Friends with Benefits_A Steamy College Romance

by Hazel Kelly

  Her eyes dripped down my chest to where we were connected, and the erotic expression on her face as she watched me slide in and out of her was too much.

  “You keep watching like that and you're going to make me come.”

  “Come away,” she said, gnawing on her lip as she focused on our slick connection. “Just not from me. I like you right where you are.”

  Fuck.

  “I can feel you throbbing,” she whispered, looking back at me. “It feels too good.”

  I clenched my jaw, determined to enjoy her for as long as I could.

  She dragged a hand down my chest and tilted her hips so my balls were slapping against her. “Harder,” she pleaded. “Give it to me harder.”

  My swinging hips sped up, and the harder I fucked her, the more I couldn’t stop. Until I exploded, letting out a primal grunt as I came in three strong bursts before collapsing on top of her in a breathless heap.

  She nibbled my ear and trailed her fingertips down my back, her delicate touch like a breeze against my spent muscles. “You were amazing tonight,” she whispered, cupping the cheeks of my ass as her pussy clenched around me. “And not just with me,” she said. “But with everything you did for Logan.”

  I sighed as her hands tangled in my hair, massaging my scalp.

  “Maybe you were right,” she said, so quietly it was almost as if she were talking to herself. “Maybe I have underestimated you.”

  T W E N T Y F I V E

  - Nina -

  I didn't have much experience with drugs.

  I guess I never really saw the point since I found the world overwhelming enough without them. Sure, I dragged on a few joints in high school when the moon over our beachside bonfires put me in just the right mood, but I'd never tried anything harder.

  Except for white wine.

  Too much white wine, and I was bound to spend the next day drowning in the kind of tearful self-loathing I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

  Long story short, I knew the depression I felt was chemical.

  I'd been so high from my sexy Saturday night with Carter that there was no way I wasn't going to feel low when I returned to my homeostasis.

  The fact that I’d been so honest with him didn’t help either. Telling him I needed him? Telling him about my shower fantasy? That I couldn't get enough of him? Why don't I just run my mouth some more?

  Then again, he had said I was so beautiful it hurts. And coming up with excuses to eat candy off me? As if he needed an excuse. My whole body was aching for a chance to hug his dick. So why go to the trouble of initiating foreplay?

  Even the way he slipped inside me was slow and intense. As if he were deliberately waiting for our heartbeats to sync up before fucking me.

  And they did.

  I could feel them pounding at the end of his every thrust, right when he hit his deepest point. I could feel us throbbing together where he stretched me. Filled me.

  No wonder I felt empty now.

  And no wonder so many girls ended up pouring drinks over his head in crazed fits of passion. Being with him was a total mindfuck. In fact, at least one girl became so infatuated she begged for one more night with him in front of an audience.

  Literally, that was the rumor.

  I heard it from Zoey, who heard it from Logan, who was there. Some Chi O begged Carter for one more night in front of a few of the other Betas when they were freshman. Apparently, he was still trying to live the nickname down.

  “One more night! One more night!” they teased. I'd seen them do it. Sometimes they even chanted it before chugging drinks at the bar as if it were a war cry.

  Speaking of crying, it was Thursday, and I hadn't heard shit from him.

  And I was getting emotional. Being a chick about it. Feeling sprung in a way that could easily destroy our friendship, a friendship that truly meant something to me now.

  I mean, I told him about my dad, which wasn’t something I usually brought up when I was trying to get someone to like me.

  I need you. Ugh. Hopefully he couldn’t tell how much I meant it. Hopefully he couldn't tell my bones were sore when I said it, my knees weak, my legs…poseable.

  It wasn't cool for me to impose on him like that. To need him.

  I needed to not need him.

  I needed to not need anyone. Not like this. This hurt too much to be healthy. Besides, these feelings weren’t part of the deal.

  I needed to swim back to the shallow end.

  And when I got there, I needed to start seeing other people.

  That way, it wouldn’t hurt so much when his phone buzzed in the middle of the night. Because we’d be on the same page.

  After all, I wasn't the only girl he was turning into mush in the dark, and I couldn’t afford to forget that.

  I couldn’t keep hogging him, either. Not only was it super desperate of me, but it drastically increased the chances that he would tire of me the way I’d seen him tire of other girls.

  I mean, surely the fact that he hadn’t called was a sign that he wanted space?

  Therefore, I had to assume it was time to mix things up, make myself scarce, and stop being the easiest slut in his harem.

  Even if it meant sitting at the crapshoot singles table at Rebecca's wedding.

  “So what do you think?” Sadie asked, holding her phone out to me.

  I lowered my latte from my lips and noticed my mood ring was still black. Just like Sadie's wedding hat. “It's so pretty!” I said, setting my cup down so I could take the phone from her.

  “I know I joked about going all social justice warrior for the occasion, but I decided it's more my style to show up looking classy as fuck.”

  I spread my fingers across the screen to zoom in on the dark lace. “Should be a nice change from the black hoodies.”

