by Maisey Yates
“This is going to be better than cake,” he said, his tone intimate, husky. Something else new. Something else special.
“Gluten free?”
“I think sex is naturally gluten free.”
She laughed, which, considering her best friend was currently resting between her thighs, kissing her neck, was a bit absurd. “I guess it would have to be, or Hollywood would be a very different place.”
“Yeah, I suppose.” A small smile curved his mouth again and she stretched up, kissing him, because she couldn’t resist, and she didn’t have to.
He grabbed hold of her wrists, raising them over her head, his hold surprisingly firm. “I’m going to need to get those clothes off you, because I think I’m going to go crazy wondering just what you look like.”
“I didn’t think you would be like this.”
“Be like what?” He frowned, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows.
“You’re very commanding. I mean, you’re always kind of commanding, but it’s different right now.” He was so confident in this, clearly, an area of expertise for him, and she’d had no idea. She wasn’t going to say that though. Because it sounded stupid.
“Do you like it?” he asked, pressing his fingertips to her collarbone, then trailing them slowly down between her breasts, down to her belly button, lower.
She gasped. “It’s adequate.”
“Adequate?” His brows shot upward. “Really? That’s it?”
“I don’t know. Keep going.”
“Damned with faint praise.” He undid the snap on her jeans and her breath caught as he lowered the zipper, tugging the denim, and her panties down her legs. “Oh fuck,” he breathed, the word sounding like a prayer more than a curse. And for the first time she really believed that he wanted this.
She was so fascinated by all of this, so curious about what might happen next, that she forgot to be embarrassed about the fact she was completely bare to him from the hips down. She was too busy watching his face, looking at the hunger in his eyes.
He put his hand down between her legs and she gasped as his fingers slid through her slick folds, a shower of sparks raining down over her with each passing of his talented fingers over her sensitized skin. She curled her hands around the quilts again, her hips bucking off the bed as he continued to tease her. His lips were parted slightly, his dark eyes boring into hers as he stroked her.
Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she tried to force them open. She wanted to keep looking at him. Wanted to stay entirely present in this moment. Then he shifted, pushing one long finger deep inside of her, and she gave up, squeezing her eyes shut, letting her head fall back, a cry on her lips. She lost herself completely then, in his touch, his scent, in the desire that was tightening like a fist inside her stomach.
She rocked her hips in time with his movements, pleasure building, so fast, so intense, that she wasn’t certain she could withstand it. She gasped for air, trying to catch her breath, trying to fight back against the full-fledged assault being waged on her body. And just when she thought she would lose it, lose herself, break into tiny little pieces, the tension in her midsection burst, transforming into a million glittering stars that rained down through her as her release crackled through her body like an electric shock. She couldn’t hold back the short, sharp sound of need, and she didn’t care.
Slowly, as she came back to earth, back to her body, she opened her eyes. He was looking at her, something a lot like awe etched onto his handsome face. And she realized that he still had his jeans on, and she was still wearing her top.
“More,” she said. It wasn’t what she meant to say, but she couldn’t even think of what she meant to say. Her brain had been rendered completely useless by Luke’s magic hands.
He stripped her T-shirt over her head, unhooking her bra with a speed that spoke of skill, skill that she could only be grateful for now, before taking his wallet out of his pocket and throwing it on to the bed, then straightening and working his belt buckle, removing his jeans quickly and efficiently, and his underwear along with them.
She scrambled into a sitting position, unable to keep herself from openly staring at the sight of his naked body. He was… He was everything. More beautiful than she’d ever imagined any man could be. And big. Very, very big. She reached out, encircling his length, squeezing him tightly.
“Mel,” he said, her name rough on his lips.
“Do you know that you’re beautiful?” she asked. Dimly, she was a little embarrassed that she’d said that. Men weren’t beautiful.
Except he was. So it was just the truth.
She bit her lip, overtaken with the desire to do something she wasn’t entirely sure she should do. She had no experience. She’d never been this close to a naked guy before. And they hadn’t talked about what they liked. What he liked. This was about her losing her virginity, so maybe he didn’t want her to go touching him.
Too bad. This was her experience. So she was going to take what she wanted.
She leaned in, pressing her lips to the thick head of his arousal.
Suddenly, Luke’s fingers were threaded through her hair, pulling hard, his hold so tight it stung her scalp. “Mel. You don’t have to do that. This is about you.”
“Exactly,” she said, angling her head and tracing the length of him with the tip of her tongue. “It’s about me. And I want to do this. Luke, I want to touch every inch of you. Taste every inch of you. You have no idea…” She stopped talking then, because if she said anything else it would be too revealing.
As if begging the guy to let you give him a blow job isn’t revealing?
Yeah, it probably was. But, oh well.
She shifted, bracing her hands on his slim hips, taking him deep in her mouth. His hold on her hair tightened, a rough growl rising in his throat. Satisfaction flooded her, along with arousal that was building again, so much sooner than she ever would have thought possible.
