by CJ Martín
“No.” The word booms in my mind, but I don’t actually say it aloud. Still, I shake my head and close my eyes. I can’t go through that again. I learned from my mistake, never once agreed to sex without a condom even though I’m on birth control.
“I’m clean, Ry. I’ve never fucked without one.” His lips drag across my skin from my ear to my chin. “I need to feel you. Just you.” He places his hand over my heart as his eyes find mine. “I will never love anyone the way I love you.”
My eyes bore into his. Can I do this? Yes. Are we safe? As safe as we can be. I’m tested every year at my annual appointment, and I’ve taken my birth control pills religiously for over three years.
Think for a second, my brain scolds, this is serious. You know what happened last time. But last time I wasn’t on the pill. Last time wasn’t with someone I have known my entire life. Last time wasn’t with someone…I loved.
A split second image of me fat, with a swollen belly, pregnant with Jesse’s baby flashes through my mind, and I’m not filled with dread or panic. I’m filled with joy.
Decision made, I place my hand over his and interlace our fingers once again. “Yes.” My eyes, wide and honest, hold his. “Yes.”
A smile splits his face in two as he peppers me with playful, delicate kisses. Those kisses, however, turn much more aggressive as I shimmy my hips against his.
“Now, Jesse. Now.” I moan as his lips tease my breast, not quite reaching my nipple.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this, Ry?” His fingers dig into my hips, aligning my soft, wet center with his hardness. “I want this to last…all fucking night.”
“It can.” I pull his ass closer and his thick tip slips inside me. “Oh, God.” My voice breaks on the last word.
And with that one taste, it’s done. Game over. He flexes his hips, pushes a little farther inside as my tight walls stretch around him. “So goddamn tight.” His teeth graze my neck.
“More.” I encourage, lifting my hips to meet his shallow downward thrust.
“So greedy.” He nips my breast and I pulse around him. “And demanding.” He wraps his arms around my back, cradling me close. “I don’t want to hurt you. But Jesus Christ, Ry, I want to fuck you. Hard.”
“So hard.” My fingers latch onto his biceps and pinch. “Give me everything.”
One swift, quick thrust and he’s fully inside me.
Full. Stretched. Completely whole.
With closed eyes, he throws his head back, a look of pure joy etched across his face as he whispers my name, “Riley.”
And then he begins to move, powerful, rhythmic thrusts of his hips as he draws the pleasure out of me.
I keep my eyes open and focused, not wanting to miss a minute of my time with him. I watch as a bead of sweat forms at his brow, the way his eyes flutter open and closed, the soft sound of my name leaving his lips over and over. And when he brings his hand between us, settles his gaze on mine and demands that I come for him, I detonate, succumbing to the euphoria. His teeth latch onto my neck and bite, amplifying the tremors. Holy shit.
“Christ, Riley.” His pumps become more erratic, more forceful. “I can’t… I’m gonna come.”
“Yes,” I chant over and over, wanting nothing more than for him to fill me. “Please.”
And then he does, with a strangled, low groan as he empties inside me. It goes on forever and yet seems to pass in the blink of an eye. He collapses alongside me and pulls me into him, snuggling me close.
“God, I fucking love you, Ry. Please,” he says as he pulls me closer, “please, tell me you don’t regret this. I can’t go back to being just your friend.”
Shock passes through me and takes hold. Propping myself up on my elbows, I lean over him, letting my hair fall in a curtain around us. He lifts one hand and curls a few strands around his finger. “I regret...”
His expression clouds and he drops the tendril of hair.
“…that we didn’t do this sooner.”
39
Riley
Aside from our obligations (work for him, school for me), Jesse and I spend every minute together. After that first night, he’d gone to work, and I’d gone to school, with the understanding that we’d see each other again in a few hours. When he’d arrived at my apartment a little after 6:00 p.m. with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in question, I pulled him inside and kissed the hell out of him, hoping that was all the answer he needed.
