by J. S. Scott
I sat up, waving off the dizziness that followed the sudden move. His pain cut as deeply as my own. I wished there were something, anything I could do to ease it. “I’m so sorry, Graham.”
He shook his head. We sat there quietly for several long minutes. “So, who was it?”
“Who was who?”
“The guy you slept with?” he asked as if it were a casual question about the weather.
“Tim Beller. My lab partner last year. Why do you say guy like you know it was only one? For all you know I might have slept with everyone I met at college. Men. Women. You don’t know.”
He chuckled and met my eyes again. “I know.”
That was a kick to my pride. “Because you think I couldn’t find more than one person who’d sleep with me?” The expression in his eyes changed, at least I thought they did, his face was a little blurry.
“You’re beautiful, Lauren, just in your own way.”
I rolled back against the arm of the chair and covered my face with my arm. Not even beer goggles could change the way he saw me. “Ouch.”
He tugged on my foot. “Stop.”
“You stop.” I pulled my foot away, running it over his cock by accident. It wasn’t erect, but that wasn’t a surprise. “I’m not insecure—I’m realistic. Men don’t lust after women with a higher IQ than they have. And before you try to cheer me up about that, I’m okay with it. Sex wasn’t that great anyway.”
“Then you slept with a douche.”
“Or a hundred of them. Maybe a thousand.”
“Lauren, look at me.”
I lowered my arm and did. “When you meet the right guy—and you will one day—tell him the truth. He won’t care if it was a hundred or none. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad about who you are.”
Yes, there was a slur to his speech, but his words rang clear in my head. His smile was so beautiful I sat up so I could see it better. Flutters skidded through my stomach and filled me with a yearning I tried to suppress. This wasn’t someone I needed to lie to. This was Graham. “One. Just one guy. I didn’t want to graduate from another college still a virgin.”
Graham let out an audible breath. “It’ll get better.”
“I hope so.” I remembered my first time and suddenly it was funny. “At least he was quick.”
Graham groaned. “TMI.”
Okay, either it was the funniest story ever and had to be retold or I was drunk. Either way, I couldn’t stop myself from sharing. “I was so disappointed I went home and masturbated just to make sure all my parts were still in working condition.” I laughed as a joke came to me. “They were and I remembered a perk to sex with my hand—no morning after awkwardness, although there was a sense of jealousy from my other appendages.”
He turned away again.
I moved to lay my leg back over his lap, grazing my foot over his cock for a second time and froze. Whoa. Unless I imagined it, he was sporting a huge boner. For me? I double checked by easing my calf over it.
He grabbed my leg to still it. “Don’t, Lauren.”
Don’t what? Marvel that something I had done had turned him on? How could I not take a moment to bask in how it felt?
My breath caught in my throat. Sex would change our relationship but everything was already different. Even if he said it wasn’t—this night felt like our goodbye.
He’d never forgive Jack. Never trust him again. How would that not take him from me as well? I couldn’t close that door without tasting his kiss just once.
“Graham?”
He turned slowly toward me, looking tortured as he did. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m holding on by a thread here. You matter to me, Lauren. I don’t want to hurt you.”
The desire in his eyes was what moved me onto my knees beside him. He’d never looked at me that way before and it was mesmerizing. I ran my hand over the strong muscles of his chest. His heart was beating wildly. For me. There was so much I wanted to say, but the words didn’t come. Instead I leaned forward and kissed him.
He dug his hands into my hair and kissed me back roughly. There was no tenderness, no teasing. He took my mouth, claimed my tongue. This wasn’t the vanilla foreplay I’d experienced, but I wasn’t afraid. I wanted to be his even if it was only for one night.
He lifted me so I straddled his lap, then he tore away the front of my shirt. Cotton ripped beneath his strength. He unsnapped my bra and threw it on the floor. My breasts fit perfectly into his hands. I grasped his shoulders to steady myself as he kissed his way down my neck and to my breasts. He tongued one breast while he kneaded the other with his hand. I arched and moved my pelvis forward over his bulging cock.
His movements were angry, impatient, yet my body responded. He kissed his way back to my mouth. I met his passion with my own. As we kissed I unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it aside, then rubbed my bare breasts across his chest, loving how it drove him wild.
He fisted a hand in my hair and pulled my face back from his. His breathing was as ragged as mine. “Get away from me, Peanut. You could be anyone tonight. I wouldn’t care.”
His words had cut through me, but they didn’t make me want to leave him. He was pushing me away but only because he wanted to protect me. I didn’t need protecting, not from him. I wanted to experience him and to comfort him. It was an irresistible combination.
“I want this, Graham,” I whispered. I’ve always wanted you. I kissed him before he had a chance to say more. I didn’t want to talk—I wanted to feel.
He ground his mouth against mine in a kiss that was somewhere between a punishment and a pleasure. It blew every kiss I’d ever had out of the water. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was years of fantasizing about being with him, but I was all in.
