My Always One Page 6

  No. Her friendship is worth more than finding out how great we’d be together.

  Besides, it isn’t like I’m living a life of abstinence. I get plenty of action.

  I've taken many women places they didn't know they could go, all in the name of forgetting some asshole who wronged them. But that won't be how I help Sami.

  Earlier tonight, when I got Sami's hysterical call, I was on my way to a date. The date was just drinks with some chick from the gym. We've talked a few times. Her name starts with K or a C. I can't remember. It's like Katie or Catlin. All I know for sure is that she has great tits and a nice ass and wears excessively tight clothing to the gym. When she invited me for drinks, I didn't think about saying no.

  I also didn't get her number.

  Now I'm the douche guy who stood her up.

  Remembering her body, they way her tits bounce when she runs on the treadmill, I'm most certain that she won't be alone for long. And since I can't remember her name, I'm not too brokenhearted.

  I reassure my libido that the next time I see Miss Tits and Ass at the gym, all I'll need to do is flash my baby blues, wipe the sweat from my forehead with my shirt, showing off my tight abs, and claim that a heartbroken friend kept me away. Then I'll ask if we can reschedule. Ten to one says she won't hold a grudge for long.

  After all, what's more appealing than a good-looking, successful guy who went to a friend's rescue?

  Tonight is about Sami.

  Besides, the chick from the gym gives off the same vibe I do. She's not looking for anything other than some fun and a good time. Those have been my goals forever, but the order of significance is most usually reversed.

  Sami and I have always had different life goals. Yet, in most ways, we're both living the dream.

  It's just that our dreams for a relationship—a forever, until-I-die thing—have always been different.

  My mind goes through her list of boyfriends, ending with the slime bag, Jack. From the time we were young, I’ve wanted her to find her forever. She thought she had. Unfortunately, as my shirt continues to dampen with her tears, Sami's forever just screwed his intern—in Sami’s bed.

  "Hey, how about I order some dinner," I offer. "I can have sushi here in twenty minutes."

  Sami sighs against my chest. "I deserve better." Her voice is soft but determined.

  "You sure as hell do. We’ll make it pizza and breadsticks with the little containers of gooey cheese."

  "No." She tips her chin upward until our eyes meet. "I’m not talking about food. I deserve to be happy."

  That's my girl. "And sushi is the perfect start."

  I suck in a breath as she reaches down, purposely rubbing the front of my jeans.

  "What are you doing?" Though I’m asking the question, I’m well aware of what she’s doing. This isn’t my first rodeo.

  Sami blinks. Her tears have dried, and her damn green eyes are filled with something I've never seen before, not from her. Her cheeks rise as her pink tongue darts out to her lip and then disappears. "I think I have a better idea than food, something that will make me feel better."

  Sami

  * * *

  What the hell am I doing?

  My heart is racing, and all I can think about is Marshal. Of course I'm thinking about the way his chest feels against mine, how strong and sturdy it is. I'm thinking about his arms and how he surrounds me, protecting me from the world.

  But those aren't necessarily new thoughts. I mean, we've been friends forever, since long before he was sexy as hell and six feet plus. Sometimes to me, he's still the short, freckle-faced boy who lives down the street. I'm not alone in the way I see him or us. I know he still thinks of me as that little girl.

  Time moves on...we've grown up.

  I know we made an agreement, but so did Jack and I.

  We'd agreed to marry.

  I wonder if that asshole has found my engagement ring on the kitchen counter yet or if he's still too busy screwing that bimbo. I’ve turned off my phone so I don't have a clue if he's tried to call. Furthermore, I don't give a shit. After what I saw, he can go screw himself or anyone else. All I know for sure is that it won't be me.

  Which brings me back to the man with his arms around me. The man who I know—through his own and others' testimonials—is rumored to be fantastic in bed.

  Jack was okay.

  But damn it, I deserve better.

  I deserve fantastic.

  We can do this, I convince myself.

