Bigger Rock

by Lauren Blakely

  I laugh. “Yeah, go figure.” I make a keep rolling motion with my hand. “Do go on.”

  She gestures to the laptop. “I’d like your help.”

  “Be more specific. Pretend I’m a totally clueless guy and you need to spell it out for me,” I say, trying my best to stay cool.

  “Just as you propositioned me and asked me to be your fiancée for a week, I’d like to proposition you and ask you if you’d return the favor for the next week, in a slightly different way. The way where you finish what we started last night.”

  That was where I thought we were heading, but now that she’s said it, I’m completely unprepared for the reaction in my body. I am electrified. The key has been turned in the ignition, and I race down the road of possibility of reenacting my fantasies from last night.

  “Now, I know what you’re thinking,” she continues, and I hope to God she doesn’t know what I’m thinking, which is about how she looks naked coming on my cock. “You’re worried about us staying friends. That’s why I said I wanted to prove something to you. We can stay friends. It won’t be weird.”

  Oh. Sure. Yeah. I wouldn’t say I was thinking that just now, but I’ve thought it before, so let’s go with it.

  “Yes, that was on my mind,” I say, fibbing mildly.

  “But we’ve made out like, what, three times already, and it hasn’t changed our friendship. Right?” she says, sounding so casual and so damn convincing, but I’m pretty sure she had me at farm fresh, the words she uttered when she walked in the door tonight.

  “Right,” I say in a strong, assertive tone, like I’m banging a judge’s gavel because I’m so damn certain we should screw. Now. Then many more times tonight.

  “So what would you think about us kicking things up a notch during the next week?” she says, then kicks me gently.

  I think that’s a genius idea, and I’m ready to pounce on her and strip her naked. To fulfill all those fantasies I had last night, and all the ones she has. To give her an epic fucking orgasm or twenty to make up for months of none but the solo variety. But deals are always done best when both parties know what to expect from the get-go.

  “We just need a few ground rules,” I say.

  “Yes. Ground rules. Like no anal, right?”

  “Um. That wasn’t really on my list, but I can live with that restriction,” I say with a laugh.

  “Good,” she says, nodding, then she scrunches up her brow. “Why? What were you thinking for ground rules?”

  “More like how long this will last.”

  “One week. Until we break up.”

  Clearly she’s given this some thought. “Got it. Makes sense.”

  “Then we go back to being friends. Promise?”

  “Absolutely,” I say, offering a pinky even though, let’s be honest, I don’t do pinky swears, being a guy and all. Still, it seems the right time to start, so she twists her pinky around mine.

  “That’s vital,” she says emphatically as we link fingers then let go. “We just slide right back into the friend zone at the end of the week.”

  “No sleepovers, either,” I add. “Because that just makes shit weird.”

  “Agreed. And no weirdness. That’s another one.”

  I nod vehemently and slice a hand through the air. “I hate weirdness. We can’t have any weirdness at all.”

  “Also, no lying.”

  “Definitely on board with that.”

  She counts off on her fingers. “Okay. So we’ve got no anal, no sleepovers, no weirdness, no lying. We do this for a week, and we return to being friends.”

  “Anything else?”

  She shoots me a look like I’m crazy. “Well, duh. There’s one more thing.”

  “Hit me. What is it?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Obviously, no falling in love,” she says with utter disdain for the concept.

  I can’t help but scoff, too. “Of course. Like that would ever happen.”

  “It would so never happen.”

  “There’s no way. Absolutely no way.” We both nod once again, completely in agreement on this topic. Then she reaches for the bottom of her tank top like she’s about to strip.

  I hold up a hand. “Whoa.”

  “You’re not ready?”

  “First, I was born ready. Second, I’m pretty much always ready to go at a moment’s notice,” I say, my eyes drifting to my crotch so she gets my meaning. “And I have been incredibly ready for the last forty-eight hours.” That makes her grin. “But let’s, you know, turn on some music and yada, yada, yada.”

