My Not So One Night Stand

by Rebecca Robertson

  “Such a sweet sound,” he declared, smiling his way through saying so.

  He was thick and long beneath his boxers and without so much as thinking of the consequences, I reached out to grab him, finding him hot to the touch.

  “See what you do to me, Maya?” he gasped, as though in pain. “I’m as hard as fucking stone.”

  My drunken mind giggled at his obvious strain and I took drastic matters into my own hands, though did so without the use of my actual hands, having had them removed firmly from their groping position. Each one was locked in place above my head and was in no hurry to move any time soon.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how likely are we going to regret this?” I asked, purposely grinding myself along his rock hard shaft.

  He moaned his appreciation straight down my ear and although long past the point of return, I found I somewhat required an answer at least.

  “I could never regret this, Maya. Not one bit,” he replied, suddenly serious.

  With his uttered insistence out in the open, we were left staring at each other, engaging in what was quite possibly the most intense exchange to ever have taken place between us in our nineteen years of friendship. Powerful. Sexy. Smouldering. There was no doubt in my mind I wanted this.

  I wanted Luke.

  CHAPTER SIX

  No take-backs

  Breathing Luke’s name on a pleasure fuelled haze was as bizarre as it was hot, and whilst having my best friend feast on my vagina as through the thing itself was an exquisite three-course-meal should’ve proved embarrassing, it surprisingly didn’t. His loving lips were indescribable in their quest. Whilst passionately lapping at my most sensitive folds, both thumbs lightly massaged my breasts, skimming past my puckered nipples as though purposely avoiding them.

  “Oh my God!”

  My back's arch instantly rose from the bed as my body became seemingly desperate for more contact with Luke and his ability to have me squirm with just one touch alone. He was up and evaluating me in seconds, the expression passing through his eyes almost animalistic. Then, without any warning, he was back down and biting on my hipbone, where I knew his name to be inked on me forever.

  Having felt reckless on my twenty-first birthday, we’d both decided getting tattoos of each other’s names would be a great idea. I was with Dan at the time, but went ahead with it regardless. I’d opted for getting his name on my hip, figuring it would be easy enough to hide should something go drastically wrong with the artistry. Luke had gotten his just above his left pec, claiming he wanted me close to his heart though really, I knew the real reason was to have a previous one covered up.

  “More!” I begged, breathlessly revealing my plea with the hopes he gave into my demand.

  Thankfully, having taken my desires into consideration, he came to a standing position between my legs and walked over to his drawer, covering himself in latex soon after. My mind's attention was purely focused on the unavoidable ache situated in between each leg; the need for release sharp becoming my top priority, surprisingly so. I was never usually that enthusiastic when it came to the act of intimacy. Even when regularly engaging in said activity, it was always out of obligation as opposed to an undying need for human interaction. With Luke, however, I found myself drawn to the curiosity of the situation; both needing and wanting to know more about the extremities he had the potential to take me to. He was no stranger to sex and I could only assume such practice made for an excellent candidate. Simply put, I was willing to bet he was a godsend in the bedroom and being his latest fix, as inappropriate as it was, excited me.

  “Maya, wait for me, baby.”

  Luke’s plea momentarily confused me before I allowed my gaze to travel to where his was currently settled; on my right hand wedged in between each leg. “As much as I love watching you touch yourself, I need to be the one making you come tonight.”

  Off came his shirt, subjecting me to an unavoidable sight of perfectly pale skin, impeccable stomach structure and my name written in elegant handwriting. His other tattoo, the one situated on his left bicep, stood tall and proud, begging to be given attention. Displaying the outline of a rose, its effective shading was truly captivating and heartbreakingly sentimental. The Roman numerals imprinted underneath it gave the overall design an elegant finish. Although beautiful, the meaning behind it was anything but. He'd gotten that one shortly after his nineteenth birthday, in memory of his Mum. She had passed away five years previous courtesy of bad weather and an idiot drunk driver. It was an event which, at the time, shook the Anderson household in the worst possible way. The flower was said to symbolise life and how at first it could seem pretty, but the second you started to enjoy it too much, the harshness of reality could prick you on the finger, much like a sharp thorn. I’d cried the day he had gotten it and although he denied it, I swear I saw him tear up too. Not that he would ever admit it. He was far too proud, though for housing a body with such physical precision, I really couldn’t blame him.

