LustandOtherDrugs

by Saranna Dewylde

  She imagined him spread out in front of her, all of that beefcake just for her to touch wherever she wanted, massage oil hot and slick under her hands… Dear God, she was going to break her clit if she kept this up.

  “Oh yeah?” He hauled her up over his shoulder with ease and was rewarded with a squeal. “You sound like an indignant piglet when you make that sound.” Chase secured his grip on her upper thigh and his touch burned through her skin to the bone.

  “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” she shrieked. Unless it involved throwing her down in a pile of hay, on a mattress, wherever, and having his wicked way with her.

  If he would just move his fingers a little higher…

  “Keep squirming and it will be like nothing you had in mind because I’ll drop you.”

  “You’re just being ornery,” Anne chirped like an angry sparrow. She struggled against him, trying to control her need and figure out how to breathe. She had to stop this “breathless heaving”. Not only because she was getting lightheaded, but because she didn’t want him to know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  “Yep,” he agreed in a genial tone.

  “Seriously, you can put me down.” Her whole body was on fire, her face was bright red and she knew it had nothing to do with the temperature outside. She was relieved when he finally put her down, but that relief was short-lived because as soon as they got into the truck, he flipped the a/c to arctic.

  Normally it would have been a welcome relief, but the blasts of cold air caused her nipples to harden against the thin material of her t-shirt. If Chase had been any other man, she would have used it to her advantage, to display herself before hungry eyes and taunt the lust she knew was there.

  Her changing body had been a big deal in middle school. None of the boys could look at her face when they’d talked to her. No one but Chase. It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed—he teased her every so often like he had earlier. Making jokes about her “great rack”. But she’d never caught him staring and his hugs had never been the kind to press her against him strictly for the sake of copping a feel. He never elbowed her just to brush his arm against them, or played the tickle game hoping for brief contact, and he’d never been anything but brotherly.

  It would figure, the one man she finally wanted to try to look down her shirt or cop a feel and he didn’t. He didn’t even so much as look at her as they drove. Chase was lost in his own world, strumming his fingers against the steering wheel to Cannibal Corpse.

  Anne stole another glance at him and faced forward before he could catch her staring. It was a short ride to his place. Before she could stop herself, she was staring again and wondering what he’d do if she just reached out her hand and traced the lines of his perfection. This time, he noticed.

  “What? I have something in my teeth?” He flashed his pearly whites at her and then at the mirror.

  “I wasn’t looking at your teeth.”

  Had that really just flown out of her mouth like a suicidal lemming? Shit. He was going to ask her what she’d been looking at. It was the next logical question. If only she could learn to keep her mouth shut.

  “Then what were you looking at?”

  Why did he have to ask? She didn’t want to answer. She didn’t have anything plausible to say to explain away the reason she kept eye-humping him. But she couldn’t look away. It was cruel and unusual punishment to put a man next to her who looked like that and not expect her to stare.

  “If I was sitting here with my shirt off, you’d be looking too.” She could have clapped her hand over her mouth, but it would have been like slamming the barn door shut after the livestock had already trampled an acre of corn.

  “Well, fair is fair.” He looked at her pointedly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Quid pro quo, my dear.” He made a motion with his hand as if she should continue.

  Oh. Maybe he wasn’t as immune as Anne had thought. Or was this simply more banter?

  “Well, then what? We’d both be topless with nowhere to go.” She laughed it off. “Actually, I was just thinking about a piece I have to work on tonight.”

  “And your inspiration is written across my abs?” Chase was skeptical.

  “You could say that. My inspiration is your abs.”

  “Do I want to know?” He crinkled his nose.

  “I don’t know, do you?” she tossed back with a cocky grin.

  “Fine, tell me.” He gave a long-suffering sigh.

