Struggle to Forever: a friends to lovers duet

by Lilliana Anderson

  “Elliot,” I call out to his retreating form. “Shit.” I need to learn when to leave things alone.

  Getting up, I grab one of his T-shirts from the back of a chair and drop it over my head, taking a moment to hold the shirt to my nose as I breathe in his scent, which is everything I currently find erotic.

  Following him out, I find him in the kitchen pulling coffee cups from the cupboard while the kettle boils on the corner of the bench.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, moving so I’m standing behind him, sliding my arms around his naked torso. “I shouldn’t be prying into your family business. I guess I just liked the idea of us quitting that place and getting new jobs that let us be together like a normal couple.”

  Setting the mugs on the bench, he turns in my arms with an exhale. “From what I understand, most normal couples keep their relationships out of the office too. Granted, they don’t work together, but when you break this down, we’re no different. Work is work. Home is home. The only thing different here is that there’s an added risk if we get caught. But we can handle that, right?” He gives my waist a gentle squeeze. “From what I remember of last night, you’re pretty good at taking risks.”

  I bite my lip and smile, remembering our very dirty dance. “What can I say? I’m a bad girl.”

  He claps a hand against my arse. “Exactly how I like you,” he says, bringing his lips to mine. “That’s my favourite shirt, by the way.”

  “Oh? You want me to take it off?” I ask, pulling back slightly.

  He hooks his finger in the neckline and pulls it towards him, looking at my nakedness on the inside. “No. Having you inside it is what makes it my favourite.” Snaking his other hand down from my waist to slide under the shirt, he caresses my bare behind. “My absolute favourite shirt.” I melt into his hard chest once more as we kiss again, his hands roaming over my body, underneath the shirt.

  In a show of great restraint, he steps away and says, “A hangover cure. Eggs, bacon, English muffins, headache pills and a bunch of coffee.”

  “I was hoping you’d serve me Elliot, with a side of more Elliot,” I purr, reaching for the waist of his pants and sliding my hand inside, cupping his length.

  “God, I love your touch,” he moans, closing his eyes as he leans against the benchtop.

  “I love your cock,” I say, dropping to my knees to take him into my mouth.

  His fingers go into my hair as I work him with my tongue and my hand, imagining myself doing something like this in the office, hiding out under his desk, driving him to climax while trying to maintain a degree of professionalism while on a call or holding a meeting. It makes my insides clench with excitement as I wonder if we’d get away with it.

  “Fuck, Katrina.” He blows, his cock pulsing in my mouth, spilling his seed into my throat as I swallow it down.

  “Yummy,” I say, licking my lips as he pulls me to my feet and hoists me onto the table, taking a seat in front of me.

  “My turn,” he says as he pushes my thighs open and leans forwards, sliding his tongue between my folds, flicking against my throbbing clit until I’m writhing in ecstasy and calling out his name.

  “I’m not full yet,” I say as he wipes a hand over his mouth and stands before me, his cock in his hand. “I think I need something more.”

  He grins, positioning his cock at my entrance before ramming inside me, causing me to gasp from the suddenness of it. “Better?”

  I clutch myself against him and breathe into his ear. “Yes. That's what I needed. You inside me.”

  He pushes deeply and lifts me from the table, walking with us still connected until he’s sitting on the couch, me on top of him, grinding my hips, so I can take in every millimetre of his length.

  “You feel so good,” I whisper, lifting myself up until he’s just about to slide out before I slam back down again, gripping him tightly as I repeat the process. He throws his head back and moans, his hands resting on my hips as he guides my rhythm. Over and over.

  His body shudders, and he holds his breath as he comes, burying his face in my neck and kissing me. I curl my fingers through his hair and tilt his head up so I can return his kiss, wriggling in his lap to enjoy our continued connection.

  “Best hangover cure ever,” he says as our breathing settles down.

  “Hmm. I still want the bacon and eggs though.”

  “And you’ll get them. Under one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You didn’t give me an answer earlier.”

