by Kendall Ryan
While I flip through the channels, looking for a movie neither of us has seen, Natalie polishes off her glass of wine and heads into the kitchen to pour herself more, and brings the bottle back with her.
We settle on a dopey comedy that’s already started, and she settles herself right next to me, curling into my side. She smells so good and the skin of her bare leg is so soft, I can’t help but torture myself further by putting my hand on her knee.
Natalie downs another glass of wine before I find the courage to speak again.
“You want to talk about Ben, about what happened?”
She shakes her head, pours herself the last of the wine, and then pats my scruffy cheek with one palm. “You’re such a good friend, Cam.” She grins at me, her hand lingering on my jawline. “So thoughtful. So sweet. You’re going to make some guy a very lucky girlfriend someday.”
Her eyebrows draw together in confusion, and I begin to chuckle. “I think you might need to slow down on these.” I try to take the wineglass from her hand, but Natalie drains the rest and then sets the glass down with a loud clink on the coffee table.
“You know what I meant.”
I chuckle at her again. “I think I do, and thanks for the compliment.”
Moving her hand from my jaw down to my bicep, Natalie gives the muscle a squeeze and my cock jerks behind my zipper. “I mean, why are you still single?” she asks, her voice slow and extremely loose from the alcohol.
“I don’t know. Guess I just haven’t met the right girl yet.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. The right girl is currently perched next to me, wearing nothing but a T-shirt and panties, and my dick is hard enough to pound nails at the thought of pushing her back onto the couch and having my way with her.
Classy, I know.
Her hand drifts from my bicep, down the center of my chest, and begins petting—yes, petting—my abs. As nice as it feels, I’m terrified that she’ll discover I’m hard. I lift her hand and move it back to her own lap.
Natalie giggles at me and pats my upper thigh. “Oh, Cam. Always the gentleman.”
God, has she always been this touchy-feely?
When she reaches for the empty wine bottle and moves to get up, I stop her. “Let’s slow down. No more of these drinks for you. Have you eaten tonight?”
She shakes her head. “Wasn’t hungry.”
“You’ll feel better if you eat something.” I grab my phone and order her favorite takeout, needing to get some food in her before Ms. Touchy-Feely comes out to play some more.
Undeterred by my attempts at propriety, Natalie lays her head in the center of my chest, looking down at my feet. Or rather, I hope she’s looking at my feet and not at the obvious bulge in my pants that’s now mere inches away from her face.
“I guess I just feel stupid about Ben. I mean, I should have known it was a bad sign that he never wanted to mess around. He just wasn’t attracted to me.”
I let out a snort of surprised laughter. “I highly doubt that.” There’s also a strange sense of relief at the realization that she didn’t mess around with him.
Natalie sits up abruptly. “I’m serious. We went on several dates, but we never had sex. That’s weird, right?”
Swaying, she falls forward into my arms, and I catch her against me. “Let’s lay you down. The food won’t be here for another half hour. Maybe you should get some rest.”
Natalie doesn’t put up a fight as I help her up from the couch and steer her toward her bedroom. When I help her onto the massive king-size bed, she curls up her legs, looking so small. I stand beside the bed, and she reaches a hand toward me.
“Lie down with me?” Her lower lip pouts out, and I inwardly stifle a groan.
I’m here to comfort. I’m here to comfort. I’m here to . . . As much as I keep repeating it over and over again in my head, it’s not sticking. Comfort sounds too much like come, and my mind is officially in the gutter.
So, against my better judgment, I find her impossible to say no to and join her on the bed, leaving a healthy space between us.
She moves closer, her legs tucked up toward her belly, and I catch a glimpse of her pink cotton panties. I hate myself for it, but I can’t help my reaction. I immediately go rock hard. And this time, Natalie notices.
Her head lifts off the pillow, and she inhales a quick breath. “What’s that?” she asks, her voice filled with wonder.
“I’m sorry. Ignore it and it’ll go away. My dick’s just confused. I’m in bed with a half-dressed woman.” It’s my attempt at making a joke, but my voice comes out too thick and husky.