  She never had to twist his arm too hard. Chase had the soul of an explorer. He was curious about everything. He wanted an answer to every question and he wanted it definitively. All she had to do to pique his interest was imply she had an answer to something that she wouldn’t share. It didn’t matter if the question had never occurred to him, he wanted the answer anyway.

  “I’m working on a book cover for one of my clients. I couldn’t get the lines right on his abs, but yours will do nicely.”

  It wasn’t exactly a lie. The last four covers she’d created, he’d been the inspiration. At least until she’d realized it was him. Anne knew better than to ignore her muse or to try to dictate what could function as inspiration and what could not. She’d tried to push all inappropriate visions of Chase out of her head, but she quickly realized it wouldn’t be that easy. Her muse had promptly bitch-slapped her and refused to do any more work until she capitulated and imagined him in all the poses she needed for the books.

  “Business, eh? And here I thought you were looking for pleasure,” he drawled.

  Anne was sure her temperature spiked another hundred degrees. She was definitely looking for pleasure. From his hands, his mouth, his— “That’s the same washboard you had in high school. Nothing special about it. It’s not like I couldn’t use Google Images and find a million more where that came from.”

  Watch the references, dumbass.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Chase began slowly, as if contemplating his reply. “If you could do that, why didn’t you? In the spirit of inspiration, of course.”

  “You’ve always been too cocky for your own good.”

  “That’s what she said.” He smirked.

  Anne rolled her eyes and refused to be impressed. “Flesh is always better in the real than in pixel. But if you don’t want me to use you, I won’t.”

  He raised a brow. “Use me?”

  “You know what I mean,” Anne said tiredly. He was definitely putting her through the paces. Not the paces she wanted to be put through, but an ordeal nonetheless. She was heartily sorry for calling him a pussy.

  “See what happens when you impugn my manhood? I start acting like a frat boy.” He shrugged helplessly, as if it were completely out of his hands.

  “Oh no, you can’t blame your gutter mind on me.”

  “Sure I can. You’re the one who gave me a dirty story to read when we were twelve.”

  “You were the one who’d already figured out how to get free Skinemax instead of the Disney Channel in your room.”

  He waited for a moment. “Yeah, I got nothing. You win.”

  “I always win.”

  “Only because we’re here.” He pulled into the driveway and turned the truck off.

  “Keep telling yourself that. Whatever helps you sleep,” Anne said as she got out of the truck to see Gin Ettinger waiting on the porch.

  Gin was her best girl friend—and had a raging bean-on for Chase. She had since freshman year of college. Four years she’d been pining for him to notice her, and nothing. Chase was nice to her, accepted her as part of his group of friends, but that was it. He didn’t even banter with her like he did with Anne. He flirted a bit, but that was just Chase. Although he did call her Tank, for the Tanqueray brand of gin.

  “Hey, Tank. What’s up?”

  Gin smiled prettily for him and got to her feet.

  Anne was sure if Gin didn’t register on Chase’s list as fuckable, he couldn’t have any serious interest in Anne either. She sighed aloud
. Gin was gorgeous. She had blonde hair that was like spun gold, clear blue eyes and full lips that drove most men nuts. Not to mention her petite figure. Gin was dainty and feminine, something that Anne was not and didn’t aspire to be.

  Anne hadn’t mentioned her recent discovery to Gin, and she felt horrible about it, but not horrible enough to remedy the situation. Partially because Anne wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. She had to get her own head straight before she sent Gin for a whirl. Unless she’d already found the site herself.

  “I see you’ve been working hard. Anne’s just a slave driver, isn’t she?” Gin grinned.

  “She’s a battle-axe.” He nodded. “The harridan even made me carry her down the stairs.”

  “You won’t get any sympathy from a woman you call Tank.” Anne laughed.

  “Oh, I think he will,” Gin disagreed.

  “See, that’s why you never get the upper hand. You show all your cards,” Anne teased.

  “I’m just honest. What’s wrong with that?”

  What was wrong, indeed? She almost sighed again. “Nothing. Except that he gets the drop on you every time.”

