Their Freefall At Last by Julie Olivia

22

Bennett

I tried to not do this. But did I try as hard as I could have?

Probably not.

If I had, I wouldn’t be greeted with the image before me right now—my beautiful best friend with ginger hair splayed out around her head like a fiery halo. Her freckles, like constellations over her cheeks and nose. And her plush pink lips, slightly parted, as if anticipating what’s to come.

“Condoms?” she asks at the same time I say, “Protection?”

We laugh, a skittering sound of nerves floating between us.

I’ve had partners through the years. I like everything about the female body—too much to not explore. But sex? No. I’ve never had sex. And the way my chest hurts when I look at Ruby tells me why I could never go that extra mile. I was waiting for this—for her.

“Miranda put me on birth control at sixteen,” Ruby answers.

“I remember,” I respond, leaning my head in, placing a kiss on her neck. “You were sick for a week.”

“You dropped off Gatorade,” she says with a laugh, and then I laugh, too, because that seems so ridiculous in retrospect.

“I had no idea what to do. I just didn’t like to see you in pain.”

“I know.”

Her palm runs along my chin. I lean into it.

“What about you?” she asks. “Condoms?”

“Well, as a virgin with zero expectations of having sex this weekend, no. No condoms.”

My best friend simply shrugs. “I’m fine with that.”

I snort. “Rubes.”

“Well, we’ve …” She stops before adding, “We’ve never been with anyone else. And I trust you.”

I trace my thumb over the curve of her cheek, up to the fine ginger eyebrows, to the array of freckles across her nose. It feels greedy, being this close, being able to observe her in such detail without her hiding behind strands of hair or averted gazes.

“I trust you too. More than anyone else in my life.”

“I trust you more than a bungee cord,” she adds. “Or a plane. Or even a roller coaster brake system.”

“That’s a helluva lot of trust.”

She pumps her eyebrows. “I know.”

“So, we’re doing this?”

Ruby nods eagerly without saying words, but her movements are answer enough. She snakes her hands down my chest, over my abs, and to my gym shorts, where I’m as hard as a rock, waiting for her. The feel of her hand sliding over the length of me is so surreal.

How many times have I imagined this?

She dips her palm underneath my waistband and tugs my gym shorts down, along with my boxer briefs. And then I’m hovering over her, forearms on either side of her head, my cock bobbing down and throbbing from want.

I slide a hand between her thighs, dipping a finger in. She’s soaked. She was before my lips even touched her.

“Bennett …”

I love the way she says my name. The way it lingers on her tongue in a way it never has before. I can feel my cock jump forward.

“So wet for me,” I groan.

“Please,” she begs, and, God, if that doesn’t almost make me come on its own.

Taking myself in my hand, I center in front of her, teasing the head between her legs. And after a moment or two of her squirming beneath me, trying to scoot closer—the greedy girl—I start to dip in. One inch in, out, then back in, watching Ruby’s beautiful face with her tilted-in eyebrows and small exhalations.

“How’s that feel?” I ask.

“Keep going.”

I push in more, but she’s so tight. I slide my palm up between her breasts, splaying my fingers out to capture both nipples with my thumb and pinkie. Her chest is so narrow, and my hands are so large. She’s perfect for me. How she could ever be embarrassed about her breasts is baffling.

My fingers trace over her nipples, and it has her relaxing enough for me to give a final push, sliding enough so that our hips touch. And it’s otherworldly. It’s heaven. And the angel beneath me, with her soft skin and parted pink lips, looks like a gift from above.

I work my way out and back in slowly, trying to move in a way that makes sense. Ruby starts shifting against me too, pushing down as I push in. After a couple seconds, we find some form of a rhythm, and I don’t know why I’m surprised. Of course we were going to be good at this.

I start to move fast, and, Christ, she feels so good. Her body is bobbing up and down with each thrust, her fists gripping the sheets.

My hand goes up to her neck, trying to steady her more. I can feel her pulse under my thumb, just like I did at the bar, and it’s racing.

Maybe that’s too much.

But when I pull away, her hand jerks up to grasp my wrist and place it back. I follow her lead, placing my palm around her neck. Her hand applies pressure to my own, tightening my grip.

Well, isn’t she full of surprises?

“Like that?” I whisper.

“Please.”

I tighten my grip more, and she moans.

“My girl’s so polite.”

My sweet, not-so-innocent girl.

I hold her there as I thrust in harder, and what a gorgeous sight it is. My best friend under my palm, the pink string of our promised forever adorning my wrist, and the tattoos trailing up my arm, all dedicated to her.

There are so many things unsaid, but I don’t need to say them.

She’s my Ruby.

I pump faster, breathing heavier, and she feels so good. Everything about her is intoxicating. Her red hair. Her freckles. How small she is beneath me, clutching at my arm, pushing her neck into my palm.

“Ruby, I’m not sure I’m gonna last much longer.”

“I don’t care,” she says through rasping breaths. “Please.”

She’s gonna end me on her niceties alone.

But my real undoing is when I watch—actually watch—us fuck. I steal a glance below at my cock sliding in and out of her, her body squirming beneath me.

“Bennett—”

She doesn’t need to finish her sentence before I can feel her clenching around me, letting out a soft moan that sends my own orgasm barreling through me. Both our moans muffle into each other as I bite into her shoulder, and she grips my hair into a fist.

I laugh a little—at how long it took us to get here—and then she’s laughing, too, and I’m kissing her freckled shoulder all over again.

This is what relationships are supposed to feel like. This is what true companionship is.

“Why does it feel like I’ve been saving myself for you all this time?” she whispers against my skin.

I chuckle. “I think I’ve been doing the same.”

And I wonder if I have, if I just knew this was my future.

I’ve worked for so many things, but this? True love and companionship—a type of commitment that my mom never knew—is the final puzzle piece to make me feel whole. And to think I found it at seven years old and kept it.

I pull the covers over us and hold her against my chest. She runs a palm over my cheek. I peek at the string adorning her wrist. The promise of our future wedding. But I’m not waiting any longer.

I plan to wife up my best friend as soon as possible.