  She smacks her forehead. “Right. Mood. Let’s get in the mood.”

  “Already in the mood. But call it that if you want.”

  She stands and holds up a finger. “I’m just going to pee first,” she says, and she scurries down the hall. She heads in the direction of the bathroom attached to my bedroom rather than the one off the kitchen. I shrug. Whatever.

  I click on my streaming music app, cue up some sexy, sultry numbers that remind me of the bar last night, take my wallet out of my pocket, and grab a condom from it. I toss the condom on the table, and it slips out of my fingers easily.

  It’s then that I realize my palms are sweating.

  Holy shit.

  I’m nervous.

  I’m fucking nervous, and that is not acceptable. I do not get nervous before sex. I am a rock star in the sheets. I am all confidence, all skill, and all focused on the woman. Charlotte is not getting anything less than my A game. Hell, she’s getting nothing less than an A-plus game. I take a deep breath, letting it fill my chest. I straighten my shoulders and remind myself that this is what I excel at. This is my master class. I’m going to give Charlotte the most mind-blowing pleasure she has ever experienced in her life.

  I walk over to the light switch, dim the overhead slightly, and when I turn around, Charlotte is in the living room, leaning against the wall.

  She wears one of my white button-down shirts and nothing else that I can see.

  I freeze.

  I can’t breathe. I can’t blink. I can’t do anything but stare at her gorgeous figure. Her blonde hair curling over the front of my shirt. Her hands restless against the buttons, as if she’s unsure what to do with them. Her strong legs, all bare and beautiful. The edges of the shirt covering her. I don’t know if she still has on her panties, but I’m going to have a field day finding out.

  Every atom inside me buzzes. I need to touch every part of her beautiful body. Kiss every inch of her skin. Lick her, taste her, fuck her.

  Please her.

  “Are you trying to seduce me?” I ask as I walk over to her.

  “Yes,” she whispers, her voice feathery. “Is it working?”

  I nod. “But that’s not how this works.”

  Enough of her setting the rules. Enough of her making decisions. This is my fiefdom. I rake my eyes over her from head to toe and watch her reaction. She breathes hard, and her eyes shine with desire. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not seducing me.” I brush the backs of my fingers along her cheek, taking the reins as she trembles into my touch. “I’m going to seduce you.”

  16

  With great power comes great responsibility.

  It’s not classified intel that I’m well-endowed. Charlotte’s already figured that out, and she hasn’t even taken off my clothes yet. But here’s the secret to success when you possess a much-larger-than-average-size cock. You can’t just wave it around like a big bat. You’ve got to treat it like a baseball manager does a closer. A cock with firepower is your secret weapon, and it’s worth its weight in gold if you know what to do with the rest of the lineup. Meaning, the dick should never be the star of the show.

  The woman’s name should be the one in lights, and you need to make her feel that way from start to finish. Warm her up right. Use all your tools—hands, fingers, mouth, tongue, words.

  Fortunately, I am well-versed in all of the above, and I intend to show Charlotte all my s
kills.

  First, words…

  “I have a confession to make,” I say.

  “Yes?”

  “I know you were trying to prove we can still be friends when we were watching TV. But I wasn’t feeling very friendly toward you.”

  “You weren’t?” she asks, the tiniest bit of worry in her eyes.

  I shake my head. “I wasn’t feeling the least bit friendly when I was wondering what your lips taste like tonight,” I whisper, and the worry in her gaze turns to a spark of excitement. Her chest rises and falls, as if every breath is rich with anticipation of what’s coming next.

  I hold her face in my hands, slant my mouth to hers, and kiss her.

  Like a tease. A soft, slow, lingering tease that will do exactly what I promised her a kiss would do. I brush my lips over hers, tasting her, claiming her mouth, all before I slide my tongue between her red, eager lips.

  I moan when her tongue darts out to meet mine.

  This isn’t our first kiss, but it’s the first one that’s not going to stop at kissing. It’s a kiss that will go the distance.

