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I swallow at the concern in her voice, my heart racing for the decision I’m about to make. Joy told me she doesn’t want a relationship, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want anything at all. “I want to kiss you.”

Joy blinks. The silence buzzes in my ears and I’m too hot. Did I just fuck this up? I swallow again, an apology on my tongue—

“Okay.”

My heart thunders in my chest. “What?”

“Okay.” Joy smiles at me before looking down at the blue comforter.

Before nerves can well and truly take hold, I reach for her and kiss her like I’ve wanted to all year. She melts against me, her hand resting against my heart, and I try not to think about how she must be able to hear its frantic beating as I deepen the kiss, tasting her.

She’s perfect. Just like I knew she would be. My hand gently grips the back of her neck, while the other steadies me on the bed, and I fist the comforter to stop myself from touching her. I want to, badly, but I’ll only take what she’s willing to give. If a kiss is it, then so be it.

Joy’s fingers hook in the low neck of my top, stroking the skin there, and when her other hand starts to creep up under the hem, my heart fucking sings. As her fingers slide up over my abs, I kiss her harder, my own hand moving to the bare skin on her waist, my thumb stroking the warm flesh of her stomach.

A breathy moan breaks from Joy’s lips and then her hands are on my shoulders, pushing me back on the bed. I go gladly, my hands resting on her waist as she straddles my hips. When she sinks down, her core settling against where my cock is now straining against my jeans, I groan, my fingers gripping her tighter.

Joy tugs at my shirt and I break the kiss, breathing hard. Her ebony hair falls around us like a curtain, her plump lips swollen, and I lean up and press a soft kiss to them before gripping the back of my shirt and pulling it off over my head.

Joy’s hands stroke up my chest and I bite my lip, scared of doing something that might make this stop. I really,really, don’t want this to stop.

As if reading my mind, Joy sits up, taking hold of her own top and lifting it off. I groan as I discover she’s not wearing a bra underneath, her perfect tits right there, begging for my mouth.

Pushing myself up, I take one of her nipples between my lips, my hand caressing the other. I’ve thought about this so many fucking times. Pictured her just like this. She sighs, her hands sliding into my hair, and my eyes almost roll back in my head.

“Off,” I say, tugging at the waistband of her pants.

She climbs off me and unfastens the button. They’re so tight, she has to shimmy to pull them down, and watching her breasts sway with the movement has my dick hard as stone. When she gets them down over her ass, I realize she’s wearing a thong consisting of a tiny scrap of black lace, and I groan, my hand pressing down on my dick to try and relieve the ache.

“You’re trying to kill me,” I grit out.

Joy grins, tossing her thick, dark hair over her shoulder. “Where would be the fun in that?”

She reaches for my jeans, and I drink in the sight of her, unable to wait a second longer. Her fingers unfasten my pants, but I reach between her legs, pushing the sliver of material aside and sliding my fingers along her core.

“Fuuuck.” I groan, as I find her slick and ready. “I need you, Joy.”

Sitting up, I shove my jeans and boxer briefs down, dumping them on the floor, before reaching for her again and slowly dragging the scrap of lace down until she’s completely bare before me.

“I want you right back where you were,” I say, my voice so breathless, I barely recognize it.

Joy gives me a defiant look and climbs back onto the bed, straddling my knees. I reach for her, but she ducks her head, taking my heavy cock in her mouth. My head pushes back into the bed as she teases her tongue against the sensitive underside, before sucking my dick down like she’s starving for me.

I knowI’mstarving—desperate—for her. Ever since that first coffee at Grinds, I’ve wanted this. The past four months have been little more than foreplay, and now she’s finally mine.

As I run my fingers through her hair tickling my thighs, a little voice in my head reminds me that she’s not. This is just casual. It’s fine, though. If that’s all she’s willing to give, I’ll happily take it.

“Joy,” I rasp, getting far too close to the edge for my liking. Her mouth, just like everything else about her, is perfection.

She pulls off, wrapping her fist around my base and tonguing my slit like a popsicle. “Yes?”

“Fuck.” I’m breathing harder than I would after competing in a two-hundred-meter freestyle. “You need to stop.”

She blinks, giving me a stroke as her pink tongue darts out again. “Stop this?”

“Yes.” I half laugh, half groan.

“What do you want me to do instead?”

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