Page 8 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
“Holy fuck,” he breathes.
He starts thrusting his hips while I roll my mine, and we’re in sync like I’ve never experienced before. Normally a guys like thrusting into you chasing his own pleasure, but Liam is in tune, following my lead. He’s not chasing anything but me right now.
“Kiss me,” he says, so I do.
I grab the back of his neck and kiss him while he pumps into me harder and harder.
When he’s about to come, he says, “Do you want me to––”
I nod. “Yes.”
God, that’s so fucking hot.
He comes and I watch his face change from determined to euphoric. When he pulls out, he leans back, giving me a good image of his body, and I don’t know how this is going to be the only time I do this… because that was so good.
“That was so good,” he says along with my thoughts.
I smile up at him, and he offers his hand. I take it, following him through his room and then he starts the shower for me.
He says, “I’ll be right back.”
I get in and shower quickly. He comes back with a towel and one of his shirts. I step out as he steps in. I get dressed and then go to his room where my clothes are laying on the ground. It was nice of him to give me one of his shirts.
I grab my phone and still no text from Maddie. She must be fulfilling her mission of hooking up with someone and is too busy to look at her phone. Typical Maddie.
“Hey,” Liam says as he walks into the room.
I put my phone down. “Hi.”
“Do you want to go home?” he asks.
I smirk. “Trying to get rid of me already?”
He shakes his head, walking over to me. He places both hands around me and kisses me. “I don’t want you to leave yet, so no. I’m offering in case you’re dying to get away from me.”
I touch his cheek and smile. “Not a chance.”
He kisses my nose. “Perfect.”
I wake up to unfamiliar sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows, momentarily disoriented before everything comes flooding back. Liam’s apartment. Last night.
We were bonding over stupid memes and watching YouTube videos in his bed, and then…
Shit. I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep.
We said no sleepovers.
I turn my head carefully, expecting to find him beside me, but his side of the bed is empty. I can hear the shower running in what I assume is the bathroom, which gives me the perfect opportunity to make my escape before this gets awkward.
I slip out of bed as quietly as possible, gathering my clothes from where they’re scattered around the room. His soft, worn t-shirt he gave me to sleep in smells like him, and I have to resist the urge to bury my face in it. Instead, I pull my clothes from last night back on and run my fingers through my hair, trying to make myself presentable.
I’m almost to the front door when his voice stops me.
“Sneaking out?”
I turn to find him leaning against the doorway to his bedroom, hair still damp from the shower, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung sweatpants. He looks stupidly good this early in the morning.
“I wouldn’t call it sneaking,” I say, trying for casual and probably failing miserably.
