The Casanova Experience: A Friends to Lovers Romance (Ballers Book 2)

by Mickey Miller

  I don’t know what came over me in that moment. Whatever this was, this friends with benefits, this ambiguous amigovios or friends with benefits situation was, Chandler did care about me.

  “Hey,” I whispered softly. He turned and looked at me curiously. My heart beat like a drum. I’d never been a girl to make a move like this, but with him, I knew it’d be all right. I grabbed hold of Chandler’s neck, leaned across the table, and planted my lips on his. He didn’t see it coming at first, but soon he was reciprocating, driving his lips into mine and palming the back of my head.

  Finally, he released me and nodded. “Wow,” was all he said.

  “Yes, wow,” I echoed.

  Chandler flipping out on me was actually a fledgling attempt to show me how much he cared about me. He accepted me, depression and all. I wish I had told him back then, but sometimes, growing up and finding the right moment was what mattered. I was beyond ecstatic that we’d finally had this conversation, the one that had haunted me for years and wounded me too but Chandler understood. Yes, there were things to figure out but the fact that he’d made the first move meant a lot. It was a huge step for him and I had to meet him halfway.

  “You honestly haven’t been taking your pills since you got here. Not one?” he asked, raising a brow.

  I leaned in and nodded. “Not one.”

  “Okay,” he said, leaning back, but still had this worried look. “But you should still keep taking them if you’re supposed to, Amy. It’s not safe to stop cold-turkey.”

  Normally, I’d be irritated; but from Chandler, it was different somehow. I nodded. “You’re right but…” How could I tell him without sounding ridiculous that he, Chandler, had the same effect on my depression that my meds did? Like he had back in college? It’d been three days I’d been completely drug free, and no side effects like I got when I missed even a day. “Look, my doctor and I are trying different things so that I can safely quit all my meds. Eventually. And I’m back to taking low dosages of all three. Right now, I only take Prozac every day and use Xanax and Ambien when I need it. So not taking them is less of a shock…”

  He considered my words then nodded, a little less worried. He leaned forward and gave me a kiss on my forehead then peered down at my face. “So you’re sure you’re feeling good?”

  I laughed. “Yes. It’s good. Very good. Actually, I was just thinking this morning—I feel the most clear-headed in…years.”

  And it’s all because of you, Chandler Spiros, I wanted to say, but couldn’t. Because Casanovas didn’t like clingy girls.

  Twenty-Three

  Chandler

  After our talk, we left the museum. I lost track of time and I’m pretty sure Amy did too. After that, we meandered around the city, checking out some of our old haunts. I felt thankful I had a rare Saturday off-day so we could spend time together.

  As we walked along the marina, we held hands. Ironically, for all the girls I’d dated in my past, holding their hand was usually something I didn’t feel close enough with them to do. It was an intimate gesture, and one I didn’t hand out freely.

  And the one girl who I felt close enough to that I wanted to hold hands with was the same girl who would be leaving in under a week. I looked over at Amy, her serene expression, the easiness and familiarity. In the past, I would have dodged and ducked anything too deep but I found myself wanting to hold her closer to me then merely holding her hand.

  In a week, my life would be back to normal. Did I want that? Not really. Right now, things were still simple.

  I avoided thinking about her inevitable departure. It’s what I did well, avoid anything that really mattered to me or had the potential to be. I didn’t need a psych major to know why. I knew all too well. Ever since Amy came tumbling back into my life, a very simple albeit meaningless one, we’d discussed my biological father, my family, her depression, some concept of a relationship between us and had our first fight. For me, that was a whirlwind in all things serious that I hated dealing with.

