by Nikky Kaye
My heart just about stopped at the idea that she might be on the prowl, but I didn’t think Cass would do that. Not that she couldn’t, but… I shook my head. No, she wouldn’t. Right? For a split second I wondered if my impetuous decision to come and woo the fuck out of her was wrong. But I hardened my resolve and looked up the address of The Bar.
The Bar was a hipster-style dive, which was kind of a relief. On one hand, I wouldn’t have to freeze my nuts off in a line and pay an exorbitant cover charge to get in the door. On the other hand, if I counted more than a dozen asshats with beards, I was going to lose my shit.
When I got inside, I was pleasantly surprised. No smoking allowed, and minimal lumberjack wannabes. Strings of Christmas tree lights canopied the ceiling, and the tall tables and stools looked solid and comfortable. It was crowded, sure, but the noise was the din of relatively normal-looking people talking. It looked like a local, not a meat market or poser joint. And the best part was that the place was small enough that I spotted Cass almost right away.
To be fair, though, I had built-in Cassie radar in my jeans.
I swallowed around the golf ball in my throat as I watched her dance with a couple of friends beside a vintage jukebox. My girl was laughing—a sight that reflexively made me smile like a fucking fool. The fact that she was dancing to some god-awful old disco music made me smile hard enough for my cheeks to hurt.
Her long hair was down, but as usual she kept holding it up off her neck with her pale hands, tipped with sparkly nail polish. That was the only decoration on her body that I could see. Instead of a short skirt or revealing top, Cass wore a pair of skinny jeans tucked into those fuck-me boots, and a plain, tight black t-shirt. There was no necklace marring the creamy line of her neck, not even earrings flashing through the hair that swung around her.
It was hands down the sexiest outfit I’d ever seen her in—and that included the white bikini. She almost looked like my Cassie, the one I became friends with—natural, charming, and utterly clueless to the effect she had on others. Except… this Cassie wasn’t totally clueless. There was a new swing to her hips, like she felt comfortable in her own body.
I stood corrected. Her self-assurance was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen her in.
She hadn’t seen me yet, so I made a beeline for the men’s room. It only took a minute to adjust myself privately. I snagged a cold bottle of a microbrew from the genuinely friendly bartender and tried to creep up on Cass.
Of course, stealth was hard to accomplish in a small place, however crowded. One of her friends spotted my approach, took in my determined line of vision, and tapped Cass on the shoulder.
She whirled around just as I rocked up to her, and we were both damned lucky that I didn’t spill the beer down her cleavage.
“Will!” She threw her arms around me. I spilled a bit of the beer down her back instead. “Yeeeek!”
She pulled away, arching her back and pulling her shirt away from the bottom of her spine. It made her tits stick out even further. Her eyes were still shining at me, her lips parted in shock. I put the beer down on a nearby table. My hands were shaking so bad I might have dropped it anyhow.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Cass.”
“You know, Will, there are better ways to get my clothes off.” She winked at me then turned to her friends excitedly. Evidently she wasn’t nervous at all to see me. “Guys, this is Will! He takes my clothes off!”
Jesus. “Uh, how much have you had to drink, Cass?”
“She’s fine,” one girl with glasses and heavy bangs reassured me. “She just has no social filter sometimes.”
I snickered at the memory of her telling me that she hated sex, which is how this whole thing started. “Yeah, I’m aware.”
“And besides, you’re Will,” the girl added with a smirk.
Should I be worried that my reputation had preceded me? I supposed it would depend on what she’d said about me.
The song ended at the same time that Cass yelled, “He makes me come so hard!” I swore I heard a sound effect like a scratching record as she waved her hand in front of her overheated face dramatically. Her friends giggled.
“Where there’s a Will, there’s a way,” the bespectacled bestie joked. “Where can I get one?”
Okay, then. That answered the question of my reputation.
“What are you doing here?” She leapt at me again before I could respond.
