by Dee Lagasse
The more wine Cole drank, the more “handsy” she got with me. When we first got to her sister’s house, she had kept her distance. But as the night went on, she freely showed her affection. Rubbing my back as I carved out the eyes for our Jack-O-Lantern, hanging on my arms as Chase and I swapped stories from college, asking for a kiss here and there.
Right after catching Travis staring at her once again, I very purposely chose to sit on a single person wicker chair by the fire. She was just about to sit on the chair next to me when I patted my lap and said, “This seat’s open.”
We spent the last forty-five minutes snuggled up by the fire, drinking hot chocolate with her friends. Shortly after nine, Tucker and Lola said goodnight to everyone, and Cole suggested we do the same.
As we were walking out, Travis pulled her aside and as much as I tried to act like I wasn’t watching them, I could tell Cole wasn’t comfortable with the conversation. If her rigid posture and crossed arms didn’t give her away, the huff and the roll of her eyes as she walked over to where I was waiting next to my car confirmed it.
I know that we’re still new to whatever this is and there’s a good chance sticking my nose into it might put up red jealousy flags. Which is why I’m probably going to regret asking what I’m about to.
“So,” I start as we pull out of the cul-de-sac her sister lives in. “What’s the deal with Travis? Because he was the only one that gave me the stink eye. The entire time we were there.”
Exhaling, her shoulders droop and she purses her lips as if she’s trying to figure out how to answer my question.
“For the sake of being transparent and completely honest with you,” she begins. “Travis and I did the friends with benefits thing for the last, uh, four years. We were both single and swore we’d keep it platonic. It was almost always an alcohol-induced hook-up. There were no dates, no hanging out just the two of us, it was just sex. Part of our, I guess, deal, was to always be honest with each other if we started dating someone, so when I went on a date with you and didn’t tell him, he got pissed. He’s just mad at me for not being upfront with him.”
I fucking knew it. I knew he had to have feelings for her. Aw. I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost. I haven’t slept with her, and I know, at this point, I would hate to be friend zoned. Never mind seeing her naked, feeling her body…Damn it, focus, Pax.
“When was the last time you guys…”
“Like three months ago?” She shrugs. “It’s been a little while. It’s not an all the time thing.”
“And you have no feelings for him?”
“I mean, at one point, I thought I did. But that was a long, long time ago,” she says. “Like, when we were kids. If something more was going to happen between then and now it already would have. But it hasn’t. Oh! And no one else knows. Like no one. But I didn’t want to lie to you. If we’re doing, whatever it is we’re doing, I don’t want to set the precedence that it’s okay to lie.”
“Well, I mean, I did get called your boyfriend a few times by your sister and your friends a few times tonight,” I chuckle.
“And you didn’t correct them…”
“Should I have?” I ask.
Taking advantage of the red light, I turn to face her. The white glow from the streetlight above shines on her face, allowing me to see her expression.
“I don’t care what anyone thinks,” she starts. “Let them think what they want. I’m not dating or sleeping with anyone else. I just think if we start labeling it, it puts some weird pressure on us. We just started to get to know each other, Pax. I don’t want to screw this up with titles before we even have a chance to see what this even is.”
“So, on Friday, if you were to come with me to my mom’s for dinner and to meet some of my friends, when I introduce you I would say, this is Cole, my…”
“Just Cole,” she smiles. “You’ll say ‘this is Cole’ if I can get someone to cover trivia at Capparelli & Co. to go to dinner with you and meet some of your friends on Friday.”
Letting out a small sigh of relief, I try to play off my internal triumph with a smirk. As I cut the ignition and shift into park, I find myself wishing the drive from her sister’s house had been longer. The more time I spend with Cole Christian, the harder it is to say goodbye. Despite knowing I’ll see her tomorrow for our date, it doesn’t make it any easier right now.
“Hey, I have a whole lemon cake from Capparelli & Co. in my fridge,” I say as we unbuckle our seat belts. “Want to help me eat it?”