Natalie doesn’t laugh. Instead, her face falls as she looks at me again. “Oh, and here I thought it was for me. I told you, I’m just not sexy, not alluring enough. I wasn’t for Ben either.”
I place one hand on her cheek, drawing her closer. “Ben was a fucking idiot. And you’re wrong. You’re gorgeous.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’ve never lied to me, Cam. Don’t start now.”
I let my hand trail down from the soft skin of her cheek, to her shoulder, arm, waist, and then finally to the bare skin of her leg. Natalie watches me with wide, appraising eyes as my fingertips move over her smooth skin.
What the fuck am I doing?
What. The. Fuck. Am. I. Doing?
But now that I’ve started touching her, the last thing I want to do is stop. I rise to my knees and look down at her. Then I push her T-shirt up out of the way, exposing her panties. Natalie doesn’t stop me. She doesn’t say or do anything, but continues watching me as her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths.
I trail one finger over the center of her panties, feeling the heat of her pussy through the thin cotton, and I almost moan.
“Cam?” she asks, her voice shaky.
“Yeah?” I stroke her again, this time right over the firm peak of her clit.
“W-what are you doing?”
I push her T-shirt higher, my fingers trailing over her stomach. “Showing you you’re wrong. Making you feel better. Take your pick.” My voice sounds deep and need-filled, even to my own ears, but Natalie doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t try to cover herself, or demand that I stop. Instead, she’s watching me with a curious and lustful expression of her own.
I push her T-shirt up farther, exposing her bare breasts, and fuck me, they’re even more perfect than I ever imagined. They’re full and pale and soft, with light pink nipples that I want desperately to feel harden under my tongue.
Then she places one hand on my wrist. I haven’t stroked her again, but my hand is resting right above her pubic bone. But she doesn’t move my hand away, she just grips it lightly in hers. “You don’t have to.” Her voice is so soft, barely above a whisper.
“I know that. I want to. Now, stop talking unless it’s to tell me to stop.”
I pause for a second, giving her the chance to tell me she doesn’t want this. In fact, I’m fully prepared for it, and ready for her to tell me to stop. We’re crossing into new territory here, and I won’t rush this. I want her to process exactly what’s about to happen. But Natalie stays quiet, hardly moving except for the peek of her tongue when it darts out to wet her lower lip. I wait what seems an appropriate amount of time, and not a word comes out of those gorgeous lips.
Slowly, I reach for the sides of her panties and draw them down her hips. She lifts her hips, letting me drag the panties away, and I drop them over the side of the bed.
Her pussy is shaved and so pink and plump, I physically shudder when I think about how good it would feel pushing inside. But this isn’t for me. This is for her, and the only thing I want is to make her feel good.
“How long has it been since you’ve been fingered again?” A small smile lifts one side of my mouth.
She tosses a pillow at my head, but I duck out of the way at the last second. Natalie is wide-eyed and watching me with a lust-filled expression.
I lower my mouth to her belly and place a wet kiss just south of her belly button.
She squirms on the bed beneath me.
Kissing my way down, I take my time until she’s rocking her hips in search of more contact. I don’t even think she knows she’s doing it. It’s sexy as fuck. My mouth finally makes contact, my tongue licking slowly along her wet flesh.
“Oh my God, Cam . . .” She moans, her fingers thrusting into my hair as she moves her hips up and down.
She’s perfect. Soft and wet and so responsive. I could do this all night, licking and sucking and wringing these noises from her. It’s even better than I ever imagined it could be.
“Cam.” She moans my name again, her voice sharper now.
“I’ll make it all better,” I whisper against the silky skin of her inner thigh.
I push my middle finger inside her tight channel and let out a groan at how amazing she feels.
What the fuck do I think I’m doing?
I almost stop. Almost. Because this is insanity. But then Natalie makes a tiny, sexy gasping sound as she inhales, and I’m lost.
I’m helping a friend. That’s all. Together, we’re the poster children for friends with benefits.