Her hair swung into my face, slightly damp from exertion and smelling faintly of her perfume. Over her shoulder, two of her friends waggled their fingers hello at me, and another headed to the bar. My eyes closed as I reveled in her nearness.
Fuck, I’d missed her. When I growled that exact sentiment in her ear, I felt a shudder go through her. I also felt the back of her shirt, soaked with beer.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
She leaned back in my arms and frowned. “For what?”
“For spilling on you.”
Stepping back, she waved it off. “No biggie.” I just about had an arrhythmia as she peeled her t-shirt off. No doubt she had attracted the attention of all the men in the bar, but she didn’t seem to care.
Underneath she wore a little camisole, like the kind she wore on Halloween when she’d snuggled up on my lap at the frat party. Her unselfconscious sexiness was my undoing that night—the smell of her wet panties, the way she shimmied against me while I tried to help her into bed. She really had no idea what kind of power she had, which was the most dangerous kind.
She draped her t-shirt over the back of a tall bar stool. “See? No problem!”
Her nipples pointed through the skimpy top. Jesus fucking Christ. They were like eyes in a painting that followed you when you walked through a museum. I desperately wanted to adjust myself again.
“Cass!” called the one friend who was returning from the bar with a couple of mixed drinks in her hands.
“Yeah?”
“Nice headlights.”
Cassie looked down, like it hadn’t even occurred to her that she might be exposing herself. “Ooops,” she said. I shook my head in amazement.
“You gonna dance like that?” Glasses asked.
Oh god, no! No dancing! I wouldn’t be able to take it!
Her blush spread down her neck and chest, which, of course, everyone with a fucking pulse could see. Actually, they could probably see her pulse as well. Cass hunched her shoulders over a little, as if that would hide anything. It only made her cleavage more prominent, and the lithe lines of her back stand out.
Like a moron, it took me that long to realize that I was still wearing my coat. With a start, I pulled it off and draped it around her shoulders. Those wild portrait-eye nipples were just for me.
“Thanks,” she said, her cheeks still pink. Her eyes were wide and dark as she looked up at me. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but why am I seeing you?”
Finally. I wrapped my hand around her wrist and tugged her into a corner. Nervously, I dragged my hand through my hair. “There’s something we didn’t clear up on the phone,” I said.
She waited silently, but the light dimmed a little in her eyes. Did she think I came all this way on New Year’s Eve to dump her? I looked around at the crowd stirring; it must have been getting close to midnight.
I leaned back against the wall, spreading my legs so she could stand between them. Holding her hands between us, I pulled her close enough to kiss and tried to remember what I’d said the last time we were in a bar together.
“I want you, Cass. I want every part of you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve already had my ass,” she whispered furtively.
Smothering a laugh, I shook my head. “That’s not what I meant. I want you. I want you in my bed, and occasionally in yours—even though it’s too small. But I also want to get dinner with you, play footsie at the library with you, go shopping with you. I’ll even hold your fucking purse if you let me do naughty things to you in the dres
sing room. Actually, I want to do a lot of very private things to you in very public places.”
Her head whipped to look at the ladies’ room door.
“Not there,” I assured her. “You deserve more than that.” Fuck, this seemed so juvenile. But I took a deep breath and committed myself to looking like a pussy-whipped, lovesick idiot. “I want to be more. I want us to try.”
She watched me closely with an inscrutable expression. Her chest rose and fell with her breathing underneath my jacket. The noise around us rose in volume, and I vaguely heard the countdown start to the ball dropping.
This moment could be romantic as fuck, if only she said yes. My hands tightened around hers and I wouldn’t—couldn’t—take my eyes off her face as she bit her lip.
“But what if it fucks up our friendship?” she finally asked.
“It won’t.”
“Maybe it did already. What about the bet?”
So she hadn’t forgotten about that. “I’m calling it in. I never should have tried to wager on shit like that.”
She moved to shake her head, but her hair was trapped under the collar of my coat. “No, that’s not fair. I had one more thing I wanted to try.”
