Boyfrenemy

by Sosie Frost

  I took another deep taste of him. “You think you’re so cute, don’t you?”

  “Says the girl with her mouth around my cock.”

  I shifted over his muscular body—hard, packed strength rippling over his legs, abs, pecs. “You do realize that I’m only using you, right?”

  He shrugged, a lazy smile tugging his lips. “Use away.”

  “You are just a means to an end…” I tickled my fingers over his chest, amazed at the pure strength tensing beneath. “I’m going to fuck you, I’m going to get off, and then I’m going to go about my business.”

  “No.” Julian shook his head, slow and deliberate. “You’re going to fuck me. We’re going to get off. And then you’re gonna spend the rest of the night with my cum dripping out of you.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “You have no idea.” Julian seized my hips in his monstrous hands. “You’re gonna get off thinking of me. Gonna go to bed fantasizing about me. Gonna sleep dreaming of me. And then tomorrow morning?” He winked. “We’re gonna do it again so you spend every minute at the office slick with me.”

  I shivered. “You’re gonna have to work pretty hard to earn the right to spend the night.”

  “You’re the one on top, princess.” He slapped my ass. “Getty-up.”

  The son of a bitch took joy in degrading me. Unfortunately, so did I. My core—clenching and hot—begged for the chance to imbed itself on his cock.

  All I wanted was to bounce on that length until up was down, wrong was right, and Julian was anyone else in the world.

  I didn’t say a word. Didn’t tell him he was right. Didn’t reveal how badly I needed him or how much I ached just thinking about the few inches of separation between my soaked pussy and his thickness.

  I pumped his length three times with my fist to watch him groan with clenched teeth. Then I knelt over him, welcoming the thrill of delight as the puffy head of his cock stroked my wet, swollen slit.

  I’d already come once tonight. I’d never been a greedy girl. Hell, I’d never had any lovers who’d were skilled enough to deliver more pleasure. But if Julian was offering, I’d be crazy to not seize the opportunity and grind against his hips until my only concern would be falling asleep as the sun was rising.

  With a trembling breath, I threatened my little pussy with his massive length.

  I sunk down.

  His cock imbedded within me to the hilt. One solid strike through my core. A desperate slide into my tightness that reduced us both to eager shivers and revealing murmurs.

  He was more than big. Julian was perfect. A superheated villain and hero that struck through my wetness and sizzled my aching core. We barely fit together, hips against hips, my pussy ground against his body.

  It was everything I needed and more. His raging cock enthralled me, forcing me to the brink of a pleasure-fueled madness—a dangerous place where the truth shadowed every whimper. Revealing words, terrible words.

  I’d never been fucked like this before. Never wanted anyone has badly as him before. And worse secrets waded in the lust-freed depths of my soul. Dark and desperate thoughts swirled within the ecstasy.

  I’d never want another man except him. I’d never come so hard unless he delivered the pleasure. I’d never feel whole unless I was with Julian, taking him, wanting him, offering myself to him.

  I rested my palms on his chest and ground hard circles over his cock. Julian’s thick hand clutched my breasts, squeezing until my lips parted and he’d earned my squeal. His enraged desperation tormented me, pawing hard at my chest so sensitive from the pregnancy. I arched anyway, offering more of my breasts for him to take and maim and so gently tease with his tongue that the world crashed around me.

  Julian loved it, flexing his hips to impale his cock deeper inside me. He grinned, dark and sweaty.

  “Bet this is the only way you ever fucked before me,” he said.

  It was, but I played dumb. “You mean, sleeping with the wrong man?”

  “On top. In control. Playing it safe.”

  I took him deeper, humping my clit against his body. Every slide of my nub against his skin wound me in tight, delicious shivers.

  “What’s wrong with safe?” I whispered.

  His hands settled on my hips and squeezed hard, slamming me against his cock. “What’s wrong with going wild? Being spontaneous? Letting yourself go?”

  I bounced higher, torturing myself with delight. “I let myself go with you before. See what happened?”

