14. More Than Friends
Chapter 14
More Than Friends
JESSICA
I ’m losing my mind! I’m losing my mind! I’m losing my goddamn mothering fucking mind!!!
I came twice… no, three times from a massage! Me! Jessica fucking Hurts! Who’s known for having control over herself came from a massage... Oh my God! And from my friend, no less! I’m ashamed!
Crossing my hands over my legs, I lay my head on my knees, uncaring that my braids are sliding in the water. I am way too fucking out of it right now. Honestly, while I’m upset with myself for cumming on the damn massage table and leaving a huge ass puddle which made me make his ass turn around, what was the point in doing that when Frank seemed so cool, calm, and collected?
Is that normal? Maybe he’s gay? No… he’s definitely not. Frank doesn’t even seem to like men, even as friends. So… the likely thing is he’s just not attracted to me. Wow… I run my hands over the water, creating ripples, watching the rose petals float across the water, feeling like utter shit at the sudden realization.
If it was Matt or my ex from high school in this situation, they would have already jumped on me and humped me like the stupid dogs they are. But Frank’s control is almost scary. I wonder if he’s just not into my body or my personality. I am a bit more muscular than most girls… and I am not the upbeat and fun cheerleader type. Shit… I smack the water, upset.
“Is everything okay in there?” Frank’s deep voice reverberates around the bathroom, making me shudder.
“I-I’m good,” I call out, placing my legs down and sighing. Everything is just fucking peachy.
“Okay, call me if you need me. I’ll wash your back if you need me to,” he shouts and I have never wanted to uppercut a nigga so bad in my life
“I’ll wash your back if you need me to!” I curl my lip, whispering, mimicking him like the SpongeBob meme. Ugh!
What the hell?! Am I that damn undesirable that a man can massage my ass and kiss me and shit, but he’s really treating me like nothing but a friend. I don’t think I’ve ever been so disappointed or offended in my life.
Shouldn’t he be trying to bust it open or something? I mean, aren’t most guys like that? At least, most of the guys I know are. Hell, I’ve been around more than I’d like to admit so I know, but Frank has to be the chillest dude I’ve ever come across. He’s got to have the lowest libido I’ve ever seen. Wait?
Why do I even care if Frank has a low libido? He and I are only friends, and outside of a little kissing, and well, sometimes he calls me wife and baby, but friends call each other that. Hell, Faythe calls me and Bebe her wifey all the time.
So does him acting like this towards me mean he treats all the girls he knows like this? Maybe I’m nothing special? I shake the thought from my head because I have never seen Frank treat anyone like this. He must like me in some deeper way, but he’s not fully letting on. I mean, he has to… right?
But if Frank likes me, he’d have shown me that he wanted more. He’s never even given me an indication of wanting something more than kisses and friendship. It sounds stupid, but niggas talk out they ass all the mother fucking time without meaning shit, so I don’t think I’m being weird questioning all of this shit he’s going out of his way to do for me.
Any girl would feel the same way I do about a sweetheart of a guy who treats them better than any man in their entire life and makes them feel like a princess. They would fall head over heels for the guy probably harder than I have. Even though I have only known Frank for what, like six damn days?!
I groan, realizing that it hasn’t even been a full week and I’m over here acting like it’s been years and this man ought to be dropping on his knees proposing! I need to get a grip.
This might just be residual sexual frustration from psyching myself up when I was going to give Matt some coochie. Yeah, that’s got to be it!
I stand, stepping out of the tub that’s directly in the shower, letting my mind wander as I turn on the water, letting it beat over my completely relaxed muscles. My brain hurts, and I hate to say it but so does my heart. I clutch my chest as I let the water run over me, but I take a second and marvel at how soft my skin is. Damn, what kind of oil did he use?
And what’s more, the soaps smell divine, and they’re not drying at all. My skin has never felt so rejuvenated and the scent makes calms and relaxes me.
Maybe it’s the shower, but I don’t want to think anymore. I just want to sleep. Today has already been a long day.