  His subtle six-pack was modest in its display, though proved perfect to the touch against my slightly shaking fingertips and sweaty palms. Luke had always been blessed in the good-looks department. While in great shape, it was out of enjoyment for exercise as opposed to wanting a great body. Still, that wasn’t to say I didn’t appreciate the finer details of his smooth edges, and that slight dusting of dark hair he held on his broad chest.

  Sexy. As. Hell.

  “Do you want this, Maya?” asked Luke, rather seriously pulling me from my ogling. “Do you want me?”

  “Yes,” I replied, almost instantly. “Do you?”

  I remained calm under his watchful eye and prepared myself for the moment he realised what we were doing and called a halt to the entire thing. Even in alcohol, we couldn’t be that stupid. Could we?

  “I want this. I want you.”

  His words proved quite the aphrodisiac and before I knew what was happening, my hand was pulled away from my centre and fell victim to one glorious suck as Luke rid all evidence of my impatient behaviour.

  “You taste amazing,” he smirked, positioning both hands above my head by locking them in place. “Ready?”

  Born ready!

  A quick nod to the head was all it took to have him push past the small barrier created by my one-year abstinence streak. It hurt at first, but as his smooth member breached un-entered territory, I soon found I was introduced to new levels of satisfaction, which distracted my mind from the mild shooting pain currently taking place in my groin.

  “Look at me,” he inhaled, ever the gentleman in his request.

  I did as instructed and met his blue-grey gaze head-on, offering him a cheeky smile to accompany it. Thankfully, our encounter didn’t feel awkward and although likely down to excessive alcohol consumption, I was certainly not one to complain.

  “You look funny like this,” I admitted, pulling lightly on his hair.

  “Like what?”

  “Sexy,” I revealed, soon losing it.

  Luke’s moans of pleasure pulled me from my spoken thoughts and with one thrust, two thrust, three thrust, four; I was well on my way to orgasm central. His rhythm was unapologetic and quite frankly, intoxicating as far as ensuring my pleasure was concerned. Whilst my sounds were far from sexy, at that precise moment in time, I couldn’t have cared less. Instead of worrying about it, I simply matched his hips in each slam, wanting him to at least semi-enjoy himself with my inexperienced skills and unchoreographed movements.

  “Luke!” I screamed, preparing to let go.

  “Maya!”

  His loud chant of my name left me feeling dazed beyond anything else and loving that I was the root of his obvious pleasure; I shoved my hands through his slightly damp hair and pulled on the roots. His glistening eyes shone back at me in an unspoken claim to enjoyment. Then just as the burning coil in my stomach began to wind up, I pulled his smiling lips down to meet my own in another kiss, tasting his tequila laced tongue as it swept the premiere of my mouth. It
was relentless in its aim to gain greater access; something I was only too happy to grant, and yes, it was a shock, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.

  “Luke, now! I’m about to. Oh my god, I can’t,” I suddenly declared, mildly mortified by the prospect of having an orgasm in front of my best friend.

  “Yes you can, Maya. Eyes stay on me,” he gritted, seemingly on the edge of his own impending release.

  I attempted to remain wide-eyed to the best of my ability but failed when I was hit with the beginnings of my climax; each intense ripple as addictive as the last.

  "Eyes open, Maya!" shouted Luke, punishing in his harsh thrust.

  I immediately complied and in doing so, fell over the edge, moaning my way through each second of my dramatic finish with Luke’s name being the only thing leaving my lips. Breathing and moaning alongside one another whilst I witnessed his lucid eyes roll to the back of his head was uplifting in itself, not to mention incredibly intimate. I had never come at the same time as anyone. Surely, it was scientifically hard to ensure, yet it would seem Luke and I made it there ourselves, easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

  And whilst pissed off our tits, no less!

