What Kinda Cute? | What Are The Odds Excerpt #1

“Did you like me before?” I ask before I realize I’m asking. “Or - were you attracted to me?”

He pauses, giving me a side glance. “Were you?”

“I asked you first.”

I can see the faintest tint of red in his cheeks, and my stomach flips. He pushes a hand through his hair, his locs hanging loose around his shoulders. I rub my thumb over his knuckles.

“I mean, I guess I sort of caught onto the fact that I felt - something by the end of it all,” he admits, his eyes straight ahead. “Eventually, I wanted to hang out with you more than I wanted to be home with my wife, and yeah, it was a lot of Naya’s bullshit too, and she wasn’t home much when she started fucking around, but - there was something else too. You got me, you know? Or we got each other, and shit just clicked. You didn’t expect nothin’ from me. We could sit in silence for hours and just enjoy each other’s company, and I think right after the divorce, it hit me, but I didn’t look at it closely because I was afraid of what it would mean, what it could do. And you know, I’d just gotten divorced. I thought maybe I was just in my feelings, and you were the closest person to me other than my family, so…” He shrugs. “But after all this time, it hasn’t gone away, so - now I know it’s real.”

I hum, trying to take it all in. I had wanted to believe he felt something, but hearing him confirm it and paint a picture for me is slightly overwhelming. I didn’t realize how eager I was to hear him admit it. I could have never anticipated just how elated, or relieved, I would be to hear him say these things. I could have never foreseen how thrilled I would be.

When I raise my head, he’s looking at me expectedly, and I giggle, leaning against his shoulder.

“I wish I could say it was that clear for me at any point in time. When you were with Naya, I just didn’t look at you that way. Or I tried not to? I don’t know. I trusted you, and I felt close to you, and you were definitely my closest friend. I wanted to be around you all of the time too, but I never looked any closer at it than that. I wouldn’t have even known what I was looking for. I’d never - been that close to anyone or felt that way before you, so I assumed it was just a normal thing for best friends.”

“So how do you just - start thinking I’m cute all of a sudden?”

“Oh, I always thought you were cute.”

“Oh yeah?” He comes to an abrupt halt, pulling me back to him by the hand he still holds. I know before our chests collide that I’m in trouble. “What kinda cute?”

I furrow my brow, but heat is already creeping up my arms and chest. Damn him. “What do you mean ‘what kinda cute’?”

“I mean, ‘you wanna pinch my cheeks’ cute?” He moves closer, brushing his lips against my ear. “Or ‘you play with your pussy thinking about me’ cute?”

And we were doing so well. I bite down hard on my tongue as he backs me into an alcove, set in the wall of the finished building. Thick plastic guards the path up ahead, shielding us from view, a subtle curve doing the same the way we’d come. I stare straight ahead and keep my eyes on his chest, at war with pushing him away and yanking him closer. That always seems to be the debate. He slips his hand beneath my skirt, his fingers dancing up along my thigh. I exhale slowly, my hands fisting the sides of his shirt. He’s going to ruin me. I know he is.

“Why are you so quiet, baby?”

That damn voice makes my knees weak every fucking time no matter how taunting it is. Or because of how taunting it is. Either way, it shoots straight down into the walls of my pussy, causing them to twitch even as I rub my thighs together.

“Uh oh,” he whispers. “You being a bad girl?”

I can hardly draw in a breath as his digits skate across my thigh and down along my mound. He wedges them between and parts my legs, dusting his knuckles over my covered folds. I press myself back against the wall, my tongue sweeping over my lips. Then he’s kissing me, and I swear I black out, my body sagging and my eyes falling shut. He slips an arm behind me and around my waist, the hand between my thighs curling around the fabric standing between him and my slit. I can feel his bulge pressed against my thigh and stomach, rising slowly but surely, and God, it feels bigger than it had a week ago. I want him. Whatever he’s gonna give me, I want it. I need it, and he knows it too. There is no doubt in my mind.

“How much time we got?” His voice is much more firm now, no teasing.

“I—” I expel a shuddering breath as I open my eyes, looking down at my Apple watch. “22 minutes max.”

“Perfect.”

Then he’s gone. —No, not gone, just gone down. My eyes flutter, but before they can find him, I feel his tongue against my slit. He shrugs my leg onto his shoulder and goes to work, lapping at my folds as I scramble to grip his hair and anchor myself to the ground. His thumb lazily circles my clit as he traces my entrance, and I struggle to draw in a proper breath. My chest is tight, my skin is hot, and the very real fear of someone sneaking up on us is at the back of my mind. But it’s also thrilling and exciting and a shameless fucking turn-on that has me whimpering into the open air. Then he pushes his tongue inside of me, and I clap a hand over my mouth as the leg I’m still standing on trembles, my head falling back against the wall. I can’t look at him. I might not survive it.

But he is thorough. He seems to have learned all my spots last weekend and taken notes because he works me like he’s done it a hundred times. His free hand comes up to cup my breast, the thumb on my clit moves with more fervor, and his tongue dips and curls inside of me again and again. When he buries his face completely, pressing his nose between my lips, I damn near sob into my hand, a muffled cry staining my palm. His efficiency has me dizzy, but I still manage to rut my hips against his face, pulling his head closer as I work towards release. It builds quickly, coiling in my stomach until I’m left immobile and about to implode. My body goes rigid against the wall, and then I’m screaming into my hand, his body the only thing holding me up. As if sensing my imbalance, he frees his hands and places them on my hips as he laps up my orgasm with long strokes of his tongue.

When he stands again, I’m still trying to catch my breath, my eyes half open and my chest heaving. Then I feel the head of his cock tapping against my clit. I look up at him as he licks his lips and leans closer.

“I’m gonna cum in your panties, so you can carry me around for the rest of the day,” he says softly. “You good with that?”

The mere idea has me desperate with want. I don’t know what it is, but the thought of being marked by him is intrusive and all-consuming. And I want it. Part of me, a large part that I have to all but gag, wants him to cum inside of me instead, but I’ll take what I can get. For now.

I answer by way of a kiss, yanking him towards me and crashing my mouth against his.

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