by Lili Valente
“I sort of wish…” I press my lips together, swallowing hard as he adds a second finger, stretching me until I’m more aware of the lingering tenderness, but equally aware of how much my body wants this. Wants him.
“What do you wish, Libby?” He kisses my cheek and then my neck, his breath warm on my throat. “I want you to tell me, beautiful. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you,” I whisper, running my hands down the strong expanse of his back, marveling that this powerful man can be so perfectly gentle when he needs to be. “I want you inside me again.”
“Are you sure?” He captures my fingers, guiding them between us to where he’s already hot and hard.
I wrap my hand around him, squeezing gently. “Trying to remind me how big and scary it is?” I ask, smiling as his cock pulses in my hand in response.
“I wouldn’t say scary…” His free hand slides up my shirt, cupping my breast, making me arch into his touch as I continue to stroke him, summoning that fluid that pearls at the tip of him when he wants me.
“It was scary before I knew we would fit,” I confess, amazed all over again at how quickly he brings my body to life, and how heady it is to know I’m doing the same to him. “I was afraid you were going to rip through my vagina like a tornado through a trailer park.”
He snorts and quickly turns his face away from mine. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m trying not to breathe on you until I get a chance to brush my teeth. I don’t want to scare you away with my morning breath.”
“I’m not scared of your breath.” I spread my legs wider, guiding the tip of him to where I ache.
“Let me get a condom,” he says, but I stop him with a hand on his face.
“I’m on the pill. And I’m clean. So as long as you are…”
“I am.” His eyes blaze into mine, making me even more keenly aware of how close we are to coming together, and how much I need him to fill the emptiness inside me, an emptiness I didn’t know was there until he showed me what it felt like to be so satisfied, so complete. “But I haven’t had sex without a condom in years, Libs. I can’t promise I’ll last as long as I did last night.”
“That’s okay.” My heart beats faster as his hips pulse forward, pressing the head of his cock lightly against me. “I just want to know what it feels like without something in between. When it’s just you and me.”
“Just you and me,” he echoes softly as he cups my bottom in his hands, tilting my hips toward him. And then he pushes forward, gliding inside me with one slow, sure thrust that makes lights flash behind my eyes as they slide closed.
My arms tremble as they wrap around him, holding him close as my body adjusts to the sweet invasion. It only takes a moment this time, a breath of discomfort that’s quickly banished by the waves of pleasure pulsing through my inner walls as they grip him tight, celebrating his return.
“Not too sore?” he asks, nipping the lobe of my ear as his hand returns to my breast, teasing and plucking my nipple as he holds still deep inside of me.
“No. It’s good. So good.” My eyes flutter open as I skim my palms down the small of his back to cup his ass. “Even better than last night. I love that I can feel how hot your skin is.”
“I love feeling how wet you are for me.” He circles his hips, grinding against me while pulling out, sending his pubic bone rolling over my clit, making my pulse spike. “But I want you even wetter.” He guides my leg up and around his hips. “Move with me, baby,” he says, urging me closer. “Show me how you want it.”
“Like this.” I nudge him with my hips, silently telling him to move a little faster.
Faster, faster….
But not that fast.
A little slower and…there. There. That’s it… Oh God, that’s it…
I roll against him, my entire body getting into the act, pressing my breasts to his chest and then my hips tight to his, the tension and the need to have him thrusting inside building as my pussy squeezes him tight.
Tighter…
Tighter, until the line snaps and pleasure crashes through me, devastating my body with bliss so beautiful the only way to survive it is to cling to Justin, crying out his name as he finally begins to drive inside me.
He pulls out and plunges back in, groaning against my neck as I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on for dear life. “God, Libby, you’re still so tight. Am I hurting you, baby?”
“No,” I promise, gasping as his next thrust sends him even deeper, so deep I feel him everywhere, in every pulsing, throbbing cell in my body. I drag my teeth over his skin, biting into his muscled shoulder, a choice that, judging by the way he growls in response, is one Justin approves of.
“Fuck, Libby.” His voice is as rough as the hand he fists in my hair, holding me captive as he kisses and bites my neck and his thrusts come harder, faster, deeper. “I’m in love with your pussy. I want to own this sweet pussy every night, every morning.”
I cry out, rocking into him as the tension begins to build again, swelling between my hips and spinning through my head.
“I want to be buried inside you every fucking chance I can get.” He pinches my nipple between his fingers, but it doesn’t hurt. It only makes the heavy, hungry, desperate feeling swell bigger and bigger, until I’m clawing at Justin’s shoulders as we chase after what we both need.
And then suddenly, I’m back at the razor’s edge and pleasure slices through me, making me scream, a raw, primal sound that echoes through the room as Justin groans against my throat. His hand grips my hip tight, as his rhythm grows erratic and his cock pistons between my legs, driving in and out of where I’m still coming, my inner walls clutching at him every time he pulls out. “Yes, baby. I love feeling you come on my cock.”
I cry out something in response, but I have no idea what. I am beyond language, beyond words, spinning in a world of heat and pleasure and animal bliss, my orgasm spiraling on for so long that I’m still pulsing when Justin loses himself a moment later. His cock jerks hard, again and again, his release rushing inside me, making the last few seconds of my flight even sweeter because I get to share it with him.
