To Be Your Only

by Rae Kennedy

  I stand. “Just straighten your legs.”

  He does and I sit back down with his legs behind me but now I’m only on the edge of the cushion, I can’t lean back, and it’s not comfortable. At all.

  “Fine,” I grumble as I move to my side.

  He shifts behind me to make room, so we are now both lying on our sides. My back is snug to his front and somehow my head has ended up resting on his outstretched arm. His bicep is a strangely comfortable pillow. Actually, lying down on the couch, his warm body behind mine is entirely too relaxing, and I hate that it feels nice.

  But it’s just Eric. It’s not like he’s going to try to do more. He’s like a brother to me. Well, maybe not a brother—that doesn’t feel right. A friend. He’s just a friend. And we’re just lying on a couch together watching cartoons. Nothing inappropriate happening here. We’re just sort of snuggling, but if the couch were wider, I’m sure we wouldn’t be so close.

  After the second episode of Teen Titans, my eyelids feel heavy and the steady cadence of Eric’s breathing near my ear is soothing. Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a minute. That would be nice.

  An arm comes around me. I’m vaguely aware that we’ve officially left snuggling and entered cuddling territory. As I exhale, I sink further back against him. His hand is at my stomach and his fingers brush lightly along the little strip of bare skin exposed between my shirt and waistband. The touch is so soft I’m sure it was an accident.

  * * *

  It’s dark when I wake up. I'm still on Eric’s couch but I’m alone and there’s a blanket over me. It’s pulled up to my chin and feels like it was tucked in around my sides. Honestly, the temptation to just close my eyes and go back to sleep is strong.

  I feel around for my phone and check the time. It’s only a little after eleven. Good, I haven’t been asleep too long, then. And it’s definitely early enough that I should go home and go to bed.

  I sit up and look around. Everything is quiet and still. The moon glows bright through the front window and the soft rustle of wind through leaves is the only sound. I tiptoe around the couch toward the bathroom, trying to not wake Eric since his room is directly across the hall from it. My hand is on the doorknob to the bathroom when I hear a low sound. It’s like a whimper or a soft grunt.

  It came from Eric’s room. I turn toward his door, which is slightly ajar, only an inch or two. But through that crack I can see Eric lying in his bed. He’s on his back, the sheet pulled up to his stomach so his bare chest is on display. His eyes are closed but his face is contorted like he’s distressed. Is he having a nightmare?

  I step closer just as he moans again, and as I do, more of his bed becomes visible. He’s tense. His arms and chest are flexed. His hands disappear below the sheet and then I see a little movement under the covers, right over his groin. The muscles in his arm contract and the up-and-down motion becomes more obvious. It pulls the sheet farther down his stomach and he groans again.

  Holy fuck.

  Eric is jacking off. Right now. And I can’t look away. Like, I should not be standing here watching this, but I’m paralyzed.

  I can’t actually see anything, but just knowing that he has his cock in his hand, that he’s hard and stroking it, is making me warm. I squeeze my legs together to subdue the growing ache between them. Dear god, this shouldn’t turn me on but I haven’t come in so long, my body is needy for release.

  He’s stroking faster now. His face is flushed and his breaths are coming fast and shallow. He’s about to come and the idea has my clit pulsing. I rub my hand between my legs over my shorts to try and ease the throbbing. I’m rutting against my hand and it’s barely enough friction when he arches on the bed and lets out a guttural grunt.

  His entire body stiffens and starts to convulse and then he says, “Ky.”

  CHAPTER 10

  I move away from the door, my heart pounding. Did he see me?

  I stand flat against the wall for several minutes, waiting for him to call me out, or catch me, or do something—anything. But I don’t hear anything else and when I sneak another peek through his cracked door, he’s fully covered and rolled onto his side.

  He’s asleep already? What the fuck?

  Okay, he didn’t see me. He was just calling out my name as he climaxed. No biggie. Whatever. I’m fine.

  Instead of going to the bathroom, I slink back out to the living room, grab my bag, and slip out the front door as quietly as I can.