I step out on the stone-like mat that soaks the water under my feet like it’s not even there and dry myself on a towel that has to be better than even the best luxury towel I’ve used when going to a hotel for an away game. Damn… I’on give a fuck what nobody say, you can always tell people who got money money and people who just grand stepping and high capping based on how they towels feel! And this confirms it. Frank ass has money money!
I wrap my braids in a towel to dry them and go to grab for my clothes, but stop when I realize I never brought any in. Shit.
“Uhm… Frank…” I call out to see if he’s still in the room, but he’s not based on the fact that I haven’t heard him move around for a while. Damn, do I have to walk out of here with the sweaty robe I walked in here?
But then I think about the closet he had taken the robe from in the first place, and it seemed to have a bunch of clothes in there. I take the towel and wrap it around my body and peek out into the gym, shocked first and foremost because not only did he really clean everything up to a fucking T, but it smells so good in here too.
I take a deep breath, closing my eyes, loving the lemon and leather combo of the room.
“Damnit, focus! We’re on operation clothes!” I mutter to myself and check my surroundings before tiptoeing like Tom ass when he was trying to get Jerry all the way over to the closet, which feels far as fuck. When I get to it, I wrench it open and my eyes go wide when I see a shit ton of clothes, but not just any clothes. Clothes that suit me. I glance around, raking in everything an athlete would dream of wanting, from the shoes to the athleisure wear, hoodies, copper infused compression sleeves, thermals and more. Hell, even the shoes are my size, nine and a half wide. What the hell?
I run my hands over the clothes that are oddly familiar and then I grasp a pair of leggings that I remember seeing in the fancy store but practically had to beg Frank not to buy since they had me fucked up charging three hundred and fifty dollars for a regular shmegular pair of black tights that a bitch can get for seven dollars at Rainbows. Wait… I go through all of the clothes and my mind reels when I notice every piece of clothing I stopped and stared at with curiosity when we were at the mall.
“Don’t tell me he bought all this just because I simply looked at them? What the hell is wrong with him?!” I smirk, biting my lip, giddily snatching up the tights and a crop top, smiling harder when I see the one-hundred-and-twenty-five-dollar price tag and along with the limited edition UGGs house shoes I wanted.
But upon sliding it onto my body, I nearly have to keep myself from moaning because the quality is unreal. Damn, I see the difference. Shit, the underwear is so soft and feels so amazing that I feel like a brand new woman.
Sighing, I hug myself and make my way out of the weight room and into the living room space where I find Frank moving about the kitchen, looking like a sexy-ass Gojo snack.
“Hey, how was the bath?” he smiles so blindingly bright at me I have to look away, where I spot something that has me frowning with curiosity.
“It was… good, thank you. But uhm, what’s this?” I rock on the back of my shoes before going over to the counter and picking up a big ass blunt. This one is just like the one I saw him smoking the day I met him.
“O-oh, that! That’s… that’s nothing,” he stammers and tries to snatch it from me, but I dodge him.
“This doesn’t look like nothing,” I tease and hold it up, waving it in his face. “It looks like a fat ass blunt to me,” I smirk, raising a brow.
“I… I meant to throw it away! I gave up smoking,” he panics, making me frown.
“Oh? Hmm… so you wouldn’t mind if I tried it?” I ask him and he reels back at my words.
“B-but don’t you hate smokers and weed?” He looks between me and the blunt and I cock my head to the side before shaking it.
“Not particularly. I just never hung around people who smoked because the NCAA was testing for it and I never wanted to be associated with it. Now that they don’t and the school doesn’t either, I’m curious as to what it’s like.” I hold it up to my nose, wrinkling it.
“Curious?”
“Yeah, my friend Faythe tried it once and she said she had hallucinations about being eaten alive by bullet ants,” I chuckle. “She also said it makes her super hungry… I want to try it.” She said it makes her super horny too… I wonder if me and Frank were to try it… I look at it with sparkling eyes, smirking. Alright, weedilicia, it’s time to work your magic, girl!
