by Natasha Boyd
Preservation kicked in. If I wasn’t careful, I’d lay down my whole hand and he’d see how I felt .
“Look,” I grumbled, feigning irritation. “Just because you got some harebrained scheme to kiss me earlier this week, which frankly,” I spun around so quickly, he couldn’t help but step back, giving me much needed personal space, “frankly was insulting — ”
“Insulting? Excuse me. How do you figure that ?”
I clutched my hands to my chest in an effort to keep my bikini in place. “Tell me it wasn’t some misguided attempt to maybe try and add some sex into the whole maybe-you-should-marry-me-and-help-me-out thing. I know I made some comments about not wanting to marry someone who didn’t want to sleep with me, but that didn’t mean I needed you to experiment and see if you could — ”
“Experiment? For fuck’s sake, do you think I planned that out? I didn’t plan on getting a hard on when I saw you naked and having the image seared into my brain for all eternity, and I sure as shit didn’t plan on practically losing my mind while kissing you in some back alley. Like I said at the time, I don’t know why it happened. But it did and since then I — ”
“Oh, I remember that very clearly. ‘I don’t know why that happened, ’” I quoted him, effectively cutting off anything he was about to say. “‘It should never have happened .’ You looked horrified. So what the hell are you playing at right now?” I reached blindly for his towel and held it to my front .
“Stop,” Beau said, pained. “Just stop.” He blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I never said I didn’t want to sleep with you .”
My mouth dropped open .
“Okay, maybe I said that. But it wasn’t what I meant .”
I cocked my head to the side. “Oh, this should be good .”
Beau took two steps back and leaned against the bathroom wall. Both his hands came up and held his head. It took all my effort, honed over more than a decade, not to let my eyes stray down his taut abdomen. Silk over steel. Was his skin as soft as it looked ?
“Gracie.”
I growled at him .
“Gwen,” he corrected and held a hand up in apology .
I softened my expression. “Go on .”
His eyes narrowed. “Wait. Do you want me to want to sleep with you? Is that why you’re upset ?”
“Argh. My God. Don’t turn this around. If I wasn’t trying to keep myself covered, I’d hurl something at you .”
He chuckled but it was brief. “Why did you make me start calling you Gwen that summer ?”
“What?”
“You heard me. And why does it bother you so much when I call you Gracie ?”
Okay, he wanted to change tack and discuss names, that was fine and far safer .
“Because we were kids when you called me Gracie. It was like I was your big sister or, or your babysitter or something, especially being older than you. Even though, man, you got so tall so fast and … and I just wanted to feel like …”
I felt my blunder before I mentally processed it, in the form of a rising tide of heat crawling up my skin and bringing my heart up my throat. It was all those mimosas I’d had, dammit, they’d loosened my tongue .
Blinking, I sought out Beau’s expression. Maybe he didn’t pick up on it. I floundered around for some innocuous sounding reason and decided to minimize a partial truth. “At the time,” I emphasized, but with a casual tone. “At the time, you were getting all grown up. You looked super hot, and I just wanted to be seen as someone you might be attracted to, rather than your older sister, type, thing.” I waved a free hand in the air dismissively. “I thought if you called me Gwen … never mind. It was a phase .”
“And now ?”
“Now when you call me Gracie it just feels like — ”
“That’s not the now I mean. I mean now do you want me to see you as someone I’m attracted to. Are you sexually attracted to me ?”
I half laughed. It was a squeak. “What ?”
“You heard me .”
“Why are you asking me this? Why now? What’s the point ?”
“If the answer was no, you’d say. I’m going to assume yes .”
“God, you’re arrogant. Fine! I have on occasion, yes. I mean it’s only natural, we’ve been close for a long time, sometimes things might get blurred, whatever. Why is this all on me anyway?” I was babbling. “I mean, are you sexually attracted to me ?” I asked as if it was the most stupid question in the world .
And the answer was most definitely, no .
No. Surely .
I’d know .
