20. Chapter Twenty #2
Her words make me feel a warmth I didn’t imagine I’d ever feel again. Tears threaten to pool in my eyes, but I try my hardest to resist them.
“Okay,” I say carefully. “I’ll, uh… pass the invitation on.”
And with that, my ex-wife leaves me in her driveway to process the reality of what just happened, and what it means.
When I get back home, Dre is camped out on the couch, sans Rylee. I take a minute to appreciate the sight; his long arms stretched behind the cushions, drawing attention to his biceps. Judging by the dampness of his hair and lack of shirt, he’s likely just showered.
“Hey,” I say, nearly breathless. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over these moments—the ones where it hits me just how attractive to me he is.
Sometimes I think this—us—is no big deal because it isn’t.
He’s still Dre, my best friend I’ve known since college, and I’m still me.
But he’s also Dre, the guy I look forward to kissing and cuddling with at the end of the day.
He’s also my very fit, very sweet, very attractive boyfriend.
And I honestly can’t say I ever thought I’d say that about anyone, let alone my best friend.
I hang up my keys as he turns towards me.
“Hey.”
I blink, my heart racing as I think about Amelia’s words.
It’s not like Dre and I haven’t done things together, in public.
We go out in public with the kids all the time.
But I also know this—asking him to come with me to my son’s birthday tradition is so much more than just two guys with kids who are friends hanging out. Because I’m not asking my friend.
I’m asking my boyfriend to come with me to my son’s birthday.
“You okay?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing as I make my way towards the couch. Towards him.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat as I take a seat next to him on the couch.
“Where’s the little princess?”
“Mom swung by to take her to go look for a Halloween costume,” he says with a grin. “I’ve been meaning to take her, and I know you’ve been busy, and—”
“Yeah, of course, no I get it,” I tell him, my nerves kicking up more knots in my stomach because I realize that means I have him all to myself for the time being, and though that should make this easier, it makes me more aware, more tuned in to this irrefutable feeling between us.
Andre glances at my mouth for the briefest moment before meeting my gaze. “They should be a couple of hours.”
There’s a tension between us I can't explain. I know Dre well enough to know if he wants something, if he wants to say something, he won’t hold back. He never has, and honestly, it’s one of the things I love about him.
Love.
I’ve always loved Andre. I still do, in some capacity, but… it just doesn’t feel the same as it used to.
It feels different now. Stronger, maybe? More intense? I don’t know how to describe it, so I don’t try.
He shifts a little closer to me, and I can feel the heat emanating from his freshly showered body. He reaches out and grabs my jaw, his fingers grazing my skin lightly. I fall into his space with ease, as if it’s second nature. Maybe it is.
Maybe I’ve always felt drawn to him, and I just didn’t know why.
Before I can say a word, his lips find mine, and my entire body unravels like thread beneath him.
He kisses me slowly, his tongue caressing mine with even strokes, and I don’t hesitate to situate myself in his lap, straddling him as I deepen our kiss.
I return the caress of his tongue with mine, grabbing his neck.
Dre’s hands rove down my body until his hands find my ass and he squeezes my cheeks with a force that is both aggressive and gentle somehow.
He pushes me against him as he grinds against me from below; the solidness of his erection most evident against my own awakening hardness.
“Dre…” I know we need to talk about this—about my discussion with Amelia—but I also know that these moments—the ones where we’re alone like this, where we can just be and do what feels good, what feels right, are the moments I often find myself looking forward to the most. The ones I think about the most.
“Can I ask you something?” he whispers, one hand moving from my ass over my hip until he finds my erection. Carefully, he palms it through my sweatpants, and I fight the urge to groan and start grinding against his palm.
I should tell him to stop. But I don’t want him to stop touching me, stop kissing me, stop making me feel whatever it is that he makes me feel—like the sky is the limit.
“Anything,” I whisper, my voice tinged with a desperation that should be embarrassing, but…
This is Dre.
There’s nothing I could ever hide from him, nor do I want to.
“You ever think about what it would be like to suck my dick?”
I chuckle nervously, heat flooding my cheeks at the words.
“Um… I mean, sure I’ve thought about it.” I swallow hard. “Why? Have you thought about what it would be like if I sucked your dick?”
Andre laughs, and the sound is sweet and sexy as his fingers dip under my shirt.
Yeah, it’s sexy alright.