  “It’s a competition?” Gin replied.

  “Only if there’s Jell-O wrestling,” Chase said as he unlocked the door and went inside.

  “No, I’d lose. Nipples over here would put my eye out,” Gin muttered.

  “What?” Chase asked, sticking his head back out the door.

  “Nothing. We’ll be inside in a sec.” Gin smiled. When he was gone, she turned on Anne. “Christ, woman. I can’t compete with those things. No mortal female could. I give it a week before you’re going at it like rabbits.” She sighed unhappily.

  Anne wanted to reassure her, but she didn’t want to lie either. She made a helpless gesture with her hands. “Air conditioning. What do you want from me?”

  “One of your boobs? Then we’d be on an even playing field.” Gin grinned. “It’s okay, you know. I can’t make him like me that way. As much as I’d like to.”

  “Not paying to cool the outside, ladies.” His voice echoed from inside.

  “Then shut the door,” Anne called back. “You were the last one through it.”

  “See what I get for trying to be a gentleman?” he yelled back.

  “I mean it, Anne,” Gin said, her tone hushed. “With all of the banter and tension that’s between you all of the time, there’s no way that this new living arrangement won’t end up in someone’s bed.”

  “It’s not worth two friendships, Gin.”

  “But what if it is? I love you too much to get between you and destiny. What if he’s the one? You’ve never dated anyone seriously and just now, you couldn’t deny that you want—” She cut herself off. “Ice cream.”

  Anne turned to see Chase’s dark head at the door again. “Tank, are you coming out for beers later? We’re celebrating my rededication to bachelorhood.”

  “By having a woman move in with you?” Gin deadpanned.

  “Shouldn’t you guys be curling hair and trying to decide what you’re going to wear? We’ve only got six hours until we can hit The Bottleneck.” He said this as if six hours were five minutes. It took Gin forever to get ready to go anywhere and, in turn, she slowed Anne down too. But it would only take them one hour, not six.

  Gin’s eyes lit up dangerously.

  In that single expression, Anne knew whatever her friend was cooking in her mad scientist’s lab of an imagination, it wasn’t going to end well.

  “You’re so right. You better rest up now, because we’re going to need your help.” Gin chortled.

  “For what? Haven’t I helped enough? I did heavy lifting all day and while you’re primping, I’ll still be bringing in the rest of Anne’s stuff.”

  “This only requires sitting. I think Anne needs to get laid. It’s been what, six months since she’s even been on a date? You and I, Donovan, we’re going to get her a man.”

  Chapter Two

  Anne agreed that she needed a man, but not just any man Gin could drag in off the street. She needed Chase Donovan.

  And she was going to have him right now.

  At least in effigy.

  Her panties were so wet, clinging to her—the damp silk torture for her aching cunt. Every step she took, her jeans pushed the silk against her, just enough pressure to tease but not to bring any relief.

  After Gin left, Anne pleaded fatigue and quickly retreated to her new bedroom. She made a frantic dive for the black overnight bag she’d stuffed full with all the things she’d need until she could get unpacked. Namely, a few days’ worth of clean clothes and her Bullet.

  Anne couldn’t handle the Rabbit at the moment. She was too raw, too needy. The Bullet on the lowest setting would bring her some soothing although temporary relief. She slipped out of her jeans and under the covers.

  After positioning the Bullet, she bit her lip and looked at her laptop. Did she dare? He was right outside the door in the living room. Or maybe he was in his room, filming. The very thought caused her breath to catch in her throat.

  Yeah, she dared. Hell yeah, she did.

  Anne yanked her laptop down onto the bed and pulled up Dreamed Desire. Chase’s shoots were on her favorites list and she opened the video of him jerking off. Sometimes she’d watch him when he was with women, but his solo act was the one that got her off every time.

  She flipped the remote switch on the toy and the gentle buzz made her sigh. Anne let her hands wander her body, imagining they were Chase’s.

