Lust and Other Drugs
Saranna DeWylde
For months, Anne’s been indulging in a porn site that caters to women. She’s even got a favorite model, a hottie who gets her juices flowing every time. Until she finally sees his face—and discovers she’s been jilling off to videos of her lifelong best friend, Chase.
Now Anne can’t even look at him without imagining his big, hard…everything. Worse, she’s just become Chase’s new roommate. How can she possibly keep her hands off all that grade-A beefcake when it’s within arm’s reach? Does she even have to? A friends-with-benefits arrangement is looking more appealing by the second…
Starting with the world’s dirtiest dance, Anne and Chase’s physical relationship builds to the point of combustion. However, no-strings is harder than Anne ever imagined. Her lust for Chase is like a drug…but she’ll soon realize other, more complicated emotions are far more potent.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Lust and Other Drugs
ISBN 9781419938030
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Lust and Other Drugs Copyright © 2012 Saranna DeWylde
Edited by Kelli Collins
Photography and cover design by Syneca
Models: Lisa & Cole
Electronic book publication January 2012
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
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Lust and Other Drugs
Saranna DeWylde
Acknowledgments
Big thanks to Dakota Cassidy, whose work appears as Anne’s cover story when Chase catches her jilling off to Dreamed Desire. Dakota’s a fantastic writer (if you haven’t read her, you must!) and a wonderful friend. It was with her encouragement that I believed this book could have a home at Ellora’s Cave.
Thanks also to my editor, Kelli Collins, who saw the potential in this book even when illiterate trolls hijacked my files. She helped me bring Chase and Anne to bright and vivid life that they certainly wouldn’t have known without her.
And as always, thanks to the Sanibel Divas for their love, support and nights spent laughing over glasses of Rosa Regale.
Chapter One
Sweet heaven on fire, but the man carrying the boxes out of Anne Hayward’s apartment was nothing short of an eyegasm.
He was tall and broad, his presence filling the doorway. The cannons he had for biceps caused him to turn sideways to get through the passage, laden as he was with her household goods. The hundred-degree heat didn’t help—sweat slicked his skin and caused the white t-shirt to plaster itself like a desperate lover to the hard planes of muscle. A pair of distressed, low-slung jeans hung on his hips and it drew her gaze down farther, to the Pantera belt buckle she’d gotten him for Christmas. It mocked her, a gatekeeper of the forbidden.
The sin-on-a-stick treat currently moving all of her stuff to storage was none other than Chase Donovan, the boy who’d been her best friend since fourth grade at Green Valley Elementary.
Her mouth went dry when he tugged his shirt off and tucked it into his belt. “Boy” was absolutely the wrong word. He was all man. One-hundred-percent, grade-A beefcake, to be exact.
Anne couldn’t help but lick her lips and imagine for the millionth time what it would feel like to have her hands splayed on his back while he thrust into her, those green eyes dark with lust and her legs wrapped around his waist and—
“Annie? You all right?” he asked. “You look a little pale. Sit down. I’ve got the rest of this.” The corner of his mouth curved in a half grin.
She didn’t respond…which was just as well. Anne wouldn’t have been able to say anything coherent. She’d promised herself she’d come clean about this new awareness of him, for lack of a better word, before she set up camp in his guest bedroom. The days had gotten away from her and she was still no closer to coming up with a way to broach the subject than she’d been when she’d first found out. Anne didn’t know where to start.
One usually began at the beginning, and she supposed that was six months ago. At least, that’s when her world as she’d known it had changed. She’d stumbled across a porn site that catered exclusively to women. Hot stories read aloud by sexy men, videos of these same sexy men doing the most delicious things… Even chat. It was a full-service sort of experience. Although she never chatted there, it had become her go-to site when she wanted to get off.
It took months to actually see the face of the model she liked. It was always a quick peek or a bare shadow. Until a month ago…when she’d finally seen the familiar square jaw, the aquiline nose and the green eyes she knew better than her own.
It had taken her world view and tipped it on its ass sideways to discover she’d been jilling off to Chase.
Those images were burned in her brain like a brand. They were always there now, visions of his hands on his heavy cock, the way his body moved as he found his release—even the way the women looked as he made them come. She couldn’t look at him now and not see these things. Her gaze was constantly drawn to his hands, his body. Anne was wet just thinking about it. Especially his hands. Those broad, strong palms, the wide fingers that, even for all of their size, were elegant somehow. She liked to watch them. Whether he was carrying boxes or bringing himself off, she was entranced.
