It’s only as I say it out loud again that I realize what that means for me. For us.
Not wanting to complicate things further, I muster what I hope looks like an easy grin and wink. “Even if it’s an emotional bond with a friend.”
For half a second, I almost think he’s going to say something about my clumsy attempt to remind him that we can only ever be friends, but he takes a deep breath and releases it, letting the tension in his shoulders out with it.
“Yeah,” he says, “okay. You’re right. Tonight felt…good. I’ve never felt like that before. Like, I watch porn and I jerk off or whatever, but I’ve never felt like that with anotherrealperson before.”
I fight back a groan at the images he’s just put in my head and I swallow roughly. “I’m glad, Cody.” Idon’trepeat how pleased I am that he trusted me with his vulnerability and the experience, even if the words dance on the tip of my tongue. “Now,” I decide to close off the conversation, “you probably want to get out of those pants and get them in the wash, huh?”
“Oh…God, yes please.”
Chapter Twelve
“You need to tell meeverything,” Sylvia demands before I’ve even poured her wine. She kicks off her flats and thumps her stocking-covered feet on my battered coffee table. “Because a single text telling me that you got off with the silver fox isnotenough detail. Especially when you refuse to tell me anything about your weekly date nights.”
“They’re not date nights,” I remind her for the millionth time, bringing the glasses of wine over from my tiny kitchenette. I hand her hers before I settle down sideways on my spot on the couch so I can face her. “We’re just friends who watch our favorite show together.”
“And apparently suck each other’s dicks, too.”
The sip of wine I’d taken winds up down the front of my sweater as I splutter.
“Damn it.” I wipe at the red stain with my bare hand, only making it worse. “Ilikedthis sweater, Syl.”
Completely unrepentant, my best friend shrugs. “That’s what you get for withholding vital information.”
Groaning, I give up on attempting to rescue my sweater and tilt my head to the popcorn ceiling, as if some greater power will be able to help me get out of this conversation.
Why had I thought telling her about my night with Ken was a good idea?
Because she’s your best friend,a voice in my head chimes in,and you needed someone to debrief with.
Well. My inner monologue isn’t wrong.
It’s been three days since I exchanged mind-melting orgasms with my dad’s best friend, and I have been alternating between freaking out and floating on a cloud ever since I left his apartment. I’ve been practically useless at work, and I think I might have even freaked Brad out by daydreaming at my desk — giving him moony-eyes while thinking of when I can next get my mouth on Ken’s awesome dick.
Because itwasawesome. Itisawesome.
Is this why everyone in high school and college seemed so sex crazed all the time? Is this how they felt? I’m off-kilter, like I’m going through puberty all over again. Now that I’ve discovered how exciting and fun and fulfilling sex can be, it’s like I’m a ball of hormones, desperate to relive that high again and again and again.
I shouldn’t feel this way at twenty-six, should I? Like, I’m super late to this party.
It’s like I told Ken: I knew what orgasms felt like. I wasn’t a stranger to jerking off, or even using the toys in my nightstand. But the orgasms I’ve given myself over the years havenothingon the ones I shared with Ken.
My cheeks heat as I recall coming in my pantstwice. I don’t even think he knows that I came from blowing him. From his words of praise and the excitement of having his cock down my throat. The taste of him alone…
“Uh, Earth to Cody?” Sylvia’s voice snaps me all the way out of my fantasies andthis!This right here is a prime example of my brain doing things that it shouldn’t. I snap my gaze back to hers and she flashes me a Cheshire Cat grin. “Was he that good?”
Swallowing, I nod. “Even better.”
I wince as she squeals. “I knew it! Okay, so, seriously, details. Was he all manhandle-y and rough? Or was he sweet and tender? Or—”
“Stop!” I hold my palm out at her, then take a fortifying gulp of my wine. “We…we didn’t…uh…We just grinded against each other. And then I blew him.”
“He didn’t return the favor?”
Closing my eyes, I admit, “He didn’t have to.”
Syl narrows her brown eyes with confusion before understanding dawns. Instead of laughing at me, though, she just sighs. “Sometimes, I wish I had a dick. It sounds like it’ssomuch easier to come for you guys.”
