Can't Match This: A Friends To Lovers Romantic Comedy

by Xavier Neal

  After I agree to follow him to his mansion, I drive myself over to his place knowing the only reason we’re not carpooling is because I need to leave fuck early to get ready for my interview in the morning.

  The two of us are barely across the threshold when his mouth captures mine. Its feverish plunge receives a pleased sigh followed by my hands flying to undo his tie. Our actions increase in frenzy during our pursuit to the closest room, leaving clothes behind like a trail of breadcrumbs in some filthy fairytale.

  His tongue twists and tangles.

  His touch caresses and claws.

  His thirst is quenched and immediately unquenched.

  We tumble onto the couch, barely parting in the process. Straddling him isn’t even a choice at this point. It’s grown into something darker. Needier. More urgent and uncontrolled. I can’t command my body to decrease its crazed speed nor can I demand it slow down to enjoy the delicious descent onto his dick. With my grip anchored into the back of his neck, I impetuously sink until I know he can’t go in any further. Groans of approval barely have time to do more than fester in the back of his throat. My knees dig into the cold leather of the couch for leverage as I lift myself back to the tip to repeat the submerging action. His hands cup my ass roughly to provide assistance. They firmly flex to guide me by the globes to the ravenous rate we’re both drawn to. Up and down, and up and down my body bounces like my knees are on springs. The continuous acceleration has my pussy rapidly pulsing, grasping for more friction. Begging for deeper penetration. Pleading to pull the impending orgasm out of the shadows. I moan his beloved mixture of English and Spanish against his lips only to receive bites in return. Each word that slips off my tongue is ravished by his or cut short by his teeth nibbling away the sentence.

  Nibbling away my sanity.

  To my surprise, Gideon doesn’t take over the situation with harsh thrust after thrust. Instead, he allows me to brazenly buck and recklessly roll every which direction I need in order to feed the wet, hot burn. I press myself against him so tightly there’s a twinge of pain from my hard nipples being crushed. The small salacious ache makes me wetter, and Gideon’s cock swells the second it notices.

  His mouth locates to the crook of my neck where he scrapes his teeth along my lifeline.

  “Oh, Dios mío.” I squeeze my eyes shut, shuddering through the sensation. “Si, Papi. Si…”

  Gideon’s growl is more feral than I’m accustomed to. “Fuck, yes. Say that shit again.”

  When there’s a delay in my fulfilling the demand, he delivers a swift swat to my ass to steal it out of me. “Si, Papi.”

  “That’s right,” he sexually grumbles against my skin. “I’m your fuckin’ Papi, baby.” Another quick spank lands on the area that’s still sore from the last one. “Your fucking perfect match.” He smacks me once again, this time receiving a mewl for more. “Your fucking everything.”

  The proclamation attached to the popping causes me to explode. My pussy throbs while my body temerariously thrashes. Screams cascade over us as wetness from my orgasm does the same to his nuts. Gideon releases a holler of my name seconds before searing ropes of cum splash inside of me. Our releases aggressively amalgamate like they’re trying to permanently cement us together.

  We’ve been bonded by our souls much longer than we have been by our bodies.

  I used to think just most of Gideon was enough. That I could survive on our unbreakable friendship alone.

  I was wrong.

  I was so beautifully wrong.

  There’s an unfathomable sense of completion in my life since we’ve shared this part of ourselves. And it’s a completion I have no doubt I will get to experience for the rest of my existence.

  Chapter Eleven

  Gideon

  Lenny’s phone alarm shrieks from the nightstand beside her.

  She stretches over to shut it off, yet remains in bed primarily due to my arm keeping her pinned in place. “Buenas mañanas, baby.”

  Her Spanish registers to my lower brain first. I lazily roll my stirring cock along the crack of her ass and nuzzle my scruff against her neck. “It will be a great morning in just a couple minutes.”

  Lenny tosses me an inquisitive look over her shoulder. “Have you forgotten what today is?”

  Our gazes meet, and my hand snakes over to softly stroke her side. “Of course not.”

  “Then you know I have to leave.”

  “Yes, but everyone knows the best way to go into an interview is as relaxed as possible.”

  “And you really think I have time for that?”

  “I’ll make it quick.” I wink.

  She giggles and wiggles. “Not too quick. I didn’t set my alarm early to have to fake an orgasm before the interview.”

  A mixture of mirth and joy thrum through my stare. “First of all, you’ll never have to fake an orgasm again. You’ll always get one from me whether it takes me two minutes or two hours.”

  Lenny helplessly whimpers.

  “Second of all, did you, Lenny ‘Five Minutes Late Is Close Enough’ Marston, actually set an alarm early?”

  She slowly nods. “Your fault.”

  “My fault?”

  “Do you not see the better adult I’ve become? Using calendars and charging my phone and now…early alarms!” Her faked outrage is spoken with a smirk. “I mean what’s next? Taking vitamins?”