  Marshal and I can cross this line and then go back to the way it was. Hell, maybe we don’t have to go back to the way it was. Maybe we can stay friends and keep...

  Yes.

  Friends with benefits.

  Why not?

  My mind is a flurry of thoughts.

  I love the man with his arms around me, and I don’t want to do what I’ve accused him of doing—use someone. That thought lingers and fades.

  No. This wouldn’t be that.

  I'm not trying to get even with Jack. I'm not.

  Maybe for the first time I'm recognizing what's been in front of me forever and always. I lift my lips to Marshal's as I reach out and stroke his jeans.

  Once.

  Twice.

  With each stroke, his cock grows larger and harder under the fabric.

  He says something again about food.

  "I think I have a better idea than food, something that will make me feel better."

  "Sami..."

  My two-syllable name becomes a full four as Marshal’s eyes roll back and he lowers his head until his forehead rests on mine.

  "Marshal Michaels, don't make me beg. I deserve this. You deserve this. I'm a damn good lay. I promise."

  "Don't say that. We...we have our agreement."

  I continue stroking his cock, the bulge in his jeans growing bigger and bigger. Harder and harder. He doesn't try to stop me as his chest rises and falls.

  "I propose a new agreement," I say with confidence. But then as I reach for the buckle of his belt, Marshal stops me.

  "Honey, you know I love you."

  "And I love you. I have since we were five."

  Marshal's cheeks rise. "You sure had a funny way of showing it."

  I shrug at the memory. With pink filling my cheeks, I concede, "Okay. Since we were six, then. Now we're both adults. We can do this and still be friends. I'm not wanting more—I’m done with forever. It doesn’t really exist. Right now, I just want to feel. I want to be close to someone.”

  “I’m here.”

  “You know what I mean.” When he doesn’t respond, I ask, “Do you really want me to get what I need at some bar from a stranger? Because I’m getting it tonight."

  His arms tense and I know I've hit a nerve.

  “Don’t act like that makes me something I’m not. When was the last time you didn’t get laid when you wanted to?”

  Marshal’s Adam’s apple bobs. “You’re killing me here.”

  I look up at his blue orbs, seeing the way they swirl with indecision. He's my best friend and protector. If I would let him, instead of being here with me, he’d be at our condo and Jack would be beaten to a bloody pulp.

  Our condo.

  My stomach drops. It’s my condo, and Jack can get his ass out.

  "No,” Marshal says, “I don’t want you at a bar with a stranger, but, Sami..."

  I take a step back and reach for the hem of my shirt. Pulling it over my head, I watch as Marshal's blue eyes grow in proportion to his cock as his gaze is suddenly glued to my boobs. They're big and round and pushed upward in my pink Victoria's Secret bra. "Either I'm going to crawl into your bed and have a sleepover with my best friend" —I reach for the button on my jeans— "or my best friend is going to need to tell me to leave, and I guess I'll look for somewhere else to stay because I sure as hell can’t go back to my condo tonight."

  Marshal runs his hand through his light brown hair as he watches my next move.

  "What will it be?" I
shimmy out of my jeans and leave them on his floor near my shirt. "Are you going to kick me out?"

  "I don't want to be a get-even fuck, Sami."

  My head tilts to the side. “Really? You’ve never been in this situation before?”

  “Not with you. You’re different.”

  Marshal Michaels has never turned down sex, no matter the reason.

  I take a deep breath, reach up, and stroke his chiseled jaw. "I don’t want this to get even.” My head shakes. “Jack can screw whomever he wants. What I want isn’t about him. It’s about me. And” —I separate each word for emphasis— “This. Won't. Change. A. Thing."

  "Our agreement?" he asks again with more uncertainty in his voice.

  "Let's have a new agreement?"

  For only a moment, I remember all the effort, all the working out, to be ready for my wedding and honeymoon and decide I want to show off my toned body to my best friend. Wearing only my bra and matching boy shorts—the kind that show off my butt cheeks—I reach for Marshal's hand. I've never noticed before how big it is. How long his fingers are. How strong his grasp is.

