I grunt.
“Don’t move. Stay like this forever.”
“Okay,” I breathe, because I will never say no to her.
I try to sneak back into my room at least every other night. Because… we’re just friends-with-benefits. Lifelong-friends-with-benefits.
The morning after Butt Plug Incident (is what we’ve started calling it) is one of those mornings, though, when I wake up alone and sad and cold in my bed and pretend that it’s a good thing we have these boundaries.
I walk into the kitchen, where Mia is already up with my cup of coffee ready for me. Walking over to her, I take the coffee and put it on the table. I take her face in my hands and kiss her softly, her top lip, her bottom lip. Each corner. Because I deserve it after prying my very content body away from hers last night.
I deserve this!I scream at myself when we pull away and she’s radiant, blue eyes sparkling at me in the morning sun.
I sit down and pull her into my lap. “What should we do today?” I ask, in between peppering her neck with kisses.
She turns in the chair so that she’s straddling me instead, but it’s not a sexual thing, at least not yet. She drapes her torso onto mine, resting her head on my shoulder and her face into my neck, and it’s a perfect fit. I wrap my arms around her and give her a squeeze before taking a sip of my coffee.
Boundaries are good, so that we have moments like this.
“Breakfast maybe?” she says, after a moment of silence.
I tuck my hands under her shirt, feeling her skin. “Sounds good.”
“You pick the next thing.”
“Hmmm… I say, rubbing up and down.
“Something outside of the apartment and not sexual.”
I bite her shoulder. “Fine. How about…” I remember that it’s Sunday. “Don’t you usually work today?”
She sighs. “Yes. Later. But let’s do something before that,” she says into my neck.
“We haven’t meal prepped in a while. Let’s be responsible and do our lunches for the week. Grocery shopping, then cooking?”
“Okay,” she says, but not moving.
I keep rubbing the smooth expanse of her skin.
“Can you give me one blow job lesson before breakfast?” she asks.
I’m already moving her down my body, slipping my boxers off.
NINETEEN
Mia
I tryto learn the things I don’t know about Elias after twenty-nine years of friendship. The little odds and ends that have never come up. “What kind of porn do you like to watch?” I ask him, while we’re sitting on the couch and watching a really juicy scene from Bridgerton.
He laughs. “Is this a trick question?”
“No,” I say, nuzzling even further into his side. “You know what kind of porn I like to watch. I just want to know what turns you on.”
He sits up and grips my chin to look at him. “You’re sure you’re okay having this conversation?”
“Yes! You know me, Elias, I don’t care. It’s just porn.” I mean, really. Everyone watches it.
He searches my eyes. I try to project ‘I don’t care; it’s just porn; everyone watches it.’
