Always & Only (Angels and Sunshine Book 1)

by Gabrielle G.

  “Sorry, sweetie, but I am so happy I caught you in your writer’s cave. It means you’re feeling better. New project, right? So are you going to share what it’s about?”

  I scowl at him. “I was, but then you showed the world my ugliness, and now I don’t know if I can ever trust you again!”

  He laughs, his eyes tearing up. “You are so fucking dramatic. Come in for a hug.” He scoops me up and embraces me, kissing the top of my head as he always does. He pulls back, wrinkling his nose. “You need a shower, you smell like teen balls. But first, give me a quick pitch of the project?”

  I frown. Speaking is always more difficult than writing for me. “Better yet, why don’t you read what I wrote so far and let me know what you think?”

  “I’d be honored!”

  Heading to the shower, I power up my phone and wonder if I should call Ian and let him know I started the project. Before I can talk myself out of it, I find his number and press call.

  “Hey, Ian, it’s Jules. Is this a good time?”

  “Hey, sunshine. It’s always a good time to hear your voice. How are you?”

  I’m not sure if I want to blush or cringe at his words. “Sunshine, huh? How did I get such a nickname?”

  There is a pause, as though he’s choosing the right answer. “Sorry, I—”

  “Ian, I don’t mind!” I don’t know if he can hear my smile, but I like him calling me something special. I would love for him to murmur those words in my ear. I’m happy to hear his voice. I missed him, even if we hung out only once. I had such a great time that day, and I really wish my heart had the strength to do it again.

  I’m not oblivious to my attraction to him. Over the last few weeks, I’ve imagined him and his perfect body being mine. I’ve let my fingers roam while fantasizing about him kissing me. I’ve come many times, thinking of his tongue lapping me. I have no problem making Ian the center of my fantasies; I just can’t fathom us being anything more.

  “Sunshine it is then. How are you today?”

  “I’m fine. I was calling, well… because I started working on the screenplay.” I sound like a high school girl hoping her crush will finally acknowledge her.

  “Amazing! What made you change your mind?”

  “Would it be cheesy if I said it was you?”

  Why did I say that? It seems his voice makes me lose the ability to be myself. I need to regroup.

  “Would it be true?” His voice is a whisper of hope and desire. All of a sudden, every part of my body tingles.

  “Yes.” I don’t want to add more. I don’t want to explain that thinking I could work with him was the little push I needed. That thinking of him has made me wet and needy for an excuse to see him. That even though I’m not ready to jump into a relationship, I want to jump his bones. I need his proximity, his voice. I need to stop thinking of him. I need to put distance between us.

  “That means a lot, Jules. I… I don’t really know what to say. I don’t think anybody ever gave me so much credit.”

  I swoon. “Right, because winning an Emmy and a Golden Globe is not getting credit for things you do. Come on, Ian, don’t be that guy.”

  We both laugh, but it feels like a promise. It feels like our voices intertwine the way our hands should. It dies slowly in an understanding silence.

  “Well, I should go and take the shower I promised Ryan I would take. It seems I smell bad.”

  He laughs, a manly, arousing sound. “Yeah… I saw the video.”

  “Oh my God, you have to stop seeing me at my worst! How do I not repulse you by now?”

  “Don’t worry, nothing about you can repulse me.”

  I think that’s the sweetest thing someone has ever told me, which shows the lack of romance in my life for the last twenty years or so. “I’ll catch you later?”

  “Of course.”

  I’m about to hang up when I hear his voice.

  “Hey, sunshine?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are we doing this?”

  My brain shoots to Jeopardy responses:

  “What is a promise of hot sex?”

  “What is penetration?”

  “What is cunnilingus?”

  “What is friends with benefits?”

  “What is making me wet?”

  “What is a mind-blowing orgasm?”

  “Yes, we are,” is my answer to a question I’m not sure the meaning of.