She’d never seen him that way before—as a man. He’d always been Chase, her best friend. Anne had stopped using the site, but her fantasies had changed nonetheless. He was always in the front of her mind, waiting to offer some forbidden inspiration. She would remember some innocent circumstance, like a water balloon fight they’d had in high school, and instead of ending up laughing together on the grass, there was suddenly tension between them and his hands would be on her body, kneading her breasts, delving between her thighs and—
“That’s the last of it, unless you’ve hidden more boxes somewhere,” Chase said as he came back through the door.
Anne looked around the room and pretended to search for those hidden places where more boxes could be to avoid looking at him. Finally, she had nowhere else to stare. A lock of dark hair had fallen across his brow and she realized he could be the next model for a Dolce & Gabbana cologne. “No, I don’t have anything else.”
Could he see the lust in her eyes? Did he notice the way she licked her lips whenever she looked at him?
“Are you sure you don
’t want the couch?” He motioned to the overstuffed thing behind her.
“No, it was here when I got here. Where would I put it, anyway?”
“The living room?” He shrugged. “I want you to feel at home, Annie. You’re not a guest.”
“No, I’m the maid, until I can start paying you some rent.” She laughed. Instantly she imagined dressing up in a French maid outfit and “working off” her rent. Anne bit her bottom lip. She did that all the time around him too, constantly bit her lip when she thought of him and all the things they could do together.
“Hey, you want to cook and clean, I’m not going to complain.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “But you’re family. Mi casa, es su casa.”
Family? That should have warmed her heart, but it was as bad as the dreaded Friend Zone. You’re nothing more than a sister. Perhaps she should have found comfort in that. If he only saw her as a friend, a sister, there was no way he’d let her screw up their friendship living out some fantasy that was probably one of those things better left to imagination. Fantasy was easy, reality was messy.
“Thanks, Chase.” Out of habit, Anne leaned in for a hug that had always been a comfortable gesture between them. Only it wasn’t. He wrapped his arms around her and, rather than reeking like a man who’d been working should have, he smelled cologne and soap. She breathed deeply.
His bare skin under her hands was like a drug and she wanted this moment to last forever. But he broke the hug all too soon. Had he noticed a difference in the way she touched him?
“Anything for you, Annie. I know it was a hard decision to give up your apartment. You’ve been here for four years. But if you want to dedicate yourself to your art without a day job, something had to go.”
“Let’s see if you still feel that way when I’m still eating your food, clogging up your bathroom counter with my girly necessities and camping out in the guest bedroom in five years.” She snorted. “You’ll be shipping me home to live in my mother’s basement.”
Anne had thought it was divine providence when Chase told her she could move in with him when her lease was up. She’d done her four years, gotten her degree, but she didn’t want to get a day job where she wouldn’t be able to utilize her skills or be true to her art. And the sad actuality of living in her mother’s basement was enough to make her consider the day job.
“Sweets, you can live with me until you sign up with AARP. I don’t care. Besides, you’ll have your own bathroom. So I won’t have to dodge your dirty panties on the floor.” He smirked.
“What do you know of my dirty drawers, Chase Donovan?” What did he know, indeed?
“You’re worse than a teenage boy about putting your dirty clothes in the hamper. Sometimes I wonder if you’re really a girl.” He leaned against the doorjamb casually, arms crossed over his chest and a lazy smile on his face.
“Do you?” She looked down at her ample chest. “I’d say I’m all girl.”
Chase gave her a once-over and the intensity in his eyes had her biting her lip again. If she kept this up, she was going to bite the damn thing off before the week was out. “Yeah, I guess you are.”
“What would Randa think of that?” Anne asked, referencing his girlfriend. As much as she liked his attention and yearned for it, she couldn’t function when he looked at her like that.
“You were here first.” Chase winked playfully and then sighed. “Actually, I doubt she’d have much to say about it. She broke up with me yesterday.”
“What?” She was crazy. Or maybe she’d found out about the site. While Chase wasn’t a cheater, he’d had a few videos with other women. Anne could understand not wanting to see your boyfriend doing the horizontal mambo with someone else, even if it was before you. Or knowing there were thousands of women imagining he was doing it to them—although that part turned Anne on. Just a bit. Maybe because she was one of the thousands of girls doing the imagining.
“Whatever.” He shrugged carelessly. “We weren’t in love. It was more of a relationship of physical convenience, if you know what I mean.” Chase gave her a pointed look.
“So, are we going for beers to celebrate or are we going to watch Pretty in Pink and eat too much pizza and ice cream to feed our misery that you no longer have a relationship of physical convenience?”