My stomach flipped as she pulled her hands free from mine. Oh fuck. I just flew a thousand miles to make a fucking fool out of myself.
Three, two, one! Happy New Year!
The bar buzzed around us; a few noisemakers and horns blasted through the cheering. More than one person had downloaded Auld Lang Syne to their phones, and they played over each other in a cacophony of sound as drunken locals sang off-key.
Cassie pressed up against me. Between my slouching and her high-heeled boots, we stood almost eye-to-eye.
“The thing is, Will,” she began. “I think I love sex now. But I want…” She hesitated, as though unsure if she could tell me whatever it is she wanted to say.
My hands went to her face, my thumbs cradling her jaw as she squeezed her eyes shut. Her breath was hot against my face, and smelled faintly of cranberry juice.
“What is it?” I whispered, touching my forehead to hers. “I’ll do anything for you.” Except a guy guy girl threesome.
Her eyes flew open. “I want you to make love to me, Will.”
Every single muscle in my body stiffened, then relaxed. Well, almost every one. I dropped my head on her shoulder, exhaling heavily into the pillow of my jacket’s collar.
“Fuck, Cass. You scared the shit out of me.”
Her hands touched the back of my neck, smoothing over my hair tenderly. Despite her gentle touch, she felt rigid, almost vibrating with nervous energy. I raised my head up and looked into her big, dark eyes.
“I told you I want you,” I said. “I meant it. I want to fuck you, and I want to make love to you. I want to find all the ticklish spots on your body and I’m sure you’ll try to find mine. And I want to be friends, too. Remember, I’m a greedy motherfucker. Can we try?”
She nodded, her lips curving into a smile. Then she kissed me.
Happy fucking New Year to us.
Epilogue
Cassie
“Oh my god, what did you do to Dylan?”
I jabbed my finger into Will’s broad chest. When he caught it and kissed the tip I felt corresponding tingles, even through my stretchy gloves. I’d caught up to him in the quad between classes, and we stood so close, our breath mingled into one hoary cloud of frost. Valentine’s Day was coming up soon, but it was still cold outside.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I heard a rumor that Churchill dumped him. He has no advisor now.”
Will rolled his eyes. “Boo fucking hoo.”
He didn’t sound very sorry for the guy, but why would he be? We’d already pondered the possibility that I wasn’t the only student he’d harrassed, so if someone else finally nailed him then he deserved it.
Will hiked his backpack up on his left shoulder and grabbed my hand as we walked together to the building where I had my next class. Instead of my gloved hand warming his, the chill of his bare hand just penetrated through me like an icicle. So I tugged off my gloves and decided to suffer with him. He grinned down at me as I swung our joined hands together between us.
“Cold hands, warm heart? Is that the saying?” he asked.
“Something like that.” My heart was pretty warm for him, along with other parts of me.
My nose was running by the time when we got inside, and I fished in my bag for a tissue. After I threw it in the garbage can, I turned on him. “Okay, spill.”
“Spill what?”
“Why doesn’t Dylan have an advisor anymore?”
Will blinked at me. His cheeks were red with cold, which meant that mine probably were as well. But as the tips of his ears got redder, even though we were inside, I figured he was guilty of something.
I stepped close to him, fighting a shiver as my chest pressed against his in our chilled coats. Slowly, I tugged down the zipper of his jacket and snaked my arms inside and around his waist.
“Fuck, Cass! Your hands are cold!”
“So, warm them up,” I suggested slyly. I pressed my mouth to his neck then I did it again in a different spot. By the fifth open-mouthed kiss to his neck, he groaned.
He tilted his chin down and kissed me deeply. His lips were cold, but his tongue was warm as he invaded my mouth. Kissing Will was one of my hands-down (or hands-on?) favorite extracurricular activities. In fact, this semester I was considering changing my major to Will Studies. I’d already completed all the prerequisites, after all.