  As I step into the shower, my clit is throbbing. Thinking of Ian’s hands on me, I slowly lower my own to my pussy to find release. I imagine Ian kneeling in the shower, his nose smelling my arousal and his tongue making his way to my slit, licking me slowly. My fingers find my pussy, two entering me deeply while my thumb circles my clit. As heat spreads in my body, the flesh surrounding my fingers pulses, sending flutters everywhere. I move them, imagining Ian’s tongue going in and out, fucking me while his gentle beard rasps my thighs. I arch my back and pinch my nipples while my hips shift at the pace I need until my orgasm roars. I can’t hold my screams, slightly banging my head against the wall.

  I get out of the bathroom and get dressed quickly. When I appear, Ryan is waiting for me with a wicked smile. I totally forgot he was waiting in my living room, and seeing the mischievous spark in his eyes, I have no doubt he heard me.

  “Jules, Jules, Jules, I truly hope you didn’t think of me while bringing yourself pleasure,” he says before falling about with laughter.

  “Fingers are a girl’s best friend,” I answer, raising my eyebrows before laughing myself to tears.

  After ten good seconds of laughing, certainly releasing the awkwardness between us, Ryan and I lock eyes, and for a moment, I don’t recognize the man before me. His body is more chiseled than usual, his T-shirt sticking more to his body. Saying it had never occurred to me that my best friend is hot would be a lie, but I’ve never appreciated his body so thoroughly.

  “I think this is a new chapter of our friendship, me hearing you come while you imagine another man doing I don’t know what to your body. Fuck, I’m not gonna lie, it was hot! I felt like I was part of a threesome without knowing I was invited to the party.”

  I feel embarrassed, but I don’t want him to know that. “Sorry Ry, I totally forgot you were here.”

  Ryan averts my eyes before I can decipher his emotions, and he turns to my computer. I take the opportunity to size up my best friend. My eyes find his ass, and I appreciate the art of one of Hollywood’s sexiest butts.

  Shit, I don’t know what’s happening to me right now. It’s the first time my brain has put “Ryan” and “sexy” in the same sentence, and I can’t blame it on the lack of orgasm. Feeling myself blush, I try to get myself out of the clusterfuck my mind is becoming.

  “Did you have time to read what I wrote?” I need to change subjects and bring it back to a safe zone before I open doors I’m not ready to walk through.

  “I went over it quickly. It seems amazing so far. Some of your best work!”

  “You seriously think so?”

  Ryan sits and looks at me with all seriousness. “Yes, and I would love to be part of it. I haven’t read much of it yet, but I’m sure this is Oscar potential. Seriously, the way you describe the main character and how he loves this girl, I can see it!”

  This is one of the many reasons why I love this man so deeply. He’s always encouraging me and believing in me, but not in a blind way. I can always count on Ryan to tell me the truth, so if he thinks it’s Oscar-worthy, I might be on the right track. And who better to play the role of an Oscar-worthy character than an Oscar winner?

  “That’s good news, because I was thinking of you while writing the male character. Are you in?”

  After a great dinner with my bestie, where we played the game of avoiding photographers and trying not to feed the rumor mill, I finally settle in bed and read the text Ian sent earlier.

  Ian: I am glad we are doing this

  I’m still not a hundred percent sure if Ian is also referring t
o something else, but I kind of hope so. Because of that—and my light buzz—I decide to answer in a way that is really not appropriate after such a public breakup.

  Me: Are you still going to be glad when this becomes a threesome?

  The harlot in me is waking up.

  I bite my lower lip, nervously waiting for his answer. Since my shower, I’ve had trouble keeping my hormones in check. At dinner, I did take more than a look at my best friend, checking him out while he seemed oblivious, telling me about his fiancée and upcoming baby. Ryan’s saying how hot it was to hear me come while I was thinking of another man gives me a rush of pleasure I can’t ignore anymore. I can’t stop imagining Ian fucking me while Ryan can hear us, but I try hard not to touch myself again. This is the first time I’ve included Ryan in any fantasies, and to make matters worse, I’m doing it with one of his friends. Although I know nothing will ever happen between the three of us, the realization that Paul had this idea first and the media decided to print his bullshit makes me sick to my stomach.

