Page 25 of The Best You've Ever Had

With not even an ounce of hesitation, I swipe my tongue over her aroused clit once, slow and smooth. She tastes so fucking good that it’s difficult to pace myself on getting her off. Iwantto let all hell break loose and dash straight for the finish line. But this is about her, and proving that every other man she’s been with before are self-centered douches.

As I continue to lick her, I hear the soft crinkle of the comforter as her fingers curl into the fabric. Her body arches against the bed, pushing her pussy into my face as she eagerly asks for more.

It’s too much in the best way possible, that it has become necessary to relieve this dull ache building up at the base of my spine. “Goddamnit. You know how much you turn me on?” I reach into my briefs, and begin fisting my cock as I continue to get her off. “I can’t help but get off to eating you out.”

Glancing down at me from between her legs, with my dick in hand, her muscles clench around my fingers.

She lies her head back down, eyes downcast as she watches me. “Oh god. I think…”

I twist my fingers inside of her, causing her to pause with a sharp inhale. “What’s that? You think you’re going to come for me?”

When she nods, I murmur, “Then tell me I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

She’s silent, except for the moans that are escaping her as I continue to touch her, curling my fingers just so, to reach the sensitive spot inside her pussy that I’m certain the past idiots had no clue about.

I curve my fingers up slightly more. “Answer me.”

As her small frame writhes against the mattress, she’s barely able to get the words out. “You’re the best. Fuck, you’re the best. And I’m co?—”

The sound that echoes in the room is one that I’ll never forget. It’s all I need to push myself over the cliff too, causing me to ejaculate all over the plane of her stomach. From what I can make out in the dim room, she’s completely still except for the rise and fall of her chest—panting as if she’s sprinted a record-setting marathon, and unbelievably gorgeous while marked with streaks of my come.

At this point, the shame should probably be setting in for both of us—it doesn’t. I feel different, like I’ve glimpsed heaven for the first time, only to come crashing back down to earth.

Pulling on my jeans, I head to the bathroom down the hall and fetch a warm washcloth. When I return, I don’t dare turn on the bedroom light, afraid the brightness might drag us back into reality. I want to stay in this fantasy a little longer. The one where I’ve made the gorgeous, fireball woman in my bed orgasm for the first time.

I’m floored that she doesn’t smack my hand away as I wipe the mess from the smooth skin of her stomach. She lets me clean her up as she lies there, looking at me differently. The same fire is in her eyes, but it has shifted from pure hatred to something more fervent.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Stop being awkward. I’m fucking fantastic.”

A laugh erupts from me, as I lie back down on the bed. “Good. Now I can go to bed feeling like a champion. What a historic day.”

“Stop being cocky.”

“How can Inotbe right now? You swore up and down that no one could make you do that, andIdid. Sounds like a damn good reason to be cocky.”

Throwing an arm over her eyes, she groans. “Ugh, I’m already regretting this.”

My stomach drops with the worry that we’ve gone too far for her. Maybe alcohol and our typical one-upper challenges weren’t a good mix this particular time around. “Well, don’t. I swear I won’t mention it again.”

There’s no reply. Just the silence of the room and the sensation of her cold feet finding their way under my leg. To most, it would seem like she’s simply trying to warm herself up. Knowing her, it’s an olive branch—a silent assurance that she’s okay, and we’re okay.

That tiny signal of vulnerability is all it takes for me to pull her into my chest, and we both fall asleep in a half-drunken, blissful post-orgasm daze.

Chapter Nine

Layla

Golden sunlight filtersthrough the gauzy curtains. I muster the strength to open my eyes, despite my splitting headache. The giant pillow I thought I was cuddling turns out to be Ben. No wonder it felt like hugging a pile of rocks. There’s not a damn soft thing about him.

I can’t help but take in the sight of him, bare chest and passed out beside me. He’s massive, long, and basically a stack of muscles upon muscles. What the hell are they feeding these firemen? Steroid-infused protein shakes? The dimples right above his ass could be used as cereal bowls, for chrissakes.

If it wasn’t for the mind-blowing orgasm he gave me last night, I would want to hate him for being so perfect. Instead, I tamp down the craving rising in my chest for more. Undernocircumstances can I ever let him make me come again. As amazing, and rare, as that orgasm was we can’t make even more of a mess of our already rocky inklings of a friendship.

He rolls over with a groan, as I throw my body off of his, hoping he won’t notice that we were unashamedly spooning in bed all night. I have never spooned a human in my entire goddamn life. I’ve always preferred to have sex, politely see the person out, and go to sleep in my perfectly temperaturecontrolled room, complete with ambient white noise and four very expensive pillows.

With one eye squinting open, he mutters, “Hey big spoon, how’d you sleep?”

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