to make up for that after that damn doctor's appointment."
"White—"
"And I’ll tell you something else, Kayla…"
"What?"
"You and I in that shower, me having you in my arms and tasting your sweet cream on my tongue?"
"White," she whispers, but I can see need flash in her eyes, so I know I'm getting to her.
"What we did together in that shower Kayla was the best I've ever had with a woman."
"I doubt that. You didn't get to—"
"Come. Yeah, I know. But I got to make you come. I got to give you pleasure. I made you lose control, didn't I, Buttercup?"
"You know you did," she whispers, looking down at the sheets.
"Look at me, Kayla." She slowly brings her face back to me. "Has it ever been any better for you?" I ask. I need her to admit it hasn't. Somewhere inside I'm worried she'll say it wasn't. That's a fucking fear I've never had in my life before. This woman is wrapping me in so many knots, I'm wondering if I'll ever straighten them out.
"No," she says, and she manages to keep her eyes on mine. A fine blush heats her skin. She's wearing another one of my t-shirts, one that has my team logo on it. I didn't even know she had it here. It went missing and I just never cared enough to wonder where it was. I don't want it back. I want her wearing it to bed when I'm not here. I want her wearing nothing but me when I am. I want Kayla in so many different fucking ways, I should be scared. But… I'm not.
"Then we're going to keep doing what we're doing. And Kayla, just so we're clear, we're going to be doing it often."
"You don't want a child, White. Maybe I should call Bl—"
"So help me God, if you mention my brother’s name, you will be forcing me to kill him."
"White!"
"Now that I've had a taste of you Kayla, you can cross my brother—hell, any of my fucking brothers—off your list. In fact, you can cross off any other fucking man’s name, except mine."
"You're being bossy. Not to mention, being an ass."
"I don't care. I just want to make sure we're clear here."
"Should I remind you that you slept with my sister?"
"Not like you're thinking, and you can damn well bet it will never happen again."
"I'd like to go to sleep now," she says, her face pale, and I know I'm not dealing with this well, but I can't stop my mouth. I take a breath and try to get myself under control.
"Then go to sleep," I tell her, not moving.
"Don't you think you should… you know, go to your apartment?"
"No. I think I should stay here and hold you tonight."
"You don't spend the night with women, remember? You always said it gives them the wrong idea."
"That doesn't apply in this case."
"Oh," she whispers, and I'm silently begging her to ask me why, but she doesn't. She settles back down in the bed, being very careful not to
touch me. That's not going to work. I wait until she gets settled. Then I turn to my side and pull her back into me.
"White?"
"Shh… Go to sleep, honey. It's all going to work out," I assure her, pushing up against her ass so she feels the hard edge of my cock. I'm not going to get a bit of sleep tonight. But it's a fucking good kind of torture. Let's just hope I can stay sane until after this damn doctor’s appointment.
CHAPTER 21
KAYLA
There’s a moment in your life when you are faced with decisions and there are two very clear paths to take. It’s just that the reasons to take each path aren’t quite as clear. The reasons are muddied with outside factors that leave you unsure of which direction to take. That’s where I’m at: facing two different paths and afraid to move.
White is offering me something I have wanted my whole life. To get it, I have to ignore certain things, like he doesn’t love me, or that he doesn’t share the same overall goals and views of life as I do. I could choose to just forge ahead, take what he’s offering me, and enjoy the ride. So much of me wants to do that.
But what kind of person does that make me? How selfish am I if I allow the man I love, the man who has always been my anchor in life, to give me what I want when he doesn’t want the same? If I was strong enough, I would end this. White keeps fighting me when I get the courage to push him away though. Admittedly, I’m not trying really hard. When you have wanted something for so long, it’s hard to let it go. Especially when reality is about a gazillion times better than the fantasy.
So don’t judge me too harshly when this morning, waking up in my bed with White’s arms around me, I make a decision I’ll probably regret. A decision I know is the wrong one, but I just don’t care.
I grab my cell phone and sneak into the bathroom. I close the door and wince because the clicking noise of the lock connecting seems unusually loud. I take a breath, battling my nerves, then dial the phone.
“Women’s Center for Health and Care. Good morning. How can I help you today?”
“Appointments please,” I half-say and half-whisper into the phone.
“Scheduling desk, this is Julie,” I hear the familiar voice over the phone.
“Julie, this is Kayla Graham. I need to try and get in to see Dr. Mason this week.”
“Kayla! Good to hear your voice. Is there something going on? We have an appointment that just canceled if it’s urgent.”
“Nah, it’s not urgent. I just haven’t had an appointment in a bit and I’m on my last container of birth control pills.”
“Got it. Well do you want to come in today? If not, I have openings for Wednesday of next week.”
“Next week is fine. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. I have a 3:00 and a 4:30 in the afternoon, since I know you like them as late as you can make it.”
“The 4:30 would be great. Thank you.”
“Okay, sweetie. 4:30 p.m. on Wednesday. See you then.”
“Thanks,” I whisper just as White begins banging on the door.
“You in there, Buttercup?”
My nerves are shot. It feels like I’m cheating. No. Just lying. I ignore the small voice of my conscience and lay my phone on the small cabinet I keep my towels in. I wipe my hands on White’s t-shirt I’m wearing and open the door. He looks good enough to eat, standing there with his pants hanging low on his hips and no shirt. Somehow, even his bare feet look sexy. He’s broad, lean, and that six pack should be in a museum for everyone to admire.
“I was just going to get in the shower,” I tell him with a false smile.
“Maybe you need some help with that.” White grins.
