Friends with Benefits(18)

My hips fell back down, and the tension I held in my muscles evaporated,  leaving me feeling like I was floating. The toy was still resting  inside me. I turned it slightly to the side, so the vibrator wasn't  directly on my clit. It still pulsed inside me, but it was a pleasant  sort of pulse. It was just enough to keep me hungry for more.


I rested again.


When I was ready, I eased the pink toy back inside my pussy. It felt hot  and slippery. As I pushed it in deeper, I still found myself wishing it  was Steven inside me.


I wanted to feel his hands on my ass. I ached for his skin to be pressed  up against mine with such ferocity that it might seem as if we were  trying to melt into one another. I hungered for his kiss and the taste  of him on my lips.


The toy spread me open, but I still felt empty. Nothing could replace the way it felt when Steven was buried in my pussy.


Still, I pretended I was with him. Each thrust was his. Every time the  vibrator grazed my clit, I imagined it was his finger, delicate and  precise, flicking over my bud and sending little shivers of excitement  through me. Soon I was clutching the toy harder, curving it upward, and  grinding against it like it was Steven's cock.


My last orgasm was powerful and hard. I cried out when I was done. The  toy stayed inside me as I quivered and gripped the sheets. My toes  curled. I gasped for breath and felt the wetness of sweat that had  gathered on my chest and under my breasts. My hairline was damp. My  fingers ached from holding the toy. My pussy was swollen, full and still  dripping.


I rolled off the bed, careful not to leave a trail on my sheets. I  cleaned up myself and my toys and then retreated to the warmth beneath  my blanket.


I skipped dinner. I was too tired and depleted to bother with food. I  curled up, nestling my cheek into my pillow, and drifted off into a  fitful sleep wrought with the joys of fucking Steven, and the  devastation of losing him.





Chapter 15

Steven





The Italian Corner was quieter than usual. Tuesday night wasn't a  money-maker. I was sitting in a booth rather than the usual spot I opted  for by the window. I was waiting for Allie.


I had called her that afternoon. When she answered the phone, tension  sounded in her voice. She had spoken my name, short and soft, and then  waited for me to say something. I suppose she might have been waiting  for me to yell at her.         

     



 


"Can you meet me at our usual place tonight? Seven o'clock?" I had asked her.


"Um. Yes. Of course," she had said back. Her voice had been thin, nervous.


I hadn't said anything after that. I had hung up the phone and tried to  push the foreboding conversation out of my mind. Allie had probably been  hurt by that. It was out of my control. Everything I needed to say  couldn't be done over the phone. I had decided she would just have to  wait.


Now it was me who was waiting, sitting in the booth at the back of the  restaurant, sipping on my ice water while I stared anxiously at the door  waiting for Allie to walk in. I was early, I knew, but Allie usually  was too. It was ten to seven, and I expected her at any minute.


I had all my questions and talking points lined up. There were things I  needed to know, regardless of whether I liked her answers or not. I had  to move on. I couldn't keep thinking about her and Andrew the way I had  been. It was toxic, and it was impacting my work.


I had lost an investor the previous morning, and I didn't intend on  letting that happen again. My personal life could not interfere with my  work life.


The door to the restaurant opened. I put my water down. A man walked in,  and my nerves settled for a minute or two. Eventually, they built back  up, and I found myself playing with the corner of the menu while I  waited.


The waitress popped by the table and glanced at my water glass. She gave  me an alluring smile-one that I might have accepted as an invitation  for some flirting had my mind not been so occupied-and then pointed at  the drink menu. "Can I offer you something besides water this evening,  sir?" she asked, popping one hip out gracefully and resting her red  painted fingers on the edge of the table.


"No, thank you. I'll wait until my friend arrives," I said perhaps a little shorter than I should have.


"Sure thing," she said before sweeping away and making her way to her other tables.


I looked back up at the door. My breath hitched in my throat.


She had arrived.


