Manhattan: A Small Town Friends-to-Lovers Romance (Becker Brothers Book 3)

by Kandi Steiner

  My hair spilled out from the neck and over my shoulders, and Mikey swallowed at the sight, his eyes dancing over my cleavage before he locked his gaze with mine again. In one fluid motion, he ripped his own shirt over his head, and I marveled at the valleys and ridges that made up the landscape of his abdomen.

  Need pooled between my legs as he stepped forward again, his lips on track for mine as his hands slipped behind my back, unfastening my bra in one quick snap. I let the straps fall over my shoulders, down my arms, and then the bra fell between us, and Mikey broke our kiss, pressing his forehead to mine to look down between us.

  He let out a heavy breath, hands skating around my rib cage until he cupped my breasts in each hand. I gasped, leaning into the touch, and when he looked into my eyes and brushed his thumbs over each nipple, I whimpered, shaking involuntarily and gripping onto him to hold me steady.

  Mikey wet his lips. “You are so beautiful.”

  Each piece of clothing that we shed was like discovering a new world. We took our time, slowly stripping, each of us marveling at the other. Our shoes were kicked off, jeans peeled down our legs and shoved to the side, and then it was just a scrap of lace around my hips and a tight pair of briefs around his.

  My fingertips roamed his shoulders, his abs, the deep valley that lined his hips and dipped down below the band of his briefs. I kept my touch there, trailing that gray band with Calvin Klein written on it, eyes locked on the bulge still hidden beneath the fabric. Mikey’s hands discovered me, too — skating over the swells of my breasts, down over my hips, his thumbs hooking in the straps of my thong.

  “I love that no one else gets to see you like this,” he whispered, toying with the lace. “I love that you’re mine.”

  I gripped onto his arms as he pulled me into him, one arm wrapping around to hold me close as the other hand slipped under my panties. His eyes locked on mine, both of our lips parted, and he kept my gaze as his finger dipped between my lips, gliding against the wetness, his fingertip brushing my entrance as his palm rubbed my clit.

  I gasped, legs trembling so hard I nearly fell before he backed me up to the bed. The backs of my knees hit the mattress, and then Mikey lowered me down, kissing me from mouth to neck and back up again as we maneuvered into place.

  The pillows were plush and cool against the hot skin at the back of my neck, and I let out a shaky breath, holding onto Mikey’s shoulders as he positioned himself on the side of me, his hand slipping back beneath my panties.

  “Have you ever…” he paused, fingers wet as they stroked me under the lace. Each time his fingertip brushed my clit, my body involuntarily shook and writhed. “Is this the first time for everything?”

  I swallowed, still holding onto him for dear life. “I mean, I’ve done it… you know… like…” I flushed, and a smile creeped up on Mikey’s face. “I’ve done it,” I said again. Stupidly.

  He kissed me, sliding his finger down, down, into my folds, and gently — slowly — pressing just the tip inside me. “If it hurts too much, tell me, okay? Tell me and I’ll stop.”

  I nodded, breathing hard against his mouth as he slipped his finger just a little more inside, and everything woke up all at once.

  He was slow and calculated, tender and caring, but each time his finger withdrew and slipped in a little deeper, a searing pain burned through me. It started where he touched me and raced in a hot line up my core, to my chest, to my head, encompassing every part of me. I gritted through it, holding onto his shoulders tighter and squeezing my eyes shut against the feel of it.

  I’d fingered myself before, but it was just a little bit. Mostly, I’d focused on my clit — which, I’d discovered, was what got me over the edge and into orgasm territory. I’d never used a toy or had an entire finger inside me, I’d opted for Thinx panties when on my period instead of tampons, and I was painfully aware of all of those facts as Mikey kissed me deep, and penetrated me deeper.

  My back arched, pain ripping through me as my nails dug into his arms. He stopped, withdrawing his fingers a little as his worried eyes searched mine. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, blowing out a slow breath. “It hurts, but it’s okay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded again, pulling his mouth down to mine. “Just kiss me,” I pleaded. “And go slow.”

