“She’ll know. But she’ll feel him out.” I swallowed and let my fingers trail down his shirt, over his belt buckle, pausing just above the very obvious swell in his pants to look up at him. Nothing in his face said stop, but I needed to be sure.
I had no doubt when his hand covered mine and moved it down until I could feel the shape of his bulge under my palm.
“Show me,” he growled.
Show me what Tess would do to Scott? Or what I had done?
Or what I wanted to do to Brett?
They were different questions and therefore slightly different answers. Whether it was a smart idea or not to give him the answer I wanted to give him, I wanted to give it so badly that the choice felt out of my hands.
It was a compulsion.
Opening his pants as fast as I could manage. Working him out of his boxer briefs. Stroking my palm down his length.
Then I was on my knees, and my mouth was on him, and the purr that came from my throat as I moved over him was just as involuntary as any of it.
“Yes, yes,” he said, more of an order than an encouragement. “Are you wearing panties? Take them off.”
Getting out of them was a task with my mouth busy as it was. Brett helped, placing his hand firmly on the back of my head while I wriggled them off. When I handed them over, I expected him to pocket them, Scott Sebastian style—and he did—but first he brought them to his nose and sniffed.
God bless nasty boys.
“Spread your knees and flip your skirt up. I want to see your cunt.” If Brett thought he was still impersonating his cousin, I had news for him—Scott was not this dirty. Not nearly.
Though I wasn’t really thinking about Scott.
I was literally and figuratively consumed with Brett—his taste, his scent, his groan when I parted my thighs and lifted my skirt. “You’re so wet.”
I nodded, and his crown tickled the back of my throat with the movement.
“Show me how wet.”
This time I groaned. God that was hot.
Using two fingers, I scooped some of my wetness onto the tips and held them up for him to see.
I swore he was harder the next time my lips glided over his cock.
“Use it on me,” he commanded.
Use it to lubricate my hand, he meant. Because I gave a good blow job, but I wasn’t a deep throat kind of gal—especially not with a monster like his—and I had been making good use of my palm along with my mouth.
I switched my hand out now, wrapping the wet one around his girth in place of the dry.
“Touch your pussy. Get yourself off, too.”
I couldn’t tell him that I was already ready to burst, what with my mouth full and all, but he seemed to read the way my body tensed up as soon as I put the heel of my palm to my clit. “Don’t let yourself yet, Edie. Wait. Wait for me. Wait until I tell you.”
I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to be sure he was there with me and not Tess until I heard my name come out hoarsely from his lips.
Thank you.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
The knowledge didn’t help to put my orgasm on pause. I whimpered around him.
“Almost. Almost,” he whispered.
I lifted my eyes, expecting to see his closed and found them wide and intensely darting from my pussy to my mouth to my eyes back to my pussy.
He knew it was me with him. He saw me. He wanted me.
“You’ll swallow.”
I nodded even though I wasn't sure if it was a question or instruction.
“Good girl.” He petted my hair. And then his cock jerked, and his body stiffened. “Now, Edie.”
It took the lightest press of my hand for me to explode. Truthfully, I hadn’t probably needed anything other than watching him come—experiencing him come. His hips bucked against my mouth, and his hands held my head in place as I shivered with my own climax, my eyes watering while I tried not to choke on the salty taste of him trickling down my throat.
Once again, thank the Lord for waterproof mascara.
“Are you okay?”
I was pretty sure I’d blacked out momentarily, and it was Brett checking in on me, wiping my mouth with a Kleenex, that brought me back to consciousness.
“Yeah, yeah.” I was really okay. A bit sticky, maybe, and a lot shaky, but really, really okay.
“Your knees.” They were red with carpet burns, but I barely felt them. “Let me help you up.”
I took his hand to stand and frowned at the wet spot I’d left on the carpet. Hopefully it would dry before anyone noticed, but I also hoped that it would be permanently stained so that I could have visual evidence of this incredible moment forever.
“Shit, we didn’t even lock the door.” Brett’s cheeks were flushed, like he’d been running. It was a good look for him, and if I wasn’t still so shell-shocked, I would have done a happy dance for being the person to put that look on his face.
My joy was quickly dampened, however, when I realized his expression didn’t match his glow. Because the door had been unlocked?
Because he thought this was a mistake?
“That was…”
He trailed off, and I was so afraid that he meant to finish the statement with the M word that I finished it with a word of my own before he could. “Confusing.”
His hands dropped to his side. “I was going to say incredibly hot, but I see how confusing is probably more appropriate.”
Shit.
“I mean, because…” Because you said you only wanted to be friends, but then you fucked my face with real passion was on the tip of my tongue until I realized that I was conflating sex with love. Like I always did.
“No, I get it. Mixed messages. I’m sorry. I’m still not...Here you go.” He pulled my panties from his jacket pocket and handed them back to me.
I’d never been so disappointed to not lose a pair of good undies.
And I felt rejected all over again.
And still really confused.
Confused why I was like this. Why I couldn’t just appreciate what he wanted to offer. Why I had to make it more. Why I was so desperate to ruin an amazing friendship.
“No, no, no,” I said, waving my hand in the air like I could erase the three minutes that had passed since we’d orgasmed together. “Confusing because of the role playing. That was weird to think of you as Scott.” I hadn’t. “And to see how you’d treat Tess.” He’d been thinking of me.
Please let him say he’d been thinking of me.
“Ah. Right.” He still seemed tense. “Right,” he said again, and I couldn’t tell if he was relieved or discouraged, probably only because I wanted him to be discouraged. “That was a little different.”
“Incredibly hot,” I corrected with a wink, as if I could own it if I tried hard enough.
“Yeah, that.” He flashed a quick smile. “But probably a bad idea considering…”
That we were at work or that I was a fragile little flower? I did not want the latter confirmed, so I didn’t press. “Right. Terrible idea.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.” He studied me for a beat, then picked up his notebook. “Uh, we’re good?”
“Oh my God, yes. Of course we’re good.” I punched him lightly on the arm in an attempt to convey the buddy/buddy thing, even though I was pretty sure I’d never hit him like that before.