Sugar Rush (Friend-Zoned 3)

Thirty life-altering seconds.

My lower back prickles as my core begins to pulse. Max lowers himself to take my mouth in a demanding kiss, and I moan into it. Reaching up, I wrap my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. His tongue dances with mine. Ecstasy pours through my body. Heart racing, I clamp my legs around him, tilt my head back, and cry out, “Oh God. Yes!” My body jerks uncontrollably, and fifteen seconds later, it’s over.

Something wet on my lower stomach drips down my hip, onto my bed. Max pants at my cheek. It takes me a minute to get my shit together. I open my eyes to find Max looking down at me, eyes smiling. I can’t help it. I cover my eyes with a hand and burst into laughter. “Well, that kinda sucked.” I remove my hand to find him grinning down at me, dimple out for the world to see. Without thinking, I reach up and poke it gently. “I like this.”

“I like you.”

I trail my fingertip from his jaw, down to the slight dip in his chin. “You’re just saying that because you came.” I look down at the wetness on my stomach, and then back up at him. “Twice.”

He just continues to grin. “I’m not even sorry.”

“Not even a little?”

He pecks my lips and the light look in his eyes turns intense. “Not even a little.” Flipping onto his back, his cock still out, he pulls me into his side, bare-assed. “Wow. Dry humping. I don’t think I’ve had that much fun since I was sixteen.”

I cuddle into him, my nose wedged under his jaw, breathing in his woodsy scent. “It was ridiculous. Although I’m feeling pretty good right now. How about you?”

“Phenomenal.” And I feel the vibrations through his chest.

“Then that’s all that matters.” My eyes start to feel heavy. “We should probably shower.”

Sounding as sleepy as I am, he pulls me closer and utters drowsily, “Yeah. Shower. Sure.”

And that’s the last thing I hear before everything fades to black.

The sound of the front door closing wakes me. Blinking sleepily, I sit up to glance over at the clock. It reads ten past seven in the morning. Looking down at the empty space next to me, my heart heavies. It looks like sleeping next to Max is too much for him. I should’ve known he isn’t as into me as I am with him. It’s the story of my life, really.

First, there was my first high school boyfriend, Jonathon. I was sixteen. He dated me for three weeks, stealing my first kiss then asking me if I thought my sister, Nat, was into him. When I told her about it, she showed him just how much she liked him. The next day at school, she told everyone he had a teenie weenie winkie. His new nickname from that day on was Midget Digit.

Then, there was Denver. Yes, his name was Denver. My mind chuckles, sighs, and then shakes its head. Just from his name, I should’ve known he was a douche nugget. We dated senior year for a whole eight months. I was just about to turn eighteen. He did all the right things, said all the right things, he was on the basketball team, and was tall.

I like tall guys, so sue me.

After six months of dating, and five months of being discreetly—or not so discreetly—pressured, I gave it up to him. He was my first. He told me I ruined it, because I cried. But the thing was, it hurt, and he did nothing to prepare me for that. I know we were young, but he knew better; he was just a selfish lover. I figured maybe he was just excited and forgot to warm me up…but with two more month of this, I went to talk to my sisters. Something just didn’t feel right.

My sisters were appalled that I put up with this for a whole two months. They told me about the female orgasm and about how real men treat a woman with care. Nina bought me my first vibrator. She told me to practice masturbating with and without it. She told me my hands are a major factor in sex. This was weird, but I trusted my sisters more than anyone.

My first orgasm happened with a vibrator, and it was so intense that it felt like I was being electrically shocked. Hell, it probably looked like I was being shocked. I also threw the vibrator mid-orgasm against the wall. Hard.

When Nina and Nat asked me how it went, I blushed, showed them the now-broken vibrator, and had to listen as they cried from laughter. I covered my face to hide my smile. Damn them. Nat explained through her laughter, “You don’t have to have it on high, Lena. There are different settings. Try somewhere in the middle next time. We’ll get you another, Bazooka Jane.”

The next night, I tried with just my hand. But it was completely frustrating. I didn’t do it long before I stopped. I was rubbing myself raw. I definitely wasn’t turned on. I didn’t know what I was doing wrong. So I went to my sisters for guidance. The answer was simple, yet so effective.

Nina shrugged. “I usually just think about someone hot doing things to me.” She turned to Nat. “What about you?”

Nat smirked. “Playgirl magazine. Under my mattress. Works every time.” Nat offered to lend me her magazine, but I shuddered. The same hands she used to pleasure herself were used to handle that magazine. So my sisters put me to task. We went down to our local newsstand. They made me, an eighteen-year-old girl, go and ask Giuseppe, a vendor I have known all my damn life, for the latest issue of Playgirl magazine.

Thankfully, the elderly vendor didn’t even flinch. Although, Nat and Nina stood behind me snickering.

With a shaking hand, I held out the money. He took it with a smile before handing

it to me. Just as I was walking away, he called out to me. We all turned to see him coming towards me with a brown paper bag. Slumping in relief, I hid my shameful whore magazine in the depths of that bag and thanked him again.

That night, I tried again, using my reinforcements. It happened. It took longer and it wasn’t as intense, but it happened. And, boy, was I proud! I told my sisters and we high-fived after, of course, Nat asked me ten times if I had washed my hands. The asshole.

That was when my sisters told me to start implicating what I had learned into the not-so-great sex I was having with Denver. I wasn’t sure about this. I knew Denver well enough to know he didn’t like change, but I figured if I were the one making the change while he was able to continue doing his own thing, it wouldn’t be an issue.

I was wrong.