  His lips melded with mine, his steady breathing helping to soothe my own as he slipped my panties down my legs, pulling them free from one and then the other. Then, slowly and gently, he pressed his finger inside me again.

  Each time he entered me, I felt myself stretch a little more, and the pain — though still there — waned, something else creeping in its place. It was like a slow, cool liquid spreading from where he touched me out and up and all over, tiny tingles of pleasure and euphoria masking the burn.

  “Oh, God,” I breathed against his lips when his palm pressed down on my clit. He caught the clue, and kept his warm palm there, rubbing the sensitive bud each time he withdrew his finger and pushed it in again. My legs opened more, glutes tensing, thighs shaking as I reached for more of that feeling.

  Intelligible moans came from my lips, moans I swore had to be from someone else as Mikey picked up his pace a little, kissing my lips, my neck, sucking my earlobe between his teeth. His hot breath in my ear sent chills racing over every inch of me, and I rolled my hips against his hand, the pain gone, overpowered by the need for something else.

  It hit me — right there in that moment, and completely out of nowhere.

  Michael Becker was touching me.

  My best friend who I’d loved in secret for years was fingering me.

  Something about that knowledge had me grinding my hips harder, faster, and I grabbed his hair in my hands, pulling his mouth to mine. He answered my plea with a deeper plunge of his finger, and he kept his palm pressed against me, moving it subtly against my clit as I gasped and panted and rolled my hips.

  I nearly cried when he broke our kiss, but the urge was gone in the next moment when his lips descended on my breast. He licked and sucked the sensitive skin, his finger still working inside me, and when his tongue flicked over my nipple, I cried out, arching into the feel of it, black creeping in to invade my vision.

  “Yes,” I think I whispered, though I couldn’t be sure, because in the next moment I was pulsing and racing toward the edge of a rollercoaster, each flick of his tongue propelling me forward, closer and closer, until I was right on the edge, waiting to drop.

  Mikey curled his finger deep inside me, his palm hot and hard on my clit, and the combination sent me tumbling.

  I curled my hands in his hair, pulling his mouth back to mine as I rolled down the coaster, surrendering to the hot waves pulsing through every inch of me. Every muscle tightened, my moans the only thing breaking our kiss as I hung onto him like a lifeline. My hips rolled, my glutes tightened, my thighs burned and shook until the euphoric waves slowly mellowed out.

  And I collapsed.

  Everything went lax, my legs falling even wider, hips opening, hands releasing my grip on him as they fell into the pillows under my head. I gasped for air, chest heaving, and when I finally creaked my eyes open, Mikey was watching me with a smirk.

  “That was hot,” he said, his finger still inside me. He withdrew it slowly, circling my clit with my climax on his fingertips before he entered me again.

  I shook and writhed against the touch, everything ten times more sensitive than it had been, and my eyes fluttered closed again as I surrendered to the feel.

  Mikey kissed my lips, withdrawing his finger once more. “Don’t move,” he whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Mmmm,” I murmured, but my eyes stayed closed, my body melting into the bed like it was slowly enveloping me.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt the dip of the bed as Mikey left it. I heard the water running in the bathroom and the padding of his bare feet on the carpet before the bed dipped with his weight again. But still, my eyes stayed closed, and
another wave of pleasure rolled over me at the feel of a warm wash cloth dipping between my legs.

  “Ohhhh,” I moaned, stretching the word out as I shook beneath his caring touch. “That feels so nice.”

  I creaked my eyes open, watching a soft smile bloom on Mikey’s face as he watched his hand between my legs. But when I looked down, too, I froze in horror.

  The wash cloth was covered in blood.

  “Oh, my God,” I scrambled to sit up, knees snapping together.

  “It’s okay,” Mikey assured me, keeping his hand between my legs. He brushed my hair back behind my shoulders, kissing the skin there before he kissed my lips. “It’s okay. It’s normal.”

  “I’m bleeding.”

