by Nicole Dykes
His cock slides along my awaiting entrance, and I don’t even bring up the need for protection. We both know I’m on the pill. My prescription sits on our bathroom counter, and I’m fucking religious about taking it.
“I need this too.” My hand reaches between us, positioning his dick at my entrance and sliding him inside, lowering my hips as he thrusts with hunger.
We both moan in bliss as he fills me, our bodies moving together as he cups my breasts, his thumbs teasing my nipples, sending an electric thrill straight to my throbbing clit.
My head tilts back as I enjoy the sensation and ride him, savoring every second.
I lean my body into his, and his hands move up to my hair, fisting my brown locks, the messy bun I had it in earlier now destroyed as his lips find my neck.
His cock brushes over my clit with each thrust, and I feel the buildup rising again.
He grows harder inside of me, and I know he’s close. His hands are still entwined in my hair as he urges my lips back to his. Both of us close to release, we kiss with a passionate fury, not relenting until we’re both engulfed in the ultimate pleasure.
His cock jerks as he comes inside me, and I clench around him, my pussy pulsing and milking every last bit of release from his throbbing dick.
My body collapses onto his, a single tear falling from my eye as I try to catch my breath. “Please don’t bail this time.”
It’s a quiet plea as my head lies against his chest, listening to his heart beating in his chest.
“No matter what happens tonight, I’ll still be here when you wake up tomorrow.”
I close my eyes and try like hell not to think about anything but his heart beating beneath me.
Please let that be true. I can’t lose him either.
I sip the delicious, heavenly coffee from my favorite mug with “Bad decisions make good stories” painted in purple letters on it. The letters are starting to fade over the years, but it’s one my most coveted possessions.
Paige gave it to me as a graduation gift. She told me she couldn’t wait to watch my stories come to life on the big screen. She was my biggest fan, and when the film I submitted for my scholarship was played at school for our class, she cheered the loudest as the ending credits rolled.
My stomach sinks, thinking about last night. But then it flutters relentlessly, my cheeks flushing, thinking about the amount of pleasure my body was subjected to at the hands, tongue, cock, mouth, and fucking everything of Garrett Burke.
Her boyfriend.
The love of her life.
I look up the sky. “I’m so sorry.” I whisper the words, and then my attention is dragged to the sliding glass door as a sleepy Garrett walks out barefoot onto the warm rock.
He’s shirtless, but has tugged on a pair of boxer briefs, his hair tousled by my fingers. “Ash?”
“Hey.” It’s all I can muster, but I’m sure to look at him directly in the eyes. I can’t repeat last time. He kept his word, and when I woke up this morning, it was in his arms.
He walks to where I’m sitting by the firepit and takes a seat, attempting to tame his hair with his fingers. “What is this a taste of my own medicine? Making me think you were the one who bailed?”
“No, I just needed some caffeine.”
He nods, his eyes landing on my mug, and I see the quick flinch when he recognizes the mug. And it’s all too damn fitting for this morning. “Yeah, we were up pretty late.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon and all night in bed. Round after round of releasing pent-up sexual tension only interrupted by pizza for dinner and bathroom breaks. It was during one of those breaks I managed to send a quick text to Archer, cancelling our plans.
What the hell is wrong with me? I had a date with a great man who could want a potential future and didn’t even think twice about ditching him to stay a little longer in denial- filled bliss. Because with Garrett, that’s what we’re doing. We’re fooling ourselves saying we have progressed in any way over the years.
There’s a distinct vulnerability in his voice and his eyes when he asks, “Are you sorry that happened?”
I bite my lower lip, thinking it over. “It was probably a huge mistake.” He doesn’t show much of a facial change, but I don’t miss the sting of disappointment when his chin dips ever so slightly before I add. “But it’s one I don’t regret making.”
His head lifts. “Me neither.”