“Fuck, yes,” Beau grated out and prowled closer. “I want to strip that bikini off you right now and bend you over the sink .”
Holy shit. My stomach went into free-fall. I backed up, but my butt was already against the sink in question. But I was so shocked at the words coming out of Beau’s mouth I snort laughed. I guessed the tension had to escape somehow .
“Damn,” said Beau and chuckled, reverting back to the boy I’d always loved. “That sounded way better in my head.” But then he shook his head and stepped closer still and took my hands where they were protecting my chest and held them down at my sides .
The towel dropped between us and my bikini top perched precariously, held up by the magic of two extremely alert nipples. Damn traitorous body, I thought, as my breathing got light and fast, my mouth dry and my nether regions achy and … warm .
Danger, danger, my mind screamed .
I tried to think of something to break the tension or whatever it was that had seemed to highjack our hormones. “I think I can hear Mrs. Potts singing, There could be something there that wasn’t there before . ”
We both let out breathy laughs .
“Seriously, though. There’s no animated movie quote to describe what I want to do to you right now,” Beau said, his eyes intent on my barely covered breasts, “because it is definitely not PG .”
“But … but aren’t we supposed to be looking for a wife for you?” I asked stupidly as Lieutenant Marjorie Smith briefly flitted through my head. I should tell him about that email .
“According to you, I’m on my own with that, right ?”
Did I say that ?
“Were you planning on retiring our friendship too?” His fingers came up and toyed dangerously with the hanging string strap that would peel the triangle clean off and expose me. “I seem to remember you saying something like that .”
“No.” I sounded choked and guilty. Because I had said that .
“Liar,” he whispered and looked me in the eyes. His were warm, and blue, mischievous and deep. Like a hot spring .
I licked my lips. “Beau …”
“So if twenty years of friendship is all about to go overboard, why don’t we just answer that question once and for all? Then we’ll know .”
Why was breathing so difficult? It was a basic human function that should require no thought .
I was getting light-headed .
And confused .
“W-What question?” It came out breathy. I could get a second job as a phone sex operator .
Beau’s fingers gave a tug, and cool air hit my damp nipple .
We both stared at it, and I suddenly realized Beau’s breathing was struggling as much as mine .
“Christ, Gracie. You’re so fucking beautiful. I want …” He pulled the other strap and my chest was bare .
I wasn’t sure who moved first, or what made me throw every argument I’d ever had against showing him how I felt out the window, but I needed that feeling again. The incredible heat of his kiss that had been haunting me all week. I needed his mouth on mine .
The relief was like fresh water after days at sea .
But there was no quenching, the thirst raged on. Just like the first time, there was no gentle exploration—Beau’s mouth took, and I gave, willingly .
His tongue slid against mine, and I felt it between my legs in a hot, sharp ache .
I gr
abbed onto him, clutching tightly, needing more, the sounds coming out of me, practically begging. Our chests met skin to skin, and I gasped into his mouth. Vague thoughts about why this was a bad idea tried to get in, but I was inside a protective forcefield of bliss and want .
Beau’s arms clamped around my body, and I was airborne, attached to his mouth, which I wouldn’t, couldn’t give up .
Within moments I was falling back onto my bed, with Beau following me down. The weight of him settled on me, his hips between my hips. It was agony and ecstasy all at once. His lips had let mine go in the fall and I think the shock of our position hit us both. Beau gazed down at me, breathing hard, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark with arousal .
My body pressed up underneath him, my aching center unconsciously trying to find relief, and he groaned .
“God, Gracie.” His body answered mine. “I’m so hard for you. This is crazy .”
“Shh. I need you. Like right now .”
It was madness what we were doing, but I tried halfheartedly to care and failed spectacularly .
Beau’s mouth moved hot and wet down my throat, and I found myself clutching his arms and thrusting my chest forward. His lips trailed toward a nipple .
“Please,” I whined .
