by Maisey Yates
He was right. It wasn’t just a dress. It was yards of pink satin as a metaphor for her mother-daughter relationship. Or maybe for her life. She certainly hadn’t been any better off living with Marshall than she had been with her mother. He always needed something, always wanted something. Always something she needed to sacrifice to make his life easier, so that she was fulfilling her position as girlfriend to the best of her ability.
And still, no matter how much she had given, it never seemed as if it was enough. Marshall had taken off with the truck she had bought with him for heaven’s sake.
She cleared her throat. “Yeah, well, it’s easier if it’s just a dress.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
Suddenly, she became very aware of his heart beating hard against her chest, of the heat of his body, the strength in his hold. She should move away from him, but she didn’t want to. So instead, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
Liss shifted in Connor’s hold, pressed her cheek against his chest, could feel his heart rate start to speed up. And along with that, she could feel...
She wiggled a little bit, trying to see if she could force her hip into more definitive contact with what she was almost certain was a very inappropriate erection.
She felt his muscles go rigid, felt him freeze. And now she was completely certain. “Connor?”
“What?” He sounded strained, like he was in pain.
“Do you... I mean...”
He moved away from her, his hands up as he backed away. “Sorry.”
She stood there for a second, feeling stunned. As if she’d been slapped upside the head with a piece of barn siding. And then, before her brain could catch up with her body, a decision was made.
She started to close the distance between them, and he took another step away. But she reached out, looped her arm around the back of his neck, her momentum propelling him back against the side of the house, her chest flush against his. Then she stretched up on her tiptoes and closed the distance between them.
Connor growled, lacing his fingers through her hair and pulling her more tightly against him. This was different than the kiss in the barn; this wasn’t a test. This was rough, intense. Angry. Both of them realized that a horse had been let out of the gate, and they couldn’t figure out how to put it back.
He reversed their positions, pushing her back against the wall, pressing the erection that had started it all hard against her stomach. She moaned, biting his lower lip, because she wasn’t quite able to help herself. She’d never done anything like that before. And under normal circumstances, she might have felt a little bit embarrassed about it, or at least a little bit afraid that the guy hadn’t liked it. But she wasn’t, not with him. Because there was no doubt based on the sound he made, based on the way he tightened his hold on her hair, that he had enjoyed it. And this was Connor, and she knew how to read him better than any other person on the planet.
She slid her hands down the front of his chest, relishing the feel of his bare skin, his muscles. He was so hot, and hard and perfect. He was so everything a man should be, and nothing she had ever had before. Marshall had been a backseat driver, in life and in bed. He had no trouble asking her to do things differently, but he never took control.
Connor suffered no such problem. Connor led by example. And it was a very good example.
Liss let her fingers drift over the ridges of muscle on his abs then reached to the side, feeling around for the doorknob. She managed to get the door open, and let them both inside, still kissing him. She was dizzy now, but really, who needed air? She was kissing Connor Garrett. She didn’t need anything else.
They half stumbled to the couch, Liss landing on his lap, her thighs on either side of his. Connor put his hands on her waist, sliding them upward, beneath the hem of her top. She wrenched her mouth from his, a gasp escaping her lips. He released his hold on her and gripped the front of her T-shirt, tugging the neckline downward, revealing a healthy amount of cleavage, and the tops of her lacy bra cups.
“Damn,” he said, the word like a prayer.
He leaned in, pressing his lips to her breasts, before tracing the line where fabric met skin with the tip of his tongue. This was getting a lot further a lot faster than she had imagined it might. Well, the truth was, she hadn’t really thought ahead the moment she had decided to kiss him out on the porch. And in her imagination, in her fantasies past, things had always been hazy. Sensual, but hazy. There was a limit to how deep and detailed she could go with her fantasies about him and still look him in the eye the next day.
This, while sensual, was not at all hazy. It was sharp, to the point of pain, pleasure so acute it twisted into something decidedly different, wholly unique, like she had never felt before.
She slid forward on his lap, her knees hitting the back of the couch, bringing her into very decisive contact with his arousal. Need pierced her, and she rocked her hips against him, need rolling through her like a wave.
She reached between them, fumbling with his belt buckle. When did she get so clumsy? When did basic things like undoing belts become a near impossibility? Maybe around the time getting a belt open had started to feel like a life-and-death situation. “Connor,” she said, panting, and not even caring that she was, “Connor, I need... I need...”
Before she could get the words out, he had pulled her shirt up over her head in one efficient movement while working at the clasp of her bra with his other hand. He seemed to be having as much trouble as she was.
“New plan, you get the belt, I’ll get the bra,” she said.
His hands immediately went down to his belt buckle. “Works for me,” he said.
She unhooked her bra and tossed it to the side, and Connor froze. “You, belt. I held up my end of the deal.”
