HUGE F BUDDIES: Chapter 17

I can’t sleep.

Too many thoughts are buzzing through my head. I’m sore between my legs and bruised on my lips. Earlier, in the shower, I traced the tiny marks on my hips and thighs made by frantic fingers and urgent palms. I remember everything in flashes of pleasure and pain, but it’s laced with more emotion than I had anticipated.

Now, at 3 am, I’m still awake when the handle to my door starts to turn. I sit up slightly, waiting to see who it is. Anderson.

“I wanted to check on you,” he says, padding into the room and coming to kneel next to the bed. His chest is bare, his lower half clothed in checked shorts that end mid-thigh. There’s a whole load of sexy man on show in my dark bedroom.

“I’m okay,” I say with a small smile. It’s half true, at least. The half that Anderson will get to see anyway.

“That’s good.” His hand smooths my hair away from my face.

“Aren’t you worried your mom will find you in here?” I ask. I thought we were supposed to be keeping this thing away from the house and top secret.

“Everyone’s sleeping. I made sure.”

“Apart from you.”

Anderson nods. “I know I asked you more than once, but there was this nagging feeling inside me that maybe it didn’t turn out to be what you wanted.”

“You thought it was too much?”

His hand envelopes my fingers, but his eyes don’t meet mine. “It was intense enough for me, and I was one of four who were on the giving end. You had to take us all. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe we hurt you or upset you.”

“No,” I say, shuffling to sit up. “I’m okay. Really. Better than okay.” Sliding from beneath my covers, I sit facing Anderson, a man who stayed awake until this ungodly hour because he was concerned about me. “You don’t believe that what happened could be something good for me?”

He kneels up, so we’re on the same level, his hands resting on the bed either side of me. “I know that all of us who were in that room tonight had a different experience. We were all there, but none of us felt the same thing.”

“And what did you feel?”

“Overwhelmed,” he says, with no embarrassment. “It was mind-blowing and—”

“And not something you felt one hundred percent comfortable with.”

Anderson nods. “I love my brothers, and you’re hot as hell, but there’s something about the first time being with someone that was missing. I like the intimacy of sex as much as the physical release. I didn’t feel as though we shared that, and that made me worry that you wouldn’t be okay with everything.”

Intimacy. It’s a word I understand in theory but haven’t experienced in practice. Not in the way that Anderson means, at least. “Honestly, it was good for me.”

“You don’t miss that…from sex, I mean?”

I shrug, trying to appear as though I don’t care. The truth is that this conversation is just highlighting the things I should want, but can’t. “It was good for me,” I say. “How could it not be? I came so many times I thought the top of my head was gonna come off.”

Anderson leans in to kiss me, his lips capturing the plumpness of mine and sucking gently. It’s tender and sweet, the part that was mostly missing from our time together. I put my hands around his neck, drawing him to me, trying to give him what he needs to sleep. We kiss softly and deeply, slowly and languorously. He cups my face in his big palms as though I’m precious, and he wants to keep me safe. While he takes what he needs, my heart begins to ache in my chest.

Intimacy.

For Anderson, it makes him feel complete. For me, it makes me feel hollow and vulnerable. It makes me want to run.

I pull back from his kiss, breathing fast. I can’t do this. I can’t be what he needs.

Tugging up my t-shirt, I start to wriggle out of my panties. Anderson watches, his eyes darkening. “Here?” he asks in a whisper, as though the idea is scandalous. Silly seeing as we were just kissing under our parents’ roof. What’s the difference between that and this?

“Lock the door.” I’m naked now, my pussy hungry for Anderson’s mouth. He’s so good at licking between my legs, so slow and measured, as though he can feel exactly what I need to feel good. He’s probably right that this isn’t a good idea, but I don’t care. I know his tongue on my clit can wipe away the ache his kisses have left in my chest.

And it does.

He pushes me to lie back on the bed, holding his splayed palm over my heart while he opens my legs. “Your pussy smells so good,” he murmurs, nuzzling into the small patch of dark curls at the apex of my thighs. He takes time to explore, mapping all my secret places like an explorer seeking treasure, and I soak it up. He takes me so high that my sleep-addled brain feels like it’s slipping into dreamland when I come.

When he’s done, he kisses me gently on my stomach and breasts, seeking each nipple and sucking gently. He buries his face in my neck and breathes me in. He kisses me deeply, the taste of me lingering on his lips. “Night, baby. Sleep well,” he whispers in my ear.

Is that it? He thought I needed more, so he gave it to me without even thinking about himself. There’s too much care there. Too much sensitivity and it cuts rather than soothes. There’s no way I’m going to let him leave without reciprocating. I have to make this even.

Before he can object, I tug down his shorts and wrap my palm around the hot pulsating heat of his cock. His hand envelopes mine, his eyes searching for something that I know he won’t find.

Connection.

I focus on his pleasure, using the pre-cum that forms to slick my movements. God, he’s sexy. Everything about him, from his long lashes to the strip of brown hair that runs from his navel to the place I’m enjoying right now. I like it all. I like it so much that I urge him to lie on this back, and I take him in my mouth, sucking hungrily while he grasps onto the wooden headboard, his teeth gritted as he tries to maintain control.

Jefferson is wrong. Not all women want to be controlled. Yes, there is something amazing about being held down by a man. The thrill of his power, the submission, but there is something so thrilling about bringing a huge, strong man like Anderson to his knees. His thighs tremble as I take him deeper, using my hand to caresses all the places I know will add to his pleasure. “Fuck,” he hisses, throwing his head back as I lick slowly up the length of him, circulating the sensitive tip with my tongue. I tease him to the point that I know it’s killing him, and then I do what I need to reward him.

He comes in my mouth, and I swallow it all down, just the way I know that he’ll love, and he does. I’ve never seen a man look more grateful in my life.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, turning a harsh word gentle and affectionate as he strokes my face and runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “That was amazing.”

We kiss, and then I tell him he should go back to his room. We can’t risk it getting to morning and someone discovering him in my bed. He kisses me again before he leaves, and smiles again as he unlocks and opens the door.

He won’t forget this, I know it for sure.

He won’t be able to resist coming back to me, and that’s just what I need. No more questions about intimacy. No more worries about our connection. He’ll be addicted to this, the raw passion between us, the desperate build-up to release.

I’m here under his roof—easy access to more—and if I know the Bennett brothers at all, he won’t be able to keep what happened to himself. I don’t think I’ll sleep through another night all summer, and that’s alright by me.

Fuck buddies rock. Fuck buddies 24/7 rock even more.

The question is, how will I ever leave this perfect arrangement behind?