  I never had serious conversations let alone serious moments with a woman I was with, period. But with Amy, we’d always talked about personal, intimate details about ourselves. Back then, it’d been refreshing, when it started out as me just trying to get her into bed. Over the course of our time together, I’d realized that Amy wasn’t going to go into the box that I put most women in. She kept defying my expectations and challenging me in ways that sometimes left me baffled, confused and uncertain about myself and everything about my life. Now, years later, same kind of conversations but now that we were a little bit older, maybe not any wiser, but we had history. And right now, I felt the weight of that history. The longest meaningful relationship I’d ever had was with this woman sitting next to me. That long gap between us didn’t matter. Some histories could never be forgotten or swept under a rug or put in a neat box to be left on the shelf to collect dust. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, though.

  Hours later, we stopped at a late night corner restaurant and ordered some falafels. After we ate, we walked towards an open-air plaza while we people watched as the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the cityscape of Barcelona.

  Amy sat on the bench close to me, and she could not have looked more fuckable if she tried. Actually, the fact that she didn't have to try to look fuckable made her extra fuckable.

  "I like this," she said, smiling. Our legs touched while we sat.

  I looked around then back at her. We weren’t really doing anything, just sitting. “What do you mean by ‘this’?” I asked.

  "Let's see." She held out her hand and started to count out numbers on her fingers. "One, I love being in Barcelona again. Two, I love being with you. Three, I love falafels, and they are the best here of any city I’ve ever lived in. Four, I love that I know who I am going home with, and five..."

  She trailed off, and I could see a tear run down her cheek that she quickly rubbed off. I took advantage of the moment to lean across the table and catch her off guard for a strong kiss, which she reciprocated by bringing her mouth hard toward mine. I wrapped my hand around her head and pulled her closer to me, swirling my tongue in her mouth, wanting to taste every inch of her. Finally we pulled away to our respective sides of the table. Amy's chest was rising and falling deeply when she pulled away. Her hand lingered on my wrist. She wiped another tear from her face.

  I smiled. "Squirt, why are you crying?"

  She sniffled and started laughing. "It's stupid."

  "It's not stupid."

  "How do you know? You don't even know what it is."

  "I know because whatever neuron connections made in that pretty little head of yours can't possibly be stupid."

  She began to speak, her tone serious. Her grip on my forearm tightened. "Being here with you, this week, I really am enjoying myself. Like when I went to get coffee for you this morning, and I was smiling, thinking about bringing it back to you."

  A heat radiated through my chest. Coffee this morning had been a small but appreciated gesture. I loved how much of a pleaser Amy was. It made me want to reciprocate however I could.

  "That's…what you feel stupid about? Enjoying yourself this week?" I asked. “With me?” I tried not to make her sound silly, but of course we were fucking enjoying ourselves. We were a fantastic duo.

  "That's only half of it. I guess, I feel so silly because I have a great life back in Chicago by anyone's standards. My parents paid for my college. I live in a great part of the city. My friend and I are starting our own company. My parents are so proud of me for being successful and independent and making it on my own. But I think if I'm being honest with myself, I've felt a sort of nagging emptiness over the last few years. A voice that told me I would never be totally happy."

  For as much shit as Amy and I gave each other, it was weird to hear her being so serious and thoughtful, which meant I needed to pay attention. "So…Barcelona cured your depression?" I concluded.

  She chuckled, glancing up at me. "Goddamn it,
Chandler! No! How hard do I have to spell this out? You help my depression. I love being with you. I like doing things that make you happy for no reason. I've never felt like that before with a guy. I like cooking for you so when you come home from your games you don't have to have an empty house. I like being there for you after your good games and bad ones. I like…you. I like being with you.”

  A wave of emotion washed over me, inexplicable and unfamiliar feelings that I rarely entertained.

  She watched me, waiting for an answer, a response. I raked my hand through my hair. "Amy, wow. I don't know what to say."

  "How about say that I'm not crazy?” she asked, grabbing my hand, and grinning. “For thinking that I don't want this time to end."

  “You’re not crazy,” I said, and meant it.

  She smiled and rested her head against my shoulder.

  I blindly watched people pass by, wondering what I’d be doing if Amy wasn’t here. And the thought of that made me sad too, and I was happy that she was here. I felt a closeness, something that connected us on a level I’d never had with anyone else. It didn’t scare me, but I wasn’t sure what to do with it, her words that had more power then she realized.