“No,” he says, his voice low, warm. His hand absentmindedly strokes me through my sweatpants. My eyebrows furrow, and I feel a bit confused. Disappointed, yes, but also… relieved.
“But I’ve thought about what it would be like to suck yours.”
I freeze in his grasp as his words land on me.
“You have?”
Andre leans in to kiss me again, his kiss somehow deeper, more intense as he caresses my tongue, bites my lower lip and palms my cock through my sweatpants. I can’t help but groan as he squeezes it.
“Uh-huh,” he mutters as he kisses my jaw, his free hand resting on my ass.
I blink as his lips find my neck, my collarbone. His thumb slides over my cockhead, and I shudder from the sensation, even though it’s not enough. I want to feel him; his touch.
I suck in a breath as I realize he’s waiting for me to respond. To answer him.
“Wait… do you… are you asking if you can suck my dick? Right now?”
I pull away and look him dead in his eyes.
I don’t know what I expect to see, but dilated pupils and lust is definitely not on the list.
“If you are okay with that…” he says, his voice low, slightly nervous. “But if you’re not, we don’t have to—”
I lean in and kiss him. Hard. Harder than I should.
The word falls from my lips without warning.
“Okay.”
I swear time stops as that word hangs between us; a silent prayer, a moment of undeniable truth.
My heart races at the thought of having my dick in his mouth. I can’t deny that, even though I probably should.
For a moment, I think I might’ve miscalculated. Misunderstood something. Or maybe I just said the wrong thing, I don’t know. But when Dre gets up, holding me against him, instinctively I wrap my legs around his waist, and he kisses me once more.
“Okay,” he says, and with that he carries me down the hall to my bedroom; the one I should have moved into in the first place, but never did.
I think I’ve used it a handful of times since the furniture got set up, because honestly?
Sleeping with Dre, even before we started messing around with each other intimately, felt better; easier.
I didn’t want to leave his bed because he wouldn’t be there, and I knew I’d miss him, even if he was only upstairs. And then somehow, it just… evolved.
Like we evolved.
Andre carries me wordlessly inside, and though I expect him to throw my ass on the bed and climb on top of me with the way he’s looking at me, he doesn’t. He lays me down gently before climbing over top of me; thrusting himself against me once more while he kisses me ardently. Slowly.
I whine when his lips leave mine, but a moment later, his fingers pull at my waistband, and instinctively I lift my hips to give him better access, which he takes. I swear it feels like an eternity until he frees my cock; the rush of air against my aching flesh is stark and somewhat painful.
Dre slides down my body, taking my cock in his hands, and I look up to see him staring down at me.
“What?” I ask, my heart beating so fast I think it might explode out of my chest. Is he having second thoughts? Did I say something? Do something wrong? Panic starts to form in my chest, but he clears his throat.
“You’re good?” he asks, almost as if he’s waiting for me to say no.
But as I look up at him, at his bright blue eyes, his pronounced features, that perfectly cut jaw and the way his hair falls into his eyes, his broad shoulders and chest.
His hand wrapped around my already leaking cock; I know I could never tell him no. Ever.
Because I want this.
Yes, I want him to suck my dick, but it’s more than that. I think it’s been more than that for a long time, and I just didn’t understand the depths of how badly I wanted this.
How badly I want him, and us, and the unknown.
“Yeah,” I whisper, reaching for his face. My hand travels up his neck, my fingers delving into his soft, smooth hair. My heart is in my throat, my stomach in my chest. I’m acutely aware that what I say or do next… I won’t be able to take back.
He could hate this and decide this—us—isn’t for him anymore.
He could change his mind, and though that would be fine, I can’t lie and say I wouldn’t be disappointed if he did.
But something tells me he needs more than just my permission. He needs me to do what I’ve always done for him—give him the little push he needs.
So that’s exactly what I do.
I grip Andre’s hair in my fist and pray that I’m not making a huge mistake as I shove his face towards my cock.
“Now suck my fucking dick,” I bite, throwing in a “please” just so he knows I’m not a complete asshole, and a moment later I feel his mouth, warm and wet, his tongue brushing over my slit, and my eyes fall shut.
All there is, is my fist in his hair, his mouth on my cock, and this feeling in my chest, three words stuck in my throat, suffocating me with the truth.
I think I’m falling in love with my best friend.