“Please what?” he breathed against my skin, slowing his journey. His hands roamed over my skin, down my thigh and hitched my leg up so he could press against me. The coolness of my still wet bikini bottoms did nothing to ease the heat. If anything, the contrast made it worse .
I clutched his thick hair in my fingers, urging him lower, pulling him higher. I was a mess, crazed with so much want, that I didn’t know what I needed. I growled and bucked him off me onto his back so I could tackle the waistband of his shorts. He landed with a huff and let go of me .
Then I paused, and just because I could, I ran my palms from Beau’s shoulders slowly down to the waistband of his shorts .
He sucked in air as my hands got lower .
“Your skin is so soft here, I’ve always wondered .”
“Gracie,” he whispered and blinked at me. “What are we doing ?”
I bit my lip and tucked my fingers in his shorts, pulling down .
21
Beau
S he’s pulls my shorts down and I kick them off. Yet she makes no move to touch me .
“I don’t know, Beau,” Gracie says, her voice thin. She’s kneeling next to me, her bikini top is around her waist, her tits are pert and just begging to be devoured .
My mouth waters. My cock aches. I think if I reach up to touch her, I’ll see my hand shaking .
“Do we have to know what we’re doing?” she asks. “Let’s pretend there’s nothing else but this moment, and when we’re done we’ll pretend it didn’t happen. But let’s have this. For now. No expectations. No consequences. Just sex. Simple. Surely you know how to do that, right ?”
I sit up, sliding my hand across her jaw to her nape, tilting her head back. “It’s you, Gracie. It’s us . There’s nothing simple here. All I know is that this is probably a very, very bad idea.” I watch disappointment flare in her eyes. “An idea I have no intention of putting a stop to.” I lean in and sip at her mouth. She tastes of oranges and cheap champagne. “And if we’re just doing this once, I better make it count,” I tease .
My hand flicks open the snap on her spine, and I fling the damp bikini top away. Her tits fill my hands perfectly as I mold and weigh them, thumbs slipping back and forth across the tightened pink buds of her nipples. Her neck arches, her breathing gets erratic .
“You should know,” she says, “that I don’t orgasm easily. But this feels so good.” She gasps as I lower my head and graze her with my teeth, biting down softly, tugging. “So if … I can’t or something, you know … it’s fine. It’s still … good .”
“Shut up,” I mumble around her nipple and suck it into my mouth .
She giggles and whimpers. “That’s good. God, that’s good .”
“Keep telling me what you like, and you’ll be fine.” I switch sides. I fucking hope she will. We’re not even there yet, and I know that no woman’s orgasm will ever be as important as this one .
I’m throbbing with need. Cool air on the moisture leaking from me tells me I’m already there, or could be with not much effort at all. It’s like I’m sixteen again, getting hard every time I saw Gracie in a bikini. Rubbing one out twice a day in the shower. Ready to go off with a hair trigger. Think of something else, I tell myself .
“God, I love your tits. They are so perfect.” Not helping .
“Talking, that helps. Turns me on so much.” She pulls my head up from her chest and captures my mouth with hers .
Damn, I love kissing her. But I have goals. One of them is to peel her tiny string bikini bottoms from her body. As the material reveals the promised land, my attention is pinned. “You’re bare,” I say idiotically .
She nods. “Told you I waxed .”
“You didn’t say you waxed everything .”
“Do—do you not like it?” She begins to press her legs together, but I grab her ankle. And then the other one .
“Don’t,” I rasp. “You’re fucking perfect .”
Pressing her legs apart, I pepper kisses up the inside of her thigh. She tastes vaguely of sunscreen and body wash. I want to see every part of her, but I want to make sure she’s not embarrassed. “Hey,” I pause, and she stiffens slightly, her hand over her eyes. “Look at me. Do you not like this ?”
“Beau,” she whines. “It’s you. This … this is so intimate. Seriously, we should just be fucking right now and get it over with .”
“Get it over with? Thanks .”
“You know what I mean .”
