Chapter One
CARI
Max bucks her hips, sliding the strap inside my dripping pussy, and I moan aloud. My thighs straddle hers, and she’s playing with my tits as I get used to it. It was a bigger strap than the ones we usually used. I loved the thickness, but the length took a second to adjust to. Max waits until I’m rocking my hips steadily before pulling me down to kiss her. Her soft lips meet mine in a frenzy and her fingers are tangled in my long blonde hair.
I reach down and wrap my fingers around the sides of Max’s throat. She groans under me, and her eyes darken with desire. It took months to discover she was into choking, but when I did, she came almost instantly. I rock my hips on her, hitting the tip of the strap she’s wearing. It was ours, even though she wouldn’t call it that. We kept it at my apartment, and she was the only one I used it with, but she got weird when I called it ours. So I kept that part to myself.
“Cari,” she says in a breathy moan. I tilt my hands on her throat to move her chin so she’s looking up at me.
“Yes, Honey. Tell me what you want.” I use my special nickname for her, the one I am only allowed to call her in bed. Or wherever else we hook up.
“I want you to fuck me harder,” she says. I let go of her throat to run my fingers through her short black hair and tug at the ends.
“Oh!” she gasps, and I smirk as I move my body so I can bounce easier on the strap. My knees will kill me later, but it’ll be worth it.
I bounce, hitting my g-spot each time, and I can feel myself dripping down my thighs. My hand wraps around Max’s throat again, and we keep eye contact. Her dark eyes melt into mine as I bite down on my bottom lip.
She tugs on her nipple piercings and I’m the one moaning. They’re so out of character for her, but the first time I saw them, I almost melted into my panties. Her tits are smaller than most, but so beautiful with the piercings. And damn, when she plays with them, she could come from nipple play alone. Which she has, more than once, with me.
“Come on, Honey.” I grip her throat a little tighter.
She’s tugging on her nipples, the silver metal being pulled along with them, and she’s bucking her hips into mine at the same time. She likes it rough, and I like it however she does.
I rock harder, feeling the strap deep inside me. She’s watching my tits bounce while her free hand is on my thigh tattoo. I have the urge to reach for her hand, but I remember what happened the last time I did that.
She very clearly reminded me of what we were and that holding hands was ‘too intimate’ for us. I agreed with her in the moment, and then spent three days crying about it. It wasn’t her fault that I started to get blurred feelings about us. I knew what this was when we got into it. We’d been friends with benefits for over a year at this point. The last thing I wanted to do was make it weird and lose what we had, again.
“Mmm, yes! Right there!” She groans as her eyes roll into the back of her head.
I use my free hand to reach between my thighs and touch my clit. I pinch it lightly, knowing what gets me off the quickest. My pussy is soaked and throbbing. I can’t hold on for much longer. Especially with Max groaning under me. My eyes stay locked on her perfect lips, forming an ‘O’ as her body rocks into mine and her breathy moans escape.
“Oh fuck,” I mumble, something about watching Max finish always gets me.
My eyes shut as the orgasm rushes over me, and I mutter a string of curses as I cum. I slide off the strap carefully and fall into the bed next to Max. She wastes no time heading to the bathroom to clean off. I reach for the washcloth I keep on my nightstand for this purpose and dry myself off. Dropping it into the laundry basket at the end of my bed, I hear it plop in. I pull a sheet over my body, which was quickly becoming covered with goosebumps from the cold.
The water is running in the bathroom, and I figure Max is washing the strap. I always tell her I’ll do it later but she takes care of it before I can. I wonder if she’s going to stay tonight.
It’s rare that she sleeps over, but sometimes after we would hook up she’d stay for a bit and watch a movie or something. We used to hang out more, going to movies, dinner, or taking walks together through the park, but it has been a while since we’ve done anything like that. Not since the first time we stopped hooking up. We’ve been on and off more times than I care to remember, but this is our longest on.
Max comes out a few minutes later, the strap cleaned off, and she drops it in the dresser drawer full of toys. Then she looks around the room for her clothes and starts getting dressed.
I suck in a quiet breath. She doesn’t like to stay naked after sex. I only questioned it once at the beginning, and she said she felt more comfortable in her underwear. But when she pulls on her jeans too, I know she’s leaving.
Once she has on her jeans, I know she is thinking of a nice way to say goodbye. I wish she wanted to stay, but lately she has only been eating and running.
“You going home?” I ask, trying to sound casual, only to realize I am failing.
“Yeah, early morning tomorrow. Bridal shoot before noon.” She shrugs in between buttoning her jeans and tugging on her black t-shirt.
God, why does she have to look so hot with or without clothes on? I groan internally. I knew better than to get attached to her, but it wasn’t like I could help it.
Max is sex on a stick, a butch that is femme kryptonite. I’ve seen the way people look at her, and the way they thirst over her online. Sure, I get thirsted on online too, but I’m not replying to anyone beyond a polite thank you. Max is single according to all her profiles, and I have to pretend it doesn’t bother me.
“Nice, have fun.” I try to sound relaxed. But it’s no use. Max raises an eyebrow at me, but doesn’t say anything as she puts her Vans on.
“Thanks, see you later this week?” she asks as she tugs on her black jean jacket.
“Sure,” I manage to say without sounding excited.