  I’m about to backtrack when the three blinking dots finally appear on my screen! Mouth open and hands shaking, I hold my breath, praying for Ian to write faster.

  Ian: I assume Ryan said yes to the lead then? Awesome!

  If you could describe the collision of two distinct opposite emotions in one single moment, his text would sum up the Wikipedia definition. I feel relief and disappointment at the same time. Relief because I was opening a can of worms that I’m not sure I was ready to deal with, and disappointment because Ian decided he wasn’t the guy who would dump the worms on the floor but more the one who would nail the lid shut like it was a vampire’s coffin.

  My buzz is gone, the night is my worst enemy, and my eyes fill with tears without me really understanding why. As nighttime is really the worst bitch, I decide not to answer and cry myself to sleep. Because this is what any healthy forty-year-old would do!

  5 Ian

  Most of the time, I’m a perfect gentleman. I’m trying hard to keep my relationship with Julie extremely professional, even if my fantasy relationship with her is close to developing carpal tunnel syndrome in my right wrist. I don’t think I’ve jerked off so much since looking at the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition in high school.

  There is so much of my jizz being squandered in the name of Julie Legg that I’m sure you can find some vials of it on Ebay or Kijiji. I’ve done my best to keep my distance even as she calls me for every development of the script. Today, she begged me to come by because she’s having a hard time writing. But I’m trying to navigate my desire for Jules. I want to fuck her into my oblivion and forget I ever passed up her offer after Ryan’s party.

  I’m not sure why she’s calling me about her writer’s block, but apparently she’s taking some distance from Ryan. How do I know? Because he keeps asking me if I’ve heard from her. Thankfully, the media has calmed down about her, so I can park in front of her building when I show up today. When she opens the door, once again in sweatpants and a hockey T-shirt, I can see she’s stressed and kind of frantic—which of course awakens my sick bastard dick.

  “What’s wrong, sunshine?” I ask as I give her the coffee she asked me to pick up.

  “What’s wrong? Seriously? Have you ever been friends with an anxious writer?”

  So it seems my friend is having a little breakdown. I approach her slowly, like you would approach a frightened opossum tangled in your fence, and I grab her head, leveling it for our eyes to meet.

  “What’s happening? Breathe and talk to me.” Her eyes fill with tears, and I envelop her in my arms. ”Do you need me to call Ryan?”

  When you have the knight-in-shining-armor complex, you have to know when you need reinforcements, and right now, I’m not sure what’s going on and how to deal with whatever is happening. I hate that I don’t know Julie well enough to be her person, the one she needs and the one who can fix her.

  “No! I don’t need him!”

  Her answer pleases me and a smile spreads on my face. “So what’s going on?”

  I sit on the couch and set her on my lap as I’ve seen Ryan do. Wondering how he doesn’t get hard with her proximity, I readjust her so my dick can have some breathing room and bring her gently to my chest. If she feels how much I want her, she doesn’t say or show anything.

  “Talk to me, Jules.”

  She sighs heavily. “I can’t write! I miss Ryan. I miss sex. I miss life. I hate my computer. I need a vacation. I hate social media. I need coffee and chocolate. I want a puppy, and I need an orgasm.”

  Awkwaaaaard! I kind of stopped listening after Ryan and sex, jealous and wondering why they were in the same train of thought. I started listening again somewhere around puppies and orgasms and wondered what the fuck she’s thinking about.

  “So do you want to have sex with Ryan or with puppies?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Eeeww ! Are you sick? Why would I have sex with puppies?”

  I’m even more confused now. “So you would have sex with Ry?”

  “No! Of course not!” she answers, blushing hard. “Just that I miss sex, so my hormones are a little crazy, and he heard me while I was taking a shower and…” Her eyes go wide, and she’s now as red as a lobster.

  “We have a game with my sister called Push it or Drop it. When someone says something embarrassing, mortifying, emotional, hard, or serious, the other one asks, ‘Push it or drop it?’ The one who made the revelation can choose to explain themselves deeper or drop the subject.” I look at Jules, who is clearly mortified. “Jules, push it or drop it?”