  “You really should be taking vitamins.”

  Her eye roll is immediate.

  “I’ll get you the gummy ones at the store later, so you think you’re eating candy instead.” My hand glides off her side and onto my cock, positioning it against her entrance. “But for now, how about we start your day with a little vitamin D?” I rub the head of my dick up and down between her lips. “Warm up those vocal chords with a few screams of my name?”

  Lenny’s breath hitches at the idea, and I push the tip inside just enough to tease her. Pouty puffs are set free, yet a smug smirk crawls onto my face.

  It’s intoxicating to know the one person you want like an antidote to a fatal disease you didn’t know you had wants you just as fucking badly.

  Each shallow rock results in wetness whirling around my cock, whispering for me to come in a little deeper.

  Push a little harder.

  Make her arch a little more.

  The erotic taunting gets the better of me before I can stop it. In a flawless movement, I lift Lenny’s leg up and thrust sharply inside. Her head hits the pillow at the same time her body bows backwards to meet the blow. A moan so soft it sounds more like a spiritual hymn than a moan hypnotizes my hips into moving at a much slower pace than either of us are used to. Our unusual change in speed tempts me to shut my eyes and get lost in the scorching sea my cock is being bathed in, but Lenny’s weak whimpers win my attention. I intensely watch the manner in which ripples of pleasure spread throughout her system. Observe the beautiful way her full tits bounce each time our bodies crash. Groan at her bottom lip trembling in harmony with the lower set. Her heaving chest syncs to the rhythm being delivered by my dick, and adoration overwhelms my senses. Every breath taken is only enough to feed the energy it needs to continuously hit her to the hilt. My stare becomes pasted to the point of attachment where her pussy is in the process of stretching over and over again to welcome me. To worship me. The sloppy sonance of her soaking state sings like an anthem my soul is devoted to playing for the rest of my goddamn life. Juices drench my tightening sack while sweat builds in the crease of my brow. Despite her obvious desire for me to move faster, I maintain the lowkey tempo, loving the different connection we’re displaying.

  Loving that we can make love.

  Loving that we’re in love.

  I groan louder as the emotions invoked over having everything I’ve always wanted in my life grow stronger.

  Amazing job.

  Amazing house.

  Amazing car.

  Even more amazing wife.

  Well…soon to be wife.

&nb
sp; That ring will be on her finger tonight.

  Lenny links her glazed gaze to mine. “Te amo mucho, Papi.”

  The proclamation takes me by surprise though it shouldn’t.

  This is who she is.

  She’s not the overthinker that I am. Not the overplanner. Not the one who has to calculate the likeliness of having the other person say it back, then test the waters with love-related phrases. She lets her feelings guide her. The moment be seized. Life lived.

  My forehead drops against her, and I whisper, “Say it again, baby.”

  “Te amo mucho.” Her pussy starts to swell. “Siempre te he amado.” Warning quivers of her orgasms increase around my dick. “And I have, Gideon. I’ve always loved you, and I always will.”

  The weight of her words combined with the pressure of her pussy pull an orgasm out of me at the same time they do her. “Fuck, I love you too.”

  There’s no time to chastise myself for the lack of couth or romance missing in my response.

  Our mouths crash together, tongues imprisoning one another as if terrified this moment is too good to be true. Sweltering surges spill inside, and Lenny’s pussy unabashedly gorges on the reward. Trapped moans are released in tandem while we tremble with such momentum the bed threatens to collapse.

  Obviously spent, we crumple into a twisted, tangled ball yet leave our lips locked to allow our earlier announcements the chance to be wordlessly repeated.

  I’m not entirely sure how I let her slip out of my arms to get dressed to leave.

  I’m even less sure how I didn’t get out of bed to walk her down to her car.

  And I’m absolutely fucking clueless on how I let myself go back to sleep instead of getting up to work on BJ’s deal.

  It isn’t until the sound of my doorbell is pinging around my bedroom that I make any real effort to get the day started.

  Yes. Laziness is unlike me. But, all things considered, maybe it’s okay to occasionally indulge in it. Why should I be the only asshole on the planet who doesn’t get to sleep in once in awhile? Why should I fucking sacrifice countless hours of sex and sleep to stress over some teenager who is more concerned with getting his cock touched than he is his future career? Why is it so wrong to swap sitting at my kitchen table for staying snug in the space that still smells like my woman? And why am I not surprised she smells like fresh tortillas?

  The doorbell rings again receiving a disapproving grunt in return.

  Unsure who it is since I don’t recall inviting anyone over, I slip over to the dresser to grab a pair of sleep pants. I scrub my face on the way over and do a breath check in case it is someone slightly important.

  Doubt it is. It’s probably Mick wondering why my ass isn’t in the office today…Like work is the only thing that matters in my life.

  It doesn’t.

  And tonight, Lenny will have no doubt about that little fact.

