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That thought unlocks something new in my brain. I think I might be willing to give those things to Ava.
But I can't.
It's a lose-lose-lose situation. I have feelings for her, and if I acknowledge them or act on them, it could fuck up my friendship with Beckett. If it doesn't do that, it'll fuck me up. And because I fuck everything up, it'll fuck her up too. We all lose, and why risk an eighteen-year-long friendship with somebody over something that I've already determined is doomed to fail?
What if it's not?
It's the first time that particular thought has snuck its way into my consciousness, and it takes me by surprise.
It’s as I'm staring at Daphne, a meaningless woman from my past, that I get the first inkling of what I want in my future.
And the woman sitting in front of me ain’t it. That's when I realize I can use this whole fake relationship business to my advantage.
“I have to tell you something, Daph. I started seeing someone a couple weeks ago, and it's actually already pretty serious.”
“You started seeing someone?” she repeats. It's clear from her tone that she doesn't believe me.
“It's complicated, but I've known her since I was a teenager. We just found ourselves in the right place at the right time.” I try to keep my tone apologetic even if I don’t really feel that way about it.
Her face falls, as if the hope she carried in with her just slid right away. “I don't even know what to say to that. You always told me you wanted nothing to do with relationships.”
“I know, and I didn't. It wasn't a lie, and it wasn’t just some line I used on you. But I guess things change when you find someone you can’t be without.”
She looks like I just issued a physical blow, and I feel a little sick to my stomach.
Not because of the look on her face.
It’s because I’m not sure whether what I just said is true or if it’s lip service to get the fuck out of this situation with Daphne. And if it’s true…then I’m fucked.
I sit with her until she finishes the drink I bought her.
“I have some things I need to take care of,” I say, trying to sound apologetic again as I push to a stand.
“I knew it was risky coming to town not knowing your schedule. I guess I was lucky I ran into you.”
I wonder for a beat how long she was waiting to run into me. I was gone all afternoon at the game.
I give her another hug—one that she doesn’t cling to as much as the first one—and bid her goodbye before I head upstairs. And I feel restless once I arrive back in my suite. I fill a glass with gin then take it over by the window. I stand there thinking about what just happened.
It affected me far more than it should have…and by it, I certainly don’t mean my run-in with Daphne. I mean my date with Ava, followed by that kiss.
That fucking kiss.
Dammit.
My cock aches as I think about her.
I chug down the gin in my glass and slam it on the counter, and then I sit on the couch we’ve shared more than one time, pull out the beast, and get to work.
I’m not slow and steady with myself. Instead, I yank like I need this release to survive, and I think I do.
Sweat beads on my forehead as I stroke up and down, back and forth, desperation running through me as I move steadily toward the finish line. The animalistic need to come pulses everywhere in me.
I think of her sweet, tight cunt as I slid into it, inch by hard inch, and she laid back and took it all. I think of her tits bouncing, of her mouth, and what I want to do to it.
But it’s when I think of her in her jeans and T-shirt at today’s game, the easy way her little hand fit in my big one as we played the part that’s becoming less and less of an act and more and more real, that my balls tighten up as fire tears through me.
I grunt out her name as I start to come, and it’s only after the release grabs hold of me and my throbbing cock pulses out jet after jet of hot come that I realize it wasn’t the sexual thoughts of her that pushed me into my release.
