Instead focus on my little feisty girl, that I couldn’t love more if I tried. I love winding her up in every
way, just to pull out a reaction. She is one of the least feminist rights girls I know, but she does like to
maintain her right to do as she pleases, regardless of sex.
“Mm, hmmm.” I press my lips together, holding in the urge to smile when she looks completely enraged
and aims another slap my way. “Hey! I was agreeing with you.” I catch her hand mid-air, warmed by the
jokiness between us and bend in impulsively, so intent on silencing that stroppy little mouth with
wickedness. I pull her in against me as I tilt my head to get really close, still torn between aching to kiss
her, and trying to be a gentleman where she is always concerned.
Drink is killing me with the amorous urges, but I am still too sober to bypass the side of me who cares
too much, so I end up close, but not going through with it. I do however get a buzz from being
intimately close enough to go either way, all touchy and pressed together and the widening look in her
eyes as pupils dilate makes me stir back to the sexual tension from before. She makes me crazy, so
easily.
“Rabid kitten!” I know my tone is flirty; I can’t deny right now I am completely flirting with her, and as
alien as it is to do so with Sophie, it feels kind of good too. Natural, subtly sexual, and a lot of touchy
feely, is safer than full blown thoughts of sex and kissing. Maybe I should stop over analyzing this and
go with the flow tonight, see where flirting takes me, relax a little and get used to this weird new
dimension between us. Maybe if I get to the club and drink some more, then I will stop always pulling
my brain apart with doubts and see how we go. Not against kissing her again if that’s where this is
going to head, I just need less thinking, more doing.
I kiss her on the temple, after contemplating one on the mouth, letting my hand slide down her small
straight back until I land on the curve of her ass and stop. I hesitate about going lower, feeling her up
and seeing how far I can go with this, but something inside of me stops me. That eternal part of me that
can never step beyond that line when it comes to her. Even when we kissed, I was always holding back
from going one step further.
Sophie leans into my body unexpectedly, sagging against me and despite it igniting the horniness
again, it also ignites the part of me that wants to take care of her. The deep ingrained part who wants to
shield her from sordid mess and horny men, even if it’s me, and I have to curb the urge to sigh at how
easily she just cooled my libido. Like a bucket of cold water dousing out the flames of passion, even
though I can tell that was not her intention. Sophie is a major head fuck in every way.
She snuggles up against me, a good height for doing so in those crazily high shoes, and I really do find
myself torn between two really hard places, as I cuddle her in snugly. I look down at that angelic face,
innocent eyes, and flawless beauty, so much trust and belief that I would never hurt her, and it kills me
in one fell swoop. How can one girl make me crazy with longing at the same time as killing my fire for
her, with overwhelming guilt, and a need to not let this happen? My eyes roam to the mouth I want to
kiss more than anything in the world, but I just can’t. I’m in protector mode and she is too pure, too
sweet, to even contemplate defiling.
“Asshole.” She spits back sassily, reminding me of all the millions of memories that we have together,
how often we have been this way. Playful and relaxed, real best friends.
You don’t cross a line with your best friend. Especially one who needed you to not be like every other
guy in the world. Especially when you held her sobbing in your arms, when she let out all the sordid shit
that her father ever did to her. But then, your best friend shouldn’t be giving you the undying need to
slide up her dress and fuck her up against an elevator wall, and deny it all I want, I can’t keep my head
from straying there over and over tonight.
That dress has knocked me for six on her, the sultry make up and sleek hair. The way she keeps
pouting at me, all eyes and seductive mouth, and I am getting strong vibes that she wants me to kiss
her too. She is hardly acting like the demure sweet kid I am used to right now, every movement and
mannerism, every touch between us in the last few minutes. Sophie is almost giving me free reign to
take her, and I can’t ignore it. My Casanova radar is still fully functioning, from years of playing the field,
and I know strong come ons when I get them, probably why I’m malfunctioning on all levels. I already
know how she feels about me, so this would be like taking complete advantage of her.
“What happened to Massive Douchebag, I liked that one, it has a sexy ring to it.” I nudge her
suggestively with my hip, so she is knocked away slightly, biting on my lip to curb the urge to drag her
back and follow through with sliding my hands up those thighs under her short coat, and figure hugging
dress. Sophies eyes go straight to my mouth and it’s like a jolt to my crotch, burning my dick into
another impending erection I have no control over. I thank god for wearing my longer jacket and hiding
my misdemeanors from her. For the first time in life I thank my dad for giving me his poker face, and
skills at never really letting people know what’s going on in my head from sight alone. It’s the only thing
saving us from each other.
Fuck, I want her.
