“Just like that, baby. Just fucking like that.” I squeezed my eyes closed, feeling those plump lips closing around me. Taking me all the way in.
Her hand sliding up and down my shaft.
Her mouth wet and warm.
In and out.
Over and over.
Faster.
Harder.
Fucking amazing.
I groaned as I came harder than I had in months.
“Fuck,” I hissed as I continued stroking myself, riding out every last bit of pleasure.
I pushed thoughts of Gracie out of my head.
She was living in my house, and she’d just talked about sex—of course she’d be on my mind.
It was an innocent mistake.
It wouldn’t happen again. It was a one and done.
And now I’d be fine to give her a few tips, keeping it simple, and then I’d start putting myself back out there.
I’d forget this ever happened.
Fantasizing about my best friend was not an option.
I finished showering and dried myself off before slipping on a pair of shorts and a tee.
I made my way out to the kitchen. Gracie had changed into a pair of denim shorts and a white tank top. She had her back to me, and my eyes trailed up her lean, tan legs just as she glanced over her shoulder.
“Oh, hey. Everything is ready. I set us up at the table out back because it’s so nice out.” She turned around and walked to the counter, handing me a beer, before motioning toward the back door. Our fingers brushed for a split second, and my brain immediately went haywire. Thoughts of her down on her knees from the shower flashed through my head, and I jerked my hand back, heart thudding, then guzzled the beer like I was dying of thirst.
Gracie chuckled, giving me a sideways glance.
“Wow, someone is really thirsty,” she teased, and I forced a laugh, hiding the way my stomach had twisted from that fleeting touch.
What the actual fuck is wrong with me?
“I would have helped you carry it all out there,” I said, shaking it off as I followed her outside. I had to literally force myself not to check out her ass.
“It was easy. I actually missed cooking when I was living in that tiny apartment.” She took the seat across from me and reached for her glass of wine.
I took a bite and groaned.
“Damn, girl. You are such a good cook. Is there anything you aren’t good at?” I asked after I’d finished chewing. She could give Bass a run for his money, though I’d never say that to him, for fear he’d cut off a finger.
“Yes. Apparently, there is something I’m not good at. But I’m hoping you can help me figure it out.” She smiled and her cheeks pinked, and I sent a silent message to my dick not to react.
He’d just had an epic orgasm.
Unfortunately, it didn’t matter.