To be lost with him. Found with him. To be held tight while this powerful, impressively put together man melts in my arms because he’s as devastated by the beauty we make together as I am.
After, he lies heavily on top of me, and I run my fingers slowly through his hair, wishing we could stay just like this for the rest of the day, with our hearts pounding in time and nothing separating me from the person I love except our sweat-damp skin.
My hand stills in his hair and my eyes squeeze closed.
There it is again. The L word. It’s just a thought for now, but I know better than to think I can keep it hidden for long. Sooner or later, Justin is going to see the truth written all over my face.
He’s going to see that I broke the rules and fell in love with him.
“Now we need to talk.” His breath—which isn’t dragony at all, proving he really is exceptional in every way—stirs the hair on my forehead. “I think we both know this isn’t working out the way we thought it would, Libs.”
I bite my bottom lip as a wave of sadness washes through me, cooling the warm, happy, post-orgasm glow. Suddenly I feel like I’m going to cry, proving I’m not emotionally equipped to have this conversation right now, especially not while he’s still softening inside of me.
I’m about to tell Justin that I need to take a shower and get dressed—preferably in a suit of armor—before we talk, when the sound of the front door slamming echoes through my tiny apartment and my sister calls out in a chipper voice, “Hey babes. You want to grab coffee and donuts before you head to work? I got up early and thought we could TGIF it over at Buddy’s.”
Justin and I lock eyes with twin expressions of horror.
“Fuck,” he whispers at the same moment that I hiss, “Shit!”
A moment later, we vault out of bed and start tossing clothes at each other from the floor, scrambling to
get dressed before Laura barges in to my bedroom and discovers just how “friendly” Justin and I have been getting behind her back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Justin
I’ve managed to get my boxer briefs and jeans on, and am struggling into my tee shirt when Libby whispers, “Get down!” and gives my arm a sharp tug. I drop onto my belly between the bed and the window seconds before her bedroom door opens.
“Hey, what’s up?” Laura hums beneath her breath before she continues in a concerned tone, “Are you okay? I thought you’d be dressed by now.”
“I called in sick to work,” Libby says, sounding way too breathless for a woman who just rolled out of bed.
“Oh. Are you sick? You don’t look sick.”
“No, I feel fine.” Libby crosses her arms at her chest and moves to the foot of the bed, hopefully blocking Laura’s progress into the room.
If she gets much closer, she’s going to see me doing my best impression of a throw rug over here on the floor. For a moment, I consider scooting under the bed, but I’m not sure I’ll fit and there’s a significant chance that I’ll make a noise that Libby won’t be able to explain away.
“I just felt like taking a day off,” Libby says with a shrug.
Laura snorts. “What? Are you serious?”
“Can’t a girl take a mental health day now and then? You’re the one who’s always telling me that I need to practice self-care.”
“Yes, but you never listen,” Laura says as the mattress springs groan, making me think she must have sat down on the bed, probably mere feet from the tangle of covers where I was banging her sister a few minutes ago.
I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself for the moment when Laura catches a whiff of Eau de Recently Been Laid and realizes her little sister must be hiding a man somewhere in her room.
Instead, the mattress squeaks again as Libby lunges forward.
“Well, I’m listening now.” Libby hauls Laura up and out of the room, her voice growing distant as she adds, “So why don’t you make some coffee while I get dressed. And then we can go get donuts and hang out until you have to go to work.”
I wait until I hear Laura murmuring her response from somewhere deeper in the apartment and then launch back into motion. By the time Libby returns, slamming the door and locking it behind her, I’m dressed and pulling on my shoes.
“Give me ten minutes, and I’ll have her out of here,” she says, whipping off her sleep shirt and throwing it to the floor, granting me a truly heart-stopping view of her in pink panties and nothing else before she grabs her bra from the floor and slips it on. “Then you can escape without being spotted.”
“Or you could tell Laura you’ve decided you would rather sleep late and stay here.” I watch her hook her bra, my cock appreciating the view of her breasts arched forward so much it thickens in my jeans, insisting its ready for morning sex, round two. “I’ll stay with you, and we can take a long, hot shower.”
She casts me an odd look, as if she isn’t quite sure what I mean by long, hot shower—I mean a shower that involves me washing her clean and then getting her dirty again, of course—and then shakes her head. “I can’t. She’s already suspicious because I called in sick without actually being sick. If I change my mind about hanging out two minutes after promising her donuts, she’ll know something’s up.”
“I thought women were entitled to change their minds.”
“Not me. I’m not the mind-changer in the family. You know that.” She shrugs on a pink sweatshirt and the brown linen pants from last night, quickly covering all her delectable parts. “I’m the dependable one who is on time for work, never cheats on her taxes, and is always up for sisterly bonding activities.”
“All right,” I say, since it’s clear her mind is made up. “Then text me later? I’m free until practice tonight. I can swing by anytime. I want to finish the talk we barely got started.”