Allie was shrugging out of her red coat and looking around. She looked  first to the window; to our usual spot. Frowning, she draped her coat  over one arm and swept her gaze over the room. Her dark hair was tied up  in a chaotic tangle of curls on top of her head. Whenever she styled it  like that, I fantasized about running my fingers through it and pulling  it down. I loved the way her curls fell around her face and over her  shoulders, and every time she released it, the air became sweeter with  the smell of her coconut shampoo.


Her eyes locked with mine.


She started walking toward me. She let her gaze fall to the floor as she  walked. So she was just as nervous as I had thought she would be.


Each step she took was slow. It was as if she was trying to put off the  inevitable for as long as she could. Her leisurely approach gave me the  time to soak in more of her.


She was wearing a form-fitting black skirt that hugged her hips and  thighs. Beneath that were black nylons. They were somewhat sheer, and I  wondered if they were the kind that ended mid-thigh with a band of lace.  Her shoes were simple black heels, not too high, but just enough to  show off the curve of her calf. The calf that had rested on my shoulder  while I fucked her.


Her top was a form-fitting black turtleneck that made the dangling  earrings she wore sparkle against her dark hair and the even darker  fabric of the sweater. Tight clothes had always been the best kinds of  clothes for Allie.


She was beautiful-more beautiful than I ever remembered her being. Maybe  it was because I felt like I couldn't have her anymore. As she drew  closer, I thought of running my hand up her thigh, pushing her skirt up,  and seeing whether or not my suspicions about those nylons were  accurate.


God damn it man, focus.


She arrived at the table, tight-lipped and anxious. Her fingers were  knotted together in front of her, and she stood like she was waiting for  an invitation to sit. So I gestured at the seat across from me.


She lowered herself into it and still refused to meet my eyes.


"You look gorgeous," I told her, watching for the slightest curve of her lips that might betray a smile. No such thing happened.


"Thank you," she said quietly, her eyes fixed on her lap below the table.


"I'm glad you came," I said. "I appreciate it."


Finally, she looked up at me. Her eyes were glassy. I knew this was a  sign that tears were being held at bay. "Of course, I came," she said.  "Thanks for calling. I've been. Well, it doesn't matter how I've been."


We sat in awkward silence for a moment. The waitress returned, and Allie  ordered herself a glass of water. The waitress tried to encourage me to  order something from the drink menu, but I cut her off and ordered our  meals instead. Allie and I sat in tense silence until our food arrived.  Once we were done eating, I stopped putting off the conversation we had  both come here to have.         

     



 


"I have some questions, Allie. I don't want to accuse you of anything. I  don't want this to turn into a fight. I only want answers so I can try  to make sense of this."


"I understand," she said, nodding slowly. "Ask me anything you want."


It took me a moment to remember the first thing I wanted to ask her. Her  bright, sad eyes were too distracting. I didn't want her looking at me  that way. I didn't want her feeling as broken as I felt. But it was what  it was. There was no going back; no rewriting the last few days.


"You never would have told me," I started, unable to look at her as her  bottom lip trembled. "Would you? Had we not hooked up. You would have  been able to keep your mouth shut forever."


"I'd like to tell you I wouldn't, but yes. I would have kept it from you  for as long as I could. Until I died, I imagine." Each word seemed to  take a physical toll on her. It was like she was pulling teeth with each  syllable.


"Why?"


She looked down at her hands. She blinked away tears and looked up at  the ceiling. Once she had herself under control, she met my gaze and  took a deep breath. "I didn't know how you would react. I didn't want to  jeopardize our friendship over something that meant nothing. Over a  stupid decision I made when I was a sixteen-year-old girl."


"I can see why you wouldn't tell me at the time," Steven said. "Believe  me. I get it. Things would have been confusing. But a year or two later?  Or when we were in college? I thought we knew everything about each  other. I trusted you with everything. And now I find out that all along  you've been keeping this big thing buried. You fucked my brother Allie,"  I said under my breath, leaning closer to her. "You fucked him, and you  guys thought you were pregnant. How could you not tell me that?"