  “Yeah. We didn’t go far enough.”

  Dangerous man. His cock twitched within me, growing harder, thicker. My eyes fluttered closed as a crash of pleasure stole my voice.

  “Know what you are?” Julian had enough teasing. He wrapped an arm around me and hauled himself up. I circled my arms around his neck as he pulled me into his lap, cock still buried inside me. “You’re afraid.”

  “Of what?” I asked.

  “You’re afraid to let someone get close. To open up to them. You’re afraid of anything that isn’t done by the rules and proper.” He pulled me to his chest as his lips traced my chin, my cheek, my ear. “Not everything fits neatly into a regulated ordinance or law. Sometimes you have to let go. Fuck a stranger. Realize everything you ever wanted is nine hard inches of inhibition.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I know I am.”

  “Or maybe…” I gripped his arms and ground against the flexing of his hips. “Maybe those rules keep us safe. Maybe that’s why I never got into trouble before I met you.”

  “I’m more than trouble, aren’t I?”

  I hummed. “Yeah. You’re a bastard. A prick. A pain in my ass.”

  “I’m the only man who has ever made you come.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Maybe.”

  He laughed, his voice husky and confident. “I don’t need your gratitude, princess. Only thing I’m after is that soaking wet pussy.”

  “You’re an arrogant jerk, Julian Payne.”

  “And that’s just what you needed, Micah Robinson.”

  I gasped as Julian flipped me onto my back. I didn’t have time to adjust before he settled over me, his body hard, sweaty, and tense. One remorseless thrust, and he’d bottomed out in me. He fucked a steady, uncompromising rhythm, enjoying how my breath turned to whimpers and my breasts swayed and slapped.

  “You’ve never surrendered to a man, have you?” Julian growled with a perverse, intoxicating excitement. “You’ve never let anyone get this close. Never let anyone see the real you. No one has really touched you or tasted you or given you the pleasure you deserve.”

  A desperate, clenching need pulsed inside me. “And you think you’re the man to do it?”

  “You already know what I can do for you…” Julian rolled his thumb over my clit as he moved within me, a steady aching touch that shocked me with shivers. “You can’t resist me.”

  He was right.

  And it terrified me.

  “This is just sex, cowboy,” I whispered.

  “But I’m gonna make it the best you’ve ever had…” That cocky confidence returned, shadowed with desire and punctuated with a grunt as he slammed inside me. “And you’ll never want me to stop.”

  Julian fell over me, his thick arms propped beside my shoulders. My hips instinctually rose to welcome his deliberate, feral strokes into my wanting pussy. Every pump, every spine-shattering thrust drove passionate whimpers from my lips. Words I’d never imagined whispering to a man.

  More.

  Yes.

  Harder.

  Please.

  Within seconds, the pulse-pounding, body-clenching tension wove over my tender body. Another promise of pleasure. Another threat of utter destruction.

  How was I supposed to resist a man like Julian? He understood my body. He’d fucked me how I’d always dreamed I’d be taken. Rough, but not harsh. Fast, but not over quick. Julian devoured me whole and ravished me from the inside out, and
all I could do was arch and clench and wait for the wonderful extravagance to overwhelm my senses and reduce me to oblivion.

  His movements quickened. Breathing turned harsh. Eyes flashed a warning, a serene green that promised everything and threatened even more.

  “You’re gonna come for me,” he whispered. “And you’re gonna remember who gave you this pleasure. From this moment on, if you want to get off, it’s gonna be because of me. Fingers. Tongue. Cock. Doesn’t matter. You belong to me.”

  I nodded as the pressure threatened to burst me from the inside out. “Think you can handle me, cowboy?”

  “Think you can live without me, princess?”

  No.

  Absolutely not.

  And that was a problem.

  And that was fantastic.

  And that was terrifying.

  And it was the thought that made me explode for the only man who had ever driven me to such pleasure.

  I gripped his arms, squeezing tight on his biceps, his shoulders, then finally around his neck. Julian rammed inside me again and again, falling over my body to wrap me in his arms and seize my moans in a perfect kiss.