  Her breasts push against the fabric of my shirt, and soon, very soon, I’m going to meet them. I’m going to get thoroughly acquainted with her gorgeous tits, and then I’ll take my sweet time getting to know every inch of her body.

  That’s the way I kiss her. As a promise of what’s to come.

  Her.

  Many times.

  When I break the kiss, I run my thumb across her top lip, like I’m marking this territory as mine. She lets out the neediest little gasp.

  “You taste like cherry candy, and tequila, and desire,” I tell her, as I lower my hand to her neck, dragging my fingers along the soft, tender skin of her throat. “And now that I’ve tasted you, I want to see the rest of you. I want to know what you look like naked. I’ve pictured it non-stop for days.”

  “Get me naked then,” she says in a plea.

  “Since you asked so nicely,” I say, letting my voice trail off as I slide the first shirt button out of the hole, then the next. I’m buzzing everywhere, knowing I’m not only going to see her breasts, but I’m going to touch them, feel them, kiss them. The anticipation has its own pulse, its own presence in my apartment here with us. I want to imprint this moment on my permanent memory. To never forget how it feels to take my shirt off Charlotte.

  She runs her tongue over her lips. Her eyes blaze, and she trembles. She’s like a beautiful bird in a cage, wings fluttering, heart racing, dying to break free.

  I’m going to be the one to do it. I get to let her escape, and experience all of her.

  I free another button from its prison and my fingertips brush across the swell of her tits.

  She gasps, and I groan, and we both grin at the same time from the shared realization–because it doesn’t take a mind-reader to tell she loves being touched by me as much as I love touching her. Even though I’m past her breasts now, I don’t spread open the shirt. I’m waiting until every damn button is undone. I want the moment to be a goddamn unveiling of her naked beauty, because I know without having seen her yet that she is gorgeous everywhere.

  As I reach for the final button, I drag my fingertip down her soft flesh, and she murmurs.

  I slide the last button through the hole and take a step back to look at her. I’m utterly floored by the woman in front of me. She’s always been beautiful, but here, tonight, with the moonlight from my balcony illuminating her as she stands against the white wall in my living room, she is more than beautiful.

  She’s an angel who’s come to sin with me.

  My shirt is half open on her, revealing a long, luscious line from the hollow of her throat, through her cleavage, down to her belly button. She wears pink lace panties, low on her hips. Reaching for the collar of the shirt, I slide the fabric down her shoulders, stopping briefly to dust a kiss on her collarbone, then along her arms, pausing to kiss her in the crook of her elbow, then all the way to her wrists.

  She shrugs off the material with a happy sigh. It falls to the ground, and my chest heats to supernova levels as I drink her in. My God, undressing her is like unwrapping a gift. Undo the bow, open the top, and discover that what’s inside is even better than you dreamed it would be on Christmas morning.

  She is heavenly beauty.

  Her breasts are round and full, and her nipples are hard little peaks, tipping up. Her belly is flat and soft, and her hips beg for my hands to grip them as I sink into her. My dick hardens to pure steel as I picture holding those hips and sliding home.

  But her breasts are at the front of the line right now, and they’re getting all my attention first. My hands shoot out, cupping them. She moans the second I make contact, and lets her head fall back against the wall.

  “Want to know what else I’ve been thinking that’s not so friendly?” I say in a growl near her ear as I stroke the soft flesh around her nipples.

  “What else?” she asks, her voice shooting higher as I touch her.

  “I’ve been wondering if you’ll like having my mouth on your breasts as much as I know I’m going to love it.” I wrench back to look her in the eyes. “Think you will?”

  She nods quickly. That desperation sends hot sparks down my spine. Her response is like a dream, and that’s how I want her to feel—that this night with me is better than anything she’s ever imagined.

  I want her reality to exceed any and every fantasy.

  Especially because the Charlotte of the last few days is nowhere to be seen. The one who wanted to tease me, the one who climbed on top of me in a cab, who whispered dirty, filthy things in my ear, has left the premises. Oh, she’s not far away, I’m sure. But in her place is a softer, more vulnerable Charlotte, and that’s who I want tonight.