  I take a step toward his bedroom.

  It's only one step, but suddenly, I'm pulled back into his arms. My waist is pulled tight against him, his erection grinding against me and probing the flesh of my stomach.

  I wince as Marshal tugs my hair, forcing my head backward until I'm staring up into his eyes.

  My breathing hitches as I take him in. The blue is different, deeper, stronger, and there's something new.

  "Tell me you're sure."

  The crotch of my panties dampens.

  “Marshal…”

  “No, Sami. Tell me.”

  I try to swallow. In the last few seconds, breathing has become more difficult.

  Shit.

  "I-I'm sure," I say, my answer squeaking out.

  What just happened?

  I wanted to feel close to my friend. I wanted the togetherness that Jack's stupid escapade took away. I wanted a friend. But now? Shit, now I'm turned on. My core clenches and my circulation quickens.

  I've never seen this side of Marshal, the sexy side that others have seen. Now that I have, I want more.

  Before I can say anything else, Marshal pushes me backward until my shoulders collide with the wall and he's against me, all of him.

  I moan as his stiff cock pushes harder against my stomach.

  "Fuck, Sami, I'm not sure what's happening, but I don't do sleepovers, not anymore. I don't do sweet. Not when it comes to sex. You know me."

  My nipples harden as he crushes my breasts against his chest. "I know you, Marshal, better than anyone. Take me. I want to be consumed. I want my mind so focused on you, on here, and on now that the rest of the world fades away.” I fight emotion I don’t want to feel and concentrate on the man before me. “Marshal, I want to think about only you, the one man who's never lied to me."

  His eyes narrow. "And tomorrow?"

  "You'll still be my best friend."

  Marshal reaches down and unashamedly moves the crotch of my panties. I bite my lip as he plunges one and then two fingers deep inside me. The room fills with his growl, guttural and primitive. He isn’t the only one making sounds. With each plunge I moan with pleasure.

  "Fuck, Sami, you’re so wet. You really do want this, don't you?"

  My core tightens around his long fingers, and my knees weaken as I move with his rhythm. "More than my dad wants the apocalypse." I move on my toes, finding his rhythm. My voice is breathy as I say, "Please, Marshal, don't make me beg."

  Marshal

  * * *

  Thoughts I've never let myself think are rushing through my mind.

  With each plunge of my fingers, my imagination runs wild.

  I picture Sami begging—my Sami on her knees pleading for my cock.

  I want that.

  I want that and more.

  The surge of desire overwhelms me. She is like nothing I've ever imagined having for my own in my entire life. Then again, she's the one who's always been there, the one who knows me, my friend.

  The need for more is coursing through my bloodstream, electrifying every nerve ending, and intensifying my senses. I feel every inch of her beneath me, my chest on hers, and my erection against her stomach. The way her silky, wet pussy squeezes my fingers, I can’t imagine what it will do to my dick. And damn, the noises she’s making are echoing off the walls.

  How is it possible to want somebody so badly when that somebody has always been near?

  Images I never entertained are creating an erotic slideshow in my mind.

  Sami writhing beneath me.

  Sami on her knees as her pink tongue darts out to lick my rock-hard dick.

  I imagine watching her lips as I fist her hair and she takes me deep into her throat. I hear her gasping for air as her head bobs up and down. My cock aches thinking about her taking me, all of me, until I come and she swallows every last drop. I don’t want to stop there. If this goes a second more, I won’t stop.

  I want to slide inside her core and feel those warm walls clench around me like they are doing to my fingers.

  My brain is saying no.

  It's saying all the words that mean no.

  Such as stop.

  And don't do this.

  And this isn't a good idea.

  My brain is saying that this new agreement will never work. It's telling me to tuck my friend into my bed and move to the couch. It's telling me to jack off in the bathroom and forget this ever happened.

  I've never been good at listening to my brain.

  Especially not when another part of my anatomy is in on the debate.

