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Because even though this is new and probably just a case of haven’t-seen-you-in-forever-itis, I can’t help but feel that this friendship could easily become something more.
It’s a troubling thought, as I drift off to sleep, especially when those two people have lives several states apart.
A relationship isn’t possible.
Not now.
Not ever.
***
I startle awake.
I’m lying on my side, my arm stretched forward and completely numb. The scent of fruit is strong and there’s a tickle against my nose. Blinking rapidly, I focus on the beach scene painting on the wall and realize I’m in my hotel room. My bed.
And I’m not alone.
Brown hair is splayed across the pillow, my cheek, and my arm—you know, the numb one—and my mind instantly returns to last night. Watching the documentary, then watching her sleep. I was just going to lie down for a few minutes. I didn’t even get beneath the covers. Neither of us did. We fell asleep side by side, on opposite ends of the king-sized bed, actually. Yet, here we are, entangled and cuddling, her ass pressed firmly against my very hard, very ready to play morning wood.
I know I should move. This is not how friends embrace first thing in the morning. Hard-ons don’t usually factor into friendly sleepovers. Actually, that’s an incredibly true statement. My last friendly sleepover was in eighth grade with Henry Forrester, and my usual teenage hormonal morning wood didn’t even make an appearance that sunny morning.
But now? With Cricket snuggled into my side and her sweet ass pressed against my cock? Oh, it’s very ready to play. More ready than the first-round draft in his first NFL appearance. Sure, there’s a little bit of nerves there, but excitement and anxiousness reign supreme. And my dick is very excited.
It doesn’t help that her subtle fragrance of fruit is penetrating my senses like the front infantry line crossing over into enemy territory. Sweet strawberries and pineapple slides into my nostrils and wrap around my brain, sending shockwaves of lust straight to my groin. I’m in a conundrum of hurt right now. I’m her friend and should keep my distance, yet I can’t seem to get my brain on board with that plan.
I just…want her.
Cricket moves in my arms, wiggling that delectable ass against my cock and pressing her back farther into my chest. A little sigh slips from her lips as she relaxes once more. I wish I were facing her so I can see the contentment and serenity in her beautiful face while she sleeps. Last night I was treated to such a sight, but now, as morning light filters through the cracks of the curtains, I wish I could see her, committing it to memory too.
My time to lie here and just feel is coming to an end. I know it. Cricket shifts once more, her cheek pushed into the soft flesh of my inner upper arm. Her breathing is picking up a bit, not nearly as relaxed in sleep as it was a few moments ago. Now is the time to move, to dislodge my eager dick from where the crack of her ass is snug in those tight jeans, but I don’t change quick enough. She shakes her ass once more against me, as if riding my cock, and I have to stifle my groan of pleasure. Well, of pleasure and frustration together, because even in my sex-fogged brain, I know this moment isn’t going to end the way my dick wants.
A moan glides from her lips, sending shockwaves of desire through my blood, a moment before she stills and tenses. Cricket is awake, and can clearly feel howawakeI am too.
“Rueben?” she whispers, her voice hoarse with sleep.
“Yeah,” I reply, clearing my throat and pushing all thoughts of morning sex from my mind. This is my friend, not my girlfriend, even if that’s the gig of the weekend.
She doesn’t say anything for a few very long seconds, but doesn’t move either. She’s still pressed against me, our bodies way too close to keep those dirty thoughts at bay, at least on my part.
Grandma, grandma, grandma, grandma.
“What time is it?” she asks. Still. Not. Moving.
I look at the nightstand—the one that’s directly in front of her face— and reply, “Six forty-five.”
“Wow, I never sleep past four thirty, even on my day off,” she says, almost absently.
Truth be told, I’ve never slept this soundly, this comfortably in all my life either. I’ve also never been a big snuggler. When a past girlfriend would stay over, I’d prefer to have my space. I’m a warm sleeper and the last thing I want is to wake all hot and sweaty, tangled in sheets and limbs. But with Cricket in my arms? I woke more rested and content than ever before.
Back to the problem at hand—or specifically, in my pants—I roll to my back and slide my arm out from under her head. Cricket sits up, adjusting her position on the bed and glances around the room. I, on the other hand, throw my legs over the bed and keep my back to her. I wish I could say not seeing her affects the hardness of my dick, but that would be a lie. It seems to remember exactly what it felt like to have her pressed against it and refuses to deflate.
“Um, sorry about not waking you. I meant to just lie down for a bit and let you sleep, but I must have dozed off,” I tell her, striving for casual, yet hearing the sexual strain in my voice.
“It’s okay. I mean, nothing happened,” she replies, chuckling awkwardly.
“Yep, nothing happened. Just two friends sleeping in the same bed,” I confirm, though my dick jumping in my pants is a reminder of how much he liked the whole sleeping in the same bed part.
Unfortunately for him, he’s going to be unhappy with this morning’s outcome. There will be no sex.
