8. Parker
8
PARKER
W hat is happening? My eyes feel like they’re so wide I’m not sure I’m even able to blink anymore. Did he just say any of that, or have I had some kind of mental breakdown and that was all just a figment of my imagination?
Honestly, until he mentioned last night, I thought it was just another one of my dirty dreams. I hadn’t planned to masturbate when I’d climbed into bed. I hadn’t even planned to bring any of my toys with me when I packed to come here. But honestly, I thought keeping myself topped up on the orgasm front might be the only way to keep my out-of-control libido on a leash around him.
After he showed me to my room last night, then left, I’d waited ten minutes, silently listening for him to make a sound, but when he didn’t, I thought he’d gone to sleep. I thought it was safe to pull out my travel toy and make myself come, because there’s no way I could have just gone to sleep, all amped up and horny.
I’ve never sleepwalked before, but given how much I want Danny, I wouldn’t put it past my sex-consumed brain to wake me up and walk me into his room even while I was asleep. If he’d woken up with me dry humping him in my sleep, that really would have been the end of our friendship.
I thought giving myself a very quiet orgasm was the safest bet and yeah…maybe I wanted to come in his house, on his sheets, like a small part of me was laying claim to his space. But I never expected him to burst into my room.
When I saw him in the doorway, his perfect body naked except for a pair of boxers, I froze. I know most people, if they were caught with a dildo in their hooha, would pull it out, or at least close their legs. But apparently, I’m not most people, because I just sort of went into pause mode, not stopping, but not starting again either.
Never in my wildest dreams, or my dirtiest fantasies, did I ever imagine that after finding me with my legs wide open and a plastic dick shoved inside of me, he’d tell me not to stop, then climb onto the bed with me, grab hold of my hand that was still holding the base of the toy, and start helping me fuck myself with it.
But honestly, where in the unrequited love handbook does it give you rules on how to deal with that kind of scenario? I liked him watching. I liked him helping. I loved sucking his fingers. And watching him drag a dildo out of my pussy then lick it was quite possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life.
If any other guy pushed a sex toy into my mouth, I’m not sure what I’d do, but I know I wouldn’t placidly show him how well I can swallow a dick, then let him walk away without a single word. And yet that’s what I did with Danny.
He pulled my wet toy from inside one of my holes, licked it, then pushed it into another of my holes, kissed me on the cheek and then left.
I don’t think there’s a guideline on how to deal with that in any handbook.
Part of me assumed it was a nighttime rules situation. Like things that happen after dark never get spoken about, or that kind of bullshit. But he just brought it up. He said he liked it. He said he wants to do it again.
Do I want to do it again?
Abso-fucking-lutely. Only next time I’d like to replace the silicone phallus with a very human one. But that cannot happen. Last night was an aberration, something to be filed in the weird-stuff-that-will-never-happen-again section of my life.
I’m not saying I think I’ll ever forget it. I know I won’t. In fact, I’m confident that replaying last night will become a regular occurrence when I make myself come for the rest of my life. But allowing myself to become any more attached to Danny would be a huge mistake.
Sharing a town and seeing him will be hard enough, but if I have to pretend to be friends with him after knowing how it feels to be his, even if it only lasted a night would be more than I could take. I’d never get over it.
I don’t know why Danny would want to play with me like this. He’s the one who pushed for me to come to Montana. He arranged a job for me. He’s insisting that I move in with him. He’s the one that barged into my room, then didn’t leave when he saw that I was…busy.
He’s too beautiful and perfect and…godlike to find it difficult to find women, so what could possibly be his motivation to fuck with me?
A cloud of confusion follows me through airport check-in, security, and all the way to the gate as we take a seat and wait for our flight to be called.
“You’re back?” he says, an amused smile twisting at the corners of his full, kissable lips.
“Why are you toying with me?” I blurt before I can think better of it.
“You think I’m toying with you?” he asks, answering my question with a question.
“Obviously you are, I just don’t understand why.” I fight not to allow the crack in my voice to sound too obvious, but he hears it, and some of the sparkle fades in his eyes.
“I’d never toy with you, Parks,” he says earnestly.
“Then what the hell happened last night?” This is the absolute worst time and place to have this conversation, but for some reason I’ve committed to it now, and I can’t stop.