Truthfully, I’m not sure how to handle Jesse’s and my relationship—should we tell everyone? Or keep it to ourselves? What if it doesn’t work out? But once Pandora’s box was opened, I knew there was no going back. There was no fighting our attraction to each other. It was undeniable. Reactive. Explosive.
Recall how I had said that Jesse had amazing body awareness? Well, that control, that prowess, became even more pronounced during sexy times—in a big freakin’ way. I never had this much sex, amazing sex, in my entire life, and I finally think I’m starting to understand the expression fucking like rabbits, because neither of us can stop, and that’s if we even wanted to.
It’s true what I’d confided to Liza years ago in our dorm; I rarely (if ever) orgasmed with my partner. I don’t know if it was nerves, inexperience, or a combination of both, but let’s just say my grand finale rarely ended with fireworks. I’d compensated by using my Jack Rabbit to carry me across the finish line, because an orgasm is an orgasm, right?
Wrong.
Orgasms with Jesse are magical. A freakin’ full body experience that starts in the base of my spine, then sends tiny nerve pulses throughout every cell of my body before exploding in my core. And when the last spasm of pleasure ceases, he makes it start all over again.
I hadn’t even thought about my Jack Rabbit since Jesse and I started sleeping together, which is why I’m surprised tonight when he brings it up.
He’s pinned me beneath him on the bed—our bed—when he murmurs low in my ear, “Get your toy.”
My eyes snap to his and my face burns a deep shade of crimson. “What?”
“Get. Your. Toy.” His voice comes out a little harsher, and he slides back, giving me enough room to sit up.
“Jesse,” I placate, but his narrowed eyes silence me and I lift myself from the mattress to retrieve my vibrator from its storage place in the bottom corner of my underwear drawer.
His eyes trace the movement, and he nods as I place it on the bed.
His gaze finds mine. “I want you to use it.”
My eyes widen. “What?” I stumble and nearly face-plant on the mattress because I’m so flustered.
“Use. It.” When I’ve still made no attempt to move, he says, “Show me how you pleasure yourself, Ry.”
“Jesse.” My voice comes out as a warning, as a dismissal, but even as I resist, a teeny tiny voice inside my head whispers, Do it. What’s the harm? You’ve already masturbated on the phone with him.
It’s a staring contest, just like we used to have when we were kids, but this time I’m not sure I’ll win. Not sure I want to win.
Finally, he speaks. “I’m not asking, Ry.” His arms wrap around the backs of my thighs and he pulls me to lie flat on my back. His strong hands reach for the band of my pants and tug down. My shirt is next, until I’m in nothing more than my bra and panties.
He stares down at me with hooded eyes. “I like you like this.”
“Like what?”
His hands ghost over my thighs, my belly, my breasts. “Spread out and ready. For me.”
My heart pounds in my chest. I’m surprised that I let it go this far, even more shocked that I want it to go farther.
He withdraws his hands and saunters over to the corner of the room, like he has all the time in the world, and sits in the side chair where I normally drop all the clothes I’m too lazy to hang up. He leans back and stretches his legs wide. One arm is slung over the back of the chair, while the other rests dangerously close to his dick. God, I wish I were that h
and right now.
I prop myself up on my elbows and meet his gaze. The corners of his mouth tip up, a sexy smirk of encouragement. Am I really considering this? Yes. Yes, I am.
“Riley, baby.” His voice stirs the desire low in my belly. “I want to watch.”
It’s the way he says my name, the soft, desperate sound of his plea, that has me nodding my head in agreement. My shoulders sag back against the pillows and I close my eyes as I drag my fingers across my panties. Not surprisingly, they’re already wet.
My touch is tentative at first, feather light, but I’m not good at teasing myself—never was—and tonight is no different. I grapple for the vibrator, thick and long, so much like Jesse that it makes me crave him even more. Knowing he is only a few feet away, watching, probably touching himself, too, turns me on even more.