He snorts, taking the lighter from the counter and coming over, plucking the joint from my hands before he picks me up, carrying me like a baby on his hip… never in all my days! He then effortlessly swings me to the front of him and plops back on the couch, leaning back. But damn… how can someone who doesn’t look like he has much muscle be this damn hard?
“So being hungry and getting eaten alive by ants makes you want to smoke weed?” he laughs cutely, showing dimples. “Honestly, I’d much prefer you be thirsty and wanting to be eaten period, but beggars can’t be choosers.” He flicks and lighter and I’m mesmerized by how the light dances across his eyes. He’s so fucking sexy. Honestly, I don’t think even that’s doing him justice.
Placing the joint between his pretty pink lips, I watch him fascinated as he takes a few puffs. I expect him to cough like most people do when they smoke, but honestly, I have to suppress shivers from watching his eyes roll to the back of his head at the first puff, groaning as if he missed it. Damn, he’s so fucking fine!
“Bring your pretty ass here.” He smacks my ass and grabs my face, opening my lips and gently blowing the smoke into my mouth. “Suck it up, baby,” he smirks and my heart skips and goosebumps pepper my skin as I nod and do what he tells me to do, breaking out in a fit of coughs. Shit! My lungs! “Good girl,” he chuckles, taking another puff, but this time he grabs the back of my head and his lips connect with mine.
I lay flat against his chest. He doesn’t have to tell me what to do because I’ve caught on and I slurp it all up, humming. Figuratively and literally, I want all the smoke and tonight I’m determined to get to the bottom of what this feeling toward Frank is.
I lay on his chest in a daze, mind reeling and wandering, unable to focus. Shit… I was barely able to take a few puffs before my body started growing hot. Frank runs his hands over my braids, massaging my scalp while we watch Demon Slayer, my current favorite anime because of all the hot guys. I turn my head just as Michael Jackson… I mean Muzan fine ass comes on screen cross-dressing as a Geisha, doing that badass walk that broke the internet.
And then I peek up at Frank, who’s puffing on this third fucking blunt, and on God, my head hurts from the loud ass smell. I feel like I’ve smoked enough weed for a lifetime and I’m at my limit.
Groaning, I sit up woozy, and my mind flutters to my thoughts from the tub. I want to ask him about the clothes and all the custom embroidered stuff, but I think even if I asked him, I wouldn’t have the mental capacity to listen to him right now. I know it sounds stupid, but I don’t want to be one of those girls that assumes a guy is interested in her just because he’s being nice. But even my dense ass knows this is too nice.
Then again, most rich people have no real sense of what’s common and not. Maybe I just think so since I’ve spent way too much time on over-the-top rich people TikTok videos about girls who fill their house according to the friend or family member they have staying over.
“You seem out of it baby. Are you hungry yet?” he smirks and I groan, grabbing my head, shaking it, but it feels like it’s rattling and I’m moving in slow motion.
“I’m tired,” I mutter and he laughs, setting his blunt down, taking my lips in a kiss, lighting my Black ass on fire.
“Damn. I was hoping for the former.” He stands and I lay my head on his shoulder and wrap my arms around his neck, not feeling well, though I still smile, seeming so small in his arms. Most guys can’t even pick me up because of how heavy I am, let alone being intimidated by my height, but Frank is able to not only do it, but does it easily.
Then again, if I recall correctly, he also ran with my big ass in six-inch heels not even tripping once on some fucking gravel. In my dazed head, I just run my mouth, wanting to be difficult because I know it’ll make him mad. I don’t even know why I want to piss him off, but I do. He’s a cutie when he throws those pretty blues my way. It just does it for me.
“Frank, I can walk m?—”
“Jessica, will you ever learn to close that pretty mouth of yours sometimes?” He raises a brow at me and I smile, pussy clenching.
“No.”
“You keep talking like that and I’ll stuff it with something so big you won’t be able to run your lips.”
“Sounds tempting,” I tease, biting my lip.