He eased me back onto my feet and then stood. I tore at his clothing. In a glorious frenzied blur, he surrounded me with hard muscle. With him, I felt small and feminine. With him, there was no self-consciousness—only hunger to feel more of him, taste more of him.
Graham had never been anything but gentle with me, even when we disagreed on something. He wasn’t gentle then. His hands were rough and demanding. His cock was huge and bold. I wanted it inside me, as deep as he could thrust it. No hesitation or consideration. I wanted him as crazy to have me as I was to have him.
I closed one hand around his cock and pumped up and down, loving how it felt—imagining how it would fill me. All the while, he kissed me relentlessly, deeply. He wanted everything and I wanted to give it all to him.
His fingers found my sex and while he fucked my mouth with his tongue, his fingers thrusted upward into me. I was wet and ready. He was hard and hungry. He picked me up as if I weighed nothing then stumbled backward before steadying himself against the couch. It was a physical reminder that we were FWI, fucking while impaired.
I thought that up even while the tip of his cock dipped into the folds of my sex. I’ve always been an over thinker. It’s what I hated most about myself. There I was having wild sex for the first time in my life and my brain would not shut off.
I wondered if our ancestors chose to walk upright simply for this sexual position.
I warned myself not to confuse real intimacy with what I might feel right after an orgasm. Orgasms were a gift from the universe, but they also had a purpose. The hypothalamus releases extra oxytocin. There were studies that linked it to a biological element of trust building.
He grabbed my ass with both hands, thrusted upward, and something magical happened. I stopped thinking. It was all about the connection. He kissed my neck. I clung to his shoulders and linked my feet behind his back. For a while I moved up and down in hot abandon. This was what it was supposed to be like. I didn’t want the moment to ever end. Each thrust took him deeper, drove me wilder.
A flush rose up my chest, spreading across my face. I was close, so close to coming. There I was, about to h
ave my first non-solo orgasm and it was with Graham.
Graham. A man I’d loved most of my life.
A man I desperately didn’t want to lose.
There was something deeply, wrenchingly sad about finally being intimate with him now that our time together was ending. I hated Jack for betraying him. I hated myself for making this night about me when it should have been about Graham.
I wanted to start the night over and do everything better.
What could I say to Graham that would make him not hate himself for fucking me? I didn’t want him to feel guilty. I didn’t want to add more to his pain.
He was pounding up into me and it felt good, so, so good, but I couldn’t fully enjoy it. My brain was sabotaging what should have been the best orgasm of my life.
Once I’d imagined how Graham would feel the next morning, it was all I could think about. I’d put fulfilling a fantasy above what would have been best for my friend.
Was I any better than Jack?
An image of Graham holding up Hope’s engagement ring entered my head and everything went to shit. I didn’t want to think about her or what she’d done with Jack. I didn’t want any of that to be part of this, but it was the reason for it.
Graham wasn’t making love to me—he was proving he didn’t need Hope.
I wasn’t having sex with a man who loved me, I was saying goodbye to one who never would.
I wished I could’ve been a better friend for Graham.
Or at least a better fuck.
My orgasm faded away, the passion I’d felt now sadly elusive. All I wanted to do right then was hug Graham and tell him I was sorry for everything.
Graham sat back on the arm of the couch and growled. “Are you crying?”
With him still deep inside me, I hugged myself around him, hugged him tighter than I’d ever hugged anyone and burst into tears.
I learned another biological factoid that night—nothing kills an erection faster than sloppy sobbing. He wrapped his arms tightly around me and simply rocked me back and forth while swearing softly.
CHAPTER 7
Graham
What in the hell had I just done?
Okay. Yeah. I was drunk, but I wasn’t that intoxicated. I should have put a stop to Lauren’s explorations the moment I felt myself getting hard. But had I done that? Hell, no.
She was drunk, and I’d taken advantage of that fact the minute I’d gotten all hot and bothered while I was thinking about her making herself come. She hadn’t exactly been coming on to me. It was a simple conversation about the woman in my arms fingering herself to ecstasy. But I’d been able to see it in my mind, and it was one of the hottest fantasies I’d ever had. I’d completely lost it.
I’d moved us to the couch with Lauren still in my lap, and I was hanging on to her like I couldn’t fucking let her go. And to be honest, I was pretty sure I couldn’t release her. Not like this. Not after I’d hurt her and made her cry.
Lauren is like a sister to me.
At least, that’s what I’d always told myself. But I’d been feeling far from brotherly when she’d shared the fact that she’d lost her virginity to some prick at her college. I hadn’t wanted to talk about her experience because it actually pissed me off. For some weird reason, I hated thinking about anybody touching Lauren. It made me want to kill the bastard who had initiated her to sex without pleasure.
For some reason, Lauren had never seen herself as beautiful. She’d accused me of not believing that anybody would want to nail her. In reality, I was surprised she’d stayed innocent as long as she had. She had to have guys crawling all over her. It wasn’t like I’d never noticed her curvy body myself once she’d hit adulthood, but I’d instantly shut down any carnal thoughts about her. She was one of my best friends.