I’m relieved to hear him say that. I don’t want to be a regret, but I don’t want to lose the friendship we have either. “However, I don’t think we should let it happen again.”
I try to study his face to see how he truly feels about that, but he gives away nothing. And he says nothing.
“We just want totally different things, and we have an amazing friendship that can be easily destroyed by adding in sex.”
“Right.” A man of so many words. I fight rolling my eyes or screaming at him to say more. To give me anything.
“But, I think it was a good thing.”
His eyebrow lifts in surprise. “Yeah?”
When he kissed me, I didn’t want to stop. Of course, the last time popped into my head, but the intensity was enough to shut the memories off. I could feel the need within him, the same that has lived in me, and I wanted it. In those moments with him, nothing else mattered, and the years of anguish were quieted, put on pause while we were lost in each other. “Yeah. It was years of sexual tension and recent sexual frustration that needed to be taking care of.”
“Jesus, you make it sound like a routine annual exam. Like a fucking trip to the dentist or some shit.”
I laugh. “It was far more pleasurable than that.”
He nods his head in agreement, looking up at the sky. “Damn straight.” He gaze lands on the door to the kitchen, and a goofy smile spreads across his face. “I don’t think I’ll ever look at our kitchen the same way again. Or waffles.”
A flush spreads over my cheeks and neck just thinking about it. “Or that chair.” I shiver, sheer pleasure spreading through my body. “Or your fucking tongue. Jesus Christ.” My eyes meet his, and he looks like he could devour me. I let out a shaky breath. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what? Like I want to eat you?”
His eyes are smoldering, and my throat goes dry, my nipples hardening under my tank top, and I wish I would have put on a fucking bra. “Exactly. We can’t do this anymore.”
He leans back in his chair, his long legs stretched out before him. I don’t dare look at his crotch. Self-control is something I don’t seem to have.
“So just friends.” He seems disappointed, and I’m not sure why. I would think he’d be relieved.
“Best friends, but yes. We need to keep ourselves under control because we need each other and last time . . .” I fight the tears, the memories of abandonment and the fear I would lose him bubbling back up.
He nods in agreement and finishes my thought. “We almost lost each other.”
“Thank you for staying this time.”
“I would never make that fucking mistake again, Ash. For the record, disappearing on you was my biggest fucking mistake. Not the sex.”
I hold back tears because I’m almost entirely certain we’ll be okay this time.
Last night is a memory I’ll hold onto. It will make a good addition to my long story, but maybe it wasn’t all that bad of a choice.
“Shit, I hope we’re dressed appropriately.” I look down at Ash’s white tank with black lettering . . . “I have a good heart, but this mouth.” I swallow, my jaw tensing, thinking about her fucking mouth.
I can’t fucking stop thinking about her mouth. Or body. Or every single thing about last night. When I woke up this morning and she wasn’t in my bed, I’d never been so scared in my life. I searched the entire house and then held my breath as my hand gripped the handle on the patio door. Air didn’t fill my lungs again until I walked into the backyard and saw her sitting outside, coffee mug in hand.
Bad decisions.
The guilt sits low in my gut, thinking about Paige and knowing this morning when I woke up, I didn’t regret a damn thing.
I was relieved to hear she didn’t either, but then was crushed all over again when she said it could never happen again.
In the back of my mind, I know she’s right. I can’t give her what she’s so obviously looking for, but damn.
I sound like a fucking pussy. I’m far too old to be crushed.
“Erin said it was casual.”
She looks up at the old, rustic loft building downtown and the crowd lined up outside. Most of them are in dressy clothes, while we’re sporting a much more casual look.
“It looks pretty swanky.”
I wrap an arm around her shoulder, my skin making contact with hers and overloading my senses, but I play it cool. “It’ll be fine. We know the star of the show. Fuck it.”
She laughs at that as we wait patiently in line even though we could probably send a message to Erin or Reed to come get us. Erin is having a show at her gallery in Kansas City’s art district. And we’re here to see it and support our oldest friend, even though my head is fucked.