  “Don't be a bitch,” she said, reaching over her half-eaten carrot cake to take her phone back. It was actually her second piece, but she hadn't had breakfast, apparently. Plus, the carrot cake here was amazing. The icing was so thick and rich…

  I wonder if she's going to finish that?

  “You could've stopped after you said it was pretty.”

  “Are you sure black is okay?”

  “Men are going to be in top hats.”

  “So your dress is black, too, I presume?”

  She nodded. “It matches my date.”

  I laughed.

  She didn't.

  “Wait- who are you bringing?”

  “My gorgeous friend, Amadou.”

  My eyebrows crept up.

  “He's Senegalese. He's from a very wealthy family. Or, at least, I think that's what he was trying to tell me when he boasted that they have chicken for dinner sometimes.”

  “I'm sure he'll enjoy the party.”

  “Oh, he will,” she said. “We're going to bust some mean moves on the dance floor.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Oh yeah,” she said. “And not just to hide how much I'm drinking.”

  I scoffed.

  “And just wait till you see what he's wearing.”

  “Let me guess. It involves a colorful print of some kind?”

  “The most colorful print,” she said. “With a matching hat, of course.”

  “Guess it doesn't matter what I wear then if everyone's going to be checking him out.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “He can handle the attention.”

  “I'm glad you found somebody fun to take.”

  She craned her neck forward. “You didn't ask Romeo yet?”

  “Romeo?”

  “The guy you've been sneaking around with lately,” she said. “I know there's at least one.”

  I glanced down at the table when her sharp eyes started boring into me.

  “Oh, come on, Nina. I wasn't born yesterday. You’ve been distracted as hell lately, not to mention lying to Zoey’s face about your sleeping habits.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek.

  “Or should I say lack
of sleeping habits… Wink, wink.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “It's one guy, isn't it?”

  I blinked at her.

  “I knew it.”

  “I plead the Fifth.”

  She laughed.

  “It's really not like that,” I said. No way could I ask him to the wedding. Sure, the more I thought about it, the more I could see how he might be a fantastic date, but it wasn’t an option. It would be a clear violation of our rules.

  “It's funny that you don't think the fact that you're getting laid is written all over your face.”

  “Don't exaggerate.”

  “Must be pretty good wherever you're getting it,” she said. “’Cause I've never seen you like this.”

  “It's not serious enough.”

  “For you or for him?”

  I shook my head. “That's not what I mean. I mean for the wedding. We're not serious enough for me to ask him.” Granted, I was new to the concept of friends with benefits, but I knew the main benefit was supposed to be no-strings-attached sex. And as far as I was concerned, a family function wasn’t just a string, it was a ball and chain.

  “Do you want me to ask the other Senegalese guy for you?” she asked. “I bet Amadou would feel more comfortable if he had someone to Wolof it up with.”

  “Since when are you into sex trafficking?”

  She raised her palms. “Don't get carried away. I didn't say anything about sex.”

  “Maybe it is on my mind.”

  Perhaps she sensed my sadness, because she didn't push any further. “Do you want to go to the Legalize It protest with me later?”

  I scrunched my face. “Protests aren't really my thing.”

  “Might cheer you up.”

  “You know there’s nothing I love more than bullshitting with stoners in the freezing cold, but I don't think I'm up for it tonight.”

  “Suit yourself,” she said, reaching for her last hunk of carrot cake. “Just thought I’d let you know where I’ll be in case you want to lie to Zoey some more.”

  Fuck.

  T W E N T Y S I X

  - Carter -

  “You look like shit,” Logan said as he put a wrapped hot dog down next to the textbook I'd been using as a pillow.

  I straightened up and rubbed my eyes. How long had I been out?

  “You want to talk about it?” he asked.

  I rolled my desk chair back, started unwrapping the hot dog in my lap, and noticed he was holding a shiny red gift bag in one hand. “Not really.”

  “Is it your mom?”

  “She's just had a few bad nights.” At least I hoped that was all it was because I couldn’t keep being her sounding board every time she got hammered. It wasn’t healthy for anyone. Besides, my course load was tough enough when I wasn’t sleep deprived. “Is that Zoey's purse?” I asked, nodding towards the gift bag. “Is your dick in there?”

  “You and I both know my dick's too big to fit in this bag.”

  I took a bite of the beef dog and chewed while I awaited further explanation.

  “It's Zoey's Valentine's Day present.”

  “So it is your dick.”

  He laughed. “See now that actually made sense.”

  I set my food aside so I could grab a Coke from my minifridge. “What'd you get her?”

  “A gold bracelet with little sparrows along the chain. I’d show it to you but it’s all wrapped up.”

  “It's cool,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll see it eventually.”

  He set the bag on my desk and helped himself to a Gatorade, cracking it open and chugging half of it before I even had a chance to say you’re welcome.

  “When's the big day?” I asked.

  “Next Wednesday.”

  I nodded. “Cool. Well, I'm sure she'll love the bracelet and give you a blow job to remember.”

  One side of his mouth curled into a smile. “What are your plans? Stay in and jerk off to the thought of me getting my dick sucked?”

  “Probably.”

  “Why? I bet one of your groupies would love to play couple for a night.”