“You think I was toying with you last night?” The pitch of his voice rises, like he honestly can’t believe I just asked him that. But really, what else am I supposed to think?
“Maybe not deliberately, but you’re you, and I’m me. What else could it be?”
“I’m me and you’re you. What does that even mean?” he asks, a hint of anger bleeding into his voice.
“Do you need me to spell it out?” I hiss, my own ire rising to match his.
“Yes, apparently I do, because I have no fucking clue what you mean.”
Huffing, I turn away, absently scanning the faces of the people around us, before I turn back to look at him. “Look at you, Danny. You look like you fell out of a Sports Illustrated magazine. Now look at me.” Lifting my hand, I waft it up and down my body.
“So, you don’t like jocks?” he says, his square jaw clenched tight.
“Are you serious right now?” I shriek, snapping my mouth shut and lowering my voice.
“Parks, I have no fucking clue what point you’re trying to make here.”
“Fine. You look like a male model and I’m your duff,” I spit.
“My duff? Like the movie?” His brows draw together, and he looks so fucking confused, I have to curl my fingers into my palms to stop myself from reaching out and touching him.
“Exactly. I’m your designated, ugly, fat friend,” I say, feeling embarrassed heat fill my cheeks as I drop my gaze to my lap.
“Are you drunk right now?”
Snapping my head up, my mouth falls open as I gawp at him. “What?”
“Are you on drugs?”
“Of course not.”
“Then apparently you’ve just lost your fucking mind.” His words are filled with so much anger I barely recognize him.
Opening my mouth, I start to argue, but the moment I part my lips, he shoves two fingers into my mouth. “Shut up,” he growls animalistically.
“Wahnny.” I try to speak around his fingers.
“Shut up, Parker, or I swear to God, I will drag you over my knee and spank you right here in the airport.”
I shut up.
“I have no fucking clue what kind of crazy-ass Kool-Aid you’ve been drinking, but you are not anyone’s fucking duff. To start with, have you seen yourself? You’re fucking gorgeous. That hair, those tits, that ass. Jesus, I’ve been a fucking walking hard-on since I saw your picture on social media a year ago. Second, you’re not fat, you’re curvy and lush and fucking perfect. And third, you’re not my friend, you’re my fucking woman.”
“ Wha —” Before I can even attempt to speak, he rips his fingers from my mouth and kisses me.
The kiss isn’t soft or teasing or the way you kiss someone for the first time. It’s hard and rough and possessive in a way I’ve only ever seen in movies. His fingers tangle in my hair, pinning me in place so he can take what he wants from me. His other palm cups my cheek, soft in comparison, but still dominant and intense.
I kiss him back, because not kissing him isn’t an option. But he doesn’t try to get in rhythm with me, he somehow silently tells me that he’s kissing me how he wants to, and I better get on board or just let him do his thing.
We’re in the middle of an airport, this isn’t the place to do this, but I can’t and won’t stop him. I don’t know what this means, but it means something, and that’s enough for now.
I whine when he finally drags his lips from mine. But he doesn’t let me go, keeping his hands in my hair.
“I didn’t want to do it like this, but I don’t care anymore. You’re mine, Parker Cox. No ifs, buts, or maybes.”
My lips part to speak, but no sound comes out. I’m his? No, that’s not right, is it? Am I his? I don’t feel like I am, but I know that I want to be. Does that count?
“This is your one and only chance to tell me no, Parks. If you tell me you don’t want me, then I’ll find a way to just be your friend. But if you don’t, then from this moment on, you’re mine. We won’t just be friends anymore, we’ll be fucking everything.”
“Everything,” I whisper, needing to hear the sound on my tongue.
“Everything,” he says with zero waver.
“Can we have a trial run? What if you change your mind?”
“I won’t.”
“But…”
“Don’t you want me?” he asks, sounding so fucking insecure I don’t recognize the voice I’ve craved hearing every day for months.
“I…” My words get lodged in my throat, and the longer I stay silent, the more distant his eyes become.
“I understand,” he says slowly.
“No, you don’t,” I blurt, grabbing his arm as he starts to pull away.
“We’re friends, just friends,” he says, and his voice is cold.
“Danny.” His name is a plea on my lips, but it’s like he doesn’t hear it.
When the sound of our flight being called over the speakers fills the horrifying silence between us, I’m not sure what I just did, but I have a feeling it ruined everything.