When we finally get inside, Erin rushes to us and hugs Ashlyn tightly. “Ahh! You finally made it! Can you believe this shit?” She pulls away, looking at Ash and laughing at the saying on her tank. Not judging her in any way, and instead, truly appreciating Ashlyn for who she is. “Fucking love it.”
Ashlyn plays with her braided hair and lays it over her shoulder. “You look incredible, Erin. I’m so sorry. I thought it was casual.”
Erin waves it off. “You look phenomenal, girl.”
Reed joins us. “Pretty fucking fitting.” He squeezes Ashlyn to his side in a quick hug, and we bump fists as he looks at my t-shirt and jeans. “You, look like shit.”
I raise my middle finger and grin. “Same to you, you tie-wearing motherfucker.”
He laughs and raises his arms in triumph, gesturing to the vibrant works of art all around. “That may be, but I’m married to a goddess.”
I look around at the art and nod my head in agreement, smiling at Erin. “You sure are.”
Ashlyn gazes at Erin’s creations, her eyes wide and full of pride. “Man, Erin. Don’t forget us when you’re famous.”
Erin just laughs. “Oh please. You’ll be right there with me when you produce your first movie.”
Ashlyn looks slightly nervous and brushes that off, laughing. “At this rate, that’ll be thirty years from now.”
“You have to start somewhere. And this is a great first step.”
Reed and I share a look, neither one of us having a clue what they’re talking about. I look to Ashlyn. “What is?”
Her small shoulders shrug again. “I’m just taking a film class at the community college. No big deal.”
“It’s a huge fucking deal,” Erin interjects. “Following your dreams.”
“You didn’t tell me.” It’s not really a question or a statement, kind of somewhere in between.
“I just signed up for it last week. It’s really no big deal.”
Erin takes her arm excitedly. “And now you have a hot as hell tutor. Archer can keep you company.”
Fuck. I forgot about that dipshit. Ashlyn shakes her head, trying to brush it off. “He’s nearly completed his degree.”
“You guys talked about that stuff already?” I turn to Ash. “You’ve only been out on one date.”
Erin rolls her eyes at me. “That’s what first dates are for, lots of talking and getting to know each other. The second is for kissing.” She winks at Ash.
“There are no set rules, but yeah, we did talk a lot on our first date. And he’s very passionate about his future film career.”
“Well, I’m hoping he’ll be just as passionate about helping you with your dry spell.”
Ashlyn blushes and shushes Erin as her eyes meet mine. “Is there wine at this thing? I know you’re pregnant and all, but I’m definitely not.”
Erin laughs and points to a table with champagne flutes and fancy food on trays. “Help yourself.”
Ashlyn leaves, and I can’t fucking believe she didn’t tell me about that huge step she took toward her future. I wonder if that asshole barista knows already. Did they talk about it on their date?
“You could help me out, asshole.”
I look at Erin like she’s lost her mind. “There’s no way in hell I’m helping you get Ashlyn laid.”
“Not laid, dummy. Although that would be good for her too, but I mean into a healthy, happy relationship. Archer is fucking perfect for her.” She nudges me. “Help me out.”
She kisses Reed quickly on the lips and then walks to join Ashlyn.
“You okay?”
I look over at my friend, who is eyeing me suspiciously and with a little amusement. His eyes dip to my fists tightly clenched at my sides, and I force them to relax.
“I’m fine. I’m just not interested in helping some douchebag into Ash’s pants.”
“Sounds like jealousy.”
“Fuck you, Reed.”
His eyes won’t quit analyzing me, and I feel the sweat form on my brow. The fucker is an excellent lawyer. “Please, for the love of God, tell me you two did not fuck again.”
Yup, I really need new friends. “Don’t worry about it.”
I start to walk off, and he grabs my arm, pulling me a corner of the studio. “You fucked her?’