  What a good idea! Play couple. Valentine's Day was the perfect opportunity to show Nina that I could be serious, that I was more than just a fratty dickswinger.

  Surely, she'd be up for that? It was only days ago that she confessed that she was touching herself with me in mind…though the fact that it was a blow job fantasy was a bit of a mindfuck considering how adamant she was about us not going there.

  Whatever. All I could do was try, and if she already had plans… Never mind. I didn't even want to think about how I would feel if she said no after being so…everything last weekend.

  My dick twitched at the memory of her helping me get her off, at the way her sexy body arched before me like a curl of smoke.

  I startled at the sound of Logan snapping in my face. “What the fuck, man?”

  “You're like an actual zombie today,” he said, chucking his empty bottle in my garbage. “Get some sleep tonight, will ya?”

  I nodded. “I'm going to hit the hay soon, actually. Gym tomorrow?”

  “Eight to nine?” he asked, grabbing Zoey’s present and backing towards the door.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Cool.”

  I turned back towards my desk and stuffed the last of the hot dog in my mouth.

  “Hey Carter?”

  I swiveled back around just enough to glance at him.

  “Don't be everything to everybody all the time,” he said. “You'll burn yourself out.”

  “I'm not trying to be everything to everybody,” I said. Just somebody to one person.

  “Good,” he said, closing the door behind him.

  I crumpled the hot dog wrapper, careful to keep the poppy seeds from going everywhere, and grabbed my phone to scroll through my texts.

  I hadn't sent her one since I told her she better be heading to my room. Shit. It would've been cooler to send her something earlier in the week, something to let her know I'd been thinking about her shudders and her smiles.

  What are you doing next Wednesday night? I typed, sending it before I could lose my nerve.

  Her reply came back less than a minute later. You know that's Valentine's Day, right?

  I'm aware.

  Radio silence.

  I took a deep breath.

  Unfortunately, I have a quiz the next day so I'm going to stay in and prepare for it.

  What did that mean? I scratched the back of my head as potential explanations whirled through my tired mind. My first thought was, a quiz? Shit, that's lousy timing. But a second later, it occurred to me that she might simply be trying to punish me for not calling earlier in the week.

  Except that didn’t seem believable since she'd never been a drama queen before, much less vindictive.

  Which could only mean one thing: she already had plans.

  She was just too nice to rub my face in it.

  It was so obvious. Honestly, who rejects a Valentine's Day date with a quiz excuse unless they're trying to let someone down easy?

  I couldn’t exactly be pissed, though. She told me from the beginning she wanted to steer clear of sappy couple stuff, which was basically the whole point of Valentine’s Day.

  The next fifteen things I typed were stupid, desperate attempts to make a joke about her pathetic excuse for not being available, none of which I sent.

  Instead, I thought about Saturday, about how unfriendly the whole thing felt. Was our connection all in my head? Had I imagined the want between us, the need, the syncing of our fucking heartbeats? Was that just a run-of-the-mill evening for her?

  ’Cause it sure as hell wasn't for me. For me it felt…comforting and dangerous, thrilling yet relaxing. Transcendent even.

  My phone pinged in my hand. Maybe another day?

  I stared at the smiling emoticon at the end of her message and wished I could punch it in the face.

  Sure, I texted, my chest heavy with disappointment.
Good luck on your quiz.

  T W E N T Y S E V E N

  - Nina -

  It was only seven o'clock on Valentine’s Day, but I was already regretting my decision to stay in.

  Not that I was bitter or anything.

  I mean, does bitter put on her heart-print pajama pants and paint her toenails red while she drinks alone? I don’t think so. Seriously, how much more festive could I be?

  I'd even stopped studying for my quiz, which I sort of wished I wasn't so totally prepared for since I could’ve used the distraction.

  Unfortunately, as mesmerizing as the falling snow outside looked as it swirled past the courtyard lights, I couldn't help but wonder what Carter was doing. Or rather, who he was doing.

  I suppose I should’ve been flattered that he at least attempted to make plans with me. Shame I had no way of knowing where I ranked on his list, though. Had he only hit me up because his first and second choice were unavailable? Did I even trouble his top ten?

  Not that it mattered. He'd clearly found someone to spend last weekend and tonight with. Otherwise, I would've heard from him by now…right?

  I painted the last toe on my left foot, lowered it from the edge of my chair to the floor, and screwed the bottle tight before taking a sip of my Bloody Mary, which was also red.

  Shouldn’t I feel festive by now?

  I grabbed my phone on the desk and saw that I had two new Tinder matches. I'd only been using the app for seventy-two hours, but it felt like I’d already been subjected to just as many crude pickup lines.

  Then again, maybe using was the wrong word.

  It’s not like I’d actually arranged to meet any of the guys. Still, it felt like progress…even if that was only because I couldn’t obsess over Carter when I was swiping.

  I set the phone down again and pulled up Google. Am I bipolar, I typed, waiting for the search results.

  My phone pinged again, and I went to put it on silent, deciding I didn't want to spend my Valentine's Day being repeatedly reminded of all the meaningless hookups I should be pursuing.