“You are all of the above and much, much, more.” She frowns at me, I can’t tell if it’s because she’s
being playful, or because I haven’t followed through on all her little sexy signals to kiss her. The air is
static with the tension between us, and whether she is aware she is doing it or not, Sophie is giving me
the come to bed eyes crazily bad, in this moment. My body stirs to fever pitch and I slap her ass to
propel her out of the elevator a little more aggressively that I meant too. It’s a knee jerk reaction to
create distance before I start humping her into a corner and throw all caution to the wind. I haven’t
been this hormonal since puberty, and it’s unnerving as hell.
She yelps as I let go of her hand and watch her totter on high shoes onto the polished floor, worried for
a second she might fall, as I tense in readiness to catch her. She doesn’t and straightens to a normal
graceful saunter ahead of me that brings my eyes back to her ass. I need to put distance between us,
before I rip open her dress and just let go of any doubts. At this rate, and this head mess she brings out
in me, I am going to end up exhausted before we get out.
I follow her out of the elevator and catch up with her from behind, sliding my hand back around hers as
we pass Frank, the desk security near the door. Even when I want distance, I can’t override the urge to
touch her and somehow end up attached to her once more. I nod his way with a smile, raring to get out
with my favorite girl, to let off some of this steam and maybe not be alone for much longer, while I’m
this weak. All this crazy sexual tension aside, I really need a night kicking back and hanging out with
my friends to mellow. It’s been a stressful few weeks, and I miss the times I used to take Sophie along,
just us and them to have a good time without all this confusion. She’s always been so easy to hang out
with and I never had a bad night when she was my date in the past. Well, not date, companion, side
kick, partner in crime.
Before Natasha, Sophie was almost my constant companion and I loved my life back then. No worries,
no stress or torn up head with two women vying for my heart. Life was so much easier.
“Have a good night, Mr. Carrero, Miss. Huntsberger.” Frank nods our way and holds out a candy for
Sophs. She effortlessly wraps people around her little finger, it’s one of her most mesmerizing gifts and
it seems my doorman isn’t any different. I watch her skip towards him proudly, heart swelling with the
knowledge that despite her childhood, she has an infectiousness about her that people swarm to. She’s
loveable, easy to like, and that smile could win anyone around, even my father who doesn’t just take to
anyone so easily. She makes a little squeal noise of excitement, happy childishness, to accept her gift
from him.
I watch her appreciatively, marvel at how warm she always makes me feel inside when she is being
this way, and it adds another notch to the conflicting shit in my head.
“Thank you, Mr. Frankie, always a pleasure. Tell Mrs. Frankie. I said hi.” She giggles cutely, all her
mannerisms are dainty and elegant, and I marvel at once upon a time, when she was all clumsy
tomboy and two left feet. She has changed a lot in six years, and I am only just starting to see how
much. She ended up as the swan, although she was never an ugly duckling, just an uncoordinated
cygnet.
“Strawberry whirl. Your favorite. Been keeping you one for a few days now.” He throws her a paternal
smile, adoration on show, and I tug at the back of her jacket to hurry her along. Eager to get to our
destination and down a few more drinks to let fate do as it pleases. I’m tired of always battling with my
own head and suddenly, I don’t want to do it anymore. I want to get fucked up drunk, and do whatever
feels right, even if that is cornering my best friend in a nightclub and making good on how horny she
makes me feel. My mind is made up and I won’t be deviating from the plan of going to the club and
drinking my doubts away.
“You too, Frank, we shouldn’t be too late. This one has a curfew.” I nod at the back of her head, pulling
her with me as I head to the door, so she follows closely. Curfew isn’t exactly true. However long it
takes to get drunk and see where this goes, is more likely. I will carry her back here in an hour if that’s
all it takes to want to be naked with her.
Glancing back to make sure she is coming, I almost stop breathing when I watch her slide the
confectionary on a stick, into her mouth. I swear my mind goes to the one place I never in a million
years imagined I would visualize Sophs, and again have to battle the shoot up in body heat and blood
temp, and tear my gaze from that teasing mouth before I self-combust or groan out loud. My pants are
getting a good stretch out tonight, from the amount of times I have been hard and had to talk myself
down again. I wonder how much damage my dick can incur from several hard ons in a row that never
get relief.
I clear my throat uncomfortably, chastising myself for imagining her with those lips around a part of my
anatomy that I am having a tough time controlling. Inward steady breaths and visualizing naked men to
cool myself down again. One quick way to combat an erection, is to imagine my best mate Nate, naked
and ready to go, that always does the trick. I have never doubted my sexuality at all, and any man
ready to impale something with a hard on, gets me soft in quick time.