  Just as the show was getting good—Chase was thrusting his hips up as he fucked his own fist—the rattle of the old knob on the door yanked her out of fantasy land and she slammed the lid down on the laptop just as the man himself crept into her room.

  “Want me to tuck you in?” He gave her a lazy gin and then flopped on her bed, the mattress sagging under his weight and dumping her against him.

  Dear God, he was on her bed!

  While the Bullet was still on.

  She fumbled beneath the covers but the goddamn remote was AWOL. Anne clenched her thighs tight to buffer the buzzing of the Bullet, both as soundproofing and to keep herself from orgasming until after he left.

  But she had to admit that jilling off with him right there next to her had a certain bad-girl appeal.

  “What are you doing?” He nodded to the computer. “Thought you were taking a nap.”

  “If you thought I was sleeping, why did you come in and pester me?” She squirmed beneath her blanket, trying to reposition the Bullet but not tip him off to what exactly was going on under there.

  God, but it feels so good.

  He splayed his hand on her hip. “Come on, tell the truth. You were in here looking at porn.”

  Her face flamed, but he couldn’t possibly know. Could he? No, he was just giving her shit. “I certainly was not. I’ll have you know I was reading Dakota Cassidy’s new book.”

  “You wouldn’t tell me anyway. Haven’t you always said we don’t need to be that close?” His breath tickled her ear.

  “It begs the question yet again, if you thought I was busy…” Anne trailed off, masking the gasp as the building pleasure in her cunt almost betrayed her.

  “I thought you were never too busy for me?”

  Her hips jerked involuntarily as her orgasm mounted. “Jesus, Chase! You’re tickling me.”

  “Am I?” His voice sounded raspy for a moment, but it had to be her imagination. “Sorry.” He brushed his lips against her cheek in a familiar motion. “I’ll wake you up at six.”

  She tried not to shiver at the caress. “You should get some rest too. You know Gin will want to stay until the place closes and you worked hard today.”

  “Is that an invitation to nap with you?”

  Oh sweet hell, yes!

  No! The Bullet would buzz her clit right off if she didn’t let herself finish soon and get the damn thing out of her panties.

  “No way are you hanging out in my bed. You haven’t even bo
ught me dinner first. See, you move in with a guy and all the romance goes right out of the relationship.”

  He laughed and got up. “That’s my Anne.”

  Had his fingers lingered on her hip or had that been her imagination? It didn’t matter; the experience was being deposited directly into the spank bank. In fact, the whole encounter, him next to her in bed, was going into the vault.

  Even after he left, the scent of him clung to her pillow. She loved the smell of his aftershave; it made her think of his square jaw, clean-shaven, and what it would look like with his mouth closed over her breast.

  That image and the scent of him were what pushed her over the edge. She came, straining and arching against the stalwart little toy and wishing it was Chase.

  Chase Donovan was beating his cock like it owed him money—and for all the times it had interrupted his daily routine lately, he was sure that it did. He hadn’t needed to jerk off this much since middle school. Though the root cause was the same.

  Anne.

  Something about her had changed in the last six months, and he didn’t know what it was or whether he wanted it to go away or explore it further. Bastard that he was, that was why he’d offered to let her move in. He thought maybe being around her more would remind him of their friendsh—

  No, that was a lie. That was the logic he’d used to console himself after he’d offered. He’d imagined a thousand scenarios and they all ended with him fucking her.

  Maybe he watched too much porn, but when he went into her room, part of him imagined he’d find her bringing herself off, those slender fingers working her cunt, and she’d beg him to ease her, demand he fuck her hard—and Chase would oblige.

  But she wasn’t some thing to be used like that, she was Annie. His best friend. So Chase wouldn’t close that space between their mouths, taste her lips, fill his hands with her glorious tits or bury his cock inside her because no matter how hard either of them got off, it wouldn’t be worth their friendship.