  The sun had been down for a solid few hours and a chill had overtaken a nice, sunny day. Amy had left my apartment in such a hurry that she’d brought nothing but her purse. I got up, pulling her easily up onto her feet. She smiled, a little sleepily but it was cute, and she must have been quite relaxed.

  “I don’t know what it is about you Amy,” I said, pulling her into my body. For warmth, because she was shivering. Her arm immediately looped around my waist. “You make me want to do things I’ve never done. Experience things that I haven’t.”

  She smirked, glancing up at me. “Oh yeah? And what haven’t you experienced? You look like you might have an idea right now.”

  In fact, I did and thought back to a fantasy of hers she’d told me, and I intended on wasting no time in complying with it.

  "Follow me." I smirked, and wrapped my arm around her entire body, landing it on her left asscheek as we walked.

  “Remember that church fantasy of yours?”

  “No. You wouldn’t...” Her eyes went wide as we strode quickly through one of the gothic cobblestone pedestrian walkways, hidden in the backstreets of historical Barcelona.

  “I would.” I took my hand out from being on top of her clothes and slipped it onto the raw skin of her ass, which was hot to the touch. I ran a finger around to her hipbone. I didn't need to reach lower to know what was happening between her legs.

  "Fuck Amy, you're wet already," I stated. I could feel her quivering at my touch.

  "Yes," she cooed, and that word was all it took.

  I switched from 'find a cab' mode to 'fuck it, we are going to find a place to do it outside' mode. Even though the city was big and heavily populated, there were still pockets of secluded areas—if you knew where to look. I veered northward, the marina at our backs and moved us inland.

  The Gothic Quarter was the oldest part of Barcelona and a major tourist attraction because of its medieval past—and lots of old, Spanish, Catholic churches. On a Saturday night, even this late, it was packed but only specific placas were occupied. The area had miles of narrow, labyrinthine pathways that only the locals knew well and I knew exactly where to go. I looked at Amy. She gave me one of her curious looks but seemed to be going along without resistance. This was going to be interesting.

  "Almost there," I said, and managed to take my hand off her ass for a minute so I could grab her hand and lead her quickly to a spot I’d visited when I first moved back to Barcelona.

  "Where are you taking me?" She smiled.

  "I haven't been to church in a while. Have you?" I smirked and winked at her. I swear I saw the air go out of her when I said those words.

  "Oh God. We're going to…right here? Oh God." She moaned.

  The few streetlights gave us just enough glow that we would make out the outline of the steeple of the church that we were passing by. The old-fashioned rock wall looked like it was honestly made in the year 1400.

  "But how will we be able to get in…"

  Amy trailed off as she saw me back up and took a running start to get onto the brick. Using my arms, I pulled my body up and looked into the courtyard. It was not a huge space, but it had plenty of room for what we were about to do. I smiled as I flipped my body up and around the brick wall, then reached my arm down. She immediately figured out what my strategy, and reached her arms straight up. I wrapped my hands around her forearms and began pulling her up.

  I paused as I held Amy in the air, realizing that I had a perfect view of her cleavage. My boner pressed against my jeans and into the rock. Rock on rock.

  "What are you looking at?" she whispered.

  "Your boobs."

  She rolled her eyes a little. "Will you just pull me up? Someone walking by might see us."

  “You don't have to tell me twice.”

  I pulled her body up, then jumped down into the inside of the courtyard. "Jump." I said, smiling.

  "Catch me with your mouth, please," she whispered as she licked her lips.

  I looked up and smacked my lips. "You know I can see everything between your legs right now?"

  She jumped, unafraid, and I caught her easily, but didn't put her down. Instead, I held her in my arms, enjoying the feel of her bare thighs on my forearms as her skirt ran even farther up her ass. Her eyes caught mine before I set her down on the ground. She let out a breath of air as she hit the ground.