“Mel,” he said, his words strained, “Stop. Not like this. I need to be… I need to be inside you.”
She raised her head. “Well, technically you were inside me.”
She found herself flat on her back again, this time lying the correct direction on the bed, Luke looming over her. “You have a smart mouth. Luckily, you have a talented mouth too. That way you stay out of trouble.”
“I don’t know,” she said, looking up at him, at this naked man in her bed, “this looks a lot like trouble to me.”
He reached to the side and grabbed his wallet, taking a brightly colored square packet out of it. It was a condom. She recognized it. They were going to need that.
Oh, they were really doing this.
But she wasn’t nervous, and she wasn’t going to regret it. She wanted it. Wanted this. Wanted him.
He opened the condom, rolling it over his length slowly, then shifting, putting his hand between her thighs again, sliding one finger into her, then a second, stretching her slowly, gently. She never would have thought of that. She wondered if random guy from the bar would have done that for her. He wouldn’t have. She was sure of that. What Luke was doing took consideration, caring.
Suddenly, her chest felt so full it ached. And she realized that doing this with anyone else would’ve been a mistake. She didn’t just want sex, she wanted Luke. How she’d ever been so blind to that she wasn’t sure.
Because she’d decided it was impossible. But it hadn’t been impossible. He was here. They were here together.
He withdrew from her, settling between her thighs again, kissing her lips as he tested the entrance to her body slowly, carefully with the blunt head of his erection. He flexed his hips, stretching her inch by tantalizing inch. It stung, but only a little bit. It didn’t hurt, so much as it felt unfamiliar.
She felt him tense, then suddenly he thrust into her completely, a harsh growl on his lips as he buried himself in her body.
She squeezed her eyes shut tight, suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of fullness that went we
ll beyond the physical. He held her hips steady as he established a slow, measured rhythm, designed to build arousal and heat in her body again. It worked. Soon, she forgot about any discomfort, any pain. Soon, the pleasure had built to that impossible place again, so big, so tight, she was sure it would break her completely if she didn’t find release.
But this time, he was with her. This time, she could feel the tension in his muscles, see how tightly he was gritting his teeth, the tendons on his neck standing out with all the effort it was taking to control himself. But he was close to losing it. Close, just like her.
“Luke,” she whispered, as he thrust deep inside her again, his pelvis grinding against her in exactly the right way, “Oh, Luke, so good. So good.”
Then, his control broke, his movements suddenly becoming frantic, hard, so intense she could barely catch her breath. But she didn’t mind. “I’m sorry, Mel,” he whispered, burying his head in her neck as he froze above her, his muscles shaking, “Sorry.”
But she couldn’t figure out what he was apologizing for because just then the wave of pleasure broke over her, pushing her beneath the surface, threatening to drown her in sensation so sweet she didn’t even mind.
Dimly, she became aware of the fact that it was the middle of the day. That she could hear birds outside the window. That Luke was still inside of her.
And that she was absolutely, most definitely, not a virgin anymore.
Chapter Five
‡
Hell looked a lot more like a handmade quilt than Luke had imagined it would. Surely, he was in Hell.
Because he’d just screwed his best friend, the woman he’d sworn to protect. Bad no matter how you looked at it. But the icing on the damned gluten-free sex cake was that she was a virgin. Had been a virgin. She wasn’t one now.
Thanks to him and his indiscriminate cock.
Actually, his cock had been rather discriminate of late. But it should have been more discriminating. It should have saved him from this. Instead, it had encouraged him.
So, now he’d surely be consumed by hellfire.
Except he didn’t feel consumed by hellfire. He felt good. Damn good. Relaxed and about ready to go again.
No.
He moved away from her, from the heat of her body, rolling onto his back.
“Luke.” Her voice was soft, and the touch of her hand on his chest even softer. He was an asshole. He was supposed to protect her. He was—
He couldn’t think anymore because she’d moved her hand down a lot lower than his chest. He caught her wrist and pulled her hand away. “Mel,” he said, his tone full of warning. “We need to be careful here.”
“It’s a penis, Luke, not a poisonous snake.”
He laughed in spite of himself. “You’re going to get sore. And I don’t have another condom.”
“I have condoms,” she said, waving her hand, still in his grasp.
He fought against a wave of rage that moved through him. “You do, huh?”
“Well, yes, Luke, I was a virgin, not a moron. I wanted to have sex so I bought condoms. Safety first.”
The idea that she’d bought condoms to use with some guy…some random guy…some random guy that wasn’t him, made him want to smash glass and flip tables.
She would have used them with another man. And the thought hit him somewhere down deeper than just his desire to protect her.
“Well, trust me. You can’t just…you’re going to…I don’t want to hurt you.” He meant that in every way.