  “Drop it please,” she begs.

  “One question.”

  She nods.

  “Is this why you’re avoiding Ryan?”

  “Kind of… I don’t trust myself around men these days.”

  What the fuck? What am I? Maybe I played my cards so well, trying not to push her, that I emasculated myself with my ace of spades?

  She seems to read my confusion because she adds, “It’s not the same with you. You aren’t that kind of man.”

  Because Ryan is? Since when? He’s in a perfect monogamous relationship, ready to be a dad.

  “Well, I assure you”—I push up my hips for her to feel my erection—“that I am a man, and it seems you can resist your urges around me!”

  I see the desire in her eyes but also her confusion. The woman I’ve been lusting after since I met her years ago told me she needs a release, and I know my next words will push her over the edge.

  “Do you remember what I told you the night of Ryan’s party?”

  She nods.

  “Do you remember me telling you that I wasn’t saying no because I didn’t want you, but because you weren’t ready?”

  She nods again.

  I shift her so she straddles me, “Are you ready now? Are you ready for me to taste your pussy? Are you ready for my dick and fingers to be inside you? Are you ready for me to—”

  I don’t have time to finish my sentence before she brings her lips to mine, rubbing herself on my length while nipping my lips. My hands find her back and our kiss deepens, tongues meeting for the first time and not being gentle about it. Tasting her, I find where I belong. Coffee, caramel, chocolate, and mint swirl while I try to find the taste I’ll crave from now on. I grow harder as her hands roam in my hair and she bites my bottom lip. Tilting my head back, she nips my neck, then her hands find their way under my shirt.

  Mine find a slit of skin between her T-shirt and sweatpants. She continues dry humping me, and my dick is so hard, it hurts. I need to open my jeans to give it more room, but I slide my fingers in her panties and press gently into her pussy. I play a little, wanting a reaction from her. She moans and continues moving her hips for me to find better access. I push a finger into her, and with my other hand, I yank up her T-shirt to discover her breasts. Pushing her bra away, I bring my mouth to her hard nipple and roll it between my teeth while my tongue flicks the tip.

  S
he moans even more and, with a sigh, calls me Paul. The sweet music of desire in my brain scratches like an old vinyl. I freeze, remove my hands from her panties, put all the pieces of clothes back in place, and adjust my not-so-hard-anymore dick before I pick her up under her armpits and set her on the couch.

  She looks bewildered. “What? I thought we were doing this!”

  I stand, trying to breathe, and think of my next move. I could have fucked her even if she called me by another man’s name, but I don’t really want her thinking about her ex while we have sex. True, she might not really be thinking about him, but this is still awkward. I don’t want her to be mortified by her words, but I want her to know that maybe she isn’t one hundred percent ready yet. In a way, I regret answering her text when she said she needed me today.

  “You called me Paul, sunshine,” I tell her in the sweetest way possible. Maybe another man would have shut up and fucked her. Seeing her face, I should have shut up.

  “Oh my God! Fuck! I am such a moron! I’m so sorry, Ian.” Her head is in her hands, hiding her face from me.

  I crouch in front of her and peel her fingers from her face so I can see her eyes, but it’s impossible to decipher what she’s thinking. “It’s okay, sunshine, not a big deal, right?”

  She goes to the door with determination, opens it, and waits.

  “Come on, Jules, can we talk about it?” I say, walking toward her.

  She shakes her head.

  “Jules, I don’t mind it that much. I don’t want to take advantage of you if you’re not ready.” At this point, I think I’m a freaking masochist. My balls and dick hate me and I can’t blame them.

  “Ask me your question, Ian!”

  “What? Push it or drop it?”

  I don’t have to ask to know the answer. If she were ready to push it, the door wouldn’t be open, her eyes wouldn’t tell me to get the fuck out, and my dick would have hope.

  “Yes!” She holds her chin high, looking at me with anger. “Drop it! Drop it! Drop it! That is what I asked, and you didn’t! Which is how I jumped you and how we’re now in this situation. So drop it! Now go away please!”