  When she turned around, her brown eyes had a fire in them that even I hadn't seen, burning even more than they were yesterday. I didn't think it was possible that I could want someone more after hooking up with them all week, but that's how I felt with Amy.

  Her eyes spurring me on, I grabbed her hips and backed her into the brick wall of the old gothic church. I interlocked the fingers of both my hands with Amy's and spread them out to either side of her body.

  "I'm going to make a religious woman out of you yet," I whispered.

  "If you fuck me as good as you have so far, I'll believe anything you want me to," she whispered back. I bit into her neck greedily lapping up her skin, running my tongue down to her shoulder. "On the other hand, you make me believe that anything is possible, Chandler."

  Fuck me if she didn't know exactly how to egg me on. I pressed my body harder into hers, and she moaned as my kisses trailed down her white v-neck shirt. My greedy mouth licked between her breasts, wanting to taste her nipples. A wave of heat passed over my body and without thinking, I grabbed either sides of the ‘v’ of her shirt and before I could stop my hands, ripped her shirt right off, revealing Amy's lack of bra. Her mouth already open, she expelled a nasally moan before staring at me.

  "Chandler. You ripped my shirt."

  "The better to lick you, my darling," I growled in a low voice as I ran my tongue between her exposed breasts. She arched her back and palmed my head, massaging my scalp as I dragged my tongue down her stomach before reaching for her black skirt.

  "You better get this off too before it ends up ripped like your shirt."

  "Oh God, Chandler," she wiggled out of the short thing, revealing her lack of panties to me again.

  "You, Amy, are a very dirty girl." I smiled up at her from my knees.

  "What are you going to do about it?" she challenged, through glazed eyes.

  "I'm going to shut you up so you'll have to stop thinking for a few minutes."

  "I'm always thinking. You know I can't shut my brain off."

  I gave her one last glance before I tasted her. "We'll see about that." My tongue spiraled down the skin of her hips until my mouth landed between her trembling legs. The angle was awkward, but nothing would stop me from tasting her sweetness. She arched her hips forward aiding me, I lifted up one leg and held it over my shoulder as I swirled my tongue on her clit. She leaned back against the brick wall to balance herself. My mouth wrapped arou
nd her wet slit, sucking and tonguing and lapping her up.

  "For the love of God, that feels amazing," she whispered.

  My mouth busy, I couldn't respond, but the fact that Amy was still forming coherent words disappointed me.

  I was going to make her stop thinking.

  She ground her hips hard against my mouth in quick shakes, my tongue finding the rhythm with her. My hand cupped her ass. I noticed she was standing on just the one foot, on her tiptoe, her leg shaking. I grabbed hold of that leg and swept it onto my shoulder to join the other, so the only thing she had to grab onto was the brick wall behind her.

  Oh, and my mouth. My mouth was anchoring her down. I almost forgot that little fact.

  While continuing to flick her clit with my tongue, I hooked a finger inside her. She cried out. She ground against me with her pussy and my mouth fought back.

  I hooked two fingers inside her. She screamed so loud I prayed that the church didn't have a priest inside it. Because if he came out and saw what Amy and I were doing…hell, I don't know. He'd probably want to rescind his celibacy vow and join us.

  But Amy was all mine.

  My weird fantasy in the middle of going down on Amy, fingers inside her, brought me more inspiration to my fingers and tongue. How long had I waited for this moment? Fantasized about doing something this dirty, this laced with heat and emotion with Amy? And here we were at long last.

  I licked and flicked and fingered her and she let out an indecipherable noise that sounded a little like a screaming kid trying to yell English and Spanish at the same time.

  It was the hottest noise I'd ever heard.

  Inspired, with my other hand, I grabbed hard on Amy's breast. She screamed again and came like I'd never seen or felt her before. She spurted out onto my face and I greedily lapped her up as she orgasmed for what seemed like minutes.

  Finally she came back down to earth, her chest puffing. "Oh. My. Fucking. God. Chandler. Chandler." She spoke each word as a sentence between breaths.