“Heck yes. Nonna’s lemon cake is my favorite,” she says as we make our way up the stairs to our apartments. “Give me like ten minutes just to get changed into something more comfortable.”
“Ten minutes from now can’t come fast enough,” I say as we both unlock the doors to our separate apartments. “I’ll leave it unlocked, just come on in.”
Heading straight for my bedroom, I am suddenly thankful for my upbringing. Growing up, my parents were the “uncool” kind that made my sisters and I do daily chores and if we ever wanted to do anything, our rooms had to be spotless. It was annoying as a teenager, but as an adult, I found myself needing cleanliness because of it. There was no need to rush around and pick up because there was a woman coming over. After going to a handful of my single buddies’ apartments, I knew I was in the minority when it came to that.
Stripping down to my boxers, I toss all of my clothes, one by one into the small white laundry basket sitting in the corner of my room. Pulling a pair of navy fleece joggers over my legs just in time to hear, “Heyyyyy Pax…I’m in your living room. Just wanted to let you know so you don’t come out with a baseball bat or something.”
Chuckling, I pull a plain white t-shirt over my head and walk out of my bedroom, heading right for the kitchen to get two forks and the cake from the fridge.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask. “I have bottled water, apple cider, Sam Octoberfest, and milk. Or I can make you coffee?”
Her blonde hair is now down, sitting in waves below her shoulders. Any makeup she had on has been washed from her face. In her authentic, natural self, she is the prettiest I’ve seen her yet.
In a small pair of black and white knit lounge shorts and a black tank-top, she looks comfortable. Like she feels comfortable being here, in my apartment with no makeup on and in her pajamas. I dig it.
“Apple cider please,” she says from the couch. “Where’s your TV remote?”
“Little basket on the end table on the other side of the couch,” I answer, dropping the cake, two plates, and the forks on the coffee table before going back for the two glasses of apple cider I had just poured.
I almost drop them to the floor when she bends over the arm of the couch to get it. The more she bends, the higher her little shorts creep and the more I need to focus on not letting the glasses shatter to the floor.
“Oh! Civil War is on!” she exclaims twenty-seven seconds after the TV turns on. “Fair warning, I’m kind of a Marvel nerd.”
“Oh yeah? See that tote over there?” I ask, pointing to a dark gray plastic storage tote with the fork in my hand before handing it to her. “It’s full of comic books. Like, I’m talking from when my dad started collecting them in the sixties up until about ten years ago when I stopped. There’s a first printing of the first Avengers comic from 1963 in there.”
“So, basically what you’re saying is that if I bring you over dinner one night this week, you’ll show me your comics?” she asks, opening the lid of the lemon cake, taking the side of her fork to cut a small piece. “I have a small collection, but I don’t have anything as impressive as a first edition of Avengers.”
“Well, we have a date tomorrow, dinner with your parents on Wednesday, you work Thursday, maybe dinner with my mom Friday. You sure you’re not gonna get sick of me?” I ask before processing what she just said to me. “Wait. Did you say you have a comic book collection?”
Instead of answering, she squints her eyes, examining something
on my face.
“You’ve got a little piece of cake next to your lips,” she says, pointing to the corner of her own mouth.
Wiping both sides with my hands, I look over at her, hoping I got it.
Giggling, Cole uncrosses her legs and stands up. Bending over in front of me, she takes her thumb and runs it across half my mouth before brushing across my cheek. I’m going to guess at this point, there’s no cake on my face, but if she wants to play this game, I’m in.
If I was looking, I would have noticed that she isn’t wearing a bra. I would have noticed that almost her entire chest was hanging out of her tank-top. But of course, right now, my main concern is the cake that may or may not be on my face.
Spreading her legs, she straddles my legs, positioning herself on my lap.
“It’s right here…” Lowering herself all the way down as she kisses the corner of my mouth.
