The Challenge

Megan Hart

Katie Donato and Dean Manion are total opposites. She's straight, he's gay. She's a serial monogamist, he's never been into commitment. But they both love sex, and a challenge.

So when Katie tells Dean she thinks she could pleasure him better than he could ever satisfy her, he dares her to prove it—by sleeping together. Soon Katie and Dean are taking their friendship to places they never imagined.

But what about the guys they're already dating…?

“You’re late. Again.” Katie Donato barely glanced away from her laptop as Dean Manion slipped the nonfat, sugar-free white chocolate latte onto her desk and his lean, long body into the chair next to hers.

“But I brought lattes.”

She glanced at him then, taking in the smug grin, the artfully careless hair, the slightly loosened tie. “You know, traffic is a good excuse for being late. Lost car keys. Forgetting you had to pick up your favorite suit from the dry cleaner's, even. But not last-minute blow jobs from the dude at the Copy Cabana.”

Dean laughed and sipped from his own cup. “Not last-minute, not Copy Cabana.”

At this, she swiveled in her chair to study him. “Don’t tell me you had a sleepover last night?”

Dean grinned in answer and drank deeply. “Ahhh, sweet caffeine. I’m going to need it.”

“Is that your subtle way of saying you were up all night fucking?” Katie lifted a brow and sipped at the drink, then tipped the cup toward him. “This is a peace offering but it still doesn’t let you off the hook. We have a meeting with Smith and Simon in half an hour and I’ve been here since eight putting this proposal together.”

“Sorry.” Dean’s brows knitted and he leaned forward to rub his knees against hers, but Katie pushed him away with a laugh.

“Stop. I’m not some eighteen-year-old, just-out-of-the-closet emo-banged pretty boy. I’m immune to your wiles.”

“Bullshit.” Dean said this with the utter and absolute confidence of a man who oozes sensual appeal and knows it. He leaned back and propped his feet, shod in expensive Italian leather, on her desk.

Katie shoved them off. “It’s not bullshit. I know you too well, Dean. You’re like a Lladró figurine. Pretty to look at but too expensive to be practical and not at all useful.”

“Hey.” He frowned at this and set his cup on the desk to lean toward her again. He touched her knee. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Katie, spreadsheet completed, hit the Print button and stood to smooth the wrinkles in her skirt. “It means you should’ve been here at eight this morning to do your part of this project and you weren’t, because you were too busy getting your dick sucked.”

She wasn’t angry–not really. Annoyed but not furious. She’d worked with Dean long enough to understand him, so when he sidled in late to work with a latte for her, she knew better than to be surprised. Didn’t mean he was free of blame, though.

“I said I’m sorry.”

She knew he meant it, even as she knew without even looking at him he was giving her a patented Dean sexy stare guaranteed to bring most anyone to their figurative knees. She pulled the papers from her printer and stapled them, then slipped them into the presentation folder she’d carefully prepared. She gathered the rest of her materials while he watched in silence, but damn it, lost it all when she could no longer stifle the yawn that had been doing its best to sneak out of her.

“Ha!” Dean stood, looming. “What’s that?”

Katie feigned innocence and swigged coffee. “What?”

“You yawned.” Dean had no problems invading anyone’s personal space if it benefited him, but he was one of the few who could get away with such a thing with Katie. Now he sidled up close, blocking her retreat by pressing a thigh against hers to keep her pinned with the desk at her back. “Up late?”

Katie bit hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from giving in to a grin. “None of your business.”

“Katie,” Dean said in a low, sultry tone. “Of course it’s my business. Who was he? Guy from the dry cleaner's? The gym? Don’t tell me he’s that loser from college who looked you up on Connex.”

“Time for the meeting.”

It was useless, and Katie should’ve known better. Dean put out one long arm and kept her from moving past him. “Spill it.”

She sighed. “Fine. You don’t know him because I’ve never mentioned him before. I met him in a coffee shop a few months ago.”

“The Green Bean? Which guy?”

“No. The Morningstar Mocha. And you wouldn’t know him, he’s straight.” At least she thought Jimmy was straight. She hoped he was.

“A few months ago? You’ve been holding out on me?” Dean frowned. “Damn.”

“Not holding out.” Katie rested her butt on the desk, an eye on the clock, and drank her coffee. “There isn’t anything to tell you. Unlike you, I don’t bang just any guy who comes along.”

Dean put a hand over his heart. “That hurts. You act like I don’t have standards.”