One hand tugs my panties down to my ankles, the other drags the smooth tip of the toy up and down my slit. My legs are bent, feet planted on the mattress, fully exposing myself to him. I don’t dare look at Jesse, but I hear him. Each labored breath, each hiss, each growl that bolsters me on.
My index finger clicks the button and a gentle buzz fills the air. The moment the rabbit ears touch my clit, my back arches off the bed. “Oh, God,” I cry out.
Here’s the other thing I should be embarrassed about but am too turned on to care: when I get myself off with Mr. Jack Rabbit, I’m loud. Porn-star loud.
“Oh, fuck, that feels good.” I hiss, my free hand reaching up to cup my breast. I roll my nipple between my thumb and finger, imagining Jesse’s hands on me. Imagining his mouth, trailing kisses down, down, down…
A minute later I increase the speed. The ears, those tiny, torturous ears go to work on my clit, and soon I’m pumping the shaft inside me. “Fuck. Oh, fuck,” I croon, the waves cresting higher and higher. “Jesse.” My head thrashes to the side. “Oh, fuck. I’m coming. I’m coming.”
I lie there, spent. Breathing heavy, face flushed. Jesse joins me on the bed a moment later, hovering over me, his thick erection tenting his boxers.
His warm breath floats across my skin. “Did you enjoy that?”
My eyes flutter closed and I slowly nod my head. “Yes.”
“I’m glad.” His voice is assured, confident as he continues, “Because that will be the last orgasm you have without me.” His gaze penetrates mine. “All of them. Every. Single. One. Belongs to me.” His fingers snake their way up my thigh, skim across the over-sensitized flesh. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you? I’m done sharing.”
For as much as I knew about Jesse, there were still things to learn. Some things were silly—like he never caps the tube of toothpaste—to more intimate things, like he likes morning sex. And shower sex. And dirty sex.
Really, really likes dirty sex.
Most things were pleasantly surprising, some mildly annoying. For the most part, I loved learning these things, but some new things upset me. Mostly the things having to do with Shelly, his ex-girlfriend.
Just to be clear, Jesse claims they were never officially together, but let’s be real, they hooked up for more than four months and went places together, which is the very definition of a relationship.
I know. I’m not the jealous type—usually—but Shelly’s different. With her long, blond hair and blue eyes, she’s wild and free in a way I never could be. Her persona screams sex goddess, and although Jesse never admitted it, I’m ninety-nine-point-nine percent convinced he had a threesome with her and her friend Melanie. Like I said before: sex goddess.
All of my insecurities, doubts, and fears, come to a head Thursday night. Jesse plays basketball in a recreational basketball league two nights a week. This doesn’t bother me. He’s been playing with the same team for as long as I can remember. What does bother me is the text message that I happen to see while he’s at said basketball game.
After my shower, I’m logging into the Hulu app, when Jesse’s iPad lights up with a message. My eyes latch onto the curve of the “S” then glide over the rounded shape of the “e” and before I even know what’s happening, I’m reading Jesse’s text messages to another girl. Not just any girl, but Shelly.
My lips turn down in a sneer.
Her text is innocent enough: Hi. What’s the name of the movie with Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston? But it makes my stomach sour nonetheless. I fight the urge to text back my immediate response: Ask Google like a fucking normal person.
I know I shouldn’t I let myself skim through their text conversation. There’s nothing suspicious or even that recent (the last message, apart from tonight, is time stamped more than a week ago), but it still infuriates me that one, he still talks to her, and two, he makes no mention of me or the fact that we’re together.
And that’s the funny thing about the human brain. Left to its own devices, it can spin crazy fantasies. My mind kaleidoscopes with thoughts, each one crossing and overlapping until nothing makes sense. I know Jesse. I trust him. I love him. But still I can’t stop the elaborate tales from filling my head. Maybe he still sees her. But when? We’re always together. Maybe he still has feelings for her. I don’t think so. Jesse claims they weren’t even officially together. Maybe they’re still friends. Kinda like how you guys are friends, Riley?
