17. I Feel Like a Superhero

CHAPTER 17

I FEEL LIKE A SUPERHERO

WESTON

Mr. Smooth has fled the building again. And the way I feel right now, I don’t even remember the sound of his voice. All that’s left is this babbling, crazy guy who can’t calm down.

Who could blame me? There’s a goddess spread out in front of me, every curve ripe for touching and teasing. I’m driving her wild, and I feel like a superhero. If the superhero were a super horny college guy who’s fallen deeply in like with his fake girlfriend.

I tease my thumb in a slow circle around her clit and try not to hump the bed. I feel loose and wild tonight. Part of it is pent-up sexual desire. I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment to arrive.

But I’m weirdly nervous, too. I want to please her so badly.

“Omigod Weston! ” Abbi pants, clutching my hair.

“Is there something you want?” I tease, sliding a finger inside.

She moans.

Jesus Christ, I’m so revved up. Who knew that a bit of a dry spell could ruin a man’s restraint?

Crawling back up her body, I grab for the condom I’d retrieved from my jacket as I got undressed. I roll it on while she watches with big, hungry eyes.

I’m a good lover. A confident, generous lay. Usually . Right now I feel like a nervous teenager on prom night. This is momentous. It’s big. And I’m not referring to Little Mr. Smooth, although he’s harder than ever.

It’s because Abbi and I are such close friends, right? That must be why my heart is thumping like a kick drum right now. I care about her happiness, because I’m a good friend.

These are the thoughts bouncing around in my stunned head as I melt back down onto Abbi’s supple body. I drop kisses on her shoulders. On her neck. Wherever I want. And that’s a lot of places, apparently. I can’t believe that I’m finally allowed to drag my lips across her flat belly, and then suck lightly on the tips of her dusky nipples.

God, I’m so hungry for her. And it must be mutual, because Abbi spreads her legs in invitation. “Please,” she whispers. “You know you want to.”

I let out a helpless groan, because she isn’t wrong. Then I grab the base of my cock and squeeze tightly, trying to calm myself down. Usually the tight grip of the condom does the trick, but tonight all bets are off.

Come on, Mr. Smooth! Why has he deserted me at this crucial hour?

I give Abbi a confident smile nonetheless. Then I slide right into her tight heat. It feels so good that I close my eyes momentarily, just to appreciate the sensation of our joining.

“Oh yessss,” she breathes. Her silky hands find my chest, and she wraps her legs possessively around my ass.

My eyes flip open to find hers watching me. She looks breathless and a little stunned, which is just how I feel too. “Wow,” I say stupidly. It’s pretty much the only thought in my brain at this point.

“This is definitely the best idea I’ve ever had,” she whispers.

“Oh, so it was your idea?” I ask, rolling my hips provocatively. “News flash, my dick thinks about this all the time.”

She grips my shoulders and moves against me. “He should have made his wishes known. You were going to leave me on the front porch tonight.”

“Fair,” I say, giving her a slow thrust. “He’s learned his lesson.”

She smiles, and I lean down and kiss her deeply. I’m so turned on that I have to proceed with caution. It’s time to think about hockey practice. Drills. Conditioning. Boring sessions on the treadmill …

Abbi purrs beneath me. She runs her foot up and down the back of my leg. I kiss her as deeply as I dare while we slowly move together in the age-old dance. I wasn’t kidding when I’d said I dreamed of pulling her underneath me. The way she gazes up at me with soft eyes is just perfect.

Too perfect, actually. After a while I roll over, pulling her on top of me. This small break in the action calms me down. And the view is wow . Abbi blinks down at me with mussed hair and luscious, swaying breasts. “You are so fucking hot,” I whisper. “And I am really fucking close. Ride me.”

“Okay,” she breathes.

“Put your hands on the headboard.”

“Like this?” She leans forward and grips the bed above me.

“Exactly like that.” I reach back and slap her ass. “Go on.”

She lets out a deep, sexy breath and begins to move. And I’m in paradise as she slowly picks up the pace. I’m watching for that perfect moment when she finds the rhythm that makes her body sing. And when it happens, it’s beautiful. Her head drops as she sounds out a little breathy moan on every stroke.

“There, baby,” I say through a clenched jaw. “Give it to me.” I cup both of her tits, which bounce in my hands, and she moans more loudly. Then I skim my fingertips down her belly and right to the place of our joining.

“ Fuck , Weston,” she groans happily. “ Yes yessssss .”

Then I can’t hold back anymore. My balls get impossibly tight and I groan from the effort of staving it off. But it’s no use. I jack my hips off the bed and bounce her on my cock. The headboard begins to bang rhythmically into the wall, and I gasp as my climax hits me full force.

God almighty it’s a doozy. Grabbing her by the hips, I let out a growl of sheer relief. And then a shout of joy. I catch Abbi in my arms as she lets go of the headboard and drops onto my body with a deep, satisfied moan. And I feel her body pulse deliciously around mine.

We end up as a pile of limbs and heavy breathing. And I have never been so satisfied in my life.