  “Come here,” he soothed, wiping away the stray strands of hair that had fallen into my suddenly tired eyes.

  I immediately entered the Luke cave and whilst pressing my lips to his rough stubble, murmured a quiet, “Later, gator.”

  We were no longer joined physically, but emotionally, we were as close as ever, almost as if there was an invisible string pulling us together. It was no secret we were both still highly intoxicated, but I couldn’t yet bring myself to regret sleeping with him.

  Yet.

  And with that thought in mind, I was left with nothing but the feel of Luke’s arms wrapped around my back as his soft breath fanned my naked shoulder.

  “Cheerio, hoe,” he replied, squeezing me even tighter. “Sleep tight, gorgeous.”

  And sleep tight, I did.

  ~~~

  With the sun carelessly seeping in through my inability to close curtains in such drunkenness, my poor mind was subject to a much earlier wake-up call than necessary, offering my hangover the head start it so desperately craved. Pounding like no over, I attempted to soothe my aches and pains by rubbing at both temples, stopping only when the feel of cool silk glided against my bare arm. The last I checked, my bedding was pure cotton, so to feel silk at such a time must’ve meant I wasn’t in my own bed.

  Shit!

  I was then hit with the smell of Vanilla and Lavender; slightly relieved for having discovered I was in the company of Luke but didn’t dare celebrate for long.

  Tequila.

  Kissing.

  Sex.

  Double shit!

  I bolted up in bed, neither here, nor there with regards to waking my sleeping best friend and desperately attempted to locate last night’s clothing.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” I chanted, thankfully finding my underwear straight away.

  I slipped both items on and settled for stealing a T-shirt from Luke, pairing it with last night’s skirt and shoes. Luckily, he didn’t budge an inch the entire time I redressed. Quickly, and with the much unlikely hopes of him forgetting everything that happened between us, I then made my way towards his bedroom door, hoping to quietly escape. I just about made it out when my stupid conscience forced me to look over my shoulder; the metaphorical weight of my guilt crushing me whole. He seemed so peaceful with an arm carelessly flung over his head and the other still resting as though it were holding me.

  I needed to leave!

  Sheepishly, I tiptoed out of his flat and welcomed the cool, six o’clock air as it whipped at my face, acting as a brutal punishment against my less-than-considerate actions. Running out on Luke was obviously not ideal, but I saw no other alternative. In the nineteen years we had been friends, we shared a total of two intimate moments, whereby nothing serious ever came of it. A simple kiss and a discussion surrounding the thoughts one had during masturbation. We were innocent on both occasions and although puberty was starting to kick in, I’d put it down to emotional trauma and teenagers being teenagers. Nothing compared to actually sleeping together.

  Facing him after sleeping together sounded like literal torture and in all honesty, I was scared. Having sex could’ve changed things for the worst, and I wasn’t ready to accept that our stupidity had potentially cost us our friendship.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Face the Music

  "Maya Crofton, you have some serious explaining to do.” Came Sasha’s very loud, very vague demand as she strutted the laminate flooring in her unnaturally white converse.

  Ten minutes after I bailed on Luke, she had demanded that I meet her at The Grind and without so much as gracing me with a goodbye, hung up on me.

  “Well?”

  I quickly offered the ground a pleading stare before I turned my attention to a freakishly smiling woman; wide-eyed and raring to go.

  "Must I drag it out of you?" she asked, glaring those green jewels of hers into mine with a look that had me both quivering in my seat and confused beyond belief.

  How she knew about Luke and me is beyond thinking about but with a mind I could only describe as being psychic, I had no choice but to be honest.

  "I just- we didn’t-”

  With a disappointed sigh, she finally interrupted.

  "I can’t believe you gave Jace my business card,” she stated, thankfully cutting me off.

  Thank-fucking-God!

