Chuckling, I reach for her phone and pull up the text message from Scarlett.
Indie: If we order food and get you something too, will you bring it into our room?
She texts back right away.
Scarlett: Post-coital paralysis. I get it. Order me a small cheese pizza and we’re cool.
I show Indie the screen and she smiles against my chest. I then pick up my phone and order pizza through a delivery app, soon returning my hands to Indie’s skin, reveling in how it feels under my palms.
“You are such a smart man.”
“I have my moments.” I stick my hand under the waistband of her underwear and keep it there, loving that I can hold her without worrying if I’m crossing a line.
“This is going to sound incredibly cheesy,” she says, her voice sleepy. Content. “But I’ve never come when a guy has had his fingers inside me, but I knew, just from how you were massaging my legs that you could do it.” She kisses my chest. “It felt so good, Linc, like earth-shattering good. I swear I can still feel your fingers inside me.”
“Are you trying to turn me on? If so, you’re doing a good job,” I say, feeling my dick start to stir.
“Just being honest. It was different for me and startling, but amazing too.”
I kiss the top of her head. “I like it when you’re honest.” I stroke her hair and say, “To tell you the truth, I’ve never had an orgasm that’s taken over my entire body. It’s always been a release but having you deep-throat me like that . . . Damn, Indie, I fucking saw stars.”
“You’re not just saying that?”
I shake my head even though her head is rested against my chest. “No, I wouldn’t lie to you. What you did in the shower was fucking unbelievable.”
Her fingers caress my chest. “So I guess that would make us compatible.”
I laugh and squeeze her to me. “I would say more than compatible.”
She’s silent for a second, and I can practically hear her mind spinning with questions. “So . . . not to get super clingy on you, but what does this mean?” She sits up and turns so she’s facing me, and then lies across my chest. I move my hand up her thigh, wanting to keep the connection.
“Are you asking if we’re exclusive?”
“Uh, we better be,” she says on a nervous laugh.
Reassuring her, I squeeze her thigh and say, “We are, babe.”
“That’s not what I was asking, though.” Her finger draws lazy circles on my chest. “I know this is crazy and it’s like okay, we just gave each other oral, so slow down, Indie. But we’re going in different directions, you know?”
“Ah, you’re freaking out about the future.”
“Aren’t you?” she asks, nibbling on her bottom lip.
“Babe, I’m still trying to remember my name after what you just did to me.”
“I’m being serious, Lincoln.”
“So am I.” I chuckle and then let out a long breath and push my hand through my hair. “Okay, so we like each other, that’s obvious from the way you can’t seem to stop staring at me.”
“I should have known you were going to make this difficult,” she says with a roll of her eyes.
“Always, especially when it comes to teasing you.” I give her leg a shake. “You’re going pro after you graduate and if all goes well, I’m drafted after the end of my season this year, which yes, makes things difficult.”
“Very difficult,” she says, looking at my chest and then peeking up.
“But I don’t think I can stop touching and wanting you at this point.”
“Same.” She purses her lips to the side and says, “I have an idea, but I don’t want you to get mad about it.”
“I won’t get mad. We’re having a mature conversation. We’re being open and honest right now. It would be stupid for me to get mad.”
“Okay.” She takes a deep breath and then says, “I like you a lot, Linc, more than I think I should, given my goals for the year, but I can’t seem to stay away.”
“Me neither, babe.”
“But I know the likelihood of us staying together after you leave is very slim, especially once I hopefully go pro.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, gripping the short strands of my hair. That realization sucks. Hurts.
“So, I guess I’m suggesting we stay friends—”
“Uh.” I lean up on my elbows. “Friends after what just happened?”
She presses her hand against my chest, soothing me. “Friends with benefits.” Before I can say anything, she quickly adds, “You’re my best friend, besides Scarlett, and I can’t imagine not hanging out with you for the rest of the year, or touching you and kissing you. I don’t want to get my heart involved, though. Keep things casual and fun. No expectations.”
“And what do you propose happens when I get drafted?” I ask, feeling wary about her idea.
“We’ll figure that out when we get there. But I think we should just, you know, hang and—”
“Fuck?” I ask with a lift of my brow and a chuckle.
“I mean . . . yeah.”
She looks at me nervously, as if she’s unsure what I’m going to say. “So that means no dates?”
She shakes her head. “No dates, just continue to hang and do what we do best with the added benefit of touching private parts.”
“I do like that added benefit.” The idea works for me, as it gives me the opportunity to still be around her but also touch her in ways I’ve wanted to for so long. I’d like to take her on dates, because that’s what she deserves, but I can understand her hesitation. Who knows what spring will bring? Why add on the stress of a relationship?
Friends with benefits could really work.
“So, what do you say?” she asks, her nerves making her that much more irresistible. “Fuck buddies?”
“Exclusive fuck buddies,” I add, and her smile grows as she cups my face and brings her lips to mine. I fall back on her bed, helping her lie on top of me as we kiss.
Yeah, I could really get used to this.
“You boys ready?” I ask, bounding down the stairs of my house, feeling lighter on my feet than normal.
Why?
Indie Mayhem.
After our declaration of choosing to be fuck buddies, we ate pizza, and then she gave me one hell of a hand job—that I can still feel four days later—pulling at all the muscles in my groin. She then proceeded to stick my hand down her underwear and I most definitely obliged.
I’ll tell you right now, watching Indie come has got to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Her mouth falls open, her nipples pucker, and her legs part as her pelvis shifts up and down, searching out every last moment of pleasure.
And she’s so fucking open about her body. She’s not shy, she doesn’t care that I watch her walk around naked, and she has no problem pulling my pants down to take what she wants. Giving what she wants.
It’s fucking hot. She’s hot.
And I’m one happy man.
Hartley’s sitting on the couch, tossing a football in the air. When I hit the bottom step, he tosses the ball at me and I catch it with one hand, then run toward Rusty, who nearly tackles me to the floor.