It was nice to have a friend good enough to understand that a single raised brow meant so much. “Uh-huh.”

He leaned against the filing cabinet across from her. “He kept you up late. That’s something.”

“We weren’t fucking, Dean.”

He made a face. “Why the hell not?”

“I don’t know,” Katie teased. “Maybe I’m wrong and he is gay.”

Dean snorted into his coffee and tilted his head to study her. “You like him?”

“You like the guy you were with this morning?” She deflected the question easily enough.

“I like all the guys I’m with, at least at the time.”

Katie ticked off the list on her fingers. “You let him sleep over and were late to work because of him. Granted, that doesn’t mean much, but add to that the fact you haven’t been describing every inch of his cock to me in precious, explicit detail, and I’m pretty sure that means you like him.”

Dean’s gaze shifted. Ah, she was spot-on. Wow.

“Dunno what you mean.”

“You only keep quiet about the dudes you like, which are few and far between lately.” Actually, there hadn’t been any. Katie kept the tone light, not wanting to bring up old flames just for the sake of needling her friend–there was plenty to tease Dean about without bringing Ethan into it.

“Sure, I like him. I like lots of stuff.”

Katie laughed. “I know you do.”

With this laid out between them, Dean seemed satisfied. “So long as he’s not that douche from Connex. That guy was bad news.”

Katie laughed at the way Dean bristled on her behalf. “Umm…no. I wouldn’t even fuck him with your dick. C’mon, move that pretty ass. Time to shine.”

“We have a few minutes.”

Katie sighed again. An old argument. She liked to be prompt, even early. Dean preferred to make a grand entrance. She eyed his practiced pout. “I told you, that doesn’t work on me.”

“It works on everyone.”

This was very close to true. “Only because everyone else doesn’t know you like I do. All promise, no delivery.”

Dean leered, once more leaning so close Katie could get a full whiff of his delicious cologne. “Shut your mouth! The fuck you mean, no delivery? I deliver.”

Katie leaned, too, so her breath would tickle his earlobe. “No, babe. That ass and that smile promise a lot but Dean Manion only delivers to addresses on Penis Avenue. Vagina Street’s out of your delivery zone, remember?”

He turned his face half an inch so his lips brushed her neck. “Just because I don’t doesn’t mean I couldn’t.”

At this boast, so typical, Katie burst into laughter loud enough to make her happy she had her own office with a closed door. She pushed at his chest. “Please. You’ve never fucked a woman. Have you ever even kissed a woman?”

“I’ve kissed you,” he reminded her, letting her push him away but not making it easy.

“A New Year’s Eve kiss under mistletoe. Besides,” Katie said as she gave his tie a fond yank, “there was no tongue. Doesn’t count.”

“Doesn’t mean I couldn’t,” Dean repeated stubbornly.

Katie cast another glance at the clock. Fifteen minutes to make it from her office, down the hall, up three floors in the notoriously slow elevator, down another two corridors to get to the meeting room. “Look, your reputation as a sex bomb is safe with me. I swear I will never reveal to all the women crushing on you that you’d rather get a paper cut on your tongue than eat pussy.”

She laughed again at his outraged expression. “Don’t act like it’s not true. I’ve seen you with the girls in reception, the ones who always give you doughnuts. You can whore yourself for a bear claw all you want, but when it comes right down to it, you won’t put out.”

Dean was the part of their team who came up with the brilliant ideas; Katie figured out how to put them into action. Dean orchestrated the flash and bang while Katie made sure all the pieces fit into place. Yet it was Dean who fought the hardest to win the accounts, even when Katie’s careful financial summaries determined the risk wasn’t worth the effort. Dean who worked long hours ripping apart campaigns and sewing them back together until nobody could possibly offer something better. The same competitive edge that made him killer at racquetball drove him in his work, too, just as Katie’s intrinsically neat and tidy personality did in hers.

She’d just tapped Dean’s warrior nature. She saw it in his eyes and stance, so briefly fierce she’d have stepped back from it if the desk hadn’t already been under her butt. Any other man in the office–hell, anywhere–who gripped her hips and pulled her close up on his crotch that way, who ran his mouth along the curve of her neck to find her ear and breathe heat into it—any other man would’ve earned a knee to the nuts and possibly the heel of her hand into his Adam’s apple.

Instead, Katie tensed under Dean’s practiced touch, head tipping to give him greater access. There was no denying he was scrumptious. Probably more so because they were such good friends, and she knew his quirks. Most definitely because he was gay and triggered the “never gonna get it” hormone. Now she closed her eyes while he ran his lips lightly over her skin.