That blissed-out feeling doesn’t go away, either. Usually, after a hookup, I wait around a little while and then head home. That’s my MO. It sends a friendly message but promises nothing.

Tonight is different. I don’t want to leave this bed, and Abbi’s warm body. I don’t want to leave, period. We just had amazing sex. Like, Division One championship sex. I think it broke my brain. All I want to do is hold her and nuzzle her neck.

“Okay if I stay?” I ask eventually. “It’s kinda late and kinda cold outside.”

“You can stay,” she whispers, palming my heart.

“Thanks, Abbi.” We blink at each other, but nobody moves for another moment. She’s so easy to be around. If I were looking for a real girlfriend, I’d look for one exactly like her.

She’s the one who breaks our staring contest. “One sec. Let me find you a toothbrush.”

We take turns in Abbi’s frigid bathroom. Then we slide into her bed together one more time and pull up the comforter that we’d kicked off the bed during our sexcapades.

“Night, hot stuff,” I say from my side of the bed.

“Night, Westie,” she yawns.

And then I fall deeply asleep, before I can decide whether I actually like that silly name or not.

In the morning, I wake up to the sound of her alarm.

“What time is it?” I croak, my hand somehow curled against her hip. My nose at the back of her neck. This is so unusual for me. I haven’t woken up pressed against a woman in a really long time.

It’s nicer than I remember.

“Eight,” she whispers, her fingers trailing over my hand.

“You have somewhere you need to be?”

“No.”

“Good,” I grunt. Then I roll her, pulling her warm body onto my chest.

Ooh, a naked woman , Mr. Smooth says .

But for once I ignore him, and we sleep a while longer.

The next time I wake up, we’re cuddled together like we’ve been sharing a bed for years. I can tell she’s awake, so I run a hand down her arm. “Your skin is cold,” I whisper. “Is it always this cold in here?”

“Yes,” she says. “Although I didn’t notice it much last night.”

I chuckle and then kiss her shoulder. “Last night was epic.”

“Yes it was,” she agrees softly.

“Do you, uh…” I realize too late that I haven’t planned what I was going to say. And I’m in uncharted territory here. “Do you think we’ll end up doing it again sometime?” Right now works for me , I almost add.

"That sounds glorious," she says carefully. "But I just assumed you didn't do repeats."

Well, ouch. Hearing my own behavior reflected back at me shuts me up for a second. She's right, but I didn’t know it was so obvious.

“I didn’t mean it as a criticism,” she says into the silence. “I promise.”

“No—I know you didn’t. But you and I are friends, right? And we’ll stay that way?”

"Of course." She gives me a tentative glance.

I curl an arm around her, and tuck her cheek onto my bare shoulder. “You already know why I don't do relationships.''

“You mean because your family is an advertisement for love gone wrong? Or because it's more fun to party your way through the female hockey fans of Vermont?”

I snort, although it's hard to argue with this assessment. "I meant the first thing. But I'm not ashamed of the second."

She reaches an arm up and ruffles the hair above my ear. “You shouldn't be ashamed. I'm just envious of your fun."

"We had a lot of fun last night, right?"

"We set the standard for fun," she agrees. "In the dictionary now there's a picture of our clothes on the floor."

"Agreed," I say, “And only because Merriam-Webster would never print a photo of the best parts of last night.” I run a hand down her bare ass and squeeze. “But that’s why I think—since we're both reasonable adults who enjoy our fun—we could just keep the party going. What do you say to that? It would be our special arrangement for fun.”

“Like friends with benefits?” she asks.

“Exactly like that. This would be casual. You're graduating in the spring, anyway. So our fun already has a sell-by date.”

“You're right,” she murmurs. “It totally does.”

“And there’s a bonus—your idiot step-stepbrother will see me waiting for you to get off work.” My voice drops in pitch as I stroke her smooth belly with my happy fingers. “I won’t even be acting.”

She laughs. “Okay, sure. But he got the message already, I think.”

“He'd better have.” God, how I still want to punch that guy.

Abbi finally rolls over to study me with her clear gray eyes. “Just because I don’t think I need your help anymore with the Price thing doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it. Thank you for standing up for me. It's been really nice of you."

“Anytime,” I say, my voice husky. And that's when my phone alarm finally goes off. “Oh, hell. I guess it's nine thirty already.”

“I should get up, too,” Abbi says, sitting up.

Our perfect night is ending, and I’m just not ready. “Should we shower together? And then I can take you out for bagels and a vat of hot coffee. Just to take off the chill in your room. How do you even get out of bed in the morning?”

She smiles down at me. “That sounds nice, and I won’t turn you down. But I do have a system for this. That robe”—she points at a flannel bathrobe over a nearby chair—"is strategically positioned so that I can reach it from the bed.” She leans toward the chair, yanking the robe onto her bed. “Extra layers are the only way to get out of this bed when it’s so cold in here.”

I put a hand on the soft flannel. “This is nice. Is it from that place where you have your internship?”

“Yes. My employee discount is super handy.”

“Will we both fit inside this robe?”

“No.” She giggles. “But I'll turn on the water and call you when it's warm.”

“Good plan.”