Page 20 of Best Friend's Dirty Ex

His expression darkens and I sense my words have hit a nerve. “Is that so?” He doesn't seem to believe me, but I don't give a damn.

I nod, still holding on to my boiling hot paper coffee cup. As much as I want to take another drink, I know that doing so will leave me with a seared mouth and more pain, so I refrain. “Why did she tell you she wasn’t interested? Did she accept a date with you?” I want him to say anything to give me an idea what his next step will be. I know he's a good-looking guy and I know that a lot of women would be susceptible to his charm. I can only hope that Everly is immune to him.

“She didn't accept a date with me, no.” He picks up his coffee from the counter and holds it up, tilting it in my direction. “But don't get comfortable. I have other plans to get her interested, just you wait and see.” There's a smugness to his smile and a sureness to his tone that leaves me uncomfortable and somewhat nervous.

I have no way of knowing what he'll do next, and I don't like so many variables being out of my control. “Good luck. May the best man win.” I don't see a point in continuing this conversation with him. Neither of us are going to get anywhere. If anything, at this point it's just going to turn into a lot of peacocking and a measuring contest I'm not interested in participating in.

Instead, I take my coffee and head toward the door, my mind spinning as I try to think about what to do next to win Everly over. I honestly feel that the next step is going to be getting her to stay with me in my home, and I think that having her remodeling my office is a great gateway into her heart and bed. Or at least her bed, since that’s what matters.

“Troy.” Konan says my name and I turn to look at him, only because I don't want to be rude. He's watching me with an intensity I don't understand or enjoy. “She's a good woman. Don't hurt her.”

As he says the words again, that odd surge of protectiveness rises up in me. I'm annoyed that he feels like he's the one who should be protecting her. But as quickly as the feeling comes, it passes. And I remind myself that protecting her is not the point. I need to get her into bed to win this bet, not keep her safe.

Without acknowledging his words, I turn and walk through the door.

I don't need his permission, his warnings, and I sure as hell don't give a damn what he has to say about what I do in my life... or hers.

Ten minutes later I'm back at my place, wandering through the office she's remodeling. The place is a mess and the scent of her hangs in the air. In the silence, I can hear her words in my ears, even though I’m alone.

Inhaling her with every breath, I can feel my body responding to her invisible proximity. When I close my eyes, I can imagine she's standing right here before me with that sassy smile of hers tilting the corners of her perfect lips. Lips that I can imagine wrapped around my cock.

With a growl, I head for my bathroom. Turning on the shower, I leave the lights low and strip down, feeling my cock spring free when I’ve shed every last scrap of clothing. The air on the heated, sensitive parts of my body only inflames my need, and I wrap my fingers around my cock while leaning a forearm against the wall to brace myself.

The steam of the shower rolls over me and I inhale the dampness, smelling the sweetness of the soaps she’d used last time she’d been in here rinsing away the sweat from her trek up the stairs. As my fingers close around my shaft, I let out a slight sigh of relief at the pressure and sensation, once more imagining her lips around me. I think about her on her knees before me, looking up with those big brown eyes. I imagine her teasing the tip of me, then taking all of me deeply, before backing off again.

Tugging my cock, I mirror the image in my mind’s eye of her for a moment, then back off, feeling the almost painful throbbing sensation that follows. My body begs me for more, but I step under the spray of hot water instead.

As the heated drops cascade over me in a way that makes me wonder if I can wash away the sinful desire I feel for her - because how much I want her and what I’m willing to do to possess her are downright sinful - I plant a palm on the wall and close my eyes.

And once more, I grab my cock, feeling that desire rise even more. I think about her before me, her eyes wide and hungry. I imagine her licking her lips, her attention shifting to the hard length of me before she leans forward and takes the tip of me in an almost playful, teasing fashion that leaves me groaning.

As abruptly as the fantasy came, it vanishes. Suddenly, she’s before me, on her knees, my hand wrapped in her ponytail as I plunge into her. I can almost hear her sensual moans and yelps of pleasure, can see her ass bouncing and rippling with every plunge, can feel her tightening around me as she nears the edge of release.

And it’s that thought that drags me closer to the edge. Uncomfortable, I push back, not wanting to think about how the thought of her orgasming brings me to the brink.

Sure, I like pleasuring my sexual partners, but I don’t derive satisfaction from their orgasms alone.

I imagine pulling out almost all the way, then pushing back into her as she trembles in anticipation. I imagine talking to her, reminding her that she’s mine, that I love the way she feels, that she’s so warm and silken around my throbbing cock.

With every pump of my hand the fantasy becomes more and more real, and I imagine her whimpering that she’s about to cum and nearly blow my load. I back off, not ready for things to be over yet.

Instead, I open my eyes, shift positions, pull my tingling hand from the wall and turn around. Scrubbing my hands over my face and hair, I feel the water cascading down my back and warming my skin. I’m still pulsating with need and her face fills my mind’s eye.

I think about how she’d tasted, the sweet smell of her when I’d buried my face in her while she’d been bent over the couch at my mercy. I think about the surprise and heat in her eyes, the quiet challenge of her telling me she will forever be off-limits to me. I think about the way her breath catches when I move in close to her, how the hollow at the base of her throat bottoms out when I growl into her ear, the way she smells hot, damp, and excited when I’m close.

And I grab myself once more, ready for the release.

This time, she’s stretched out on her back before me, legs spread wide, showing me all of her. There’s a redness in her cheeks, a wild excitement in her eyes, and a quiet promise that I can do whatever I wish to her. I drink in the sight of her perfect tits, her perfectly curvy body, her softly tilted lips that seem ready to smile... or moan.

And as I tug myself, I imagine pressing just the tip into her, then slowly pushing home as she lets out a soft groan of pleasure and relaxes back. I watch her body accept me, open to me, allow me in deeper and deeper until I’m buried to the hilt.

And I imagine pulling back, pushing home, watching her body move, listening to her sensual sounds, feeling her move against me. I think about her lips settling into an ‘o’ of surprise, her fingers teasing her perfect nipples and palming her tits, I imagine her slipping a hand down her belly to play with her clit until she spasms around me.

This time, when she orgasms in my mind, I stop holding back. I let the feeling wash over me, feeling her milk my cock as my balls tighten. And just like that, I feel the thick, ropy cords of my release spurt into the shower as I open my eyes, unable to get the thought of her body pulsing, shaking, and trembling out of my head as she comes.

Even with my eyes open, I can see her wide eyes lock on mine, see the satisfaction roll in like storm clouds in those beautiful brown eyes, and see the pleased curve of the corners of her lips as her body goes limp.

And it hits me all at once that the thought of her orgasm drove me closer to the edge than anything else I’d fantasized about. The thought of pleasing her pleased me.

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