Being Kalli(27)

“I …” He looks between our bodies, where his corded muscles tense from holding his weight over me. There’s a clear passage between us, but I know more than air will disappear if we cross this now. We aren’t drunk, I wasn’t seducing him at a photo shoot. Third time’s the charm, and it’s the third time we’re acting so … horny, or is it romantic? Because every time I show him that I need him to fuck me, he makes it feel like we’re connecting on a deeper level. The difference is massive.

Nate lowers himself closer to me, so I catch my breath mid gulp. A whisper from my ear, he says, “I really don’t want to mess this up.”

Us, our years of friendship. Our trust. Everything.

“I really hate the way you think too much, Nate.”

His eyes flutter at his name escaping my lips. He looks down and I swear to God, I’ve never seen what must be a painful erection, pressed so hard against jeans. “Oh, man.”

“Do you trust me?”

He gulps, runs his eyes over my face. He doesn’t take in my breasts that are so close, just my face. “Course.”

I check out his roomie and I bet I know his thoughts. He wants to leave, but leaving acknowledges how awkward he is and that’s worse. Then I see how he’s slouched back, how his hand disappears in front of his waist and is moving back and forth.

I moan into Nate, my eyes rolling back from erotic pleasure. God, I’m sick. I don’t think other girls get off like this. But I’m getting off on Nate making me hot and bothered and that our passion is contagious to someone else, too.

With Nate’s arms holding up his weight, I wiggle down his chest and waist and position myself at the top of his jeans. Looking at how beautiful he is from here I can’t help but breathe heavily. His muscles are tensed and hard, holding him above me, looking at me with adoration.

He reaches down by my side and in one tug, he draws his comforter, which had been bunched behind my ass, over us like a tent.

I grin and look back to my gift. He really is a gift like this. I wet my lips and place a kiss to his bulge, hold my kiss there. Within seconds his radiating heat pours into me from my lips holding there, and he begins to buck.

He starts as he is, jeans done up, rocking into my lips with his jeans rough against my skin. His hands come to his buckle and zip, and they rub into my lips in motion, me licking his fingers, hands, jeans—whatever I can get to. Soon, his jeans are loose around his hips, and we’re both as shocked by the release as each other. He glances down from crouched above me, darkness shadowed at his chin and light from the room streaming in from the crack between his head and the cover, lighting his pale eyes. He rolls his eyes back and dips his hips to my face.

I lie there gladly. It’s a glorious feeling, kissing him, licking him, sucking him, rocking against him and having him bow to me, giving me this power while he practically begs, forcing his desperation at me for help.

I push him back a distance to take in his length. It’s still too big as the tip of his boxers presses on my lips, not giving me the full view I want. I grab onto the head with my lips and circle my tongue. Forgetting all else, including taking the boxers off I work deeper until my mouth is taking half his length in my mouth and the material is soaked. It outlines the helmet top and hugs the veins and strains. Practically a second skin.

With my fingertip, I push him up, which gets him looking down, his eyes struggling to stop rolling back with desire.

But he can’t contain himself, and he moans out a rasping plea, concurrent with a staggered intake of breath from his body, in so much pleasure it’s more like pain.

“That’s it!”

The words come from the corner of the room. Nate yanks up his jeans, leaving them undone as he hurdles over me and stands back to the wall, buttoning up. His erection is a cruel reminder of what I’ve lost, straining inside.

“Fuck, man.”

The guy is running a hand through his short hair, leaving it plastered across his forehead, cheeks bright red.

I lie on my side, my bra strap fallen, head cocked, staring at the guys. Nate has his fingers linked behind his head, rocking back and forward on his toes, unable to keep still or look at his friend.

His friend’s jaw is agape, unable to comprehend anything sensible. Judging by the flush in his cheeks, he isn’t about to admit what he was up to. He says, “Flying fuck, you’re crazy, Kalli. Next time, please, like, give me a warning?”

Yep, too embarrassed to admit how much he loved it, too.

He grabs his wallet from the table and darts out.

The playful mood chills and shatters in an instant. My body knows Nate and I are alone. It knows this through my gut clenching and the light-headed sensation making my vision blur. I jump into a standing position and my blood pressure struggles to keep up, washing blackness over me for a moment.