Page 113 of The Friend Situation

My body tenses and the orgasm rips through me. I grunt as I pump inside of her hot, greedy mouth. Carlee massages my balls, continuing to stroke me as the world around me collapses. I can’t think straight and inhale ragged breaths as she licks me clean.

“Mmm. You taste so good, baby.”

“Fuck,” I say, hyperaware that she called me baby, barely able to catch my breath.

Carlee lays flat on the bed beside me, facing me. We’re both in a daze.

I lean forward, kissing her passionately, wanting her to taste how sweet she is on my tongue. Our pleasure mixes together, and it’s confirmed that Carlee Jolly will be my goddamn demise.

“Weston, I’m …” she whispers.

There’s something she wants to say, and I wait for her to continue, but before she can, the doorbell rings.

We stare at each other.

“What time is it?” she asks, the sound pulling us from our haze.

“Get dressed,” I tell her, quickly capturing her lips. “Time is of the essence.”

“Why?”

“Because if it’s Easton, he’s already let himself in, and he’s making his way up the stairs.”

“Shit!” she whisper-hisses.

18

CARLEE

“What the hell?” I grab my clothes and move to the bathroom, my mind racing.

“I’ll be back,” he says, lingering at the doorway, the playful glint in his eyes betraying his nonchalance.

“What should I do?” I whisper, glancing toward the anaconda in his joggers. “Weston.”

A smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Whatever you fucking want.”

“You’re rock hard,” I whisper, the words slipping out.

His eyes dart from my eyes to my mouth, and heat swirls between us. “Because of you.”

“Should I hide?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest. The adrenaline surging through me makes me feel alive.

“That’s your decision,” he replies.

Just then, the doorbell rings again.

“Good. Confirmation that it’s not Easton. Better check it out,” he says.

I clean up and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, which seems both foreign and familiar. My just-fucked hair frames a face with swollen lips. My body sings, and I feel like I’m floatingin space; it’s euphoric like I’ve transcended to a different dimension. I let out a breath, the silence amplifying the rapid heartbeat in my ears, and that’s when I notice the hickey on my neck.

Flipping my hair over to one side, I lean closer to the full-length mirror.

“What the fuck?” I whisper, my pulse quickening as I assess the damage.

I don’t know if I packed the right makeup to cover this.

“Shit,” I whisper to myself, remembering how it felt to be with him. I can’t show up to work like this tomorrow.

---