“I can’t... I... Just a second.” He cupped her breasts, sliding his hands beneath them, pushing them together before releasing his hold, watching her intently. “Fuck.” He leaned in, tracing the outline of her nipple with the tip of his tongue before sucking it in deep, his tongue slick, his whiskers burning her sensitive skin in the very best way. She arched her back, rocking her hips forward, chasing the climax that was building, strong and low inside her.
Then she looked down, and the sight almost sent her over the edge.
Connor. This was Connor. Finally.
He lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting hers. “Sorry about that. It’s been three years since I’ve seen actual breasts in person. And breasts are, like, my favorite thing. Your breasts specifically are my favorite thing right now.”
Heat assaulted her cheeks. “Could you stop apologizing to me every time you do something that feels amazing? Otherwise you’re going to be groaning an apology about the time I make you come.”
“You have to stop talking right now, or it won’t be long until the apology happens.” He reached down and undid his belt buckle, sliding his pants down his hips, leaving his underwear in place.
She reached down, sliding her hand over the black fabric, feeling the hard ridge of his cock. She nearly whimpered. She had hit the jackpot. She would have wanted Connor either way; she had for enough years that she could honestly say size didn’t matter. But it turned out he was extremely impressive, and she found she was very happy about that.
She moved her palm over his length, squeezing him gently. He let his head fall back, air hissing through his teeth. She lifted the waistband of his underwear and slipped her fingers beneath, making contact with his skin. She wanted to freeze this moment. This moment, where she was touching him for the very first time.
Arousal and emotion curled around her stomach, twisting it tight. She had her hand wrapped around Connor’s cock. And the thought alone was enough to send her straight to the edge.
She pushed his underwear down, pulling him out so she could see him. “Oh
, Connor.”
She slid off his lap, getting on her knees in front of him, her hands planted on his thighs. His gaze was intent on hers, his jaw clenched tight. If all she had was tonight, and she feared very much it was all she would have, then she was going to fulfill her every fantasy.
Yes, she would love to believe this would be the start of something lasting. Would love to believe this was only the first of a thousand times. But she wasn’t quite that naive. Tomorrow the sun would rise. The light would clear up the fog that had settled between them, and they would be left with trying to figure out what to do with their friendship. With trying desperately to get things back to the way they were.
She didn’t mind that she still had a light grasp on reality. It made her more determined to take this moment and make it everything. Everything she had always wanted. She curled her fingers around his shaft and leaned in; keeping her eyes on his, she flicked her tongue over the head of his cock.
He gripped her hair and tugged her head up. “Liss, I don’t...”
“What?” He couldn’t stop it now. He could not stop her now.
“I’ve never... I don’t...”
She froze. “Well, you aren’t a virgin, that I know.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, his expression pained, the tendons in his neck standing out. “I’ve never had anyone do that before.”
A shock wave rolled through her body, immobilizing her. Then she shook it off, fantasy taking hold and blunting reality just enough. “Okay. Well, you’re about to. We’re going to talk about this later. Right now I’m not interested in talking.”
* * *
LISS LEANED IN, picking up where she had left off, sliding her tongue over the head of his cock before tilting her head and taking him in deep, moving her hand in time with her mouth. Connor kept his hand buried in her hair, his fingers clenched into a fist.
His best friend in the entire world had his cock in her mouth. And all he could do was sit there, his fingers tangled in her hair, and think one word over and over again.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
He only wished he had let her get this far before he had gone and confessed that he was a blow job virgin. Hell, he wished he hadn’t confessed at all. It was a stupid thing. A stupid thing he’d never worried all that much about. Until, of course, a woman unexpectedly got on her knees in front of him. Then it seemed like a big freaking deal. A huge deal.
She made a satisfied, throaty sound as she took him in deeper, the slick friction of her tongue over his skin almost too much to handle. But then, this was the first time anyone had put their hands on him in three years. The first time anyone had put their mouth on him in ever.
His stomach muscles tightened, fire roaring through his veins. He was dangerously close to coming, and he didn’t want to. Not yet.
“Liss...”
She shifted position, gripping the base of his shaft with her hand, tilting her head and sliding her tongue along the length of him. He released his hold on her hair, sifting it through his fingers, watching as the copper strands caught the light. Gold, red and deep brown all highlighted by the lamp near the couch. And her skin, so pale and pretty and very, very bare.
He looked down at the elegant line of her back, at the hint of her ass, visible thanks to her position, and her very low-cut jeans. She straightened slightly, still teasing him with her tongue, her breasts visible now, her pink nipples tight, so perfect.
Desire built in him, the heat in his blood intensifying, drawing close to a boil. And he knew he couldn’t fight it any longer.
“Liss,” he said, her name a plea now. Because he needed her to stop or else he was going to lose all control.
She looked at him, those golden eyes lit with a matching fire to the one that burned through him. She knew. Knew he was close to losing it. But she didn’t stop. He closed his eyes, tightening his hold on her hair, embracing the release that was roaring through him as she continued to slide her hand over his length, drawing his release out of him in long, slow waves of pleasure.
