by Amy Daws
Freya and I need crystal-clear boundaries.
“We do this for one month.” I turn to look my friend in the eyes and show her that I’m not messing around about this.
“A month?” she asks, her brows lifting in surprise. “Why a month?”
Because if we go any longer, I’ll become addicted to the taste of you.
I shrug away that thought. “We can cover a lot of ground in a month. Plus, in one month, I’ll be leaving for preseason training camp, so I’ll need to redirect all my focus back on my job by then.”
Her posture straightens, and a cute smile spreads across her face. “Okay…a month then.”
“And we don’t tell our friends about it. We act normal when we’re all together, and then when this is all over, we go straight back to being friends,” I state seriously. “Complete with Netflix and arguing.” I wink at her as I reference her description of us from before.
“That sounds perfect,” she says with a wee smile. “I’m looking forward to this. Now that I’ve got a taste of what orgasms are like, I rather like the feeling.”
My jaw drops as I stare back at her incredulously. “You like the feeling?”
She shrugs like she’s talking about her favourite item on a breakfast menu. “Yeah, that orgasm thing you get my body to do is rather nice.”
I bite my fist, feeling fit to burst at her adorable innocence. Christ, this is going to be fun.
Freya then chirps, “I guess this means I can forget about finding a date for Allie and Roan’s wedding.”
I shoot her a cheeky wink. “Aye, you won’t need a man by your side when you have your Loch Ness Monster Sex Steed walking you down the aisle.”
Freya’s nose wrinkles as she moves to stand up. “Nope…can’t do it. Deal’s off.”
“What?” I exclaim, my body tensing at her ominous words that I know she can’t mean.
She pins me with a look. “I refuse to shag you ever again if you keep referring to your penis as the Loch Ness monster.”
“Just give it a chance,” I say with a wry grin because I love winding her up like this. “It grows on you…literally.”
I waggle my brows at my sexual innuendo, and Freya wrinkles her nose. “Nope. We’re in our second fight of the day already, so the deal’s definitely off.”
She moves towards the door, and I quickly set my coffee down and jog up behind her in the hallway, my erection growing in my boxers just with the thrill of this wee chase. She squeals in surprise when I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her to me, almost spilling her coffee in the process.
I twist her in my arms and press her against the wall with every inch of my body. “Nothing’s off except apparently your bra.” I reach up to tweak one of her nipples through the thin cotton. “Now put that bloody coffee down so we can make up.”
Freya laughs. “No fucking time! I have to be to work in thirty minutes.”
“We can cover a lot of ground in thirty minutes,” I growl and dip my head to press my lips to the hollow of her neck. Freya arches into me, and my cock thickens between us. “But no sex,” I hum against her collarbone. “I think you need time to recover properly before we try that again.”
She shoves me away from her chest and stares up at me with an adorably offended look. “What did you have in mind then?”
I laugh and shake my head. “Oh Cookie, there’s so much for me to show you.”
“So guess what?” Allie says cheerfully as she jogs up the stairs to my loft office in Kindred Spirits.
“What?”
“You know how you’ve been begging me to give you an idea of what I want to do for my bachelorette party?”
“Hen party, Allie,” I correct, jutting out my chin. “I know you lived in America for most of your life, but don’t ignore your British roots.”
Allie rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine, hen party. Anyway, I finally figured out what we are going to do.”
“What?” I reply with a bright smile. “Tell me what I need to line up and I’ll get it sorted.”
“We’re going to crash the guys’ stag trip in Scotland!” She perches on my cutting table and starts playing with her hair with a big smile.
“What?” My voice is venturing on shrill when I push back from my sewing machine to give Allie my full attention. “We’re going to Scotland?”
“Yep!”
“Why?” I ask curiously, my mind flooded with the fear of being in front of all our friends during my new arrangement with Mac. Acting cool during the wedding was one thing. Being around everyone for an entire weekend is another altogether. “Isn’t the point of a hen party to be away from your bloke?”
Allie rolls her eyes. “I think a hen party is just an excuse for a party, isn’t it? It was actually Mac’s idea to make it a group trip. He texted me about it this morning, and Roan is all for it!”
The mention of Mac’s name sends a frisson of desire coursing through my veins as flashbacks of last night hit me at full speed. His body, his tattoos, his noises. God, his noises were positively indecent. Even his ridiculous snoring when I came to bed, and he rolled over and started spooning me was oddly nice.
The entire evening could have been a dream. If I didn’t have the text exchanges to prove that Mac and I were truly together yesterday, I might be telling myself it was all in my head.
But it wasn’t in my head.
It was in my bed.
And it was perfection.
Which is why when I woke up this morning, I wanted more. Mac could very well be the only man I’m ever intimate with. I’m not delusional enough to think that losing my virginity is suddenly going to give me all the confidence in the world to go out there and find another bloke to be with. I know Mac tells me I’m beautiful, and men fancy me, but I didn’t grow up feeling that way. And a few sweet words from a man who is my best friend isn’t giving me any bright ideas that a romantic happily ever after is in my future. Online dating is a nightmare, and meeting men is just bleddy hard for a girl like me.
