Page 59 of Plays Well With Others

“Good. That’s really fucking good,” I say, then I ease back a few inches, giving her time to breathe again before I sink back into the tight, hot paradise of her pussy.

She shudders this time.

“See? It’s all you.”

“I’m pretty sure you have something to do with the big dick in me,” she says.

I give another slow, tantalizing thrust that has her tossing back her head. Moaning. Swearing.

“Yeah, but you’re taking me like a good girl,” I say.

“Am I? A good girl?”

“You take my dick like a very…” I press a kiss to her throat. “Good…” I lay one on her chin. “Girl.”

I cover her mouth with mine as I thrust deep into her, filling her all the way. Then I hitch her legs up higher around my ass. “Hold onto the edge of the counter, baby.”

She complies, gripping it as I curl one hand around her hip then bring the other between her thighs.

As I fuck her, I take care of her. With each thrust, I caress her clit till she’s arching her back, panting, and then shouting, “Yes, yes, yes.”

She’s trembling and shaking, then coming on my cock on a loud cry.

It’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard, and it annihilates my last shreds of restraint. I fuck her hard on her kitchen counter till I forget all about cookies and friendship and dates and everything but the wild thrill of finally, finally having her.

After I come down from the high, I’m struck by a brand-new thought.

What if I’ve been wanting this for a long, long time?

20

UN-DATING AND ULTRA-SEXING

Rachel

My brain is hitting me with too many questions all at once, and I am not ready to traffic cop thewhat happens next,thewhat does this mean, and thewhere do we go.

I focus on practical things instead. I straighten myself up in my bathroom—it’s been a while since I’ve done the post-sex clean-up dance, but it’s like riding a bike. Well, if you needed to change your panties after a bike ride—then I put on leggings and a sweatshirt.

Next comes the cookies. I return to the kitchen solo and set some on a plate. I place the uncooked dough in the fridge. I’ll deal with the final batch another time.

I’m a little sore as I bring them to the living room, and that’sall new. This stretched-wide sensation between my legs. But I don’t mind it. It’s like the feeling you get after a good workout.

I set the plate on the coffee table then double back to the kitchen to pour some milk into glasses, and I revise that estimate toa lotsore.

Better not walkthatfast.

Carter rounds the corner from the guest bathroom as I’m carrying a tray of milk, a little hunched over. Staring at me, he arches a brow. “You okay?”

“Why do you ask? Because I’m waddling?”

He laughs. “Well, yeah.”

“I’m a sex trouper,” I say with a lift of my chin.

And that’s new too. I just made a joke after sex with my best friend. Is this normal? Is this how it goes? I’m about to ask Carter, but then I shut down that notion, stat. I don’t actually want to know if he’s slept with other female friends. But it’s too late. The dark thought is lashing through my mind like a tornado. Wasn’t Izzy a friend first? He dated her a few years ago when I was in Los Angeles, but I feel like he told me they were friends before they were lovers.

And she is history now.

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