We get out onto the street and the doorman, holding the door for us, motions to the yellow cab sitting
patiently on the curb I asked him to have waiting for us. I lead her out to the open the door for her,
unable to resist whipping that lollipop out of her mouth as she gets in and sticking it in my own with an
evil smile. Teasing Sophs is still the highlight of my life and I doubt it will ever grow old. I love her
reactions and the ability I have to do it any time I want. I suck it a little and it tastes of strawberries and
her, well the memory I have of kissing her and the stirrings in my groin only get stronger. I curse myself
and have to redraw on my naked Nate, to once again bring it back down.
The memory of how she tastes haunts me already, but this reminds me of how sweet she is. How much
I want to taste her over and over and it only strengthens this plan I have forming, of getting fully drunk
and seeing where this goes. Tired of all this shit.
“Hey! That’s mine.” Sophie frowns at me, not amused and I smile back. I close her door on her and
skirt the back of the cab, to get in the other side, smirking at her cute little frowning face as I slide in
beside her. The cab already smells of her perfume and it’s pretty heady in closed confines. Petulant
little miss. Sexy little minx. Sophie whips the candy out of my mouth, with a little screwed up nose look,
and sticks it back in her own. No cares about the fact we just shared saliva and it makes me wish we
could actually do that instead of sharing a lollipop. She looks kissable as hell right now and if I wasn’t
trying to be the good guy eternally, I would have my tongue in her mouth instead of her lollipop.
“I have herpes.” I nudge her, flirting again, because I can’t help myself and yank my door shut. I lean
forward and give the cab driver the nightclub address we are going too, overly aware of her sitting so
close to me and sink back to let this warm fuzzy feeling from the vodka flow over me again.
“Yum! Add it to the ever-growing list of weird stuff Arrick Carrero has given me over the years.” Sophie
eyes me up, mocking me sassily.
“You’re welcome.” I wink at her, eyes moving back to that mouth as she goes back to sucking on that
candy, and I swear I feel it in my pants. I know this is getting out of control and I need to calm this shit
down, because I’m acting like some prepubescent teen with the serious horn. If I don’t put an end to
this, I will end up dry humping her on the seat while groping the life out of her and smothering her half
to death with my tongue down her throat. I have honestly never felt this crazy wound up in a long time.
Even if my mind is set, I can still be classy about my route to getting shit faced and fucking her.
If I fuck her! Steady on, Arry. Where the hell are all your morals right now?
I go to staring out of the window and give myself a seriously needed pep talk, and lecture. How this
shouldn’t be happening, that my head needs to stay on track and cut this bullshit out where she is
concerned. As hard as it is, or my dick may be, I cannot allow myself to turn into this much of an
asshole, and I need to remind myself again.
Natasha!!! The girl I am so easy to dismiss nowadays, might actually be there tonight!
Something I haven’t taken a moment to even think about. We have the same circle of friends, and I
need to remember, that even though we broke up, I told her I needed time to sort my head out and
there is still a chance for us. I haven’t been acting that way tonight and I should be fucking ashamed of
myself instead of hatching plans to fuck another girl. I am literally dragging both along, while committing
to neither and this isn’t who I am at all. I reach for Sophie impulsively, not really gauging where I lay my
hand as I feel warm, soft body, under my palm, and cup what feels like her leg. I want to touch her; it
gives me a sense of calm and completion like nothing else does. More so since this craziness between
us started, and if I could focus on nothing for the rest of the night, it would help a lot.
I have a tidal wave of guilt eating at my insides now I have brought Tash to the forefront of my mind,
and surprisingly, or maybe not, the urge to fuck anyone, dies with her face appearing in my head. The
irony of Natasha killing my sexual urge is not lost on me.
I get lost in my own thoughts, about her, us, all of us, this crap, as I watch the streets and lights swim
by, trying so hard to bring my focus out of this mess, and back on not being a complete horny asshole
tonight. Screw my plan to see where this goes. I need to stay sober and make a decision about where
my life is heading and end this. I have no clue why I am having so much more of a problem with it
tonight... well, maybe I do. Ever since Sophie walked out wearing that dress, it’s all I can think about.
Sophie has grown into a woman that can turn heads easily. Every curve and line makes men want her,
and that face was made to mesmerize and disarm any red hot-blooded male. I’m no different, and I
should be protecting her from jack asses like me, rather than joining them in wanting to screw her.