  The next day I am determined not to mention anything about last night to Eric. Heck, I don’t think I can even make eye contact with him right now, let alone talk to him with anything remotely resembling a normal voice.

  I’m able to mostly avoid him and by the end of the day, I’m not even sure he said my name last night at all. I mean, maybe I’m just self-absorbed and assumed it was my name. It could have just been a sound. Ky. That could have been anything. He doesn’t even really call me Ky. Maybe he was actually saying okay, or guy—hey, I don’t know what he’s into.

  Yep, it definitely, most likely, is very possible that I misheard. That solves it. I’m convinced.

  But the fact that he was masturbating and I watched him—that is an indisputable fact. And that I was turned on while watching him—also a fact. A fact that I can’t stop thinking about. The whole memory is a visual I can’t get out of my head. I keep replaying it and I’ve been in a perpetual state of horniness all day.

  So I go to bed a little early tonight. I open my underwear drawer and peruse my options. I pick up Chris Hemsworth and head for bed. First, I need to set the mood. I turn off all the lights and strip down. Naked masturbation is always better. I settle between the sheets and slide the velvety tip of the vibrator between my spread legs, close my eyes, and turn it on its lowest setting.

  I decide on a classic fantasy for tonight—a good old standby I haven’t used in a while.

  I’m lying in bed asleep—the epitome of innocence—when I’m awoken by a tapping on the window. At first I’m startled, but then I get up to investigate. When I get to the window, I see Wes standing there. In reality, there’s a large rose bush right outside my window, but fantasy Wes is impervious to thorns. So hot.

  I open the window.

  “Wes! What are you doing here?” I ask in surprise.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he says. “I had to see you.” His eyes are already smoldering but then he looks down at me and sees I’m only wearing the tiniest of panties and a lacy camisole that’s—oops—completely see-through.

  “Do you want to come in?” I ask.

  “Yes. I want to. Come in.”

  I giggle a little at my joke. Okay, back to being serious.

  He comes in through my window and immediately lays me down on the bed and shreds off my shirt and underwear so I am spread out before him, completely naked. Wes stands in front of my bed, gazing over me with desire. Then he lifts his shirt, exposing his rippling abs. He pulls it off and throws it to the floor where it lands in a crumpled heap. But when I look back at him, Eric is the one standing there in front of me, shirtless.

  “What the fuck are you doing here? You’re ruining my fantasy,” I yell.

  “I’m here because you want me here.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “You didn’t get to see my cock last night. And you want to see my cock.”

  I swallow thickly as his hands move to his belt and he slowly undoes the buckle. His fingers move to the button of his jeans.

  “Do you want to see my cock, Rosenbaum? Need to hear you say it.”

  I’m breathless. Not sure how to form sounds into coherent words. So I nod. “Yes,” I finally manage. “Yes. I want to see your cock.”

  He smirks. That stupid, infuriating, cocky-ass smirk that I hate. Except right now—it’s sexy as fuck. He pulls down his zipper and reaches in. I’m waiting naked on the bed, my legs spread for him, my pussy getting so wet.

  Finally, he pulls out his hard, swollen cock. He tugs on
it, stroking it nice and slow.

  I slide my fingers to my open pussy, rubbing through my wet folds and circling my engorged little clit. Eric starts pumping his erection faster, flicking his hand over the shiny red tip and moaning softly, exactly like he did last night.

  “Do you want to come with me this time, Ky?”

  “Yes. Yes I want to come with you,” I say, panting.

  I turn up the setting on Chris Hemsworth and press it against my sensitive clit, feeling it pulse and tingle there before I plunge the vibrator into my aching pussy. As I fuck myself with it, the little rabbit ears flick at my clit and it feels amazing. I’m getting close.

  Eric shoves his pants down to the floor and steps closer to me, still roughly jacking off his big dick as he watches me masturbate for him.

  My skin is flushed all over and my heart is thrashing wildly as I feel my climax starting to crest over the peak. Then Chris Hemsworth dies—not literally, just the batteries in my vibrator. But the sudden loss of sensation is enough to pull me right out of my fantasy and my orgasm recedes into nothingness.

