Pretty Boy D by Rachel Jonas
21
Joss
Dane: Be there in five.
That text has a quivering breath puffing from my lips.
Nervous wreck?
Jittery mess?
Yep, that’s me.
He had plans after practice. He and his brothers had a date to sort through some of their father’s things to ready them for a charity pick-up, per their mother’s request. So, I used the time alone to try to relax, ending the task with a piping hot bath that helped some. Now, I’m standing naked in the mirror, asking if I’m ready for this. Ready to be seen.
And I mean completely seen.
I moisturize from head to toe, then spray a little perfume, but still don’t feel settled. I’m obsessed with being perfect, so despite having shaved yesterday, I did it again tonight. Simply because the idea of being so exposed has me self-conscious.
I ignore the thought that comes next—that I’m not concerned with perfection in general, but rather that… I want to be perfect for him.
Shit. I can’t believe I agreed to this.
The thought hits me that it’s not too late to back out, tell him I spoke too soon. But then I think about last night and, if I’m being honest, I kind of love it when he touches me.
Removing matches from the top drawer of my dresser, I light both lavender candles placed on the edge. Then, right away, I consider blowing them out because it feels like I’m trying to set a mood. But maybe I am, so I leave them lit.
The door to the loft opens then closes, and I panic a little. He’s here and I’m not even dressed. What the hell am I supposed to wear anyway? I don’t own any real lingerie. So, should I go with a night shirt?
I decide on a pair of black panties with matching bra, then take the fluffy robe off the hook behind my door. Dane’s steps bring him closer, and I stare at the knob, expecting it to turn. So, when it doesn’t, the anticipation builds.
From what I can hear, he makes a stop in his bedroom, then backtracks to the bathroom where the shower turns on. While I wait, I kill the light and find a quiet playlist to fill the silence. Then, I get situated on the bed, changing positions at least thirty times before deciding to just scoot to the top and rest my back against the headboard.
Relax. It’s just Dane. You know him. You trust him.
The shower turns off and I expect his steps to head in the direction of his bedroom, but they’re headed toward mine. They stop at my door and a quiet knock follows.
“Come in,” I call out, my voice quivering.
He doesn’t hesitate, which proves I’m the only one who’s nervous. He steps in and my breaths come hard and fast, rushing over my lips as I drink in the sight of him—smooth, damp skin, rigid muscle everywhere my eyes land, smoldering green eyes. He stares back and I try to ignore that he’s only wearing a towel.
“Hey,” I say breathily, not knowing how else to address a living, breathing wet-dream.
A smile tugs at one side of his lips, but he doesn’t return the greeting. A command leaves him, sending a chill racing down my spine.
“Stand up.”
The gentle yet forceful words have another breath hitching in my throat, but I do as I’m told. He’s maybe a foot away, but not for long because he takes my wrist and draws me closer. His eyes don’t leave mine. Instead, they stay trained on me as he undoes my robe, slowly tugging the belt free. It’s only as his eyes dip to my chest that I see how heavily he’s breathing.
He focuses on the dark, lace bra that covers my breasts—the silver clasp at the front in particular. Then, his eyes lower to the black panties that leave little to the imagination. There’s something feral in his eyes and I try to swallow my nerves, imagining he’ll want them off next. He slips his hands inside my open robe and the subtle roughness of his palms moving down my back has me leaning into him. His warm breath moves down the side of my neck and I close my eyes when he places a kiss there. He makes a trail back up to my ear.
“I want you naked.”
When he steps back, I open my eyes, seeing his are hooded, full of lust and need. I don’t move right away, though, and he senses my hesitation. I know as much when his brow quirks.
“Would it make things easier if I go first?” he asks.
That hammering inside my chest triples at the mere thought of him revealing himself. But when I nod, I swear I haven’t even given my body permission to respond. So, as his hands lower to the towel secured around his waist, and my eyes follow, I’m aware of my curiosity.
He loosens it slowly, maybe just to toy with my fragile heart. Then… he drops it to the floor.
My shoulders rise and fall as I stare. The length and thickness of him leaves me absolutely speechless. I’m fighting myself—knowing I shouldn’t gawk but can’t look away. I’ve envisioned him like this many times over the years, but not even my imagination did him justice.
He’s fully erect, the smooth head of his cock pointing skyward. A network of veins shows faintly just beneath the skin, and I’m still stunned by the magnificence of it all. My first thought is of how badly I want him. Then, second, I’m reminded of the throbbing pain that would likely follow.
Still, might just be worth it.
“Now you,” he says in a low voice as his gaze fills with expectation.
Slipping the robe off my shoulders is the easy part, but my fingers linger on the clasp of my bra, knowing this is the point of no return. Yes, I’ve officially seen my best friend naked, but showing myself to him is a whole other ballgame.
Just do it.
I twist my fingers quickly, feeling the slight click of the hook coming undone, and then I release it. The weight of my breasts forces the fabric apart quickly, and my nipples harden in the slightly chilled air.