  “About spending my week off with you?”

  He nods.

  “Hmm.” I rake my hands though his hair like a brush as I squeeze my internal muscles against his softening cock. “Will I get a lot of sex? Like, heaps of it?”

  He grins. “I will fuck you from the moment I walk through that door at night until the moment I leave the next morning.”

  “OK then. I’ll stay. I’ll need to go home and grab some things, but yeah. I’ll spend this week with you.”

  “Fuck. Yes,” he says, flipping me back on the couch as he moves inside me again. Seems he’s definitely a man of his word.

  Twenty-Eight

  “Would you like to watch a movie tonight?” Elliot asks on Wednesday morning. “I could finally introduce you to the wonderful world of Indiana Jones.” He’s drinking his coffee while I sit on the bench in one of his T-shirts, pulling his tie loose and undoing his buttons. I’m not very good at helping him get ready for work.

  “Do you think you can keep your hands off me for that long?” I ask him in a sultry voice.

  “Probably not. I literally just fucked you and I’m already hard again.”

  “I know.” I smile up at him. “It’s why I’m taking your clothes off again. Can’t let a good boner go to waste.”

  He laughs, placing his mug on the bench. “You’re gonna make me late. Again.”

  Pulling his belt open, I slide my hand inside his pants. “I’m trying to care about that. But I can’t.”

  “My god. I need some self-control around you.”

  “No, you don’t.” I lean in and run my tongue along the pulse point in his neck. “You need to fuck me until you leave for work and fuck me again when you get home. Then during our movie, before we sleep. Over and over again.”

  He groans and frees himself from his pants. “You’re going to be my downfall,” he says, just before his cock and his mouth collide with me at the same time, tongue down my throat, cock in my pussy, I can barely contain myself. I feel so incredibly good being the object of this man’s desire. It was just the holiday I needed.

  “OK. Now you can go to work,” I say when he’s done, helping him straighten his shirt and tie while he fixes his pants. “Think of me naked in the shower touching myself while you’re gone.”

  A rumble comes out of his chest as he grabs his bag. “That is not helping me leave.”

  “Isn’t it?” I give him my most innocent expression as he laughs and shakes his head.

  “See you tonight.” He kisses me one last time then tears himself away. “I really love having you here, by the way.”

  I grin. “Don’t forget to imagine me naked,” I call out as I watch him leave for work.

  He shakes his head and laughs and then he’s gone. And I wish I didn’t have to be alone.

  “Have you talked about David?” Mum asks as we sit together having coffee across from Bondi Beach. She’s worried about me since I was so upset after David left on Friday. She likes to do daily check-ins and today’s is in person.

  “Not yet.” I watch the packet of sugar sink through the foam on my cappuccino until it disappears into a little brown pool.

  “Don’t you think you should?”

  Pressing my lips together, I bounce a shoulder as I stir the sugar through. “What’s the point? Nothing has changed since the last time we addressed David, and it’s not like anything will change either. I kind of think it’s best to just move on. Focus on the good things in life. Lik
e Elliot.”

  “He is rather lovely. Katey and I were thinking that maybe we could all get together for a BBQ at her place soon. Her husband is so lovely, and I know you haven’t met them yet so it would be a good opportunity for us all to get together. Katey is dying to meet you. She’s jealous I got to see Elliot, and she hasn’t seen you yet.”

  Holding my cup between two hands, I lift it and take a bittersweet sip. “Maybe we should let Elliot decide when he wants me to meet his mum and stepdad. I don’t want to push things too fast this time. We’re still in that can’t-keep-your-hands-off-each-other phase. I haven’t figured out what’s wrong with him yet.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to go looking for something flawed in a person to know how you feel about them. And he talks about you to his mother, so he’s obviously serious about you.”

  “That’s what he says, but please, Mum, I know you mean well. I just need this to move at its own pace. No external pushing, OK?”

