The reminder of Lincoln’s arrival was enough to spur him into action, and like an awkward baby deer, Smith was out of my lap, long limbs not quite cooperating in the way he wanted. I helped him up to his feet and walked him into the bathroom where I leaned him against the counter while I turned the shower on for him.
“Are you good on your own?” I asked, brushing his hair back from his forehead.
He nodded, still half-drunk with lust, and I helped him into the shower and closed the door behind him. I left the bathroom myself, stripping out of my shirt and tossing it into the hamper. It was messy with his cum and sweat and tears, and that was not the first impression I wanted to make with Smith’s best friend.
I pulled on a black band shirt I’d stolen from Damon at some point, then sat down on Smith’s side of the bed, nearest the bedside lamp that had once belonged to Ev. I traced my fingertips over the base of it, sighing and letting my chin drop against my chest.
There was no betrayal in falling in love, I reminded myself.
It’s what he would have wanted for me, and he would have wanted it for me long before it had been something I entertained for myself. Ev would have been upset I walked away from Toren, but I hoped he understood how hard it was after he’d gone. We’d all suffered such a monumental loss, and there was no comparing what it meant for me to lose a husband, for Toren to lose his brother, for their parents to lose a son.
“You would have loved him,” I whispered, seconds before the water shut off in the bathroom.
The thing about Smith was, he would lose himself in pleasure, but he was always right there on the brink of attention, ready to do whatever needed to be done. In that moment, I made it my mission to take him apart so thoroughly he would have no choice but to wallow in his own pleasure. I wanted to give him a weekend—at least—where there were no responsibilities or expectation beyond feeling good.
He deserved that.
And so did I.
The sound of his damp footfalls grew louder as he came from the bathroom into the bedroom, and he came around to face me,towel low slung around his hips. The knot he’d done barely held the terrycloth up and it was no work at all to flick it loose and watch the towel fall to the floor.
Smith was still half-hard, his dick flushed and swollen. I took him into my hand and traced the edge of my thumb through his wet slit, pressing down a little harder than was nice. He grunted, bracing himself against my shoulders, back bowing as he breathed through the pain of my fingernail digging into that most sensitive part of him. It, of course, had the opposite effect. Smith’s cock didn’t deflate; it only grew thicker and harder in my hand, which had me laughing at him under my breath.
“Do you really want to introduce me to your best friend like this?” I teased, letting go of his cock. It sprang against his stomach, hard and wanting.
“Not particularly.”
I hummed. “Will a second orgasm make this go away?”
“I doubt it.”
I laughed at his honesty, at the smile on his lips as he said the words.
“I want to take you on a trip soon. Away from here, no phones, no?—”
“Yes,” he interrupted me, nodding eagerly. “I want that.”
“In the meantime, though?”
I stroked Smith’s cock and his entire body swayed forward.
“Maybe one more,” he murmured. “If you can be quick.”
I pulled him onto my lap, spitting into my palm and making a tight fist around his dick. “Oh, I can be quick baby. Don’t worry about that. I’m more concerned with if you can keep up.”
“I can…” Smith trailed off when I stroked him from root to tip. He dropped his head against my shoulder, cursing under his breath.
“You can?”
“I can keep?—”
He was interrupted by the jingling of bells downstairs, of someone trying to open the door. Three seconds later, his phone vibrated from the pile of clothes on the floor and neither of us needed to look at it to know it was Lincoln.
I pushed him off my lap and brushed a chaste kiss across the leaking tip of his dick.
“I guess we’ll have to table this one for later,” I said, sliding over and standing. He collapsed onto the bed, burying his face into the sheets and letting out a frustrated scream. “Get dressed, Smith. We’ll pick this up later, I promise.”
CHAPTER 37