“Your breasts are beautiful,” I murmur, leaving sucking kisses up her belly as I move up to her breasts, my finger continuing to pump in and out.
Her body is practically quivering with need when my lips finally close around one swollen peak. I suck and lick one nipple as Natalie lets out a moan, and then move to the other, letting my teeth graze her nipple before sucking it into my mouth.
I don’t know her body, don’t know yet what will make her come, but for now I’m happy just to explore every inch of her that I can. I remove my middle finger, and God, I want to taste it, but instead I move my wet fingertips to stoke her clit in circles as my mouth continues worshipping her breasts. And then, without warning, she comes apart, writhing beneath me, making soft whimpers that make my balls draw up, my cock ready to explode.
Her orgasm lasts for a long time, and all through it, I continue stroking her swollen clit and kissing and biting her sexy breasts.
When it’s finally over, Natalie looks up at me in wonder, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed. We’re both breathing heavily.
The doorbell rings, and I realize the takeout I ordered for her is here.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, rising from the bed.
Natalie still hasn’t said anything, but her gaze is fixed on mine. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and she looks thoroughly pleased. As I head from the bedroom, I have only one regret—that I didn’t take the opportunity to kiss her.
Chapter Ten
Natalie
I’m drunk. Not on the drinks I downed on an empty stomach, but on the sheer power of that orgasm. Cam just made me come. Silently, I test out the words on my lips, feeling how the sentence sits strangely on my tongue. What in the ever-loving hell?
I don’t feel strange, though. I feel good. My hips are still wobbly, and there’s a pleasant tingling sensation in my fingers.
I realize I haven’t moved an inch since he left the room to fetch the takeout. I let myself take a slow, deep breath. My lungs quiver with the effort, and I feel my nipples perk up again at the memory of my labored breathing not two minutes ago. Those sounds I made . . . I didn’t even recognize my own passion. I’m light-headed, struggling to gather my thoughts amidst the sensations of my body.
I’m unable to put into words what just happened.
It’s almost unthinkable. Cam—my best friend, my superhero, my lanky-goof-turned-tank of a man—just made me come. I try to remember the last time I orgasmed so intensely. My mind blanks. I almost don’t want to admit it, but this was simply the most erotic moment I’ve had in . . . years. Maybe ever. It usually takes nearly an hour for me to feel anything even close to orgasmic, and most guys just aren’t that patient. It took Cam less than five minutes, and if I didn’t feel like time actually stood still with him pleasuring me, it was probably less than three minutes before he literally rocked my world.
As I lie in bed, my T-shirt still hitched up so my breasts and damp sex are exposed, I sink back into the moment . . . the look in his eyes when he pushed up my T-shirt, revealing the cotton of my panties. The rumble of his voice as he asked for my permission. The sensation of his single finger running a slow line across my labia, seeking entrance. The perfect curl of his fingers as they found my most sensitive, precious spot.
I’m wet again from just the memory of it.
My cheeks flush a deep shade of pink. I can feel my blood pounding in them, a remnant of my excitement and evidence of my growing panic. How can this be happening? I never, ever could have imagined that we’d be in this situation. What does this mean for us? Holy shit. I can feel a full-on panic attack coming.
“Natalie?”
Cam’s voice sends a jolt through me. I shoot up in bed, covering my naked body with my shirt. My feet are on the floor in seconds. When I stand, my legs are as wobbly as the day I lost my virginity.
“Food’s here.”
“Coming!” I yell across the condo. The irony in that response doesn’t escape me, and instead almost sends me into a fit of hysterical giggles, because I’m trying so hard not to freak the hell out.
My God, why did my voice sound so terrified? Maybe because I am a little. Dread weaves in and out of my heart, between the beats.
What is this single moment in time going to do to our decade-plus friendship?
I sneak down the hall, my feet quiet as a mouse’s. I peek around the kitchen door frame, spotting Cam.
Damn.