This is the moment. The moment I push ahead and ride the ride for as long as it lasts, or I finally run away. Except there’s really no choice; I’d already made it by calling my doctor.
“I’ve been thinking…” I tell him, and I see the tension on his face gather around his eyes.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think you really need to have your swimmers checked. There’s no reason to think anything is wrong there.”
“Okay,” White says, confused, trailing off like he’s not sure what to say. I’m very familiar with that feeling.
“I mean, obviously I do think we should get tested and get a free bill of health if we’re going to have sex without… well…”
“Condoms?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. I think I see disappointment in his eyes and I feel the biggest need to erase it.
“I’m fine with that. We could probably do that today at the local clinic,” he says, but he doesn’t look happy. Why should he? Before I put him off to test his swimmers, and now I’m practically accusing him of being diseased. Probably none of the women in his life have asked him to get tested. I’m a freak.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him lamely, because I suddenly feel like this huge oddball. If he pressed it, I would have to confess everything. He has to know my excuses are lame. He gave me oral sex. If there were diseases involved…
I’m on the verge of confessing to him that I have decided to go back on the pill and we can have sex, that the testing was just nervous delay tactics, when White smiles. His hand wraps around the side of my neck, his thumb putting pressure on my chin—just enough to make my head tilt back. It strokes along the ridge of my jawbone as those deep blue eyes bore into mine.
“Don’t be sorry, honey. You’re being smart. I don’t want you to feel embarrassed about talking to me about anything. I’ve always loved everything about you. We’ve never had things hidden from one another. We have a trust I’ve never shared with anyone else. It’s why we’re best friends. That doesn’t change now,” he tells me, and his words meant to calm me, but instead they terrify me. What if he finds out what I’m keeping from him?
“How about I get my shower out of the way and then fix us some breakfast before I head to work?” I suggest, needing to get my nerves under control.
“What if I help you shower?” he suggests instead, causing my knees to go weak and the panic to hit me full force.
“Well…” I look back at the shower, then to him.
“We’ll just wash each other. Nothing else,” he says with a sparkle in his eye that should scare me.
“I’ll be late for work…”
“Do you have to go in? I was thinking we could spend the day together. Maybe drive down to the Riverwalk,” he suggests, like a spider luring me into his web. He knows how much I love the Riverwalk this time of year. The air is cool, the scenery is at its best, and there are all kinds of vendors set up along the way.
“I think I feel a cold coming on,” I tell him, thinking about the leave time I have accumulated at work. Surely a day off to spend with the man that I love is allowed. I rarely miss. I haven’t taken a day off this entire year. I see the surprise register in White’s face, right before he smiles.
“Is that a fact?” he grins, and just to make him smile bigger, I fake a cough.
“Yeah. I’ll probably have to call in.”
“That’s a shame. A damn shame,” he laughs.
“Yeah, I hope it’s nothing serious,” I tell him, pulling his shirt I wore to sleep in over my head. I’m doing my best to beat down my embarrassment, but I can feel myself blush. I turn around, giving him my back. It’s easier somehow since I’m standing in nothing but white boy-cut panties. Why couldn’t I have worn sexy underwear? “I still have a couple of things on my bucket list I’ve never tried.”
“What would that be?” he asks and I’m afraid to look, but I think I hear desire in his voice, the deep timbre of it resonating inside of me, making me tremble. I slide my panties down my legs, doing my best to slip out of them. I pray to God I look sexy and not like the dork I feel. I step in the shower, thinking oddly that if I go through with this, we’ll once again be in the shower. Will White think I’m some kind of freak who only wants sex in the water?
“Kayla?” White asks, and I realize I’ve gotten los
t in my thoughts again.
“I was hoping to give you pleasure in the shower,” I tell him, suddenly self-conscious and afraid to say the wrong thing.
“Give me pleasure?” he asks, and maybe I’m wrong, but I hear him smiling.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “To reciprocate. You know, for last night.”
“Reciprocate? Kayla, what I gave you was because I wanted to. Not because I expect you to feel obligated.”
“I don’t!” I rush to reassure him, once again feeling like an oddball. Maybe this is why I’m single at almost thirty and in love with my best friend. I’m just a freak. “I don’t feel obligated, White. I want to. I really want to,” I tell him, unsure how to finish, but I gather up enough courage to finally look at him. He’s standing there naked. His large cock seems to pulsate, though I suppose that could be my imagination.
“Kayla?” White asks, and I pull my eyes away from his dick to look at him.
“I think I know what those romance authors are talking about in their books when they write about throbbing members,” I whisper—like an idiot.
White laughs. It’s a full-bodied laugh. A good one that would make me happy if he wasn’t laughing at me.
“See something you like, honey?” he says, and he’s walking towards the shower. And honest to God, I had forgotten the shower was even on.
“How big is that thing?” Again, I just say what’s in my brain because apparently I have no control over my mouth. This, of course, makes White laugh again, and my heart stops as I watch his hand reach down to wrap around his dick. Slowly he strokes it, just once, but enough to make me want to moan. The head looks impossibly broad, and through the thin spray of water that is splashing around us, I see a large drop of pre-cum come out and paint the head of his dick, making it appear glossy.
“I’ve never measured it, honey,” he admits as I pull my eyes away from his cock to watch little droplets of water splash onto his body. One lands on his chest and slowly runs down those washboard abs. I can’t tear my eyes away, which of course makes me look at his cock again, jutting out towards me, and it’s not my imagination this time. It is literally pulsating. I can see little jerks along the hard rigid veins that are pressed against the skin. They seem to be moving in time with my heartbeat.