But being intimate with Mac was surprisingly easy. And that’s why I want to experience as much as I can with him because I’ve made peace with the fact that I will likely die a lonely old cat lady. At least if I sow my wild oats with Mac, I can feel satisfied in the fact that I’ve experienced all The Sex has to offer.
And after my morning with Mac, I now know what oral sex has to offer. Talk about a solid first day as an ex-virgin.
Well done, Freya.
I don’t think Mac saw that coming from me actually. But the moment I got a clear view of his penis in my loo while we were stepping into the shower together, my curious mind wanted to taste him. To know how the texture of his member would feel against my tongue and lips. A smile lifts my face as I recall Mac’s reaction when I dropped down on my knees under the spray of the shower.
“What are you doing?” Mac croaks, his voice hoarse with a sound that I recall from last night.
“I’m going to suck your penis,” I reply simply, tipping my head back so my hair gets wet. “Any tips?”
Mac’s face goes blank as he watches me on my knees fisting him and waiting with bated breath for direction. He gently combs his fingers through my hair and holds my head in place as he tries to form full sentences. “Just, erm, do whatever your instincts are telling you to do.”
So I listen to my gut, and I take him into my mouth as deep as I possibly can. His cock is unlike anything I expected. It’s hard and lush, but the skin is soft and delicate. Who knew penis skin was so silky? Certainly not me.
Mac apparently loses all ability to communicate the moment I slick my tongue around his tip and then suck him hard between my lips like a lollypop. I glance up, and the look he’s shooting down on me isn’t one of a student and a teacher. It’s pure, unbridled lust.
God, it’s brilliant. What an amazingly powerful feeling to be turning a virile, masculine, sexual man like Mac into putty in my hands. I didn’t know women could enjoy giving oral sex, but apparently they ca
n because I love having this effect on him.
I think I’m a natural at sucking cock!
And when he tells me he’s going to come, I pull back, releasing his wet penis from my mouth and fisting him tightly in my grasp. I can feel him grow beneath my fingers, and there’s a strong pulsing happening that excites me. I will him to come because I want to see it! I want to watch him explode and lose control even more because of what I’ve done to him.
His head falls back, and he orgasms, his climax sputtering out in several wild pulses, landing all over my neck and breasts, and even some on my face. It’s exhilarating. I look up and see he’s now gazing down at the wreckage as I continue to stroke him, milking out every last bit and feeling the texture of his semen on my chest with my other hand. When I bring my finger to my lips to taste his release with my tongue, the wicked, lust-filled look on his face is an image I will remember until the day I die.
“So are you in?” Allie asks, snapping my attention back to the question at hand.
“In?”
“For Scotland! Are you free? I was going to check with Sloan and Leslie and the Harris wives as well. See who’s up for a little trip to the Highlands. Mac says there’s room for everybody at his grandad’s property.”
“Erm, yeah, I’m the maid of honour, so of course I’m in,” I say, curious about the reasoning behind Mac’s sudden invitation and why he didn’t talk to me about it first.
“Yay!” Allie squeals and hops off the table to hug me. “I’m going to go see if Sloan and Leslie want a kid-free weekend.”
She pulls back from our embrace and pauses, her eyes dancing all over my face. “Something is different about you. Did you colour your hair?”
I feel the colour drain from my face and reach up to touch the wild tendrils of my hair. “Um, no. My hair is colour retardant, which is the reason I’ve embraced my natural flames. I didn’t curl them today like I usually do. I, erm, overslept.”
“It’s not your hair.” She tilts her head and eyes me seriously. “Did you get a facial maybe?”
My brows lift. “No. I use body lotion on my face sometimes.” Maybe semen is like an anti-aging cream no one talks about?
“Freya! Body lotion is horrible for your pores.”
What about semen? I think to myself and then shake my head and shrug. “Freckles are surprisingly resilient.”
She rolls her eyes and gives me one last look. “We’ll see if I still notice it tomorrow, I guess.”
She studies me for a moment longer, and I begin to wonder if she can she tell that I had sex. Is that a thing? Do sexually experienced people have a sixth sense about this? If so, I’m going to be doomed in Scotland!
Allie turns to head down the stairs. “Are you off for the day soon?”
I glance at the clock to see it’s nearing on six already. “Oh God, yes. I had no idea it was so late. Hercules is probably wasting away at home.”
Allie laughs and gives me one last wave. “All right then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” I reply, abandoning my sewing machine for the night.
I head downstairs and wave my goodbyes to Sloan and Leslie before stepping outside to find Mac parked smack dab in front of the shop.
He waves buoyantly from the driver’s seat to get my attention, like somehow I could have missed him. I look side to side, still not one hundred percent certain that he’s here for me, and not simply dropping off Roan for Allie or something.
He beeps the horn and waves me over like a bleddy maniac.
With a frown, I stride across the street and slip into his car. “Why are you blowing the horn outside my place of work?”
“Well, you were just standing there like you didn’t recognise me.”
“I wasn’t sure you were here for me.”
“Who would I be here for? Mr Aged Cheddar around the corner?”
I reach across the console and whack his shoulder as he smirks and takes off down the road.
“What are you doing exactly?” I ask after a few moments of silence.