  So I can lead her.

  So I can show her.

  So I can take her.

  Lowering my mouth to one gorgeous globe, I draw that diamond peak between my lips. She lets out a little cry, and then her hands find their way to my hair, her fingers threading tightly through it as I suck on her absolutely delicious breast, then gently tug on her nipple with my teeth. I knead her soft flesh, and a flash of images flickers in my mind, of how hot it would be to slide my dick between her tits someday. They’re so highly fuckable, and she’s so damn sensitive just from my tongue.

  I could have a field day fucking these beauties, coming all over her skin. Not tonight, though, because that would be for me. This night is all for her.

  I move my mouth to her other breast, giving it the same lavish treatment, as I caress her with my tongue. Her noises are the answer to the question I asked her about whether she’d like this. She says yes in the way her breath catches with each lick and kiss.

  “So you do like it as much as I do,” I say.

  “Yesssssssss.”

  It is a note held long and lasting in a song. A very dirty song.

  I inch my way down her body, kissing her belly, flicking my tongue across her hips. She moves and moans with the path of my mouth, breathing wildly as I taste every inch of her skin.

  As I draw a delicious line around her belly button, I’m intensely aware of how much I want this night to be amazing for her. I want her to feel worshipped and fucked at the same time. Traveling down her body, my tongue explores the edge of her pink, barely-there panties, flicking under the waistband as she quivers. I near her pussy, and this is the only place I want to be right now. The only fucking place in the universe. I hook my thumbs into the slim waistband of the pink lace, when she says my name.

  “Spencer.”

  I look up.

  “Will you take off your shirt?”

  In one quick move, my T-shirt is gone, and her hands are on my bare shoulders, and it feels fantastic to be touched by her, even if it’s only as her anchor. That’s all I want to be—the one who she holds onto as I rock her world with my mouth. I inch her panties down to her thighs, savoring every second of the reveal as I take in her nudity for the first time. I swall
ow dryly at the first glimpse of her mound, and the light curls of hair that cover it.

  Natural blonde.

  I press my nose into the hair and inhale her. I am about to taste her. I am about to slide my tongue between my best friend’s legs, and I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life.

  “Believe me now?”

  “What do you mean?” Her voice sounds as if it’s floating.

  “That I’m attracted to you.”

  “Yes,” she says on a pant.

  “It’s beyond attraction, Charlotte. I’m fucking dying to taste you, and you better not ever doubt how much I want you, with me on my knees, peeling off your panties so I can bury my face between your thighs,” I tell her, and her hips shoot closer to me.

  “I don’t doubt it anymore. I swear I don’t,” she says, so damn desperate to be touched.

  I kiss her once right above her clit. Her moans tell me she’s an inferno.

  Just like me.

  I slide the lace to her ankles, and with her hands on my shoulders, she steps out of them. I raise my face, meeting her dark eyes that blaze with a lust that matches mine. No more words. No more teasing. No more waiting.

  I press my hands on the insides of her thighs, widen her stance, and groan headily as I marvel at the sight before me—Charlotte’s beautiful, hot, wet pussy.

  And that gorgeous clit, already hard and throbbing for me.

  I dart out my tongue, flicking it across her swollen clit, and she unleashes the most glorious moan I’ve ever heard in my life. I grip her thighs, holding on as I kiss her sweet pussy. I could go to town on her right now. I could lap her up like a crazed, hungry man. But as much as I want to devour her, I need to pace her, to learn if she likes it fast and hungry, or if she needs more build-up. Flicking my tongue across her clit, I lick her where she wants me most. Judging from the way her fingernails curl into my shoulders, she doesn’t need much more than the tip of my tongue.

  She tastes like sex and dreams and lust, and she’s flooding my mouth with every lick. My body isn’t just an inferno; it’s a volcano. My veins run with lava, and my pulse beats everywhere with desire. My dick is setting world records for hardness as it strains against the zipper of my jeans.