by Tia Siren
Want rippled through me and I turned so our noses were touching. That was when I remembered.
This was my boss who was still inside me. My boss from my dream job. Sure, it was also my sexy muscled boss who’d bought me drinks and come on to me in the club, but still.
He seemed to sense my hesitation, because he kissed me softly now, tenderly. Then, taking my chin in his hands, with two fingers he lightly grabbed my lower lip. His hand snaked around to my ass and squeezed.
Shit, I should stop, I know I should. But it felt too fucking good. My body was no longer under my control, even what I said next was provoked by this overwhelming feeling running through me: “We’re not finished now, are we?”
His thick lower lip rose into a greedy smile.
“You kidding me? Don’t you feel this?”
He moved his dick inside me, and I groaned. Carefully sliding out, Mark kissed my cheek.
“Don’t you worry, I bet your poor pussy is sore. It took quite a pounding. But don’t worry, I have something different in mind.”
Now his fingertips were concentrated on my ass, up and down the cheeks. As much as it made me nervous, there was no denying the tendrils of pleasure that surged out from his fingers. Every touch of his body was wonderful, and this was no exception. It felt really fucking good. When his finger started tracing my ass crack, I couldn’t help it, I cooed with pleasure.
But now he was teasing me, zigzagging his finger across my crack, sweeping it over my back hole, around it, never actually in it.
Groaning, I pushed my ass out further onto his finger.
“What’s that?” Mark asked, giving my butt a smacking kiss, “You want more?”
His other hand found my pussy, and played with it in the same leisurely rhythm he was using on my other opening. Further and further, faster and faster, more and more.
When he finally dug his finger in, I moaned.
Deeper and deeper he swirled it in, while I twisted on my silky sheets with pleasure. When he paused, I froze.
“I didn’t hear anything,” he said, in a light mocking tone.
“Please—more!” I yelped, shoving my ass out on his finger further.
“Oh more?” he said, his voice deep with desire, “I’ll give you more.”
And with that, he slipped out his finger and pressed what I really wanted against my hole.
“Fuck,” I groaned.
“Yes,” he growled, gently thrusting himself in deeper.
“Ughhh,” I moaned, unable to help myself.
It had been ages since I’d been fucked in the ass. And it felt good, really fucking good—better than I remembered.
Mark’s hands slid up to my tits, and grasped them as he burrowed in deeper. Moans fell out of both of our lips, I was so filled and he—
“So tight,” he grunted.
In and out, he rocked himself, while I was so pleasurably stuffed, I couldn’t even move.
No, all I could do was marvel at the sounds coming out of my mouth from the pleasure he was thrusting into me, more and more and—
“More,” I croaked.
And he gladly complied. Picking up the pace, he thrust into my shaking ass with a renewed ferocity, as the pleasure overtook me, choked me, this painful sort of grinding of everything I needed. On and on, he gave me more until I was screaming with it, helpless to it, and, finally, as he emptied himself into me, cumming with it.
Groaning, thrashing and grasping each other tightly, we came as one heaving body. Then we collapsed onto each other, into each other.
A few minutes later, we slipped into the bathroom, and giggled as we stroked water onto each other’s parts, as if nothing unusual had happened. As if I hadn’t just fucked my boss.
When we settled back into bed, Mark had his arms around me. I wondered if he was just doing that to comfort me. Really, the sex had been fan-fucking-tastic. Better than I could have expected or even dreamed of. But now that my desire and arousal had been sated, I was left with the nagging thought I started with. What the fuck had I gotten myself into, and what would this mean for my job?
Chapter 9
Mark
I woke up warm. My arms were around something, someone who smelled good, like cherries. My eyes fluttered open.
Oh shit. It was Brooke’s dark straight hair I was burying my head into.
As what happened last night came flooding back to me, I couldn’t help a victorious smile. I’d done it. I’d fucked her and—whaddya know—it had been better than even my fantasy, crazy better.
“You awake?” Brooke’s sleepy voice asked.
“Unfortunately. I’m still a little hungover from last night,” I admitted.
She sat up in bed.
“Me too. Want some breakfast?”
I eyed her. She seemed happy enough, chill. Not like she was offering breakfast out of any feeling of obligation.
“Sure,” I said.
She made to get up, then paused and turned to me, a mischievous look coming over her face.
She grabbed my hand.
“C’mon you have to help then!”
I made a big show of groaning as she tugged me out of bed. But really, I was relieved to get out of there and not have to be by myself. Right now, I wasn’t exactly relishing the thought of reflecting on what we’d done and what it meant.
In the kitchen, Brooke busied herself with pancakes, while she put me on water duty. My job was pretty simple, transfer two glasses of water from the Brita to two blue and black owl mugs she’d set out. This gave me lots of time to admire her ass in a pair of little black boy-shorts. How bad of an idea would it be to spank it, and let my hands once again take us where they would?
“Stop staring at my ass,” Brooke scolded, as she tended to the pancakes.
“I wasn’t—oh fine, guilty as charged,” I admitted, “Though it’s not my fault, when you’re standing there in your underwear right in front of me.”
