Brushing the hair away from my face, he murmurs, “I like your laugh.”
“Oh, you do?”
He nods. “Especially when it’s genuine.”
“It’s always genuine,” I argue, but his eyes thin.
“No lies, remember?”
My smile softens, and I trail my hands along his back. “No lies.”
“Good girl.” He bends down, kisses my forehead, and slides down my body like a man on a mission, though I’m not entirely sure what the mission is.
Lifting my head, I watch him scoot lower, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of my yoga pants and sliding them down my legs. “What are you doing?”
“I only have one night to break the no sex in my apartment rule.” He tosses my legs over his shoulders. “You really think I’m gonna waste it?”
In an instant, his mouth is on me, feasting on my folds as his hands find my waist, and he hoists me up until nothing but my shoulder blades and head are touching the mattress while he’s on his knees.
“Holy fuck––” My words are lost on a moan. Shivers break out along my skin, and his groan fills the air.
I’ve had makeup sex before.
Lots of times, considering my tumultuous relationship with Shorty. But I’ve never had friends-with-benefits sex after an argument.
Yup. It’s pretty freaking incredible.
His tongue dips into my center, then circles my clit as my heels dig into his shoulders. I’m desperate for leverage. For friction. For…everything.
“Yes,” I chant. “Yes, yes, yes. Lick me, Professor. Lick me good. You have no idea how amazing this feels.” I squeeze my eyes shut, fisting the sheets at my sides before the heat from his mouth disappears, and he flips me over.
“Ass up,” he growls.
With my face pressed against his pillow, I shove my butt into the air as the familiar rip of a condom wrapper echoes through the air. The sound has never sounded sweeter. Because I need this. I need him. I need the reminder our arrangement is still in place, and he hasn’t rejected me or replaced me. Not yet. Not when I’m not ready to give this up. To give him up. His hands grip my waist, and the head of his cock plays with my dripping entrance.
I press into him, but he pulls away, forcing a groan of my own as I peek over my shoulder. “Professor––”
“You want this?” he asks, dragging his dick to my clit and pressing into it.
My eyes nearly roll back in my head, but I keep them focused on the man behind me. “You know I do.”
“How much?”
“You want me to beg for it?” I ask.
“I want you to know it’s my dick doing this to you. My tongue. My fingers. My cock. Me.”
“Yes, you,” I breathe out.
“Then say my name.” He rolls his hips against me again, and I squeeze my eyes shut. “Not Professor,” he spits. “Not boss. Not Buchanan. But my name, Mia.”
“I call you by your name all the time, Professor,” I say, testing my luck.
The sharp sting of his hand slapping my ass makes me whimper. Then his hands are on my waist again, pinning me in place.
“Not when we’re together,” he argues. “Not when we’re like this.”
My expression twists. “You promised me an orgasm.”
“And you promised me I’m not simply a dick to you,” he grunts. “I’m a person. A friend.”
“I don’t say my other friends’ names while orgasming.”
Slipping the head inside me, he retreats and smacks my ass a second time, pulling a moan from my throat. “Dammit, Boss! Just fuck me!”
“Say my name, Mia.” His fingers find my entrance. He dips them softly inside me, brings them to my clit, and rubs it in slow circles, making it almost impossible to think straight, let alone have an actual conversation.
“Admit no one makes you feel like this but me,” he rasps.
The sensation overwhelms every single inch of me until I’m convinced I might actually cry if I don’t orgasm soon. “Dude, stop torturing me. Can we please––”
“Say.” His fingers scissor back and forth. “My.” He crooks them and rubs in a slow circle along my inner walls. “Name.”
“Fine.” I arch my back, desperate and more turned on than I’ve ever been in my entire life. “Fuck me, Henry.”
His hand retreats, replaced by the head of his cock. “Say it again.” Then he waits.
“Fuck you, Henry.”
I swear I can hear the amusement in his voice. “That’s what I want you to do. Come on, Mia. Let me in. Let me know when you’re with me, you’re with me.”
My unsteady breaths mingle with his controlled ones, and I whisper, “I’m with you, Henry. You know you’re the only one who makes me feel this way. Please.”
“Good girl.” He thrusts into me but keeps me in place, preventing me from jerking forward from the intrusion as I stretch around him. And I nearly come on the spot as he moves his hips back and thrusts into me again.
“Yes. Fuck, Henry, yes,” I praise. “You seriously have no idea how good this feels. Keep going. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” My rambled words tumble out of me as he pistons his hips over and over again. My skin grows hotter, sweat breaking out along my spine and forehead while I chant his name. Henry. Not Buchanan or Professor or Boss. But Henry. The one and only.
And I come. Bliss radiates from every inch––every fiber––of my body.
“Milk me, baby. Let your pussy suck me dry.”
His firm grasp on my hips keeps me in place as I clench around him, and Henry groans. His cock pulses inside me as his body folds on top of mine.
Fuck.
He has no idea how good sex life is with him compared to every other guy I’ve been with. If he did, he’d probably use it against me. But he wouldn’t. I know he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t use anything against me. And it’s scary as shit.
I’m glad we’re okay, though. I’m glad we can keep doing this. Glad he can keep making me feel this way.
As I slowly catch my breath despite being squashed by his massive body, I mutter, “You’re a good friend, Henry.”
His chest rumbles with amusement against my back. When he shifts onto his side, he pulls me into his chest. “You’re a good friend too, Mia.”
I stretch beside him. “You also have a really nice mattress.”
His chuckle warms my insides and turns them into goo. “You don’t? Actually, don’t answer. Of course, you don’t. We should probably fix your mattress.”
“Meh, I’m fine.”
He drops a kiss on the top of my head, but I’m too exhausted to give him shit for it. “Sure you are.”
33
MIA
We lose the next game at home, and the team decides drowning their sorrows at SeaBird sounds like a pretty good way to erase the loss from their minds. Thankfully, I have a shift tonight, so I’m happy to serve them to their hearts’ content, putting everything on my tab despite it being a shitty financial decision.
I get it.