  Son-of-a-mother-fucking-bitch!

  I throw the vibrator across my bed and try to settle back down. I’ll just do this manually. I close my eyes and—wait—should I try to conjure up Fantasy Wes or... The thought makes my heartbeat pick up. Fantasy Eric was obviously doing things for me, but it feels weird to go to him consciously. I don’t like Eric like that. But Fantasy Eric isn’t real Eric. Right? Just because I have a thing for Fantasy Eric doesn’t mean anything about real-life Eric. Because that would be weird. Really weird. Nope. The whole thing is too weird.

  I close my eyes and will Fantasy Wes to walk through my door. He does, looking all shiny and beautiful and, ooh, naked. He smiles at me.

  “Are you ready for me?” he asks.

  “Mm hmm,” I say, even though my pussy doesn’t feel nearly as achy or wet as it did a few minutes ago.

  Wes stalks over and places his hands to my mattress on either side of me, caging me in.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” an arrogant voice says from behind.

  I turn to where Eric is standing on the other side of the bed, that foxlike grin on his face.

  “Why are you thinking about him when you want me?”

  “I don’t want you.”

  He strokes his long cock again. “You want this cock inside you. Not his.”

  Fuck!

  I sit up, opening my eyes. What the hell is happening? My orgasm is officially nowhere near me. Gone. Left the building. I give up.

  I wash Chris Hemsworth vigorously and then go to put him back in the drawer.

  “Sorry I took my sexual frustration out on you, Chris. You didn’t deserve that. You’ve been nothing but good to me, even if you do consume batteries like you’re Joey Chestnut at a hotdog eating competition.”

  I lay Chris Hemsworth in his spot by the sexy, silky underwear. Chris Evans is near the fun, playful cotton print undies, and Chris Pine is in his place of honor among the thongs.

  “Guys, I think we need to take a break. It’s not you, it’s me. Seriously, I’m having fucked-up fantasies I can’t control, and I haven’t come in six weeks. It really is me. Or my vagina, I think she’s broken. Or like, she’s on hiatus or strike. Maybe she’s taking a gap year to backpack around Europe and figure her shit out, I don’t know. What I do know is that I think it’s best for everyone if we take a break. Wow, you guys are all taking this really well, I appreciate your maturity. Remember,” I say as I close the drawer, “this is goodbye for now, not forever.”

  CHAPTER 11

  I’m determined not to think about that last, extremely awkward masturbation session. Like, ever again. I’m not going to think about Fantasy Wes or Fantasy Eric, especially Fantasy Eric. Instead, I’m going to focus on real-life Wes, who I have a real-live date with in four days.

  So I make sure to seek him out. Smile at him. Ask him about his day. Try not to stare at how his corded neck muscles contract when he talks.

  Wes is actually acting a little shy around me now. For instance, when I ask if he can pass me the ketchup at lunch and our fingers brush, he blushes and then sort of does this silly smile-giggle thing. I think he might be nervous about our date. It’s honestly adorable. Though I do like the more assertive Fantasy Wes—nope! I’m not thinking about fantasy anyone. I’m especially not thinking about the fantasy redhead who has been chatting me up all day like nothing happened.

  Then I have to remind myself that nothing did happen—as far as he knows. And nothing is going to happen and I need to forget about it. It’s weird, though, I can be having an explicit fantasy about Wes as I’m two feet away from him and not even bat an eye, but just knowing that I had one about Eric last night and I can barely hold a conversation with him.

  But I persist. On Wednesday, I’m doing much better. I ride next to Wes as we help move a herd of cattle to a different pasture. I don’t know why they need to be moved, but it’s for some specific, important reason, I’m sure. He compliments me on how well I’m riding, and it feels so nice to have him noticing me. I even manage to have at least three different conversations with Eric, and I think I acted completely normal during each of them. Well, normal for me.

  Thursday is even better. I am totally focused on Wes and our date on Saturday. I’ve totally shaken off the weirdness I felt about Eric. I don’t have feelings for him other than platonic, he’s-my-best-friend’s-brother feelings. Okay, I guess there are friendship feelings, too. Yeah. But that’s it. Just friends.