  My vision darkened, blinded to all but him. His muscles. The scruff on his jaw. The sharpness of his voice. The kindness in his eyes. I held him close, but I’d never be close enough to this man. My body shivered and shook, destroying itself only to mend the shattered core over his cock. I arched as the shock tore through my defenses and reduced me to bewildered, amazed, and grateful tears.

  A single heartbeat, and I was his.

  His cock hardened inside me. Grew. Heated.

  With a guttural profanity, he jetted wave after wave of seed inside my slickness. Sticky, delicious cum coated me, him, and every messy thrust. I clutched him, savoring the burst of indecent and intoxicating heat. The exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I sunk back against the bed, surrendering to his touch.

  Julian didn’t pull out. He stayed deep inside me, savoring the tightness, the closeness. He murmured soothing words as I gasped for air and panted his name.

  His hands brushed against my cheek. His lips grazed mine. And my hips moved again, taking him deeper, earning another satisfied sigh.

  “That what you wanted?” he whispered.

  I nodded. “No. It was what I needed.”

  “There’s more where that came from.”

  My arms felt like concrete, but I wrapped them around his neck anyway. “Don’t tease.”

  “Don’t doubt me.”

  “Put up or shut up, cowboy.”

  He grinned. “Not satisfied?”

  “Very satisfied, but I’ll take whatever you want to give.”

  His words quieted. “Not everything.”

  No.

  Not everything.

  But enough of it to get into trouble.

  Enough of him to lose myself for a lifetime.

  “It’s just sex, Jules.” I made the promise to myself. “Isn’t that what you want too?”

  “Is that all you want?”

  No.

  Yes.

  What I needed was to turn back time. To undo the frantic night in my office when I’d given him everything and he’d taken so much more. I needed to unknot my stomach and unbind my heart and clear my head of my ridiculous obsession with this man.

  I knew Julian Payne would eventually become a complication to an already complicated life.

  Or maybe…

  Maybe he’d be the solution?

  Or maybe falling for him would be my ultimate destruction.

  Chapter Twelve

  Micah

  The porta-potties were delivered without the blue juice.

  Who delivered porta-potties to a county fair without the blue juice? And what was I supposed to do with thirty oversized plastic buckets for a week?

  This was a problem, but I could handle it. Like every other crisis that had befallen the fair in the day leading to the grand opening, I’d strap on my cape and become the superhero to fix it.

  If the concession stand was without hotdogs, and Sawyer County had no wieners anywhere save for the old fogies napping during my committee meetings, we’d serve cabbage and noodles instead.

  If the bank had a shortage of small bills for the ticket booth cash drawer, I’d raid every panty in every strip club in the tri-county area for a chance to make change.

  If the Itsy Bitsy Glitzy Charms and Accessories vendors tussled in the parking lot, I’d let them fist-fight under the watchful eye of the sheriff.

  I could handle everything.

  Except…I couldn’t step foot onto the fairgrounds.

  Wasn’t sure if it was the mustard or the manure, but one of the peculiar and charmingly rural smells twisted my gut. Gagging did not inspire morale.

  So, after a morning of frantic, desperate sex in the shower, I’d sent Julian to oversee the fair set-up in my place.

  Crisis averted.

  Well, most of the crises.

  Mayor Desmond’s visit to the office was unprecedented, especially as it wasn’t a Friday and we had no donuts in the kitchen. He rapped on my door, giving me a grin so slimy he’d need to wipe his lips after that unnecessary wink.

  “Hey, there Misha.”

  I’d worked for the township for almost six months. “Micah.”

  “Right, right.” He motioned for me to follow with a crooked finger. “Got a minute? Was hoping I could…pick your brain.”

  Oh, this wouldn’t be good. Last time he’d wandered into my office, Mayor Desmond had hoped to draft an ordinance restricting outdoor flood lights as he was convinced his neighbor angled his garage light up, to shine in Desmond’s window and disturb his evening entertainment of Wheel of Fortune and The Voice.