Now, I couldn’t do anything but notice her. Lauren had a body made for sin. I was a big guy, and I loved the feel of her body against mine. She was full and lush, and she didn’t shy away from passion. What had just happened had been completely raw and primitive.
Until I’d screwed up and hurt her in some way.
Her blonde hair was slightly curly, and I’d just discovered it was as soft as silk.
Her pussy had taken my cock like a tight, hot glove. Being inside her had been like coming home, and I’d never actually had a real place where I belonged. The sensation had been so damn heady that I hadn’t been able to stop myself.
“You okay?” I rasped against her ear.
Jesus! I felt guilty as hell about hurting her. Had she been in physical pain? She was almost a virgin, and I was a pretty big guy.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry,” she said in a hesitant voice.
“I hurt you. You don’t need to be sorry.”
“It didn’t hurt,” she said in a hushed voice.
As she lifted her head, I plucked the glasses off her face and cleaned them with my T-shirt, a habit I’d been doing for so long it was automatic. Lauren usually had a smudge or two on the lenses.
I glanced at her earnest blue eyes as I slid the glasses back onto her face. “Then why were you crying?”
“It’s complicated.”
Shit! I hated anything complicated unless it involved football, but I couldn’t resist answering, “I’ve got nothing but time right now. Tell me.”
“I wanted to have sex with you,” she blurted out. “I feel like we’ll never see each other again.”
I was stroking a hand down her bare back, and I couldn’t stop. Her skin was so damn soft. “We can’t have sex, Lauren. What happened wasn’t right.”
She wasn’t the type of woman I could just screw and forget about. We’d been through everything together, and we’d known each other forever. Losing her friendship would be like cutting off my throwing arm.
“It felt right,” she said in a contemplative tone. “Until it didn’t.”
It had felt pretty damn good for me, too, but I wasn’t going to admit that right now. “What happened?”
“I realized how selfish I was being. I wanted something for myself when you were the one who had his life destroyed. And now you’ll probably feel guilty about having sex with me.”
“We didn’t technically have sex. We didn’t finish.” Much to my disappointment. But I couldn’t come when she was practically sobbing.
Lauren’s tears were definitely a boner killer. I never could stand to see her cry.
She rolled her eyes. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.” I would have given my right nut to have finished inside her. “And I don’t feel guilty. We’re both single, and we both wanted it. That’s not selfish. And just for the record, I have no intention of saying goodbye to you, Peanut.”
She looked startled as she asked, “You don’t? Really? After what happened with Jack, how can things ever be the same?”
I shrugged. “Maybe they won’t be the same. Maybe things will be different. Jack won’t be in the picture anymore because I’m going to kill him. But I’m not losing you over what happened with Jack and Hope. It’s not your fault.”
Something had happened tonight that had changed our relationship, and I knew we could never go back. Nothing was the same, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to lose our friendship over it. I’d known her too long. We’d shared too much over the years.
She nodded slowly. “I was so afraid that tonight would be the last time we ever saw each other again. You cut people out of your life when you’re hurting.”
Both of my grandparents had passed away, but I still didn’t talk to the aunt who had rejected me as a kid. So there was some truth to her statement.
Yeah, there was a whole other side of me that Lauren didn’t know, but she knew me more than people ever would. I couldn’t just throw that kind of relationship away.
“Not happening. I need you to come to my games and
root for the Cats,” I teased.
“I’ll be there if you want me.”
My chest ached as I watched her expression change from sadness to hope. “I’ll always want you,” I told her honestly.
Problem was, I needed her in a whole new horny guy kind of way now, and my dick wasn’t going to let me forget how damn good she’d felt wrapped around my cock.
She sighed. “My brain sucks sometimes. Now I wish we could have finished. I didn’t want it to end.”
“Better than Timmy?” Hell, was I actually jealous of her only lover?
She shot me a smile that had my cock coming to life again.
I’d never understand why Lauren didn’t see herself as a sexy, smart, caring woman. She was special, and it drove me crazy that she’d never found those characteristics in herself.
“It was almost orgasmic,” she joked.
“Almost? You know you wanted to come,” I grumbled.
“I want a lot of things that have never happened.”
She sounded forlorn, and I couldn’t resist asking, “What things?”
“I did want to come. It felt so much different than the orgasms I have when I play with myself.”
“Don’t go there,” I warned. The last thing I needed to visualize was Lauren getting herself off again.
“I’m book smart,” she continued. “But I haven’t really done much. I’ve never really had…an adventure of any kind.”
“Then do what you want to do,” I suggested.
Lauren had never been able to just be a kid. She’d been attending special schools and college when she should have been playing with Barbie dolls.
She shook her head. “Those silly things would be a waste of time, and my logical brain can’t comprehend doing something useless just to have the experience.”
I grinned at her. “Then I’ve pretty much been throwing away some valuable time. You can’t work or study all the time.”
Lauren was so damn smart that she sabotaged herself. She needed to learn to stop thinking sometimes.
“Maybe I’ll try,” she said nonchalantly.