  She reaches across the table and pats my arm. “OK. I’ll curb my enthusiasm. I’m just so happy to see you smiling. You had me worried the other day. I thought you’d go into a depression again. And you get so reckless when you do.”

  “I know. And I’m OK, mum. I promise.”

  When Mum heads back home, I take a walk along the beach, watching surfers turn tricks to keep my mind distracted. It’s hard to stop my mind from turning to David. We’ve shared so much together that almost everything reminds me of him. The person coming out of the surf getting dunked by a wave reminds me of his philosophy regarding the ocean: if the waves keep pushing you back to shore, you should probably take the hint and stay out. The young kids running along the hard part of sand, splashing water at each other remind me of our water fights in summer… Pretty much every scene of laughter, every quiet slice of contemplation, every gentle look I see between two people leads me to think of him. You really did fuck us up, David. I hope you’re happy.

  Maybe I should tell Elliot about the kiss? Maybe I should sit down and be as honest with him as I was with Connor? But it’s hard in this situation because I have something to lose. Why would Elliot want to be with me once he knows I’m mourning the loss of another love?

  It puts me in quite a tricky situation.

  As I walk back to Elliot’s flat, I ready the keys and flip them around my fingers, listening to the click of their metal with each step I take. I should be somewhat honest, I decide. I should at least tell him that David came to see me and say goodbye. I should tell him about the kiss and make it clear that I was the one who stopped it. It’s a happy-medium that will assuage my guilt and inform Elliot of the basic facts. I think I owe him that much.

  When I make my way up the stairs and insert the key inside the lock, I’m surprised when the deadbolt is already open. I’m sure I locked it when I left. Positive. Is there someone here?

  “Elliot?” I say as I push on the door, listening to the apartment with a hope he’s just come home early from work. But his car wasn’t parked in the street, so I’m a little on guard here. “Hello?”

  “Who are you?” A tall man, striking in his manicured appearance enters the hall from the kitchen area, a stack of mail held between his fingers.

  “Oh, um…who…who are you?” I close my fist, holding the keys between my fingers as weapons in case this man in a fancy suit is here with plans to harm me. I touch my scar with a shaky hand. It seems to throb along with my fear. Never again.

  “Rupert Roberts,” he says, narrowing his eyes as he drags a critical gaze from my head to my toes. “Are you something my son found?”

  I snap my head back slightly, my fingers pulling on the fabric of my summer skirt, my fitted tank top feeling too casual under the circumstances. I’m meeting Elliot’s father for the first time, a bigshot barrister, and I have flip-flops on my feet and I’m not even wearing a bra. Oh god. “I’m Katrina. His, um, his girlfriend.”

  His thick brows shoot up and he laughs. “Is that what he told you?” He walks into the living room, flicking through the mail he was holding and opening one that seems to interest him.

  “He’s at work,” I say, following him down the hallway. It seems strange that his father would come here during the day. Does Elliot know he does this? I’d think not, or he’d mention it so I wasn’t blindsided.

  “I’m aware.” He glances up for a moment, his blue eyes, identical to Elliot’s, meeting mine. “You can go.”

  “He’s expecting me to be here when he gets home.”

  He laughs. “Isn’t he going to be surprised when he finds me?”

  I take a step back, almost ready to leave before I come to my senses and shake my head. I’m not letting this guy kick me out. “I think I’ll just wait with you.”

  He gestures to the couch. “Suit yourself.”

  Watching him go through Elliot’s mail then move into the kitchen and rummage through drawers, I feel as though I’m witnessing a prison guard tossing an inmate’s cell. “What are you even looking for?”

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business. Do you?”

  “Elliot is my business. So, yeah, I take exception with you going through his things.”

  He moves into the doorway, filling it with his imposing frame. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Katrina.”

  “Your parents only gave you one name?”

  “Katrina Mahoney.”

  “Mahoney. Mahoney.” He looks up as he thinks for a moment. “Never heard of you. That means you’re irrelevant.”