  “It’s normal, Kylie,” he said again, this time tilting my chin up until I looked him in the eyes. “It was your first time. This happens.”

  I swallowed. “Is it done? Or will I… is it still going to happen when we…” I glanced down to where his erection was still rock solid in his boxer briefs.

  “It might,” he answered truthfully. “But if it does, it’s okay.”

  “You’re not grossed out?”

  He wrinkled his nose, looking at me like I was crazy. “What? No, of course not.” He shook his head, bending down to kiss me before he spoke again. “I’m honored to be the first to touch you, Ky. And if you can’t already tell, I’m insanely turned on.”

  I chuckled, but then my hands trailed down his chest, over the fabric of his briefs to grasp the bulge beneath it. A needy breath left Mikey’s lips and his eyes fluttered shut, his hand between my legs stilling.

  “I want you,” I whispered, glancing back up at him with my novice hands moving over his bulge.

  He swallowed, nodding as he dropped the wash cloth on the bedside table and leaned back against the pillows. His eyes never left mine as he peeled his briefs down, his erection springing free as they slipped past his hips, over his knees, his ankles, until he was gloriously naked.

  My heart tripled its pace as I stared at the impressive length standing at attention between his hips. Mikey and I had stayed the night together plenty of times. Even though we never talked about it, I’d seen his morning erections straining against his shorts when we were maneuvering puberty, and past that, it was impossible not to notice even his resting bulge when we were in his bed playing video games.

  But now, seeing him in all his naked, hard glory, I couldn’t breathe.

  Mikey watched me as I scooted closer, and I reached out, grabbing him in a firm hold and timidly stroking him like I’d seen in the few clips of porn I’d watched. He groaned, the sound guttural and animalistic as his head dropped back against the headboard. He flexed into my hand, and I watched with fascination, my own desire already pooling again as I watched him moving.

  “Michael.”

  “Yeah?” he managed, eyes still closed as he flexed into my hand again.

  “Make love to me.”

  He stilled, eyes opening and finding mine. I rolled my hand over him again, playing with the pre-cum on his tip before I smoothed it over the rest of him. He groaned again, reaching for me until his hands were cradling my neck and he was rolling, flipping us over, his mouth hot on mine as he landed between my legs. The condom he’d placed on the bedside table was unwrapped and rolled over his length, and then he was hovering over me, and suddenly, everything stopped.

  My breaths that were loud and hot and quick ceased altogether, my hands gripping his shoulders, eyes flicking back and forth between his. Mikey’s lips were parted, but it was as if his breath had stopped, too, like everything in him was tied up in everything in me, and if I didn’t move, he didn’t either.

  His chest was pressed to mine, his elbows balanced on either side of me, and I felt his erection hard against my stomach. I’d waited for years for this moment, to be with Mikey this way, and that reality slapped me so hard that my eyes stung, tears blurring my view of the golden-green irises I loved so much.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, shaking my head as the tears slipped free. “God, I’m being that girl. The virgin who cries.”

  Mikey smiled, kissing away the tears that had just fallen down my cheeks. He pressed his lips to mine next, and I tasted the salt of my tears mixed with the sweetness of his kiss.

  “It means a lot to me, too,” he said, as if he already knew what I was thinking without me even having to say it. Then, he balanced on his elbows, eyes meeting mine. “I love you.”

  “I love you,” I echoed.

  Those words brought our next breaths, steady and calm, and then Mikey reached between us, lined himself up with my entrance, and gently, slowly, pushed inside.

  It was only the tip of him at first, but already, that searing pain I’d felt before was back. I winced, squeezing my eyes closed tight and holding onto him even tighter. He bent to kiss me, his tongue slipping inside my mouth, lips playing with mine as he withdrew and pushed a little deeper.

  The lights in that room, in that city, in the entire world went out. Time morphed. Space ceased to exist. In the next breath, the next push, everything centered around me and him, around the places where our hips and mouths met, around the overwhelming emotion that was too powerful to have a name.

  Just like when we’d entered that room, my senses heightened.