Dane’s eyes are on me—impatient, hungry.
He raises his hands to touch me, and I hold my breath, only exhaling when his palms settle high on my ribs, brushing his thumbs across the firmness of my nipples.
Our gazes lock and the tension between us is through the roof. His hands make an unhurried descent down my torso, stopping when he reaches the elastic of my underwear, and I’m breathing his air as the thin satin is lowered to my thighs, and then falls to my feet.
I step out of them, still unable to look away from the deep green irises that have me feeling emotions I’m not supposed to feel.
Emotions I’m not allowed to feel.
But the rational part of my being isn’t really in control right now.
My heart is.
“Fucking beautiful,” he says in a low voice.
“Thanks.” That word leaves me as I let Dane’s eyes roam parts of my body no one else has ever seen.
“Climb up on the bed.”
I obey just like I’ve obeyed every other gentle order I’ve been given tonight.
My eyes are glued to his masculine perfection as he joins me, kneeling where my feet are stretched toward the footboard. He lifts my right leg, and I didn’t expect to feel heat from his lips covering my tattoo. I’m fixated on him, watching as he kisses a painstakingly slow trail over the top of my foot, up my ankle, to my calf. I swear I’m hyperventilating as his path continues to my knee, then my inner thigh, and he settles there, lying flat on my bed.
Slowly, adding to the tension that has my entire body vibrating with need, he inserts a finger into me. If I had to guess, he’s just realized how ready I am, how much I want this even if my nervousness implies otherwise. Then, gentle licks that trace my slit come only seconds before his beautiful face disappears between my legs.
“Shit!” I gasp as my back arches off the mattress. Dane’s tongue probes and seeks, and there’s already so much unshed tension building within me.
He cups my ass in his large hands, squeezing, conveying that sense of possession I’ve felt before. The sheet gathers in my fists when I claw at them, having nowhere else to direct the pressure mounting inside me, screaming to be set free.
I will myself to glance down my body at him, watching as he shamelessly and skillfully feasts. Somehow, he senses that he has my attention, and that wickedly sexy stare of his locks with mine. He doesn’t break our gaze as he lifts his head, teasing me with a slow swipe of his tongue over my clit. The action inspires another of my sharp gasps, but nothing like the sound that leaves me when licking turns into feverish sucking, drawing the tender bud between his lips.
My head crashes back to the mattress, panting in uneven rhythm as my body contorts in strange ways. Both legs quake where they’re positioned over his shoulders, losing my grip on the last ounce of control I’ve clung to for dear life.
His talent has me at my peak faster than I ever thought possible, but there’s no fighting it. I’m coming, soaking the sheet beneath me, and it’s the single most powerful thing I’ve ever felt.
It takes several seconds for the wave to retreat, and when it does, Dane’s pleasant assault on my clit slows, then finally stops.
I don’t open my eyes, concentrating on my own wild breathing as feather-light kisses move over my thighs, then to my stomach as my heart begins to settle to a normal pace.
“You okay?” he asks, the sound of his need hanging on every syllable.
I can’t form words yet, so I only nod, gripping my hair in both hands.
The response draws a throaty laugh out of him, and it’s got to be the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.
“Good,” he says. “I thought this might be something you’d enjoy.”
The bed shifts beneath his weight, and then he stands. It isn’t until my skin goes cold where he once warmed it that I open my eyes to finally look at him. He pushes his hand down his chin, removing traces of my wetness that were left behind.
“You’re leaving?”
Shit. That sounded desperate. Needy.
When his brow quirks with surprise, I realize he wasn’t expecting it either. Right away, insecurity sets in and I know I’m breaking the rules. Granted, they’re rules I put in place, but he agreed to them.
“I’m gonna hit the shower, but… I can come back after,” he says.
At first, I’m confused. He’s already clean. The hints of his body wash and shampoo mingling with the scent of my lavender candle are proof of that. But then, when I glance down to where he’s just re-secured his towel, to his still-hard cock, I understand.
He needs to finish.
Not that he’s complained, but this agreement of ours shouldn’t just be for my benefit. Knowing I’ve left him hanging twice now—three times if you count the night we made out—I feel guilty. Maybe even a little selfish.
The words I’m thinking get caught in my throat, but I force them when Dane turns to leave.
“Or… I can do something.”
My heart’s racing and I’m not even sure he knows what I’m trying to say—that I’m willing to step outside my comfort zone for him. That I’m curious what it’d be like to touch him like he touches me.
One dark brow shoots up when he smirks. “You know you don’t have to do that, right? I’m fine just—”
“No, I want to,” I cut in, hearing the shakiness in my voice.
He hesitates, standing beside my bed with a massive hard-on that neither of us can ignore, then he agrees to this, nodding before he drops down onto the mattress. He’s close. So close that his right side is pressed against me, his bicep brushing against my breast.
I’m still completely naked, but when I smooth my quivering hand down his abdomen and undo his towel again, so is he.
He is… fucking splendid in the nude—not a single thing lacking, completely devoid of flaws. There’s only total perfection from every angle.