“Darling, it’s better, down where it’s wetter, take it from me, ” I sing softly and Gwen cracks up .
“You can’t sing The Little Mermaid to me right now, I‘ll never be able to watch it again .”
“I’m serious though, do you not like this when,” the words get stuck in my throat and I force them out, “when you’ve done it with other guys.” God, the thought of someone else in my place right now makes my stomach burn .
“I do. I—but … it’s you .”
“Yeah.” My fingers drift up the inside of her thigh and back down. The skin on this part of her inner thigh is like silk. I repeat the motion and watch her belly quiver. “Yeah, it’s me. And you trust me, right? I know almost everything about you .”
“Apart from this,” she says in a rushed breath as I almost touch her then drift away .
“But I want to. So badly.” My hand drifts closer, and her hips buck. “I want to explore every part of you and taste every inch. What makes you feel good?” And I really, really need her to come. In a matter of minutes it’s become my one goal, and today isn’t over until it’s happened .
“Tease,” she gasps .
“Yep,” I agree, happy with my decision to drive her as crazy as possible, and then I stroke her with a feather light touch, not enough to provide relief. She tries to press against my hand .
My fingers come away slick, and my arousal starts coalescing in the base of my spine. I’m dangerously close to just rutting with the sheet and blowing my load. As my fingers work her, getting firmer, getting bolder, dipping inside her, she’s gripping the sheet, her head twisting one way and then the other .
I run my tongue up her thigh and she holds her breath. The closer I get, the more she tenses. I decide I can distract her and slip two fingers into her dripping center. She shudders violently, and I settle my mouth over her clit, licking and sucking in rhythmic feather light strokes .
I’m lost .
I’m lost in the taste of her. The feel of her smooth pink skin against my tongue and the salty taste .
I’m adrift in an ether that is focused on every sound she makes, every breath, every shudder, and has no sense of time or place. It could be seconds, it could be minutes, it could be more .
Her hands go from
the bedding to either side of her, to my head, and back to the bed. She grabs my shoulders, she pulls me harder and then pushes me away .
“I don’t … think … I can…” she groans as I slip two fingers in her again and press them upwards and drag them out. I repeat the motion. Again, and again .
She may not remember me stealing her Cosmopolitan magazines when she was in college, but yeah, I was paying attention. “Shut up,” I tell her. “Get out of your own head. You taste fucking amazing and I’m not going anywhere. I’m doing this for me, not you .”
And then I hear it, a light change in her breathing, a tensing that wasn’t there before. I’d never have picked it up if I hadn’t been so damned focused. I don’t want to congratulate myself too soon, but oh God, the thought she might be about to come, almost sends me over the edge .
Focus, Montgomery .
I don’t deviate once from what I’m doing. I let her pick the pressure as her hips begin to move .
“Oh God. Oh God, Beau,” she chants, her voice a low grunt. I’ve never heard such a tone to her voice. No longer embarrassed, it’s all sex and need, and I know the sound of her saying my name like this will haunt me forever. “Oh … God.” Her hips buck and pick up the pace, and suddenly my fingers are squeezed tight as she chases the feeling over the edge. “Beau,” she screams my name .
God, I want to feel her orgasm with my cock before it’s over. Before I even think, I’m poised at her entrance and I thrust inside .
“Oh fuck,” I manage, my eyes squeezing shut. “Gracie.” The feeling of being inside her is exquisite. It’s tight and hot and where I should always be, and her orgasm is still going on, fluttering around my cock, and, holy shit. “Gracie.” I’m an animal, pounding into her .
She grips me tight, holding on to me, saying my name in a whimper .
And then I’m there, the raging tide unleashed and barreling through me, and I’m emptying everything of myself into her .
* * *
Things return slowly, pricking into my consciousness. The sound of our breathing, the warmth of Gracie’s body beneath me, her legs still gripping me tight. I can feel the exerted pace of her heartbeat beneath my own and smell the earthy scent of sex mixed with her body wash .