The line of his back draws an alluring picture, his hips leaning against the counter. His short, dark hair curls slightly at the nape of his neck—a detail I never noticed. With his long fingers, he uses a spoon to scoop out fried rice onto two plates in equal heaping piles. Even from several feet away, I can see the masculine veins traveling up his forearms and hiding away under his sleeves.
I’m not sure which sight I’m drooling at more, the food or the man.
“Hey,” I say, a little louder than I mean to.
“Hey.” He turns and spots me in the doorway. “Ready to eat?”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
“What?” Cam tilts his head with growing concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I can only shrug, words escaping me. I can’t hold his gaze anymore with my cheeks burning like this. He takes a step toward me. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to be so shy,” he says warmly. I cover my face with my hands and groan. Why is he being so nice about this?
“Hey, hey, hey, come here.” Cam wraps me in his firm arms and props his chin on the top of my head, surrounded me with the fresh scent of his cotton shirt. The muscles I didn’t realize I was tensing loosen at the familiarity of the embrace. I know this man. This man knows me. Maybe this will all be okay . . . someday. I hope.
“I’m so embarrassed,” I mumble into his shirt.
“You have no reason to be. It was no big deal,” he says. “I just wanted to help. You seemed like you needed that.”
“I did.” I sigh. “I really did.”
“Do you feel better?”
“Yeah.”
Cam releases me and plants a quick kiss on the top of my head. “Then let’s eat something. I’m starving, and I could use some sustenance after that workout,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. Here’s the goofball I remember.
“Oh, shut up. You volunteered. Actually, let me put on clothes this time.”
“Probably a good idea.” He chuckles.
In minutes, we’re sprawled across the couch again, shoveling chicken and rice into our mouths. Between bites, I tell him about how well my presentation went. He tells me about his new hockey practice schedule. It’s almost like the last hour was a dream. Cam never fingered me, and it was all some strange, unfamiliar fantasy. However, the rush of endorphins in my blood is a constant reminder that something did happen. Something intense.
When he gets up to leave, I rememb
er a particular detail I didn’t take the opportunity to really think about until now. His erection. Was that for me? And does he need a release now too? He said it wasn’t because of anything I did, that it was just a male thing. Still, as I stand, I wonder if I should return the favor. As a friend, of course. It’s the least I can do.
“Good night, Natalie,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I lean into the touch, enjoying the way his fingertips brush against my cheekbone. I’m about to ask him if he’d like me to, you know, help him, when he interrupts me.
“Thanks for tonight.” With that, he’s out the door. The condo feels empty now. I drag my feet back to my room and fall back into bed, exhausted from tonight’s myriad of emotions. The sheets are cold now, no longer holding the scent of our sweat. But when I close my eyes, I can still hear my own whimpers as if they’ve bled into the walls and now echo back to me.
There’s a sexy side to Cam that I never appreciated. Why would I? Now, it’s undeniable. There’s something incredibly enticing about the way he always comes to my rescue. Be it an emergency car fix, or something a little more intimate . . . There’s no way I will be forgetting those few minutes anytime soon. There’s no way I want to.
These best-friend butterflies are here to stay.
Chapter Eleven
Camden
“Come on, don’t be a pussy,” Jack says, eyeing the barbell I’ve just set down at my feet. “You’ve got one more set in you.”
It doesn’t matter that heavy rock music blares around us, or that sweaty bodies linger nearby. My mind is so unfocused on this workout, it’s not even funny.
I wipe my forehead with the sleeve of my T-shirt and bend down to pick up the barbell again, needing to pump out ten more reps of bicep curls, if only to get him off my back.
If Jack had any idea what happened last night, he wouldn’t be this cheery. In fact, he’d probably punch me square in the fucking jaw.
But me? I’m still floating on cloud fucking nine. Part of me still can’t believe what happened, can’t believe Natalie was so needy and responsive when I touched her. And now this new knowledge that I have about my buddy Natalie is occupying every last corner of my brain—like the pale pink color of her nipples, or the gasping breaths she made when I touched her clit, or the way her body trembles and quakes when she comes.