Swoon: A Brother's Best Friend Standalone

As my body explodes and my vision literally blurs, I collapse, and then lie still on top of Amy for a long moment, trying to catch my breath.

That’s when I finally process something I just heard Amy say, in the midst of all that pleasure. Hold up. Did Amy say she loves me, in the middle of that euphoric mutual orgasm, or did I imagine that? Because I’m ninety-nine percent sure I heard Amy say the “L” word just now. Loudly. Shit.

As the euphoria I’ve been feeling fades, a slight panic begins taking its place. Did she say she loves me? Oh, fuck. I think she did. Which means I’ve definitely let things get way too intense, too fast here. This is only day two of Amy’s weeklong sexual education, for fuck’s sake, and I already feel like we’re butting up against the outer boundaries of our agreed-upon “no-strings” arrangement. Why’d I tell Amy all that stuff at breakfast? Why’d I open up like that? I’ve never told anyone that stuff. So, why’d I think it’d be a good idea to tell her?

Okay, that settles it. I need to cool my jets. Slow things down. Stop running off at the mouth. From now on, I need to remember our arrangement. No strings. No promises. No leading her on to think otherwise. It’s one thing to role-play being Amy’s fantasy man and another thing to start believing it myself. One of us has to keep a clear head here—remember this isn’t a fairytale and I’m not her Prince Charming. And that person is going to be me.

Twenty-One

Amy

It seems like Colin has been unusually quiet today, ever since he twisted my body into squirting pretzels after breakfast. He hasn’t been rude to me during the past six hours or so. On the contrary, he’s been exceedingly polite—the same way he’d treat the receptionist in the lobby at an important job interview. Unfortunately, however, that’s not the way a man should treat the woman he’s fucked four times in the space of twelve hours.

I’m hoping Colin’s weirdly polite demeanor toward me doesn’t mean he’s feeling anxious about something. But if it does, please, God, let him be feeling anxious about his first day on the set tomorrow, rather than about the unfortunate thing I blurted during my final, mind-blowing orgasm earlier.

I love . . .!

That’s what I blurted to Colin during that final, massive O.

And I’ve been stressing about it, ever since.

Luckily, Colin had an orgasm while I said it, right on the heels of mine, so I think the odds are high he was too distracted to hear a word I might have said. Also, those two little words were buried in a stream of other ones, rambling ones, so that’s helpful.

Plus, I was miraculously able to clamp my lips together and stop myself from saying the final word on the tip of my tongue—you. In fact, after a beat of weird silence, I managed to take a sharp left turn and add an entirely new ending to the phrase I was thinking. Your cock!

That’s what I wound up shouting, I think, as Colin came inside me, so that all of it, put together, turned into: “I love your cock!” At least, I think that’s what I said. Maybe that’s wishful thinking. The more likely scenario is that I’m now dealing with the fall-out of me making a flat-out declaration of love to Colin during the height of pleasure.

Shit.

Either way, whatever did or didn’t come out of my mouth in that moment, Colin has been acting weird, ever since. Right after sex, he kissed my cheek, said he was going to work out, shower, and then study his script. “No need to help me run lines,” he said, as I lay in bed, freaking out about what I’d said. “I’m going to do some exercises my coach taught me.”

“Cool,” I replied lamely, my mind racing. “Do whatever you need to do. I’ll keep myself busy today.” And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing, while inwardly worrying about what I might or might not have said in the throes of ecstasy.

First things first, I organized Colin’s digital calendar, with his permission, creating a color-coded system for him to quickly surmise if an event or obligation relates to his personal life, band, budding career as an actor and model, or “other”—that last category including stuff like cross-over promotional appearances, charity events, and parties that might serve as networking opportunities.

After that, again with Colin’s permission, I contacted his manager to see if we could devise some better systems for Colin in terms of the way he’s apprised of his various offers and opportunities. Based on something Colin told me last night, while we were tangled up in each other after sex, he sometimes feels overwhelmed and bombarded by the craziness of his life. So, I figured I’d try to streamline a few things for him, if I can.