“Okay,” she says, but she doesn’t sound any more thrilled about talking than she did before we were so rudely interrupted. “Thanks for a wonderful morning. And a wonderful night.” She slips into my arms, hugging me tight, making me realize all over again how much I want to keep holding her, making love to her, waking up next to her as something more than a friend.
But before I can tell her that it was wonderful for me, too, and that I can’t wait for another wonderful night tonight—assuming she’ll consent to having me shack up with her two nights in a row—she pulls away and heads for the bathroom.
“I should hurry. Laura’s not known for her patience,” she mumbles, shutting the door behind her.
While the water runs in the bathroom, I make Libby’s bed and arrange the decorative pillows artistically, keeping busy as I mull over what she said.
It’s true, Libby isn’t known for changing her mind. She knew she was going to be a teacher from the time she was in kindergarten herself, decided she loved dressing like a gypsy and embraced the look fully by the time she was twelve, and still spends hours volunteering for the same causes she’s been passionate about since she organized her first knit-in for the ASPCA in high school. She’s open to trying new things, but once she finds something that works, Libby’s not one to mess with a formula or flip the script.
Clearly the friends-with-benefits situation is working fine as far as she’s concerned. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk because she doesn’t want to fix something that, in her opinion, isn’t broken.
Or maybe she doesn’t want to talk because she can tell you’re wading into the deep end of the emotion pool, and she’s dreading breaking the news that she’s going to let you drown out there alone.
You know Libby. She hates to hurt people’s feelings, especially people she considers friends.
Friends. Fuck friends.
I don’t want to be friends, and as I wait for Libby to get out of the bathroom, I start plotting ways to convince her that she doesn’t want to just be friends, either.
I’ll show her that we’re better off as something more, that this isn’t the kind of thing you let slip through your fingers without a fight. I’ve never had such an instant, powerful connection to a lover, and I can’t remember the last time I came as hard as I did this morning, with Libby’s sweet smell filling my head and the molten heat of her pussy locked tight around my cock. And it’s not just the sex; it’s how good it feels to share the day with Libby, to hear her thoughts, see her smile, and be there to kiss her hard when the assholes of the world are bringing her down. It’s the way that it doesn’t matter if we’re at my place or hers—as long as Libby’s with me, I feel like I’m at home.
We’re good together, good for each other, and one way or another I’m going to bring her around to my way of thinking.
I’m imagining all the sexy, romantic, orgasm-inducing arguments I’ll make to win Libby over to the more-than-friends side of the fence when the lock on the bedroom door pops with a sharp snap and the door slams open. And there, fuming in the doorway, is Laura, my messenger bag over her arm, my keys in one hand, and the Allen wrench she used to break into Libby’s bedroom in the other.
“I knew it!” she shouts, pointing an accusing finger at my chest. “I knew it smelled like your cologne in here, you bastard. What the hell are you doing putting your dick in my little sister?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Libby
My protective, loving big sis is good at many things, but calm conflict resolution is not one of them. She got the Irish temper to go along with her red hair and freckles, and she got it in spades.
The moment I hear her start to lay into Justin, I know the only chance of this ending without bloodshed is if I can distract Laura long enough for Justin to escape out the front door. She won’t be capable of talking this through with him until her blood pressure drops—sometime in the next two to three days. Or months. Or maybe years, if the volume of her current screeching is anything to judge by.
I drop my hairbrush in the sink and bolt out of the
bathroom, hurling myself between Laura and Justin seconds before shouting becomes something more violent.
“Get out of the way, Libby.” Laura glares at Justin over my head, enough heat in her gaze to set Justin’s eyebrows on fire. “I need to kick this selfish son of a bitch’s ass.”
“Laura, please,” Justin says, “you don’t understand, I—”
“Oh, I understand just fine, asshole,” Laura says at the same time that I shout, “Just get out of here, Justin. Go home. I’ll call you later.”
“I’m not running away from this.” He stands up straighter, shaking his head. “There’s no reason we can’t sit down and talk like grownups.”
“Do you know me?” Laura screeches, making my argument for me. “Have we fucking met? Because if you think I’m going to sit down and calmly fucking discuss how it’s okay for you to use Libby as your rebound fuck because you’re too lazy not to shit where you eat, then I’m beginning to seriously doubt we were ever actually friends, Justin Cruise.”
“Please, just go.” I block Laura as she lunges to the left, trying to get around me. “Go, Justin! Now! Staying isn’t helping. I promise I’ll call you later.”
“Fine.” He circles around where I’m grappling with Laura, doing my best to keep her from scratching Justin’s eyes out as he passes by and snatches his bag and keys from the floor by the door. “But this isn’t what you think it is, Laura. And honestly, it’s none of your damned business. Libby and I are both grownups.”
“I’m going to show you how grown up you are,” Laura shouts after him as he heads for the front door, her face flushing a deep, angry, only-possible-for-the-Irish shade of red. “The next time I see you I’m going to kick your ass, Justin! The same way I kicked your ass in tenth grade when you slept with Miranda!”
I blink up at her, my grip on her wrists loosening as the front door slams shut, signaling Justin’s successful escape. “He slept with Miranda? Your best friend Miranda?”