“Not underwear—boxer shorts. At least when girls wear them.”
“Yeah well, whatever it is, it’s making my dick painfully hard—and it’s not even nine o’clock yet.”
Brooke whirled around.
“Hey you, mind your tongue or I’ll—”
She trailed off, seeing the smirk come over my face.
“You’ll what?” I asked.
“Forget it,” she said, “I don’t have time today.”
I frowned. Last night, I gave Brooke a mind-blowing sex session and now today, she couldn’t be bothered to even consider repeating the experience? I studied her from behind, the messy bun her dark hair was thrown into, the oversize t-shirt that obscured her curves. What if I hadn’t been the only one who had done the deed last night to get it out of my system?
Minutes later, Brooke placed a white glass plate heaped with massive pancakes on the table.
“Eat up,” she said.
As I forked four of the monster pancakes onto my plate, she stopped my oncoming fork.
“Leave some for me, please.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said, shooting her an angelic smile.
The rest of the morning passed in much the same way. We ate and bantered easily, and I left in good spirits. Outside, instead of calling a taxi right away, I started to walk. After all that had happened, I needed to clear my head.
It was a nice day anyway. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and I felt like complete shit. Had I just made the biggest mistake of my career, maybe my life? Wasn’t it enough that the last nurse had stolen from us, did I have to fuck up this actually hard-working one by sleeping with her? And what about Jake? I still hadn’t decided if I was going to tell him or not—or how I would.
And then this morning with Brooke, it had felt, weird. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d stayed over at someone’s place or let someone stay over at mine. And her lovely-smelling body in my arms as I woke up, even the pancake banter, it all felt so natural. Even right now, as I walked away from her apartment, I wanted n
othing more than to stride all the way back there, shove her to the wall and cover her with kisses…
“Fuck,” I swore under my breath.
Part of me had been sure the whole problem with Brooke, the whole obsession was rooted in the fact that I couldn’t have her. I’d figured all I needed to do was fuck the teasing woman, and be done with her. That should have been enough. But now that I’d had her, now that I’d had her legs wrapped around mine, her lips locked around my dick, her head flung down yelling out syllables of ecstasy as I pounded her—my want didn’t feel satisfied at all. No, it felt ignited.
My phone rang.
“Hey, want to talk?”
It was Jake. I gulped.
“Yeah, sure. I kinda feel like shit, but we could meet up at that café you love, Brighton Place?”
“Sounds good. Meet there in half an hour?”
“Yep, see ya bud.”
I hung up. In the black screen of my phone, I glared at my half-visible reflection. Guilt stabbed into my chest. I was a dick, a bad friend, selfish prick. Jake hadn’t liked any woman since that crazy bitch Alicia, and now, the first time he actually did, I fucked her? How would he forgive me? How would I forgive myself?
I took a deep inhale, then exhale. Whatever I was gonna do—tell him or not—I’d better decide fast. I was meeting my best friend in 30 minutes.
At the café, waiting at a table by the window, Jake looked almost as shitacular as I felt.
“Hey ugly,” I joked, sitting down on the wooden chair across from him.
He managed a weak smile.
“Hey ugly.”
He gestured to the full cup in front of me.
“I ordered your favorite.”
I grinned, then shot him a look of mock horror.
“No one was supposed to know about my vanilla chai girly drink preferences.”
He smirked.
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
He took a sip of his drink, what looked to be one of his usual teas, while I did the same.
“So, about last night,” he said, placing his beige mug onto the wooden table.
“You seemed kinda, cranky,” I said.
He nodded, smiling grimly.
“I was. Not gonna lie, it tore me up seeing Brooke take to you like that. But it happened.”
I nodded, feeling the pit in my stomach grow two sizes.
“It happened,” I repeated hollowly.
He nodded slowly, shooting me a sad smile.
“But what matters the most is—you and me—we’re best friends. Always have been and always will be.”
“Yup,” I said, “I’ll never forget med school, and how you turned me away from the cliff of giving up.”
Jake made a skeptical sound.
“Oh, you mean that whole speech about following through with what you’d said you do, being a man of your word? Getting you a beer and then staying up studying with you 'til four in the morning?”
His face had a nostalgic glow on it. When he caught my eye again, he looked downright roguish.
“Yeah, that was mostly for me to be honest. I was scared shitless, and was thinking of giving up myself when you said it. Then, in convincing you, I somehow managed to convince myself. Yeah, I guess you’ve always been the one to say things.”
I tried to keep my face neutral, as I inwardly winced. I already felt bad enough that I’d betrayed my best friend, did he have to keep digging the knife in deeper?
“Now, you however, with the whole Alicia thing,” he continued.
I held up a hand.
“Really man, I think you made your point. We’re bosom friends—the two of us.”
The last I said in a falsetto voice, but Jake didn’t so much as crack a smile.
“Seriously though, Mark,” he said, “I mean it. I never really thanked you properly for all that. Those weeks when I was basically a monosyllabic emo piece of shit. When I’d ask you if you’d seen her every time you came over, then spent the rest of the time recounting our epic love story beginning to end, over and over again—as if you wanted to hear it any more than I did.”