“For fuck’s sake I’m trying to be good,” he groans as he climbs up the stairs two steps at a time, not missing one beat, and carries me into gorgeous room overlooking the mountains before setting me on a massive king-size bed. He nearly climbs on top of me, as I lay there flat on my back, eyes blurred.
“I never asked for that.”
“Asked for what, Jessica?”
“I never asked for you to be good,” I huff, feeling way too fucking out of it. I don’t even know what I’m saying.
“Then what are you asking for?” he voices, still over me, but I close my eyes and groan, grabbing my head.
“That’s a good ass question,” I mutter, unable to think.
“Well if you want my advice, I’ll tell you to take this friendship I’m offering you. As long as you keep me at arm’s length I can somewhat stay in my place… but the moment you let me in, I’m talking really fucking let me in, it’s game over, Jessica. I’m a fool for you and I’ve never had a girlfriend… meaning you would be my first and only one.
There would be no one else. Just that alone would have me smother you with dick and affection. I’d ruin you and your fucking life, so stop playing,” he grunts as he leans in, running his tongue over my lips sweetly, though his sinister words are anything but. I don’t know if it’s the weed or the fucked up mentality girls have, but… yassss king! Ruin the fuck out of me!
“Ruin me?” I finally look up at him shyly like only of those girls in the romance novels. “Now that’s what the fuck I’m talking about,” I smile and he runs his hands over my lips while his eye twitches as if he’s in pain.
“Jessica, it’s clear as fucking day you don’t have a spidey sense,” he chuckles.
“But I do though!” I yawn. “I’m just willing to throw all caution aside for you.” I blink, feeling him go completely still.
“Jessica, you’re treading dangerous waters,” he growls eerily and I glance up to see him looking me over slowly with dilated pupils before he closes his eyes.
“Dangerous? You said that the first time we met. But the thing is, I don’t find you dangerous at all, Frank,” I tease and it’s like the air has been sucked out of the room. “I trust myself with you completely. My ex Ma?—”
“You’re bold as fuck,” his voice booms and rumbles louder than usual, shaking me. “You’re really fucking bold, Jessica, but I guess that’s what makes you interesting,” he voices, words dripping with venom. “No other woman would dare utter another man’s name while beneath me.”
“Not you trying to call me out while mentioning your exes,” I frown.
“Fair, but more than that… are you saying you’re okay with me doing what I want with you?”
“I a—” I look up at him and see he’s staring at me, and a bitch has to rub her eyes because he looks… devilish. Instead of the soft bright blue eyes, they look blue with golden specks and the once round pupil seems elongated sideways like a goat’s eyes. His white hair seems longer, his eyebrows thicker, and his lips fuller. Damn… what the fuck kind of weed was that?
“Is everything okay, Jessica?” He voices, and I have to tilt my head because he doesn’t sound like he’s using real words. It sounds melodic, but deep and uncanny. My throat closes and my heart pounds in my chest. Looking into his weird ass red eyes has me feeling some type of way… I stare at him drawn like a moth to a flame and my breathing slows almost scarily. “Jessica?” he growls in that weird sexy way, and I shiver. “…ica. FOR FUCK’S SAKE, JESSICA! CAN YOU HEAR ME?! YOU WHAT?! IS THAT YES? IS THAT CONSENT?” I jump when he shakes me, mind in a fog.
“H-huh?” I blink, dizzy. Fuck I’m never smoking again .
“Shit, you scared me. But seriously…” I feel him drop down next to me. “Were you saying I can do what I want?” I don’t know what the fuck he’s saying. His voice sounds jumbled and it makes my head hurt.
“I need to sleep…” I groan.
“Aswrgdnser mmfuge firsjstyst …” I wince at his words, body buzzing and hot like lava, but strangely I can sense his eyes on me even with mine closed.
“Yeah,” I murmur, consciousness fading.
“Haha you fucked up now.” He kisses my lips and I feel hands clasp around my neck. “Sleep tight, and whatever you do… don’t wake up.”