I still couldn’t believe that he’d flown to surprise me on New Year’s Eve. Thank god my nosy girlfriends took pictures with their phone, otherwise I’d think it was a tipsy fantasy. But it was no dream—he came, he saw, he conquered, only in a slightly different order. Now the wallpaper on my phone was a photo of us looking at each other like total dorks in love.
And I did. Love him, that is. At least, I thought I did. This whole making love versus fucking thing was still something I was trying to finesse. I didn’t have a lot of dating experience to compare it to, but I did know that nobody had ever made me feel so alive and funny and sexy at the same time. It was a hard combination to beat, so it had to be some kind of love, right?
Will had been afraid at first that I was falling for him because he gave me my first orgasm. Okay, yeah, my boyfriend had a healthy ego, but clearly he didn’t know women—or me—as well as he thought he did. I was more likely to fall in love with him for keeping his bathroom clean—and not just boy-clean, but clean-clean. But then he started keeping a pop-up container of bleach wipes beside the toilet, began washing his sheets regularly, using fabric softener on his towels, and stocking all my favorite things in his apartment. Really, what was a girl supposed to do? I fell.
The multiple orgasms were just a bonus.
There were times when I loved making love with Will. There were also times when I just wanted to be bent over a table and fucked hard. Slowly, I was learning how to differentiate the two desires and tell him what I wanted. We were still experimenting and trying new things—though not from Urban Dictionary—and our safe words were clearer.
The biggest novelty for both of us, though, was just being totally comfortable in our skins. Comfortable in our own skins, on each other’s skin, inside each other’s bodies and souls…
Like right now—I felt like I couldn’t get close enough to him and we were only kissing. We ignored the stream of students walking around us as they moved between classes. My whole world narrowed down to the pinpoints of desire burning in me and the wintry taste of peppermint gum on Will’s breath.
“Ah, Cass.” He kissed the tip of my nose and hauled me against him. He was about to swoop in for another kiss when I bit my lip.
“You know what we haven’t tried, Will? Sexually, I mean?” I stroked my hands up and down his spine under his shirt, feeling the muscles shift beneath his warm, smooth skin. I was still in love with learning every pa
rt of his body, every action and reaction.
His lips parted and his eyes darkened. “No, what’s that?”
Bingo. I had him. God, sometimes he was so easy.
I beckoned him closer, until he bent down and my lips touched his ear. “Withholding,” I whispered.
He straightened and leaned back, looking at me like I was crazy. My arms still around him, I pinched the top of his ass. His resulting yelp echoed in the hall.
“That’s sexual harrassment!” he complained.
“Churchill. Dylan. Spill.” I pulled out my hands and crossed my arms over my chest.
My show of feminine wiles and sexy bravado were only slightly derailed by my sniffling. Goddamn winter. I couldn’t even use the power of my boobs through my puffy coat.
Will ran his hand through his hair. “Okay, okay. Maybe Churchill’s office mailbox was getting too full of stuff addressed to Dylan.”
So? I stared at him blankly. There had to be more to it.
“And maybe, just maybe, it was dozens of magazines that Dylan began unknowingly subscribing to.” He blinked at me. “You know, anyone can pull out those little cards and fill them in. It’s kind of a publishing loophole that the industry should work on. They’re going to bill him later,” he added.
I was starting to get the picture. “Which magazines?”
He shrugged. “Tiger Beat. Portable Restroom Operator. Barely Legal. Fashion Doll Quarterly. Goop. Shotgun News. Miniature Donkey Talk. Stuff like that.”
My mouth fell open. “Oh my god. You are evil.”
“What can I say? The dude has really wide-ranging interests. At least some of them don’t publish every month.”
“Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
“Not possible. You only ever get on my good side.” He grinned.
A snort escaped me. “Yeah, your lap.”
He wrapped me up in a bear hug. “You love it.”
“Mmmphh!”
When he was done smothering me, he kissed me into breathlessness once again.
“Too bad. I was thinking of getting you a subscription to something racy for Valentine’s Day,” I joked, tapping my chin with my finger.
