Page 174 of We Can't Be Friends

He’s enough.

I kiss him again, trying to convey everything I’m thinking and feeling into it. A smile tugs on his mouth, kissing me back with the same conviction.

Standing back up, Cal dips two fingers inside of me, coating the condom, before positioning himself between my legs. Cal rubs his tip over my clit, and my body clenches. Barely down from its high, it's already begging for another.

I take a breath, and Cal pushes into me. Barely a quarter of the way, I don’t think I can take any more. I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve had my fair share of sex, but no one has ever barely been inside of me and made my body automatically feel as if it’s going to let go.

“Relax.” Cal fans his hand on my stomach right above my waist. He slowly keeps pushing inside of me. Each inch of him is more satisfying and filling than the next. Cal hisses. “You’re so tight, Chloe.”

My shoulders crunch, flicking my gaze between where we are connected and his face.

“Tight and beautiful and mine.” He sucks in a shallow breath. “I can feel myself inside of you.”

“Describe it to me.”

“I wish I could, baby. There are no words except for that it’s perfect. You’re perfect. You were made perfect for me. Your body is stretching to fit me so well. I’m going to keep going. You okay?”

“I’m perfect,” I parrot his words.

Cal pauses once he bottoms out, and there is a fullness and completeness that I’ve never felt before.

“You have no idea how often I’ve thought about this. Wanting you in ways I didn’t think I deserved, or you’d ever want.”

I roll my eyes, my mouth tugging into a smirk. My cheeks and body are warm. “Shoulda asked, Pretty Boy. You know it’s improper to assume what a woman wants.”

“And what is it that you want?”

“You to move. I’m dying here.” My nails dig into his shoulders.

Cal moves in and out of me, finding a rhythm and learning my body. He talks to me, asking questions to understand exactly what I need and like. Picking up his pace, his hips snap into me, and I can feel his pelvis hitting my clit. The spurts of pressure are teasing.

I reach my hand between us, applying constant pressure, pinching and rubbing the sensitive spot.

“That’s my girl. Take whatever you need. In here, out there, wherever.”

My brain shuts out the rest of his words, murmurs that are probably as sexual as they are sweet. All that echoes in my brain ismy girl.

A hand grips my right knee, pushing it up to my chest. I gasp, the position deepening his reach.

He does some sort of snap-and-swivel that has my hips thrusting upward to meet his, begging for him to do it again. My foot slips off the bed, and Cal returns it with his free hand.

“I’m never going to be able to leave your bed now.”

“You say that like it’s a punishment.”

“If I’m a brat, can it be?”

Cal clenches the comforter next to my head, pulling out and jerking hard back into me. “Mess around and find out.”

He brings my other knee up to my chest, my body inching up the bed, he now has one knee bracing his weight. Snaking a hand between us, Cal removes the guardrails I put up.

“Come on, Henry. You know you want to come on me.”

“I do.” I nod frantically, any witty, bratty remark nowhere to be found.

Cal drops his mouth to mine. Our names on each other’s lips as my second tsunami of pleasure hits me. Cal is right behind me, his hip movements like a bucking bull.

“Holy hell.” He wraps his arms around me, flipping us. My head falls to his chest.

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