I look around and yank my arm from him, seething with rage at the whole fucking situation. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
“What the hell is going on? I thought she was dating the barista soldier?”
“They aren’t dating. They went out on one fucking date. And nothing is going on. I have it under control.”
His gaze drops down to my once again balled-up fists. “Oh yeah? Is that why you’re contemplating hitting your best friend?”
I would never throw a punch at Reed, but I’m so fucking frustrated I can’t breathe. “It’s fine. It was sex. And if you would have shut your fucking mouth when we were at the bar and just been a good wingman, maybe I wouldn’t have been in a dry spell of my own.”
He nods, a know-it-all grin on his face that makes me rethink the “never would throw a punch” at him thing. “Right. So, it was just pure horniness. And nothing fucking else.”
“Yup. You got it. Just a pussy to sink into.”
He shakes his head, taking a step away. “You know what, you keep living in that fucking denial.” He points toward Ashlyn, who is sucking down champagne and looking at the art Erin is showing her in complete awe. “But she’s moving on. Without your dumb ass if you don’t wake up, and I mean soon.”
He walks off, the heels of his dress shoes clicking on the tile floor.
Fuck!
I watch Ashlyn as Reed joins them, tugging at my hair, frustration building inside of me, wanting to scream at the top of my lungs and needing to find an escape.
It’s all too fucking much.
I watch Garrett fight the crowd in the art studio and race outside. Not thinking twice, I set my champagne glass down and follow him, pushing past the massive amount of people packed into the tiny room, needing to get to him.
I walk outside in the warm summer night, sticky with humidity as I search the street full of bustling people on this active Saturday night.
My chest feels like it might explode from the rapid breaths I’m taking as I search for him. I haven’t seen that look on his face in a long time, and it had a deadening effect on me.
Please be okay.
My stomach drops. I run to him when I see him knelt down, his back against the brick building in the dingy alley, elbows resting on his knees, fingers gripping his hair.
I stop in front of him, my hand resting over my stomach, panic taking hold. “Garrett.”
His head tilts up, bu
t the rest of him stays still. He doesn’t say a word, but his cold eyes pierce my soul, and I see the despair inside him. I kneel next to him, my hands on his face, making him look at me, desperately seeking an answer as to why he’s here. “What’s going on?”
His hands cover mine. “I’m stuck, Ash.”
“What?”
He isn’t making any sense, and I’ve never seen him like this before. “I’m stuck in time. Unable to move.” The look on his face is strangling me. “I’m forever that kid, standing on the side of the road, bloody and broken, staring at Paige’s lifeless body. Praying to God it isn’t fucking real.”
I fight the memories. I don’t want to think about that night. I can’t.
It’s crippling.
But I remember him standing there, begging Paige to be okay, pleading with her to come back to him.
“Garrett. What is this? What triggered this?”
“You’re moving on, taking classes, dating a guy you could actually have a fucking future with, who’s actually capable of a real relationship, not feeling fucking guilty every single time he touches you. And I’m right here. Stuck. Forever that boy.”
My heart shatters, seeing him this broken. “You are not stuck. You have so much more life in you. This is just a bad day.”
“They’re all bad days. Just different levels of bad.” He runs his right hand through his hair again and laughs sadly. “Except for yesterday. Yesterday wasn’t so bad.”
“What are you trying to say?”
He almost seems manic as if he’s snapped from living with his pain and pushing it down for so long. “You are the only thing in this fucking world who makes me even remotely happy, and I’ll never be able to be with you, Ash.” A droplet of rain hits my nose and then another, but I don’t move. I don’t dare lose the connection with his eyes. I make him happy? He wants to be with me? Like actually be with me? “Because I’m in love with a fucking ghost. And you deserve so much better than that.”
I nearly scream with frustration, but I know he’s right. He’ll always love Paige. And I will always remind him of the agony of losing her, and vice versa. “I’m not going anywhere.”