“You weren’t that bad,” I said, although that was the understatement of the century.
It still made me uncomfortable to even remember it, how hollowed out he’d been by the whole thing. As if someone had taken a knife and cut out everything vital and vibrant from my poor friend. It had taken months to get him to ‘okay’ and years to get him back to something resembling ‘good.’ And now, in one night, I could have undone all of it thanks to my self-centered horniness.
“Liar,” he said.
I grinned.
“Okay, that one story you kept telling—about how you and Alicia met on that Canadian train— that got a bit repetitive, I’ll admit. The whole laptop-charging dialog, well, I almost told you to shut up a few times. But I could see that you were hurting man, big-time. Besides, you would’ve done the same for me.”
“You bet I would,” Jake said. “We’re best friends, you and I. We’re there for each other—no matter what.”
Over the table, he took my hand, and shook it with the same warm conviction he’d had when speaking.
I took one look at his earnest, affectionate face, and lost it.
“I fucked Brooke,” I blurted out.
He drew back, releasing my hand.
“What?!”
The whole café went silent, and heads swiveled in our direction.
“I’m sorry, it just happened,” I said.
At that, his eyes narrowed into an intense glare.
“Okay,” I admitted, “that’s not completely true. I’ve been attracted to her since she started working with us and I thought that by just doing it, I’d get it out of my system and—”
It took me half a minute of babbling to realize that Jake was smirking.
“I totally had you.”
“And the rest of the people in this café,” I hissed, glaring at him, although I was secretly pleased.
“So you aren’t pissed?”
Jake’s eyes narrowed.
“Hell yeah, I’m pissed,” he sighed, “but as soon as I left, I figured that’s what you guys would end up doing.”
He shook his head.
“That fucking purple shirt of yours.”
I grinned.
“What can I say? Chicks dig the purple.”
“Seriously though,” Jake said, frowning again, “You didn’t call dibs. I thought we’d—”
“Agreed on a big fat nothing, other than staying friends,” I pointed out.
“And you didn’t call dibs either,” I added.
“And if I did now?” he asked.
Seeing my expression, he waved his hand.
“Forget it. I guess we can just see what happens and agree to disagree on the Brooke question. I meant what I said before, even now that you fucked the woman I’ve been crushing on. Let’s not lose our friendship over this, no matter what happens, okay?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
This time I was the one who grasped his hand into a hearty shake. Although really, as we stared each other down, all I was wondering was if Jake was going to try to fuck Brooke now, too.
Chapter 10
Brooke
What have I done? It seemed that the whole day was a testament to my mistake. Mark was awkward around me, while Jake was downright cool. During the consultations, he barely looked at me, let alone addressed me. Even when he mentioned me, when he said my name, it was done so casually, coolly even, as if referring to a stranger, not someone in the same room. By lunchtime, I’d had enough.
“Can we talk? Do lunch maybe?” I asked, taking his arm before he’d hurried out of the room.
I ignored Mark’s disappointed face and turned so that my whole body was facing Jake.
His face looked undecided, upset.
“Please?” I asked, taking his hand.
He pulled his hand away, and shook his head, although he said, “Okay,�
� albeit with a sigh.
All the way there we didn’t talk. Any attempt I made at conversation, he abruptly shut down. We didn’t even discuss where to eat, however, after a few minutes of silent walking, we reached Pablo’s.
As we walked in, my heart fell. The whole place was a reminder of before, just a week ago when things were better. When I hadn’t yet messed everything up.
The same chubby woman was there like last time. When she gave us a knowing smile, I felt sick to my stomach. Nevertheless, once our pizza was put in front of us, I managed to take a half-hearted bite. Then, my gaze beseeching his, I turned to Jake.
“So,” I said.
“So,” he said, not looking at me.
“Is this about last night?” I finally said.
He waited a few seconds before responding, “Yes.”
His miserable brown-eyed gaze finally met mine.
“Yes and no. It’s about last night and about five years ago, too. This has a lot to do with my ex-wife as well.”
I nodded, not saying anything. With his droopy dark curls, and lowered eyes, Jake looked like a puppy dog I wanted to scoop up and comfort. But I didn’t want to push him.
“She was,” he exhaled sharply, “the love of my life. Or so I thought. Everything was this big passionate whirlwind—us meeting, our relationship, getting married. I guess it makes sense that everything fell apart just as fast—we never really took the time to find out if we were compatible. But still, it shook me, finding out she’d couldn’t handle my long work hours, that she’d been cheating on me, and that she was divorcing me. That was a lot to hear.”
He shook his head, took another bite of pizza.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to unload all that on you. I guess I was just trying to explain that me being upset isn’t just about you. It’s more about me. I haven’t really liked anyone for years, not since her. And then you come along and—”
He shook his head again.
“It doesn’t matter.”
I grasped his hand.
“Yes it does. Because I like you, too.”
His dark brows raised, then lowered, his eyes narrowing.
“No, you can’t. You slept with Mark.”