  “What is your deal?”

  “My deal? Dear girl, I have no deal. I simply don’t have time to engage in meaningless conversation with…well, with whatever you are. I have more important things to attend to.”

  “I’m your son’s girlfriend. I’m not a thing, or an incumbrance. I’m someone your son cares about, otherwise he wouldn’t have given me a key and I wouldn’t be staying here right now.” I hold the key up as evidence, exaggerating a little to drive my point home to this arrogant man. I am not second best. “You can’t just come into his place and go through his things whenever you feel like it. It’s bad enough you control his career, you shouldn’t be here trying to control his personal life too.”

  “Incumbrance,” he says, picking a single word to repeat instead of responding to what I had to say. “How old would you say are, Miss Mahoney?”

  “I’m twenty.” I fold my arms across my chest.

  “And do you go to school?”

  “I study law.”

  “Law? Where?”

  “Western Sydney University.”

  “Western Sydney University,” he repeats, his tone tight, unimpressed. “Do you live out there?”

  “I do. I live in Cranebrook.”

  “I don’t even know where that is.”

  “It’s near the regatta centre.”

  “I see. And how long have you been dating my son? How did you meet?”

  “A couple of months. We met through work.”

  He narrows his eyes. Shit. “Through work?”

  “I don’t work there,” I lie, trying to cover my slip. “I work in the same building. We met in the lobby.”

  “How romantic.” He slips the mail he was reading back into the envelope then places the pile in the centre of the coffee table. “Do you know who pays for this apartment, Katrina Mahoney of Cranebrook, Western Sydney? Do you know who pays for Elliot’s comfortable lifestyle, manages his investments, provides his…” He pauses and gestures around. “Everything?”

  I don’t even respond. I already know and that isn’t the point. It’s a power play, letting me know I don’t belong in this world.

  “I do. I provide. I guide. I consent. And I did not consent to you. Nor have I heard a whisper of your name. That tells me you don’t matter.” He pulls his phone from his pocket then sits on the couch. “You can leave the keys with me. I’ll see that he gets them back.”

  My mouth falls open, and I desperately wa
nt to throw the keys in his face and call him a fucker. But I know that’s not going to help anything. If I want this thing between Elliot and I to work out, I need to play nice here. So I suck it up, place the keys next to the mail and hold my chin high as I go into Elliot’s room to gather my things. Shockingly, my bag is already sitting on Elliot’s bed packed.

  “What the hell?” Double-checking inside it, I find everything I brought with me stuffed in there. “You’re messed up, by the way,” I say, on the way out, brandishing my bag.

  “Get home safe, Miss Mahoney,” he says, lifting a hand to shoo me out the door.

  The moment it closes, I hear the deadbolt tumble shut. So I hold both my middle fingers up to the door and mouth a few expletives to make me feel better. Arsehole.

  Rushing down the stairs, I pull my phone out to hail an Uber to take me to the train station. While I wait, I put a call into Elliot, wanting to warn him his dad was lying in wait and that I was heading home.

  “Hey, it’s me,” I say when I get his voicemail. “I don’t want to call work in case it goes through to Beth. But I just met your dad. Real nice guy.” I scoff a little as I look back at the building. “Anyway, I’m going to spend tonight at home. I think you have some family shit to deal with when you get back here tonight. Sorry we’re going to miss movie sex like we planned.” I smile into the receiver, calming down a little as I think about our last few sex filled days. “Call me when you can, OK? And keep thinking about me naked. I’ll touch myself thinking about you.” I bite my lip a little, smiling. “Talk soon.” When I disconnect, the Uber turns up almost immediately, and I’m glad to get as far away as I can from Rupert Roberts and his stupid name.

  Twenty-Nine

  I’d like to say I woke up the next morning to a text from Elliot telling me the coast was clear and I could come back. Or even a cute voicemail saying he missed me in his bed last night, or that he was touching himself thinking about me too. But there was none of that. Not even a missed call.