  “He texted Harold, ya know?”

  I laughed, “What? Why?”

  Stuck halfway between wanting to giggle and cry, I allowed her the satisfaction of explaining the rest, grateful I was off the hook.

  “The fucking idiot got our numbers mixed up. Do you know how embarrassing it was to have my boss pass the message on? Jace went into great detail about how tight my arse looked in last week’s jeans. I’m dreading Tuesday when I have to look him in the eye,” she raged, rather childishly sulking in her seat.

  Now I definitely wanted to laugh, though just about managed to withhold from doing so, fearful of how she would react.

  "Did you text him back?” I questioned, not wanting my efforts to be wasted.

  If I had to sit through one more week of her moaning about how she was receiving no attention from the opposite sex, I may very well have hit her over the head with my shoe.

  “Of course I did. We’re meeting up through the week,” she smirked, gracefully accepting her cappuccino from Albert. “You babe!” she knowingly winked.

  Albert’s only response was to retreat back in mild amusement once leaving me with my tea.

  "So, how was last night? You stop at Luke’s?” Her casual question well and truly steered matters elsewhere and desperate to pull off casual, I offered her a shoulder shrug.

  “Why’d you think that?” I questioned, once again wondering if she possessed the power of psychic abilities.

  “You’re wearing his T-shirt and you didn’t come home last night,” she replied, throwing me off guard.

  Fuck!

  “Oh, right. Well, I decided to crash at his to save on taxis,” I offered, sounding like much the professional in my lie. “How was dinner with your parents?” I then asked, keen to move conversation on to anything other than Luke-related topics.

  “Ugh, the usual. They seem to think my lack of going to church lately is down to a phase. I did try and explain that my faith has steered me elsewhere but they were having none of it. They’re expecting me at Sunday service tomorrow.”

  “You gonna go?” I enquired, sipping on my tea, appreciative of its warming caress on my sore throat.

  “No.”

  Her reply was immediate and made me laugh; her insistence to remain true to herself really rather inspiring.

  “Good for you.”

  She shot over a friendly smile before settling further into her chair, chugging her coffee like the boiling hot liquid was nothing to her
.

  “Where’s Luke now, anyway? Hungover?” she questioned, bringing up the one person I was trying to avoid.

  He’d called a total of four times and had left three messages; all of which focused on the events of the previous night and my inability to hang around in the morning.

  “Probably. Should we go food shopping later? I’ve noticed the fridge is looking a little pathetic,” I suggested, needing a Luke-free day.

  Week, even!

  “Yeah, can do. I’ll just nip to the loo and we can get going. Remind me to pick up some kale; I ran out yesterday.”

  Fucking kale!

  “Yeah alright, as long as you get some chocolate too. Kale may be good for you but it tastes like cardboard,” I scorned, seeing her amusement almost instantly.

  “Yeah, yeah!” she replied, disappearing into the toilets just as I rejected yet another call from Luke.

  He was so persistent!

  ~~~

  At Asda, I mindlessly watched as Sasha filled the trolley with ingredients that were apparently good for me, though simply resembled that of different variants of tree.

  I mean tree, for fuck sake!

  Not once did she settle for a more comfortable diet and she bypassed the biscuit aisle entirely.

  “Sash, you skipped the jammy dodgers, babe,” I informed, having her on.

  “Do you know how much sugar is in a packet of those?” she asked, skidding to a halt next to the fresh fish.

  “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” I laughed, eyeing up a rather questionable looking cod with its mouth wide open.

  “Lots,” she replied, unable to give me an exact number.

  I didn’t even like jammy dodgers but the choice of having at least a digestive in my life would’ve been nice every now and then. Hell, I was even willing to drop down to McVitie’s Lights if it meant I could enjoy a cheeky biccie with my morning cuppa.

  “Alright, it’s a no to the jammy dodgers, but I’m getting two jars of Nutella this week,” I told her, putting my foot down with regards to my breakfast ritual.