He shrugs. “I’m picking you up from work.”
“Why?”
He shrugs again. “If I’m being completely honest, it’s probably because we shagged last night and you sucked my cock like a champion this morning.”
I can’t help it. I giggle-snort like a fool. “You are such an ox, do you know that?”
“And you’re an ungrateful passenger.”
The car goes quiet for a minute before I ask, “So are you just dropping me off at home?”
Mac get a salacious grin on his face. “We’re going shopping first.”
My mood darkens. “I do not want to try on any more clothes for you, Mac. Look, I’m wearing a skirt today!” I state, pointing down at the black pencil skirt that sits just above my knees.
“Oh believe me, Cookie. I noticed. You in that skirt was on my mind all day long.” He shoots me a naughty wink. “We’re not shopping for clothes. We’re shopping for food.”
As Freya and I meander around the supermarket, she starts firing questions at me about Scotland. “Why on earth do you think it’s a good idea to bring the ladies on your stag weekend to Scotland? Don’t you think it’s going to be obvious?”
“Don’t I think what is going to be obvious?” I ask as I drop a tray of fresh strawberries and a can of whipping cream into the trolley Freya is pushing along.
“That we’ve…been intimate,” she says on a whisper and looks around nervously as though our fellow shoppers can hear her.
“No, I don’t,” I reply with a shrug. “I can act completely normal around you. Just look at me now, walking around a store and not shouting at the top of my lungs that my cocker has been inside you in the last twenty-four hours.”
Freya’s eyes go wide as she aggressively shushes me. To my delight, I watch her adorable ears turn as red as the strawberries in the trolley.
“Are you the one we have to worry about?” I ask with a lascivious smirk. “Are you going to have trouble keeping your hands off of me? I’m sure now that you’ve tasted the Loch Ness monster yourself, it’s going to be nearly impossible for you to control your urges.”
Freya rams the trolley into my shins.
I bite my fist to stop myself from screaming in agony. “Do I need to remind you that my legs are worth a bit of money?”
“Do I need to remind you that you sound completely ridiculous when you refer to your penis as the Loch Ness monster?”
As those words escape Freya’s lips, a flash of movement catches my eye, and we both look over to see a wee blond-haired boy, who can’t be more than six years old, staring directly up at us, listening to our entire exchange. His mother stands just behind him, looking outraged. With a scathing look, she drags the wee lad away, no doubt thinking we’re a couple of perverts, and I hear his wee voice repeat, “Is my penis called the Loch Ness monster too, Mummy?”
I turn accusing eyes at Freya. “You scarred that wee boy for life. Are you happy?”
“Quite,” she replies, jutting out her chin defiantly. “Hopefully, he’ll not grow up to be disillusioned into ever thinking his penis is a mythological monster.”
I shake my head from side to side, a smile growing on my face. “You’re going to have to stop being mean to me, Freya, or I’m going to fall in love with you.”
Freya’s anger disappears. “What?”
I shoot her a wink. “I get a stiffy for the mean ones.”
She blinks at me strangely while I grin and turn to continue our shopping excursion, grabbing all the necessary supplies that we’ll need for tonight’s festivities, which Freya still knows nothing about.
When we’re checking out, Freya says quietly to me, “Do sexually experienced people have a sixth sense about ex-virgins?”
“What?” I ask, looking down at her, and trying—and failing—not to laugh.
“Never mind,” Freya says, her cheeks turning red as she glances at the man ringing up our food.
&n
bsp; I grasp her arm to turn her attention back to me. “No, no, repeat yourself.”
She glances around nervously before leaning up to whisper, “Like, can they sense I had sex in the way police dogs can smell drugs?”
I school my face and try not to laugh too hard at my dear, sweet, innocent friend. “Not to my knowledge, Cookie.”
She shakes her head, rejecting my response. “I swear Allie could tell. She said I looked different, and she knows about my lack of experience, so I feel like maybe she knew.”
I hand over my credit card and turn to take a good look at my best mate. Tilting my head, I scan her body with great delight. She does seem a bit different now that I’m really looking. Her posture is a bit taller. And her face is always beautiful with those wee freckles, but it’s almost like her eyes are constantly smiling even when she’s not smiling.
It’s hot as fuck.
I need to get her arse home. Now.
“She only knows what you tell her,” I state and give her chin a small chuck. “And don’t worry about Scotland. It’s going to be really fun showing you my favourite kind of sex.”
The cashier suddenly drops the can of whipping cream on the floor and frantically bends over to pick it up in a vain attempt to hide the fact he was earwigging.
Freya hits me with an admonishing look but then bites her lip and leans in to ask, “What’s your favourite kind of sex?”
I smirk and whisper in her ear. “The secret kind.”
Freya snorts out a laugh. “I can’t wait to see how that goes.”
A while later, we’re back in Freya’s flat with groceries spread out on the countertop. Hercules has taken cover as usual. Clearly our intimate moment this morning meant nothing to him. And Freya has already given me shite about being cheeky enough to pack an overnight bag. I couldn’t give a fuck. I owe Freya another sleepover. One where I don’t pass out on her before she comes back to bed. And I intend to follow through this time.