The cab slams to a halt suddenly, shocking both of us out of our silence and I tense my hand on her leg
in a bid to brace her as I feel her slide forward in her seat, thanks to that satin dress on leather. Sophie
bodily crashes forward, stopped by my arm in front of her as I go rigid to act as a barrier for her
instinctively, and its only when she gasps weirdly, that I look down and realize my hand on her body, is
not on leg and dress. I have my hand between her thighs and that heat and smooth lace I can feel
pressed hard into my palm, is where my skin and fingers are molded perfectly to the apex between her
legs. I almost groan as our eyes meet rapidly, both mortified at the intimate, unexpected contact.
I yank my hand away fast, not sure how else I should react in this moment, and it no longer feels like it
did minutes ago, when I was telling myself I wanted to fuck her. This hits me in the gut like a freight
train that I just groped my little Sophie. The girl who endured so much sordid shit and abuse through
her entire life and it makes me feel sick to my stomach that I even did that to her. It’s wrong on so many
fucking levels and sobers me up in a nanosecond.
Nothing brings back a hit of reality than actually taking a step out of fantasy and making shit real.
Sophie wriggles in her seat to haul her dress back down where it hitched up and get back into position.
I keep my eyes anywhere but her, as heat flames through me and I chastise myself for literally doing
the absolute worst to her that I could do tonight. Groping her, even if I didn’t mean it, without her
permission, is no better than what that asshole made her endure for years, or any of the pricks I saved
her from in nightclubs for the last two.
“Sorry.” I have no clue what else to say to her. She trusts me to never cross this line and I literally had
my hand between her legs and cupped her in a way that only a lover should ever do. I glare out of the
window, beating myself up, pissed as hell that I crossed this line without even trying too. She isn’t that
girl to me, and this makes that painfully clear once again, maybe once and for all, that I cannot go
there.
Sophie wriggles about the seat a little more and I look her way, armed with a speech to settle the
shame, or weirdness she is probably feeling. Except I am rendered silent when I see that rosy blush on
her cheeks, the half-smile, and naughty look in her eyes; of the cat who got the cream, and it hits me
like a lead ton weight, that she actually liked it. She looks happy.
It has the same effect as her pushing her own hand in my pants, and I tense to curb the reaction it
gives me, all thoughts from seconds ago doing a complete U-turn on the power of that one expression
on her. She controls me like a puppet, and I am only starting to see how easily she can. I know I’m
throwing her a loaded look, self-control going to hell, and dick back to being hard, head completely on
fucking her in this moment once again and try to reel it back a little. She has no idea the power she
holds, and I wonder if alcohol is probably the worst idea when I am around her.
I went to shit after those two drinks, and my head has been places I never allow normally, all over the
shop. Sophie throws me a sweet, yet cheeky smile, that seems to say, ‘it was nothing’ and I am
completely torn suddenly, mood nose diving at a rate of noughts. I want to beat shit out of the guys who
have pulled this move on her, that makes her think it’s no big deal, with a rage that seriously threatens
to engulf me inside and out.
I hold it in, hating that this is nothing to her, and try to calm the inward war with rationality. Chastising
myself, that might not even be what she means, and wondering how I can get so crazy mad, with only
a look of indifference about this.
Is this jealousy? Is that what this is?
I take a moment to pull my head together, and it dawns on me that this might not be that at all. This
might be because she trusts me, and knows it was accidental, and I already know she doesn’t abhor
my touch. I sigh inwardly, trying to calm the fury and overwhelming sickness in my gut, cool my temper
and mind, sliding my hand to find hers and encase it in my fingers in a bid to calm myself down on
every level. No one stills me like she does, and as I entwine our fingers, I find that sense of quiet and
calm amidst the storm that Sophie always gives me, and push all the other shit out of my head as I see
the nightclub looming up ahead.
Deep breaths, clearing my mind and looking for calm. That inner rage is still dwindling inside my
stomach like a glowing fire, but her soft warm hand encased in mine brings me that sense of peace and
rationality, the need to turn protector and carer and I glance her way momentarily. The sweetness and
purity that is my girl only serves to bring me down further. Her innocent little look and smile has me
relaxing once more, and I remind myself that no assholes would ever do that to her and make her so
blasé about it.
What that asshole did to her, that made her more sensitive than the average girl, would never allow her
to be blasé about any sexual contact, and I am seriously overthinking this. I am Jealous, and it’s
making me irrational.
She trusts me, she knows me, and she just put that down to a little mishap that she maybe didn’t hate.
She already made it clear that she wants more between us, so her reaction isn’t exactly a shock. That’s
all that was, nothing more. Me being overly sensitive because I’m jealous when it comes to her and
other guys, and now I am back to square one, with how messy my feelings for her are.
62fb1bb41dcb31934bd49bda