  I felt every inch of him entering me, heard his breath in my ear and the sweet, sultry voice of Billie Holiday singing about being in a daydream with the one she loves. I felt him trembling in my arms, smelled his cologne and that familiar scent that had always been his — bonfire and cedar. I didn’t just see his eyes, or the muscles in his arms, or the parting of his lips. No, I saw years with him, the days and nights we’d shared in the past and the days and nights I somehow knew we’d have in the future.

  And I tasted him — the sweetness of his tongue, the saltiness of his skin, the warm, honey-glazed pleasure that manifested to life and transferred back and forth between us as we moved.

  Time passed in a daze, in a blur of hands touching and breaths panting and hips moving and lips shaking. Mikey pressed up onto his palms, and my legs opened wider, and he quickened his pace, his eyes locked on mine. I watched his eyes flutter and close, savored the guttural moan that came from his chest, and memorized everything about the moment when he lost control inside me, his body stilling, muscles in his abdomen tightening and pulsing as he emptied into the condom.

  And just like that, I was no longer a virgin.

  And we were no longer in a non-defined space between just friends and something more.

  I pulled him down into me, kissing him as he relaxed his body and let his weight cover me completely. Our skin was slick and hot, and Mikey rolled until we were on our sides, our legs tangling together as soon as he slipped out of me. We kissed and kissed, fingers tracing, hands still trembling as we pulled each other closer, as if even a centimeter of space was too much.

  “Mikey,” I whispered after a long while, when my lips were swollen and chapped and every muscle in my body ached.

  “Yeah?”

  I leaned up on my elbow, running my fingers over the scruff lining his jaw before my gaze found his again. “I’m hungry.”

  He blinked, watching me like he wasn’t sure he’d heard me correctly, and then he barked out a laugh, reaching up to pull me into a bear hug. He kissed me all over as I laughed and squirmed to get away, though we both knew that wasn’t really what I wanted.

  “Well, then,” he said, still laughing. “I think it’s time I feed you.” He released his grip a little, kissing my nose before he cocked one eyebrow. “Pizza?”

  “Mmmmm,” I moaned. “Pizza.”

  He grinned, assaulting me with another flurry of kisses before he hopped out of bed and crossed to the desk where he’d left his phone. I watched his ass the entire way, not even an ounce of shame, a yummy ache between my legs reminding me I’d just had him — in every way a girl could.

  And maybe that was the best part about sleeping with your
best friend.

  There was no awkward silence after, no weirdness as each of us got dressed, no excuses about how we needed to go or dodgy questions about whether we’d call each other or not.

  No, instead, it was t-shirts and underwear, and pizza straight out of the box, and our favorite movie rented off the hotel’s pay-per-view, and cuddles and talking until both our eyes were so heavy that we fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, warm and comfortable and safe.

  It was heaven.

  And I never wanted to leave.

  Kylie

  We woke the next morning to a thunderstorm, and I guess that should have been my sign.

  I should have known when the thunder rattled the hotel windows, when the lightning flashed bright and fast over Michael’s sleeping face, when the rain poured so loud and hard that it sounded like hail, that everything was about to crash and burn. It was a bad omen if I’d ever seen one, but I’d been wrapped up in the sheets with my best friend, wrapped up in our own little paradise that I was sure could never end. I couldn’t see it for what it was. Not then.

  Not until that literal storm turned into a metaphorical one right before my eyes.

  We woke up slowly, the room still dark from the storm raging outside making for perfect cuddle weather. Mikey held me close to his chest, running his fingers through my wild hair until it was an hour before check-out. Then, he ran me a bath so I could soak, and I didn’t realize how badly I needed that until I sank down into the hot water and felt every muscle cry out in a mix of protest and thankfulness.

  I was still sore between my legs, an unfamiliar but welcome ache that reminded me what happened the night before as we packed our bags and ran through the rain to my truck in the parking lot. The sky was dark and menacing, and Mikey insisted that he drive, since I wasn’t a fan of driving even when it was sprinkling, let alone storming.