When his blood cooled, his vision coming back into focus, he looked at her. Fuck. He’d come all over her tits like some kind of animal.
“Oh, shit,” he said, unable to catch his breath.
Liss blinked. “Don’t apologize.”
Dammit, he had been about to apologize. Because who the hell did that? Who lost their control like that? Who just did that to a woman without even talking about it first? He certainly didn’t. His first reaction was to apologize, because he couldn’t imagine her feeling anything but disgust.
“This wasn’t a good idea,” he said.
Liss recoiled, getting to her feet, scrambling for her T-shirt. She picked it up and held it over her breasts, her expression fierce. “Okay, so that’s nice. This is a bad idea after you get your orgasm?”
“No, it was a bad idea from the beginning.”
He expected a fight; he expected her to get mad. Instead, her shoulders sagged, a sadness that made him ache filling her eyes. “You know what? Obviously, it was a bad idea. We weren’t thinking. Like we discussed in the barn, it’s been a long time for both of us.” She gestured toward him. “Apparently, it’s been forever for you, for that. And...and...I need a shower.”
Of course she did. And it was his fault. Because she had to wash him off her.
She turned and walked out of the room, and Connor stood, doing his pants back up, pacing the length of the room. He was such an asshole. He’d let all of his sick fantasies get out of hand, and then it had ended up like that. With him completely disrespecting his best friend. With him taking advantage of her.
His brain rebelled against his revision of the events, trying to remind him that out on the porch Liss had been the one to kiss him. But it butted up against his desire to cast himself as the bad guy. So he dismissed it. Because he was comfortable as the bad guy. This was what he did. He let people down. He fucked stuff up.
And Liss was no exception, apparently.
He pushed his hand through his hair and walked into the kitchen, on a hunt for alcohol. It had been a few days. But hammering apparently didn’t fix anything.
Jack Daniel’s didn’t, either. Not permanently. But it made for a nice temporary haze. And he needed that. More than anything. Needed something to keep him from going into Liss’s room and finishing what they’d started.
He took a glass down from the cabinet, and for the first night in weeks, Connor Garrett poured himself a drink.
CHAPTER TEN
IN LISS’S OPINION, the morning after should come with a whole lot more buzz than this. But then, in her opinion, the night before should have concluded in an entirely different manner.
Instead, the entire day had been filled with the sound of clattering dishes, awkward no-eye-contact greetings and a whole lot of scampering around each other like frightened cats when they had accidental encounters.
And yay, hooray, tonight was the poker game. Which meant they were going to have to take this awkward little show on the road, in front of all their friends and family.
She felt as though she had a stamp on her forehead that said “I totally sucked my friend’s dick.”
The strangest thing was, she still didn’t regret it. Or maybe, it wasn’t that strange. How could she regret the culmination of half a lifetime’s worth of fantasies? Well, culmination was a strong word. There was still unfinished business. Namely the fact that he had gotten off and she hadn’t. Watching him come had certainly been an aphrodisiac, but she would have really liked a little bit of that action herself.
She should be more regretful. She really should be. But it was hard, with the memory of Connor’s lips, and Connor’s...other things, still fresh in her mind.
Well, when she was by herself she wasn’t regretful. But the idea of seeing him again in a fe
w minutes, with a room full of other people, made her slightly regretful.
She wasn’t entirely sure what insanity had exploded between them. Wasn’t sure what had dropped the invisible barrier that had always been there, stripping them of their inhibitions and their clothes.
She closed her eyes and imagined him as he’d been last night. What it had been like to be on her knees in front of him.
And he had never had... No one had ever... She didn’t even understand how that was possible. How could any woman resist that? She and Jessie had never talked about her and Connor’s sex life because Liss was not a masochist. So she’d had no idea her friend had hang-ups about oral sex.
Dear Lord, why was she going there now? It was just that she didn’t understand. And she was obsessing about it now. Obsessing about the fact that she was the first to ever go down on him.
“Is the oven preheated?”
She jumped as Connor came into the room, knocking over the stack of red plastic cups that she was next to. “Yeah,” she said.
“Good. I want to have everything ready when people get here.”
“Yes, because this is the classiest of dinner parties. We don’t want people’s beer to get warm while they await their frozen pizza.”
“There’s chips and salsa. Everyone will live.”
“Good,” she said.
Their eyes met and held. It was the first time all day. She regretted it instantly.
Now she really wished everybody would just hurry up and get here.
She heard the front door open, and she almost groaned with relief. “In here!” she said.
Heavy footsteps crossed the wood floor, and then Jack appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. “I’m here to take your money,” he said. “Now give me a beer.”
“Get your own,” Connor said, and Liss was nothing but grateful to have a buffer between her and her best friend. She could honestly say it was the first time she had ever been pleased about that.
“Is the ice bucket out?”
“Yes,” Connor said, “but there isn’t any beer in it yet. You can make yourself useful, Jack. How about that for a change of pace?”
