Possessive Best Friend

And he fills me. I feel him come, growling the whole time, a low timbre groan as his cum fills every inch. I gasp and shudder, and as we both finish, he holds me tight in his arms.

I feel him slide out of me. I turn and lean up against the pillar. He steps closer, kisses me, holds me. I grin at him, sweating, feeling stupid with my orgasm, with the rush of joy that always comes after.

“That was…”

“Necessary.” He grins. “Right.”

“Really, really good.”

He laughs. “And now, my Lora. This place is all ours.”

I bite my lip and pull him close. He kisses me then holds me, and he’s right.

I feel it too.

This place is ours. This huge, cavernous warehouse, this empty space.

It’s all ours.

But it’s nothing yet. It’s just a big space with walls, a roof, and a floor. It’s just a building. What we do with it, that’s what matters.

This space is potential. And we’re going to turn it into something more than that.

I just know it.16DeanThe next day we drive the rented U-Haul, the biggest truck they had, out to this middle school in the next town over. An older man meets us out back and smiles as he shows us the broken-down batting cages

“Here they are,” he says. “County approved the new cages, so we’re just looking at letting these go for cost. I mean, hell, I’d give ‘em away for free, but we’re not allowed.”

“What’s cost?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “No clue. Took a few of us guys a couple hours to take them down.”

“Five hundred bucks cover that time?”

He squints and nods. “That about does it.”

“Okay then.” I take out my checkbook, write him a check, and stare at the fencing and the pitching machines. “All right.”

He laughs. “Good luck,” he says.

Lora rolls up her sleeves and cracks her neck. “You ready, big guy? You’re doing all the hard work, you know.”

“I know,” I say with a sigh. “I have a feeling it’s going to be like that between us for a while.”

She laughs and pushes me. “Don’t be such a baby. Come on, carry that fence.”

I nod and get to work.

For some reason, it’s not that hard. I mean, it’s hard, and I’m aching and sweating by the time we get most of it loaded up, but it’s not that bad. Lora laughs and jokes, and she looks fucking gorgeous lifting old equipment with just the slightest hint of sweat rolling down her skin.

Maybe that’s stupid, maybe that’s cliché, but work doesn’t feel like work when I do it with her.

“We’ll have to do a second trip,” she says.

“Tomorrow. I’ll go find that guy and let him know we’ll be back for the rest.” I frown a little. “What was his name?”

“Nate,” she says. “Listen next time.”

I roll my eyes and head out. I find Nate cleaning out the shed next to the track. He nods and waves. “No problem, I’ll be here. Thanks for coming out so fast. What do you need with all that stuff, anyway?”

“Building an indoor fun park over in Loftville,” I say. “In an old warehouse.”

“Oh, no kidding? With them batting cages?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Sounds like fun. Maybe I’ll stop by when it’s all set up. You know, spend some time with the old equipment.”

“You can have a few rounds on the house.”

He laughs and I wave. Lora’s already sitting in the truck, her sunglasses on tight, and smiles at me. “Ready?”

“Let’s roll.”

The drive back to Loftville takes half an hour. Lora puts on the radio and sings along with old ‘90s songs I didn’t even know she liked.

“What’s the first thing you want to do when we’re done?” I ask her.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, once this is up and running, I think we should have some kind of party. Let the Loftville folks come for free for an afternoon or something like that.”

She nods. “That sounds nice.”

“Or maybe just kids will be free.”

She laughs and grins. “That sounds better.”

“Gotta turn a profit somehow.”

“Are you worried about that?” she asks.

“I’m worried about everything,” I admit. “Right now, I’m mostly worried about that old equipment. Do you have any clue how we’re going to set it all up inside?”

“Nope,” she says and grins at me. “No freaking idea.”

“We’re hiring someone.”

“Yep, probably going to have to.”

“Which means we need more money.”

“Also true.”

“Got any more siblings I don’t know about?”

“Sadly, no. Although there’s my long-lost sister, Beatrice, but mother won’t acknowledge her.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Oh, Beatrice doesn’t believe in the sanctity of the Lofthouse family name.” She says that last bit with the perfect imitation of her mother.

“Guess we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way and go to a bank.”

“Banks.” She wrinkles her nose. “The worst.”

“There’s something we can agree on.”

We stop talking as we pull up toward the long driveway that leads to the warehouse. As I pull in and head up, I slow the truck and frown up ahead.