  I’m standing in front of my open closet Thursday evening, trying to decide what outfit I should wear on Saturday. Dress? Tight jeans? Should I just go buy something new? My phone buzzes.

  Dr. Gallagher: You said you cut your grandpa’s hair, right?

  Kyla ‘dat ass’ Rosenbaum: Yes

  Dr. Gallagher: Are you any good at it?

  I send him the unamused emoji.

  Dr. Gallagher: I could use a haircut before Saturday. Do you think you could cut mine?

  Kyla ‘dat ass’ Rosenbaum: What am I getting out of this?

  Dr. Gallagher: I got you the date

  Kyla ‘dat ass’ Rosenbaum: Fine.

  Dr. Gallagher: Tomorrow, after work?

  Kyla ‘dat ass’ Rosenbaum: Sure. It’s a date

  Why did I say that?

  Kyla ‘dat ass’ Rosenbaum: I mean, it’s a pre-date date. Not an actual date.

  Dr. Gallagher: Obvs.

  I put down my phone and realize I’m smiling a lot. I’m going to put that down to pre-date excitement.

  I get into bed and my mind wanders to Chris Pine. Not the actor—obviously. The one currently nestled amongst my thongs. It’s like my libido has increased exponentially in the last few days—which is saying something, because she was already a beast. My phone buzzes again and the immediate thump of my heart sends a jolt through my body. Eric?

  Gracie: Something might be happening with the singer

  Me: The dark and serious looking one? OMG did you make out and then not immediately inform me?

  Gracie: No, no making out

  Me: Just a kiss then?

  Gracie: No kissing

  Me: So like what? Hand job over the jeans?

  Gracie: omg no it’s just the way he’s been acting

  Me: So nothing has actually happened yet?

  Dear god, let something be happening for at least one of us. She doesn’t respond.

  Me: ...

  Gracie: Kinda, not really, but sort of

  Me: WTF

  Gracie: He basically offered to help me experiment with sexual stuff

  Umm...

  Me: wut

  Me: OMFG why did you not open with this information?

  She sends me the anxious face emoji.

  Me: There’s so much to unpack here I CAN’T EVEN. But mostly I’m just jealous your first time gets to be with someone who actually knows what he’s doing and not two minutes with Darren Johnston in the back of hi
s mom’s minivan.

  Gracie: I didn’t say we were going to do it

  Me: Why TF not? Seriously what does it matter who’s your first v. your second or third? Virginity is a social construct that doesn’t mean anything

  Doesn’t she understand I have been without sex for months and now orgasm-less for weeks? I need this.

  Gracie: But how do I know if he actually likes me or just wants to get in my pants?

  Me: We’re talking about a summer fling here, not your future husband right?

  Gracie: Right

  Me: Then forget about all the feelings stuff and just let yourself enjoy the moment. If he’s offering this opportunity, then jump on it!

  Me: Literally I mean jump on that dick

  Gracie: Okay... how should I tell him I want to jump on it?

  Me: One word: PEACOCK

  Me: Put something on that you feel confident and sexy in then strut. You shouldn’t have to do anything more than present yourself if he's into you he’ll flock to you

  Gracie: Flock? Way to keep to the bird theme

  Me: I’m nothing if not committed

  Gracie: Speaking of committed, how is Operation Get Wes’s Attention going?

  Me: It’s going well. I’ve recruited Eric to help me since you’re absent.

  Gracie: My brother Eric?

  Me: Of course your brother Eric. Is there another Eric? He’s my official wingman and he’s doing a great job actually. You better be careful or he’ll have replaced you as my new best friend by the time you get back.

  Gracie: New best friend? I thought you two annoyed the shit out of each other

  Me: We do, but idk, he’s growing on me. I’ll keep you updated

  * * *

  Friday morning, I’m a little late getting to the ranch. There’s a light fog in the distance and the sun is trying to break through the horizon as I arrive. I hurry to the stables, hoping the guys are still there and haven’t headed out yet.