  As soon as the door is open, the attractive woman with extremely light brown skin clutching multiple grocery bags lets out a heavy sigh. “Please, tell me you’re Gideon Lucas.”

  I lazily lean one arm against the frame. “I am.”

  “Perfect! I am horrible at following GPS directions, so when you didn’t immediately answer I was worried I had the wrong house.”

  “Pretty sure you still have the wrong house.” My head tilts to the side in suspicion. “I have no idea who you are.”

  “Natalie.”

  The name rings no bells.

  “We met through Connect…”

  My eyes begin to bulge.

  “I know you most likely only saw my profile picture once, which wasn’t exactly super helpful since it wasn’t just me in the photo, but that’s what I get for letting my crazy, older, hotter sister set the damn thing up for me. Anyway, we’re supposed to be having brunch together today.”

  “Wait. Wait. Wait.” I stand up completely straight and fold my arms across my chest. “Did you not get my email?”

  “Don’t check my personal email when I’m out of town for work. There’s rarely any time. Between buying fresh ingredients and dealing with different kitchen staffs, not to mention clients, I really don’t answer anything that’s not work-related.”

  I can’t help smiling. “I completely understand.”

  Which is probably one reason Lenny thought this match was originally a good idea.

  After stealing another glance at the heavy grocery bags in her arms, I transfer most of the bags from her possession to mine. “Come on in, and I’ll explain everything.”

  Natalie follows me back into the house, shutting the door behind her. We cross over to the kitchen in silence, although, I know I should say something.

  Do I offer her gas money for what she unnecessarily spent?

  Is it her fault for not checking her emails?

  Am I still required to let her make me a meal?

  We plop the bags on the empty counter space, and she compliments, “This kitchen is beautiful. Everything in it is perfect. The stainless-steel appliances. The crisp modern décor. The dream stove…And don’t forget the easy layout for a real cook to work flawlessly in.” Her eyes meet mine. “Are you big on cooking?”

  My back braces against the island. “I have to be. I’m the only one who typically does it.”

  If I’m honest with myself I’m not sure that Lenny can’t so much as she has mastered the art of manipulating me into it.

  “Well, that may change…”

  Her sly grin sparks me to state, “The email I sent you was to cancel.”

  “Oh, well, then this is mega awkward.” She tries to bat away the redness coloring her cheeks. “Did you completely cancel or reschedule?”

  “Cancel.”

  “Was it something I said or did or somehow managed to spook you in the one email we swapped?”

  “No. Not at all. To be totally honest, my girlfriend set this up-”

  “More mega awkward,” she mumbles.

  “That sounds bad. Let me start at the beginning,” I rush to explain. “Lenny, my girlfriend or more accurately, the woman I’m going to ask to marry me today-”

  “Super mega awkward.”

  “-works for Connect. She actually works in the matching department. She’s one of the people they use to read the profiles and declare some of the matches.”

  “That’s not all computer-based?”

  “To my understanding, a computer makes the initial matches and then actual humans with a brain double check to assure success.”

  Natalie nods her understanding, bobbed haircut brushing against her face.

  “Unfortunately, her small stint in this position kinda inflated her ego to an obnoxious level. She’s not good at matchmaking. Like at all. Like should’ve never been hired level of bad. She doesn’t seem to understand that just because you’re a great therapist doesn’t equate to being a great matchmaker.”

  “I could kinda see the correlation.”

  “In ways so can I, but this whole matchmaker bullshit was more or less her way of hiding from a horrific experience. I wasn’t fully aware of that when we made our deal-”

  “Deal?”

  “The deal was, she had seven dates to find me a ‘match’ aka a woman I wanted to go on a second date with or she had to take a job, a real job, a real job in her field that brought in a salary with benefits as opposed to a paycheck that barely covered rent. What she didn’t know was it was an impossible task because for the last fifteen years of our lives, I’ve been in love with her.”

  Natalie’s expression softens.

  “I don’t know how to explain it, but the moment I saw her do the Hammer Time dance in the middle of a fucking frat party, I just knew she was it for me.” My shrug is small. “Sadly, she’s only gotten better at that dance as time has ticked on.” We exchange a couple chuckles. “I agreed to this asinine situation simply to do what her stubborn ass has a habit of not letting me do, which is help her. Really help. And by help, I mean reminding her that just because she
had one setback doesn’t mean she needed to give up. I wanted her to see that sometimes we just have to switch visions of a dream, not necessarily the dreams themselves.”

  “That’s quite profound.”

  “Thanks.” Another friendly grin appears. “I guess, I just needed her to get out of her own way and was willing to do whatever it took for that to happen. Thinking back on it, we both needed to get out of our own ways to see the relationship we had been nurturing for over a decade was much more than just friendship. My only regret, aside from the obvious of waiting this long to get the balls to give us a shot, is the innocent women I went out with in the process. I knew they never had a shot, but they didn’t. You didn’t. And it was wrong to put any of you in this position.”