This had been so much easier when she’d been blissfully unaware of his hard body, strong hands and big cock. It felt strange, suggesting some girls’ night with him now, even though they’d done it plenty of times. Chase had always been up for a late-night ice cream run or chowing down with her while she fed her sorrow over some breakup. He’d even filled in for best-girlfriend duty and polished her toenails when she was feeling really down. It was as though the moment she’d become aware that he was Angus Beefcake, she perceived him as a different person completely.
And he wasn’t. He was still Chase. In high school, when he’d grown eight inches and his shoulders had filled out, he’d still been Chase. Sure, she’d thought he was cute, but there’d never been this blaze of lust that she felt for him now.
“Beers. It’s a celebration.” His expression didn’t match his words because his mouth was set in a hard line.
“Not from the look on your face.”
“No, really. It’s a good thing.” He shrugged. “I’ll only miss the regular sex.”
Anne almost choked. How much sex did he need? How often did he need to come? Her cunt clenched and she longed to cross her legs, as if that would stop the ache burning between them. If he needed it as often as she thought about it, they’d both need a Gatorade IV drip.
“I never liked her anyway. You can do better,” Anne said automatically.
“Not right now, I can’t. I don’t have time. I’ve got to finish med school. Doesn’t leave much time for a relationship.”
Neither did jerking off to a porn site for her pleasure, apparently.
“Yeah, but then you’ll be quite the catch, Dr. Donovan.” She made a kissy face at him, the one she’d teased him with since fourth grade whenever he talked about a girl. Those times had been rare, so they’d warranted a great deal of teasing.
“You know I’m holding out for my best girl to discover she’s madly in love with me.” He gave her an easy grin.
Now! Tell him now, stupid. Tell him you want him to bend you back over this couch and… “And who would that be? Do I know her?” Anne volleyed, as if she didn’t know he was teasing her.
They’d flirted like this since they were both knee high to a duck, but it had never sent shivers coursing down her spine as it did now. Their casual banter seemed like anything but these days. She wondered what he’d do if she dropped that bomb on him, that she was curious about how sex would be between them.
“I think you might. She’s a bit too tall for a girl, but that’s okay because she makes me laugh.” He darted out from his place against the door and grabbed her for another hug.
“I see, flawed but you’re willing to overlook it?” She nodded seriously, trying to catch her breath. She wanted to be closer. His playful hug was something more for her.
“A man would overlook a face like a bulldog for that rack.” He smirked, but didn’t look down at her heaving chest. Her friend Gin always made fun of that description, but she really did heave when she was breathing heavily. Something she’d noticed now that she was doing it all the time.
“Would he now? I don’t know if you should tell her that.”
“Why not?” Chase winked and her stomach flipped. “Does she think she has a face like a bulldog?”
“You’re horrible.” Anne laughed.
“I know. I’m…what’s the phrase? An incorrigible reprobate?” He was still holding on to her and she was still heaving, her breasts pressed against the broad expanse of his chest, her palms splayed over his muscles.
“Stop reading my regencies!” She slapped at his shoulder.
“They’ve given me some great material.” He nodded knowingly.
“I never
should have given you that first one I read when we were twelve.”
“Oh no, I thank you,” Chase said with a healthy dose of enthusiasm.
“I’m sure the rest of the female population of KU does not.”
“I don’t know about that.” A self-satisfied look came over his face.
Anne was surprised her mouth was working at all at this point. He had yet to let go of her, as if holding her close like that was an everyday occurrence. It wasn’t, and neither of them seemed inclined to let go, but Anne knew she was going to make an ass of herself directly if one of them didn’t move. “If I’m your best girl, shouldn’t you be carrying me off into the sunset or something?”
“I don’t have a horse.” He shrugged.
“No, but you have a couple hundred horses under the hood of a Dodge that has air conditioning.”
“Who said you were my best girl?” Chase raised a perfectly arched black brow.
“If I’m not, then let her come over and rub your back tonight.” She moved her hands over his back to drive the point home, but she couldn’t have stopped touching him now if her life depended on it.
“Okay, I give,” he surrendered. “But in the interest of said back, I’m not carrying you down the stairs.”
“Are you trying to say something?” She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes, his insinuation doing what money or guns couldn’t—prying her off him.
“Yeah. Your dresser was damn heavy.” He obviously knew better than to get anywhere near that discussion.
“I don’t know if I want to be your best girl, what with all this whining. Not very Alpha hero of you,” she taunted lightly and wrinkled her nose.
“Calling me a pussy will get you nowhere,” he said, unimpressed.
“You said it. I didn’t.” Anne loved to give him a healthy ration of grief. Of course, he’d give it right back to her. And for a moment, she felt guilty. He’d spent the whole day hauling her boxes and furniture without one word of complaint. He’d get the back rub no matter what. That, and it was another excuse to run her hands all over him again.
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