“Did I sound like I was hurt?” She stretched like a cat then, raising her arms up over her head, digging her heels down into the mattress, and he was powerless to do anything but stare at her. At the curve of her breasts, her slim waist, her slightly rounded stomach and perfectly curved hips…
She was beautiful. He hadn’t realized just how beautiful until now. If only because he’d never realized how deep beautiful could go. She was his friend. Someone he was comfortable with. If he had to make a list of people he’d choose to spend his last days on earth with, she’d be on it. And she was pretty. Mel was always pretty. Nice to look at, nice to be around.
Added to that, he liked naked women. In just about every shape from hourglass to pear and various body types in between.
But this was still more. Still different.
This was all that prettiness, all that-I’d-spend-the-last-day-with-you companionship, with added nakedness and hell if he knew what to do with that. Except keep staring.
“Oh,” she said, pushing into a sitting position. “Oh. Dear Lord.” She covered her mouth, her pale blue eyes going wide with horror.
Oh no. He’d hurt her. She regretted it already.
“We had sex on my grandma’s quilt.”
“What?” he asked.
“My grandmother’s handmade quilt. You took my virginity on it!”
He was so shocked that a crack of laughter escaped him. “Um. Yeah, I guess I did.”
“Oh, she would be so disappointed.”
“Well, maybe don’t call her up at the nursing home and announce it,” he said.
“She’s frail, Luke. And old.”
“Well, she’s old. Frail? Not so much.”
“If she knew that nice Shuller boy deflowered her granddaughter on a quilt she stitched together with her arthritic hands…”
“I would bet she figures you were long ago deflowered. If she thinks of it at all.”
“I bet not,” Melanie said. “She always wanted me to steer clear of men. Or, at least wanted me to make sure I had my shit together before I ever touched one.”
“And do you?”
“What?”
“Have your shit together?”
Mel blinked. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not looking for a relationship.”
He ignored the strange, sinking sensation in his gut that felt like some strange mutant hybrid of disappointment and relief.
“You aren’t?”
“No. Are you kidding me? Why would I want…”
“You said you wanted to date,” he said.
“Yeah. And get rid of my virginity. Which was the main thing. But I want something casual. I just…” She rolled onto her side, her blonde hair spilling over her breasts, blocking them from his view, dammit. “My mom threw everything away, put herself, her child, in danger. I can’t…I don’t ever want to be blind like that. I don’t know if I ever want to get married or have kids or any of that. But I had to get through this before I could ever know. I had to get past the brick wall. Which, in this case was the virginity.”
His chest tightened. Her bastard of a father sure had a lot to answer for. “You would never do that,” he said. “You would never be that way.”
“Really? I’m sure my mom never thought she’d be that either.”
“I wouldn’t let you, first of all,” he said. “If some bastard ever hit you…if you were with a guy and he didn’t treat you…I would kill him. Actually kill him, not just wish I could kill him like I wish I could kill Beckett.”
“Poor Beckett,” Melanie said.
“Why poor Beckett? I’m the one suffering irreparable emotional trauma from his actions.”
“Um. Are you pregnant with his baby, Luke?”
He frowned. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“And so are you. Naked and,” she said, waving her hand, “ridiculous. And you’ve spurned my advances. So…double ridiculous.”
“We didn’t discuss what would happen after the first time,” he said.
Hearing his own words, his voice, all moderated and careful after they’d done something so careless and passionate…he wanted to punch himself in the face. He was a prick.
She rolled out of bed, bending down, hunting for her clothes. “I would rather you didn’t make such an effort to ruin this, Luke.”
“I’m not trying to ruin this. I’m just saying…” You didn’t think it through, asshole. You just wanted her and took her and lied to yourself so y
ou could finally give into your lust. “I don’t—”
“Want me to get hurt. Right?”
“Would you rather I did?”
“No!” She bent and picked up her T-shirt, pulling it on with no bra beneath it. “Grr. You asshole.”
“Do you think random-ass cowboy would have called you the next day? Do you think you would have had more than one time with him?”
“No,” she said, the word cutting. “But I didn’t sleep with him. I slept with you. So excuse me for expecting better.” She tugged her jeans on, sans panties, and stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door closed behind her.
Luke let out a heavy sigh.
He’d fucked up. No doubt about it. And he didn’t have the luxury of fucking up right now. There was too much going on. With Beckett being a thief, also the father to Luke’s first niece or nephew…
Yeah, he had quite enough on his plate without adding a heaping helping of Ruin The Only Other Friendship He Had to his plate.
But he had.
He lay back on the quilt, Grandma Mina’s quilt, that had never before known sex on its hallowed surface, and closed his eyes.
Damage control. He had to do damage control.
If only he could figure out what kind of Band-Aid you could possibly apply to a wound this big.
*
She had three different kinds of cake in the oven, one batch of frosting completed, and a salted caramel butter cream getting beaten in her upright mixer. But baking had not brought the clarity, or the peace of mind it often did.
Probably because she’d fundamentally altered the molecular structure of her body earlier. It had been an hour since she and Luke had made love. A whole hour of lost virginity.
She didn’t feel enlightened. She felt—damn him for being right—sore in places she’d never before had to contend with soreness, gritty-eyed, and emotionally deflated.