“Did you get it?” I ask as my cock twitches inside my boxers. There’s no fucking way she didn’t feel it.
“I don’t know, the lighting is really bad in here, maybe I should check in your bedroom.”
Chapter Fifteen
Cole
Placing his hands under my ass, Pax stands up, picking me up with him. With my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms wrapped around his neck, he carries me to the bed. He gently places me down on the edge and I keep my legs locked around his waist, pulling him to me.
The first kiss is slow. Every trace of his tongue sweeping mine like he’s trying to savor the moment. Until I take his bottom lip into my teeth and gently pull. The hand that’s been up in the back of my hair suddenly tightens its grip, pulling just enough to tilt my head back. The little moan that escapes me is all the permission he needs.
From my lips to my jawline down to my neck and my collarbone, Pax leaves a trail of kisses. When he gets to the fabric line of my tank-top, he stops and looks up at me, as if he’s asking for permission. Reaching for the bottom of my shirt, I pull it over my head and toss it on the floor in response.
“Fuuuuuuuck,” he groans, taking a second to look at my exposed body before leaning back down to my lips, murmuring. “I forgot where I was. Gotta start over.”
Lingering a bit longer with each kiss this time, there’s no clothing to stop him when he gets to my breasts. Slowing his pace, he takes his time, leaving his mark on every inch of both of them before continuing down my stomach.
With every kiss, I feel my heart pick up speed and each breath becomes more pronounced. When he gets to the top of my shorts, he looks back up again for confirmation to keep going.
And I know I’m going to regret this, but I shake my head. “The clothing balance between me and you seem to be tipping heavy on your side right now, Paxton.”
I’m not too sure why I just called him by his full name. But right now, I couldn’t imagine calling him anything else.
Smirking, he gets up on his knees, and pulls the white t-shirt he’s wearing over his head. “If you want to tip the scale back to your side, you’re going to have to do that yourself, Nicole.”
Sitting up, I scooch my ass down to where he’s kneeling, getting up on my knees once I’m in front of him. As soon as I’m still, he cups my face and pulls me into a deep kiss. My hands wander from his chest, stopping right at the hemline of his joggers. Pulling out of his kiss, I raise my eyebrows, and begin to run my fingers on the outside of the band at the top of his pants.
“If you’re waiting for permission, babe, you’ve got it. It’s all yours.”
Copying his motions from a little while ago, I start at his lips and slowly make my way down. Once I get halfway down his chest, I gently push him back, so he falls on his ass. Stretching his legs out across the bed, I position myself in between them, knowing damn well where this is going. Every moan and curse as I trail my lips down his chest only builds up the anticipation.
Once I get to his pants line, I take a piece of fabric from each of his hips and pull down. Lifting his ass just enough to make it easier, I stop once his cock springs free. If he wants them off all the way, he can push them with his legs.
Just as I’m about to wrap my hand around him, he sits all the way up. Pulling the rest of his pants off, he looks over at me, smiling coyly.
“It appears the scale’s tipped again.” He shrugs, looking over at my ass, still covered in my shorts.
“Well, if you want to balance things out, I guess you’re going to have to do something about it,” I laugh, flipping over onto my back.
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he says so low I almost don’t hear him.
So slowly that it’s almost torturous, Pax pulls my shorts down and tosses them to the side without regard. The only thing standing between being completely exposed is the lacy red strip of underwear that I had changed into before coming over. Just in case.
Taking my shirt off hadn’t been a big deal. As far as boobs go, I like mine. They’re not too big, not too small. They’re still perky and full, which makes wearing strapless dresses easier.
And Pax’s look, silently asking for my go ahead only puts more pressure on. If I were to say no, I know it wouldn’t be a big deal. I just know. Pax is a good dude. But I want to. I really want to.
“If you’re waiting for permission, babe, you’ve got it. It’s all yours,” I say, repeating his words back to him.