  This, of course, spawned a raging neighborhood feud and murmurs of mayoral impeachment.

  “Actually…” I pointed to the piles of orders, receipts, schedules, and pamphlets burying me alive. “The fair starts tomorrow. I have a million things to do…”

  “This will only take a minute.”

  “And I have to call Tushy Kings and get a refund on these porta-potties—”

  “You can spare some time.”

  “There’s no blue juice in the porta-potties, and it’s an ozone action day. Gonna be stifling—”

  “Can’t control the weather now can you, Misha?” Desmond winked. “Come on. This is important.”

  More important than rebuilding the temporary fencing meant to separate the show goats? We’d already had one nanny escape, and she did not lead the other goats on a Mary Poppins adventure. Not so many spoonfuls of sugar, but more eating the frame off the only golf cart reserved for security.

  I scribbled a note to switch the goat and the sheep pens and followed the mayor down the hall, pausing by the receptionist’s desk to catch Sharon’s gaze. She placed a hand over her cell phone and rolled her eyes.

  “Mayor McCheese has some great idea.” She pointed me to the conference room. “But watch out. Think that’s your dad in there.”

  “My dad?”

  “Big guy. Good shoulders. Nice looking?”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Good luck.”

  This wouldn’t be fun, especially as I realized all-too-late that I’d forgotten a cardigan and my blouse was losing the competition against my pregnancy-swollen, blue-ribbon breasts. Immodesty didn’t ease the nausea, but the best-in-show chest bunnies might distract Mayor Desmond long enough to kick my father out of the offices.

  “Micah, sweetheart.” Dad approached me, but we’d so seldom hugged that my extended hand bumped his arms and trapped me in that awkward, under-the-armpit pat to his back. “Heard you were busy.”

  “Extremely,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  Mayor Desmond pulled out a chair for me to sit. Should have offered a garbage can and a bottle of Ginger Ale too. This meeting did nothing to settle my stomach.

  “This is just a hypothetical discussion,” Desmond said.

  Great. My favo
rite. Hypothetical discussions that expected actual results. I tensed. “And what, hypothetically, would the zoning officer discuss with a major land developer?”

  Dad folded his hands. “We’re talking about the only thing that matters—Butterpond’s bright future.”

  Oh, good. So it had to do with money. The town’s future was nothing compared to Dad’s empty wallet.

  “Now, Peter and I have a shared dream,” Desmond said. “About Butterpond’s potential legacy.”

  Butterpond’s grocery store had just installed a Red Box machine, and the pothole on Bakers Run Road had been filled with sand. At this point, the town was lucky to have a sewage system, let alone a legacy.

  Dad took the initiative. “Butterpond deserves to be a thriving community. Full of new business and new homes and new families. Imagine this, Micah. Parks and ballfields. Community events and restaurants. Basically…” He extended his hands. “Opportunities.”

  I nodded. “Okay…”

  “In ten years, we could shift the face of this podunk town from overgrown corn fields to a young, working-family, vibrant community. New developments. Small business. A real benefit to the people.”

  I wasn’t an idiot. New development was code for expensive, luxury apartments that no one in the town could afford. Small business meant chains of big-box branded restaurants and stores. Benefits meant artificial town squares with a fountain and a frozen yogurt shop.

  I’d seen it before, time and time again. That didn’t make it bad, but it didn’t mean anything good for Butterpond either.

  “Okay,” I said. “What does this have to do with me? Find your land, create a proposal, and submit your application. You do your job, I’ll do mine.”

  Dad shook his head. “This is simply hypothetical, sweetheart. In all honesty, we don’t have a property secured for development…yet.”

  My stomach clenched. It wasn’t the morning sickness. “But…you have a property in mind?”

  Mayor Desmond wasn’t a subtle man. He scratched his chin with a hum. “You’ve been working with Julian Payne, right?”

  Working with him. Sleeping with him. Warring with him.