My sour mood worsens when Jesse strolls in a little after nine o’clock, happy as a clam. I’m appalled, but the injustice of it all―his stupid ex-girlfriend and her stupid texts ruined my night, while he was out having a good time with friends? My anger only intensifies.
“Hey, Ry.” He leans over the side of the sofa to kiss me. I let him, but make no attempt to kiss him back, and he notices. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I click the buttons on the remote, not bothering to take my gaze from the television. “Just tired.”
I’m being a bitch, I know. It’s not his fault. He can’t control who texts him. But still I’m annoyed. Who does she think she is, texting Jesse? I’m upset that I had to share Jesse with Shelly in the first place. But even more than that, I’m scared. I’m terrified that this—whatever this is that Jesse and I are doing—is going to blow up and I’m going to lose him forever. And that I can’t handle, because I’ve fallen hopelessly and completely in love with my best friend.
Tears begin to form in my eyes, and I silently curse myself. What the fuck is wrong with you, Riley?
Pushing myself to stand, I say, “I’m going to bed.”
“It’s only nine o’clock.” His voice is tinged with confusion.
I shrug, and as he approaches I take a few steps back.
“What’s wrong?” He advances, like a predator stalking its prey.
“Nothing.” I sidestep around him.
“Ry?” His confused voice hits my back as I walk away. “What did I miss? Why are you mad at me?”
“I’m not mad, Jes.” I pause halfway down the hall. “I’m just tired.”
His tone changes as his patience turns to annoyance. “I know when you’re mad. What the hell did I do?”
His voice is more bewildered than anything, but I’m so angry in the moment that I don’t feel any sympathy. I stalk toward him. “You want to know why I’m mad?” My voice explodes. “Why are you talking to your ex-girlfriend?” I snatch the tablet off the coffee table and hold it up as proof of his wrongdoing.
His eyebrows pull together. “You read my texts?”
“Not on purpose.” At first. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re still talking to Shelly?” I hate the person I’m becoming. Jealous and insecure. Suspicious. Controlling.
This is not who I am.
“Because I’m not talking to Shelly.” He pulls his hoodie up and over his head, and his t-shirt rises, exposing the unbelievably hard abs beneath. I try my best to avoid looking, but it’s no use. His body is amazing. “And she’s not my ex-girlfriend.”
I shake my head as though to clear it. “Whatever,” I retort. Not my most mature response, but it’s better than doing something foolish, something like ki
ssing the hell out of him. Or begging him to take off more of his clothing. “It’s fine.”
He approaches, wraps his muscular arms around me. “Baby, you have nothing to worry about.”
I know better. I know I should pull away. But I fall for it. Of course, I do. He’s strong, so capable, so masculine, so fucking hard that I’d have to be made of stone not to be affected.
“Now.” He kisses the top of my head. “Yell at me some more.”
I pull back, lips pursed. “What? You want me to yell at you?”
“Uh-huh.” He dips his head and his lips latch onto my neck. “You’re fucking sexy as hell when you’re mad. And jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.” My breath whispers across his skin and my hands grab onto his forearms for balance.
He pulls back, chuckles. “No?”
“Nope,” I barely manage, before a moan bubbles forth as his fingers find my nipple.
“And if I told you that Shelly wants to get back together?”
“What?” I back away, my vision blurring red. “You just said you weren’t talking to her?”
His smirk, sexy and infuriating at the same time, lets me know he’s teasing. “Thought you weren’t jealous?”
“You’re such an asshole.” I stomp my foot. “An asshole that can sleep on the couch.”
I barely make it two feet before strong arms circle me from behind. “Riley Ann, you’re hot as fuck when you’re jealous.”
“I told you, I’m not jealous.” I seethe.
He nips my neck, grazes the flesh with his teeth. “Are so.” His hands drift up my rib cage over my breasts, skimming my nipples in the most delicious way.
“Stop.” I shake my head even as my back arches to bring my breasts closer to him.
He clicks his tongue. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re the only girl I want. The only girl I’ve ever wanted.”