  I lean forward and take her lips, capture them, claim them. My brain says to be gentle, to merely brush our lips as friends do. Fuck my brain. All self-control is quickly fleeing. Gentle isn't in my vocabulary.

  Twenty-plus years of being gentle with Sami are suddenly washed away by a flood of desire, much like the flood saturating my pumping fingers. I push closer, bruising her lips, making them red and puffy. As I do, a soft whimper escapes Sami's mouth. It's just the encouragement I need as I plunge my tongue between her lush lips.

  Her warm mouth is ecstasy. It's sweet, like grapes, while also tart like wine. The lethal combination enters my system, erasing all sense of right and wrong.

  My brain tries one more time: this is Sami, Samantha Anderson, the girl down the street, my best friend. Remember when we were kids...

  I shut it down.

  That knowledge and definition of this hotter-than-hell vixen quickly morphs to the woman in my apartment, in my arms, and grinding against me.

  My body is no longer reasoning or listening to my mind. It’s on a path of no return as Sami’s heartbeat quickens, her moans fill the room, and her slick pussy clenches again, covering my fingers in more of her honey.

  My God. Her pussy is heaven.

  Who the fuck knew?

  Her mouth is paradise.

  How did I never know?

  And her body...those tits are sublime.

  I release her gorgeous hair and unsnap her bra.

  Pulling the straps over her slender shoulders and down her arms, I toss the material onto the floor. "Holy fuck, Sami. How have you kept this gorgeous rack hidden from me?" I lean down and suck one of her nipples into my mouth and run my tongue around the hard bead.

  She doesn't answer. Instead, she whimpers as she weaves her fingers through my hair and pulls me closer, arching her back. The pressure is perfect.

  Her hip against my dick.

  Her tit in my mouth.

  Her pussy squeezing my fingers as I pump harder and faster.

  Her entire body tenses.

  "Marshal, shit. I'm going to come."

  "Not yet." In record speed, I remove my dripping fingers and place them between my lips. I was right about her honey. "Sami, you're so fucking sweet."

  Quickly I reach for the waistband of her panties, drop to my knees, and pull
the little bit of lace down. As I lower it, I find myself eye level with the most beautiful pussy. I spread her legs, showing me her wet thighs, lean forward, and take a deep breath. "You smell as good as you taste."

  "Marsh..."

  I fight the need to run my tongue through her folds and feast on her sweet essence. However, my tongue has competition. After all, we’re in this position because my body has a mind of its own and made no bones about what it wanted.

  I want to be inside her more than I want to breathe.

  After one quick lick, I stand, our eyes meeting as my tongue goes to my lips. The embarrassment or uncomfortable feeling I always imagined would be there if we went this direction in our relationship is nowhere to be found.

  How could it be?

  There's no room for that, not with the wild, burning passion.

  Fuck, the temperature has quadrupled.

  The blaze is out of control.

  Sami leans back, her shoulders against the wall, and smiles at me.

  I’ve always known she was beautiful, but I never saw her like this. Her green eyes shine with desire. Her lips are pink and puffy from our kiss. And her nipples are deep red.

  She has a great smile, confident and sexy. As one of her hands roams down her tight stomach toward her pussy, she says, "Hurry up, Marshal, or I'm going to do this myself."

  My grin twitches. "Bossy. You've always been bossy."

  The way her eyes twinkle with just the right amount of mischief makes my chest expand. I love seeing this side of her. I'll take it over her earlier tears any day.

  In seconds my jeans are unbuttoned, and I hurriedly push my pants down to my calves. I want them off, but damn it, my shoes are still on. I'm sure as hell not taking the time to take it all off.

  Lowering my boxer briefs, my dick springs outward.

  Sami gasps as I grasp its girth. Slowly and methodically, my hand moves up and down as I stroke my huge cock.

  I’m not bragging.

  It's big.

  And with each pump my balls grow tighter and heavier, filling with the need to be inside her. The skin covering my dick is stretched to the max. The shaft is lined with angry veins and the tip glistens.