I’ve never done this before, touched a guy like I’m about to touch him, but I’ve watched enough porn to know the basics of giving a hand job. Still, it’s different when you’re the one giving it, and the one receiving is someone you’ve friend-zoned for the past seven years.
“Can you pass me that?” When I ask, his gaze follows mine to the bottle of lightly scented oil I left on the nightstand after my shower.
The thick muscle that pads his ribs flexes when he reaches for it and then hands it over. I’m trying not to be so deep in my head as I drizzle a little into my palm.
You can do this.
You want to do this.
I breathe in, then exhale as I take him into my hand, surprised by the density of his cock. And it’s warm, like wrapping my fingers around a steaming-hot pipe.
A surge of air fills his lungs, and his head falls back against the headboard. I begin to stroke his length, slowly lowering my fist to the base, and then sliding up until the edge of my finger caresses the crown.
He hisses a breath between clenched teeth, which I take to mean he liked that. So, I do it again, only a little faster, matching how quickly he draws in air and releases it again. I watch him, not wanting to miss a single reaction as his pulse throbs at the base of his throat. In this moment, I’m obsessed with the thought of being the one pleasuring him, the reason his teeth just sank into his bottom lip. Completely turned on, my nipples harden, and I squeeze him tighter.
My gaze flits to where I have him locked in my grip, his length glistening with oil in the faint glow of candlelight. I smooth my thumb over the small slit on the tip and it draws a groan from him that excites me even more.
I squeeze a little tighter, stroke him faster.
My attention’s averted from his cock to his sex-drunk gaze when he takes me by my chin, half a second before I’m kissed so hard and deep it draws a gasp from me. His tongue glides over mine and I taste lingering hints of my own arousal. He breathes into our kiss and I pump my fist faster, until his mouth goes still, and he’s been reduced to breathing erratically against my lips. Long fingers slip to the back of my neck and his forehead presses to mine.
“Fuck.”
The word leaves his mouth in a strained grunt, cascading off his lips when he breathes. He tenses all over, then with a deep groan that is now, hands down, my new favorite sound, he finishes, releasing his load in one powerful burst. Something about having his warm cum spilling over the back of my hand, down my fingers, has that feeling of possessiveness transferring to me. Like, no one on the entire planet should be allowed to experience him like this.
He’s panting against my cheek and I don’t stop until I’m positive he’s just as satisfied as he left me. Then, I let go.
His back falls to the headboard again. I’m still transfixed on him, shocked by the overwhelming pleasure I got from tending to his needs. And… maybe a little terrified by it.
An exhausted grin brings life to his expression. Then, the next second, he takes my hand and wipes it clean with his towel before cleaning himself off, too.
My eyes are glued to his perfect ass when he stands and leaves without a word. I can only guess the confusion that crosses my face because… what the actual fuck?
Isn’t there some kind of handbook that makes it clear how a guy shouldn’t just walk out on a girl after what we just did? Only, I barely have time to get worked up, and I also barely have time to slip into my underwear, when his tall frame darkens my doorway again.
I smile, but hold back a little, taking in the sight of him standing there with his pillow tucked beneath his arm, wearing a pair of boxer-briefs that hug his muscular thighs.
I grab a t-shirt from the laundry basket beside my bed and slip it over my head while he stares. He steps into the room, not bothering to tear his eyes away from my breasts.
“I… thought you were leaving me for the night,” I admit, knowing he hears the relief in my voice now that he’s returned.
His brow quirks with a look that screams ‘I’d never leave you’ and it has my stomach twisting in knots.
“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think to tell you I was just grabbing my things. Figured I’d hang out in here for the night. That is, if you’re cool with it.”
Hang out in here for the night? As in… sleep in my bed?
My expression must give everything away, because he backtracks the next second.
“I know we have rules, so if you want me to drag the armchair in and sleep there, I can,” he offers. “I just don’t think you should be alone tonight.”
There’s a level of innocence and sincerity in his eyes that hits me square in the chest.
He didn’t want me to be alone after everything.
Because it’s like he once said, I’m not just some girl to him. I mean something.
I exhale and take in the sight of him, knowing what my answer should be, but instead of saying those words, I pull back the cover, inviting him in.
He stops at the dresser to blow out the candles, then his heat warms my back when he fits against me like the missing piece of a puzzle. His arm falls over my waist easy, like we’ve done this a thousand times before. And in similar fashion, my hand goes to where his now rests against my stomach and our fingers lace together.
I’m not sure if best friends spoon and fall asleep in one another’s arms, but apparently these best friends do. As my lids fall closed and a slow, steady rain begins to pelt the steel frame of my window, I can’t find any reason to fight what I feel happening between us. And while I should be reveling in what I know to be the beginning of something I swore would never happen, instead, it scares the hell out of me.
History often repeats itself. So, here’s hoping Dane and I somehow manage to avoid the pitfalls that ruined my parents.
Because as much as I sometimes wish it weren’t true… I need him.