“I think weird is in the rearview,príncipe de las tinieblas.” I wince at the car reference, grateful that my back is to him. I’m not sure how I’m ever going to get into a car again. I start PT in March, and it’s not something I’m ready to think about. If I think about it, I’ll have to accept that I’m not making my audition. And I’m not there yet. I’m not. “Your dick is hard, Pollo.” Classic deflection.
I half expect him to move it away from me at my declaration, but instead, he pulls me to him even more tightly. “Sí. It is. But that doesn’t mean things have to be uncomfortable between us.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to make a crack about how uncomfortable such a raging hard on must be, but I swallow it down. Not sure I’m ready to make jokes about his peen.
“Do you want me to leave?”
I don’t even need to think about it, I shake my head.
“What do you want, Edith?”
A loaded question if ever I heard one. But my foo foo is flexing. She knows exactly what she wants. I don’t want to use my best friend for sex—I love him too much to do that to him. But I’m stressed, in pain, and so confused and overwhelmed right now I don’t have the emotional spoons to—
His hand moves.
I don’t fight the groan this time, nor am I surprised when his fingers slide through my pussy with ease. It’s difficult not to be wet when a gorgeous, strong man who dries your tears and helps pick you up off the mat has an erection for you.
“Don’t overthink it.”
Like his demand will make all the thoughts of how strange it is that the attractive, robust man has been my best friend since we were little.
His mouth finds the side of my neck, and he skims his lips across my skin. Who’d have thought that I’d be getting more action than I have in months after an almost life ending car accident? I’m not given much time to think about it, because Apollo removes his hand from my pajama pants, and slides down my back.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
He settles between my legs, tugging my pants off. “Having breakfast.”
My rational brain says I should argue, should resist, should remind him we’re best friends, and we need to inch back across that line for our own good. But that feral look in his eyes demands my silence while challenging me to protest.
“Do you have a problem with that?”
Definitely should. I should have many, many problems with that. But I can’t think of a single one right now. The only thing consuming my entire being is the pulsing in my pussy.
Is he as skilled with his tongue as he is with his fingers? I should find out, right? For science?
He nips at the inside of my thigh, and I yelp. “No. No problem.”
I push up onto my elbow, needing to watch with my own eyes that this is happening, but he presses a warm hand on my stomach. “Lie back, and let me enjoy you,princesa.”
“You’re so bossy.”
“This isn’t news.” His tongue leaves a cool trail up the inside of my leg before he drapes it over his shoulder. Sucking in a deep breath, I wait. Part of me hopes he’s terrible with his tongue. Because if he’s not awful, I might not be able to stand up to the demands of the va-jay-jay.
When his mouth doesn’t connect to my pussy, I blow out the breath in a huff.
“Patience,princesa.”
“Easy for you to say. I’m the one—” My words choke on a gasp as his finger glides through my soaked lips.
“Shhhhhh.”
“Are you just staring at my pussy?”
“Tal vez.”
I try rolling my hips, but that makes him chuckle.
“You’re such a tease, Pollo.”
