Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
CODY
“Let you… help …how, exactly?”
Is it hot in here? Like, I know it’s only mid-January, but it definitely feels hot in here. My skin is on fire, and my heart is pounding, and I must be delirious because it sounded a lot like Ken just offered to sleep with me.
“I mean…” He shuffles closer on the couch, abandoning his beer next to mine and licking his very kissable-looking lips. “You… we can have sex. If you want to. You can get those first-time nerves out of your system. And I’d honestly be honored if you trusted me with that.”
“What, um” —I pause to clear my throat, which is suddenly super dry— “what happened to I’m your dad’s best friend and you deserve better and?—"
“I was there for the conversation,” he cuts me off drily. “And that was said in the heat of the moment. Before…” Before he knew I was a lame almost-thirty-year-old virgin. “Before we became friends. And you are my friend, Cody. Sex, whether we have it or not, won’t change that.”
“Even if I’m bad at it?” The deep-rooted fear comes pouring out of me before I can stop it.
There’s no reason to have asked that question because there’s no way I’ll go through with this harebrained scheme of his.
His hand, still searingly warm on my knee despite the layer of denim separating his palm from my flesh, squeezes reassuringly. “Sex is like pizza,” he declares, seemingly completely off-topic. When I frown, he grins and shrugs. “Even crappy fast-food pizza is awesome to me.”
“That analogy is nowhere near as comforting as you think it is,” I laugh.
There’s a triumphant look on Ken’s handsome face now, and he winks. “Got you to laugh, though.”
He has a point. I do feel less tense and embarrassed now.
“Seriously, though, Cody. You’re not going to be bad at sex. Not with the right partner. As long as you’re communicating and you’re both enjoying yourselves, it’s never going to be bad.”
I want to argue with him that there are way too many people on Reddit alone who would disagree with that argument. Not to mention the guys on Grindr who don’t want ‘minute men’ or guys with performance issues…
But he’s right that those people are probably not the kind of guys I’d want to sleep with anyway. I might have romanticized sex, but I want to do it with someone I have a connection with. And someone like that wouldn’t be an asshole to start with.
Ugh . Why does he always have to be right?
Clearing my throat again, I ask, “But, you’re not serious about…” I gesture between us, wondering when he got so close and, damn it, it should be a crime for someone as attractive as him to smell so good, too. “… us . Right?”
My heart is racing. I have no idea how I really want him to answer. On one hand, I’m horny and he’s my crush. He’s always been my crush. But on the other hand, he really has become a good friend, and I don’t want to fuck up our friendship, figuratively or literally.
Steely eyes meet mine and Ken smiles gently. “I am, sweetheart. If being friends with benefits gets this chip off your shoulder, I’d be?—”
“If you say ‘honored’ again…” I trail off, unable to finish the threat while my cheeks continue to burn.
Ken just shrugs. “Your trust and vulnerability mean a lot to me. I won’t take them —you— for granted. But,” he adds before I can tell him how ridiculous the idea is, “it’s your call, and I’m not going to be offended or upset if you’re not interested.”
“Not interested?” I repeat, my voice pitching high with disbelief. “Remember when I stood in your kitchen and practically threw myself at you?”
He frowns, appearing genuinely confused. “Wait. What? ”
“That first morning. I might as well have bent over your kitchen bench and begged for you to fuck me.” The brazen words make my stomach flip and then tighten.
Ken chuckles. “Uh…that’s not the vibe I got back then, honey. But if you want to go ahead and do that now…” He waggles his eyebrows exaggeratedly.
He’s so surprisingly playful, I’m hit with a wave of pure want for him. It’s not something I’ve ever felt for anyone before. That spark. That’s what I’ve been waiting for.
Feeling bold, I lean forward and close the space between us, pressing my lips to his. He stiffens in what I assume is surprise at first, and then gets with the program, winding his long fingers into the hair at the back of my head as he takes control of the kiss.
I part my lips for him, inviting his tongue into my mouth, and I can’t suppress the whimper that bubbles up when he pulls me onto his lap. I straddle his thighs, panting and moaning into his mouth as our cocks —separated by layers of denim and cotton— brush against each other.
Ken’s kiss is slow and seductive. He sucks teasingly at my tongue, then tugs on my lower lip with his teeth. His cologne is spicy, but muted after an entire day’s wear, and I can taste the tiniest hint of beer inside his mouth. Combined with his fingers weaving into my hair and holding my head in place, and his other hand squeezing my thigh as his cock grows into a hard bulge against mine, it’s sensory overload.
“I’m…I’m gonna come,” I murmur during a moment I think I’m supposed to be using to breathe . I rock my hips, seeking that very ending. It’s far too soon, but I haven’t done anything like this with anyone in…well, ever …so the novelty and excitement of it is making my body crave the release like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. “K-Ken…”
“I’ve got you, baby.” His voice is molten and his fingers flex on my hip. “Come for me. I want to watch your face as you unravel, untouched, in my lap.”
“Fuck.” I whine the word, frotting against him desperately. I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’ve never…not with another person…”
“It feels good, though, doesn’t it?” Ken’s hips move beneath me, meeting my frantic thrusts with his own. “Feel how hard I am right against you?”
I close my eyes and nod. “It…it’s amazing.”
“ You’re amazing, sweetheart.”
Oh, God, I think I must have a hidden praise kink because those sweet words, spoken in his low, authoritative, husky voice, have me right on the edge now. My balls are drawn up so tight, it’s like my body is attempting to absorb them completely.
“K-Ken…”
“You’re so responsive.” He sounds delighted and wicked all at once, but I can’t open my eyes to look at him. I want to. I do. But I physically can’t. “Fuck, Cody” —his hand sneaks up from my hip and his fingers make their way under my shirt, brushing the skin of my back almost reverently— “you’re perfect.”
I come so hard, I almost black out. It’s the most intense orgasm I can recall having, and I ride Ken’s lap as I chase down every last drop of pleasure, not caring that I’ve just jizzed in my pants like a teenager on his first date.
Blood rushes loudly in my ears and I almost miss the gentle coos and murmured praises spilling from Ken’s lips. Panted ‘ yes’ es and ‘ good boy’ s and ‘ just like that, baby’ s that inspire sharp jolts of additional pleasure to thrum through my veins and to my cock.
I don’t miss his other hand releasing the back of my head to reach between us, heedless of the mess I’ve made inside my jeans. Neither do I miss the distinctive sound of his zipper lowering, and I need to lean back and watch.
If this is the only time we attempt this friends-with-benefits thing, I don’t want to have any regrets. Outside of porn, I’ve never seen another man’s cock like this. Not in a sexual situation. Not in a situation where it’s okay to look as he strokes himself from base to tip.
My throat works convulsively as I watch precum bead on the purpled head. He’s uncut, like me, and I’m mesmerized by the movement of his fist. Of the way the skin on his shaft bunches and stretches and moves with his sure grip. I wish I could see more . I wish I could touch. Taste. Smell.
Maybe I can.
Emboldened by the endorphins from my stellar orgasm, I ask, “Can I suck it?”