Not taking his time with the red lace, they’re off me no sooner do I end my sentence. His fingers trail my thighs, pausing just enough that I could stop it if I wanted to, before entering me.
Gripping the sheets below me, I try to gain some semblance of composure. Failing miserably, I moan his name as he rubs my clit with his thumb and he starts to work a finger and then two in and out of me. My back arches and I can feel myself on the cusp of an orgasm when he slowly pulls his fingers out. With his hand still in place, he pushes up, taking my lips in his. Groaning when I grab his bottom lip, giving it a little suck before pulling it between my teeth.
“Tell me what you want.” His voice hushed and low against my ear sends goose bumps trailing from the tips of my fingers to the bottom of my toes.
“You,” I tell him. “I want you.”
“How, baby,” he says as he traces the outside of my pussy with his fingers. “Tell me how you want me.”
“I don’t care,” I answer honestly, inching myself closer to his fingers. “Please, Pax.”
“Do you want to keep doing this?” he asks, doing one sweep across the outside of my pussy before sliding his fingers in. “Do you want me to taste it? Do you want me to fuck you? Baby, you have to tell me.”
Pulling his fingers back out, he looks down at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.
“Fuck,” I start. “I want to fuck.”
He doesn’t answer me but guides my hand down to my core. I’ve never fucked myself in front of anyone before. The wetness makes it easy for me to slide my finger in. Trying hard to replicate the motions Pax made, I decide that there’s nothing like the genuine thing.
“How do you want it?” he asks as he begins to make his way between my legs. Once he gets up to me, he starts to kiss me, and I swear the world is spinning at a thousand miles an hour.
“Fast and deep,” I tell him, pushing up, and away from him. “And me on top.”
Grinning, he moves over and sits up, propped up slightly against the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. Hovering over him, I guide him into me slowly, my eyes rolling back as he begins to fill me.
“Holy fuck, Pax,” I moan, taking a second to gather my bearings.
“I know, baby,” he agrees, placing his hands on my hips, slowly pulling me down closer to him. Grinding my hips, I move up and down, picking up speed. Until I stop.
“How do you want it?” I ask, sliding up and then down so fucking slow that it’s probably more of a punishment for me than a tease for him.
“Like this,” he says, gently pushing my torso back far enough that I need to put my hand on his thigh to balance.
As I begin to ride him, I stop when I realize how much deeper he gets like this. A knowing grin spreads across Pax’s face as I bite my bottom lip and grip his thigh.
There’s no way I could handle this fast, so I go slow. Watching to make sure he’s into it, I feel validated when I find Pax with his head tipped back on the pillow, and his eyes closed.
“Just like that. Fuck. That pussy’s so tight.”
Every time he talks, I swear I feel myself getting closer to the edge. Who the fuck knew dirty talking could be so hot? I mean, sure, I’d read all about it in every Abbi Glines book I owned, but I didn’t actually think real men talked like that. Hell, no real men I had been with before had.
All it takes is two small swipes of his fingers rubbing my clit while I’m fucking him for me to lose all control.
As if he knows it, Pax pulls himself up, “That’s it, baby. Come for me.”
Together, we let go of the smallest bit of resolve we had keeping us together. Falling into him, I sigh.
Kissing my temple, he says, “I don’t want to be the one to ruin the moment, but…”
Looking down, I realize what he’s asking for and laugh, rolling off him.
“So, I don’t know if this is crossing any lines,” he starts as he walks out the door. The bathroom light illuminates the hallway outside the bedroom. “But if you want to spend the night, there’s a spot on the right side of the bed with your name all over it.”
“Well, that’s convenient,” I say, getting up to take my turn in the bathroom once he comes back. “The right side of the bed is my favorite side.”
Chapter Sixteen
PAX
My bed is made.
I can’t remember the last time I made my bed. While the rest of my apartment was usually clean, my bed was always messy. It just comes down to the five minutes of sleep I get if I stay in bed being more of a priority than pulling up my sheets and fluffing my pillows.