Page 57 of Eligible Best Friend

I go in for a taste. There’s too much desire in her tone, too much longing, she’s too close to begging. This moment is proving something to the both of us. It’s like a promise. Me and her against the world.

Her head drops back. Her hands are planted beside her and they keep her stable as I lick her over and over, fast then slow, just the way she likes.

“I can’t hold on—” She tries to muffle her cry, to keep from waking Mrs. Rosenthal next door, but it’s a lost cause as she comes on my tongue. I haven’t even used my hands or any other part of my body. Just the tip of my tongue and she’s mine.

I rise, hooking her legs around my waist. She collapses back, breathless. “I don’t usually come that fast.”

“You will again,” I promise.

I get the condom on, but everything else after that is unhurried. We have the rest of the night with each other.

I slide my thumb through her folds and rest it against her clit. She gasps but arches into me, caught between wanting to draw away from being so sensitive and needing to get off again.

“I’ve got you.” Slowly, I push a finger inside. With only the motion of my finger going in and out to move my thumb on her swollen clit, I build the next climax one tiny thrust at a time. Once the sensitivity of the first orgasm is gone and she matches my movements with the surge of her hips, I speed up and add little circles.

She’s spread out before me, her beautiful breasts just out of reach while I strum her body. Soon. I’ll get to those, but she comes first in all ways.

She draws her knees up, her climax close, and I watch her intently. It’s dark, but I can read her moans and the frantic way she’s rolling her hips, seeking her release. As she crests, I remove my finger, leave my thumb on her clit, and shove inside.

Her body clamps down on mine as she cries out, not bothering to cover the sound this time. She rides my dick and I force myself to remain still as she finishes.

When I sense she’s almost done, I let myself go. She’s molten around me, all wet, tight heat and it doesn’t take long before my own climax slams into me, nearly toppling me right over her.

I catch myself with my free hand and move my other hand enough that I’m not rubbing her too-tender flesh. I sag overhead, still inside.

“Fuck, Lia. I love getting you off.”

She wraps around me and brings me close enough for a kiss. “I just so happen to like it too.”

I nibble her lips until I feel a stirring, a coiling that I’ve come to associate with Lia. I pull out and pick her up. The condom can be dealt with after I carry this treasure to bed. I have the rest of the night to show her how much she means to me.

Without her, I wouldn’t have had the extra time with Jayden or the confidence to reconnect with my siblings. I wouldn’t have nights like this, ones when I don’t have to search for my clothes in the dark and creep out of some strange house or hotel before I’m asked for more than another orgasm.

This woman means the world to me, and with any luck, we’ve got many, many more nights like this to come.

Seventeen

Lia

I jump into the shower to wash off the day. Ford and I took Jayden to Maggie’s house and helped pull weeds in the complex’s yard. I got more than a little dusty but managed to keep streaks of mud off my face, unlike both Ford and Jayden.

Jayden’s spending the night at Ford’s. Another overnighter for the pair. I’m thrilled for them. I was also invited, but since he hasn’t told Cass about the bedroom yet, I declined. Best to leave things as uncomplicated as possible until he has custody secured.

I’ve just finished getting dressed when my phone rings. One look at the display and I groan.

Mom.

Why can’t she be more like Maggie? Ford’s mom is so laid-back and accepting. She sees the world through a “How can I help you?” lens instead of “What can you do for me?”

I love my mother. I just wish she was more Mom and less State Senator Elaine Wescott.

“Hello.” I slide between the covers. It’s too soon to go to sleep and I haven’t eaten, but this conversation is going to exhaust me.

“Aurelia. I’m glad I caught you.”

I work three twelve-hour shifts a week. She rarely fails to “catch me.” Is she insinuating that I should be doing more with my life, that I should be busy when she calls? “What’s up?” Because I know she didn’t call to chat.

I pick at a loose string on my comforter. I have to remember that I can’t change her. I can’t change Dad, either. They love their lives. They love their jobs. It’s not up to me to make them understand that I want the same, but different.

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