“This is so out of the boundaries of appropriate workplace behavior it’s not even funny,” she murmured.

He moved away, not quite enough. “Since when have I ever been appropriate?”

“This is true,” Katie said, amused to hear the sex-syrup tone of her own voice. God, it had been too long since a man had put his hands on her. “However, it doesn’t mean you could make me come.”

Disgruntled, Dean stepped back. “You think it would be so easy to get me off?”

“I do, actually. Now c’mon, shake that oh-so-fine ass, please. We really have to move.”

Dean crossed his arms, still looming over her. “What makes you think that?”

“Because I’m looking at the clock.”

“No.” Dean shook his head. “That I’d be so easy to get off, but you wouldn’t. What makes you so sure?”

He was, Katie saw with genuine surprise, seriously wounded. She tugged his tie gently. “Because you have a penis, sweetie, and penises are notoriously easy to please. And I like sucking cock. I’m sure if you closed your eyes, you’d never know my mouth was attached to a set of breasts and a cunt. On the other hand, the fact you’ve never made love to a woman and aren’t turned on by women, would probably mean that providing me with the same favors wouldn’t be as successful.”

She paused, deciding to go for the truth simply because Dean was a friend and a good one, at that. “And because I have a hard time getting off with straight men who are into me. I think managing an orgasm with a guy I knew was cringing the whole time would really be impossible.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. No.”

Dean gave her the full force of his flirting grin, the one she’d seen slay the girl who brought around the bagels, random guys on the street and everyone in between. “You’re afraid to take me up on it?”

“Are you suggesting I…fuck you?” Katie didn’t even look at the clock this time. The idea was intriguing. Tempting, even. It wasn’t like she’d never wondered what it was like to get in Dean’s pants. And to be the first woman to ever have him?

Fucking delicious.

“I’m saying we should fuck each other. We’ll see who gets who off first.” Dean ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. “And fastest.”

“Sex is always such a game to you.”

“And that’s wrong…because…?”

“Because we’re late, for one thing,” she said sternly. “For real, this time. Let’s go. If you want this account–”

“Say yes, Katie.”

She looked him up and down, taking in every detail. She knew every inch of Dean already, having spent so many hours with him, and suspected he was probably as familiar with her. She looked at him with new eyes, now. She’d gone to bed with men she was less attracted to than she was to Dean, so really, where was the issue? Sex was with him was unlikely to lead to one of those three-in-the-morning talks about what it all meant, and if it did, both of them would be fools. At the very worst, she’d be proven right, and even with that, how could getting a full serving of the delicious, deep-dish pie of gorgeous that was Dean be wrong?

“You’re on,” Katie said.

“You did what?” Jacob, standing at the sink and rinsing a pot of steaming hot pasta, turned so fast a few strands of limpid spaghetti slopped over the sides.

Dean leaned against the counter, bottle of beer he hadn’t yet tasted in one hand. “You heard me.”

“Oh, I heard you.” Jacob turned back to the sink and ran cool water over the pasta before dumping it all into the bowl. “I just can’t believe it. You’re going to have sex with a woman?”

Now Dean drank. “Yeah.”

He watched Jacob’s shrug, wondering whether that meant the other man was dismissing the possibility or expressing jealousy. Or maybe Jacob didn’t give a shit, Dean thought, tasting the richness of the beer. Would he have cared if Jacob had told him the same thing? What would Dean have said?

Jacob turned again and brought both Dean’s bottle and Dean’s hand to his mouth to drink. He licked his lips, then mirrored Dean’s stance against the counter, both hands gripping the marble at his sides. “And she agreed to it?”

“Of course she did.” Dean drank again and set the bottle on the counter to grab Jacob’s wrist and pull him closer. Jacob stood just an inch shorter, his sandy hair cropped in a buzz cut shorter than Dean usually liked. Eyes bluer, ass just a little too flat. But a mouth made of perfect, one Dean had no trouble kissing or fucking.

Jacob opened his mouth when Dean kissed him. Their tongues teased languidly until Dean slid a hand down to cup Jacob’s crotch. Then Jacob drew in a hitching breath and pulled away enough to center his gaze on Dean’s.

“I can figure out why she agreed to it, but why did you?”

Dean tasted Jacob on his lips but didn’t go in for another kiss. He shrugged. “Because she thought I couldn’t.”

“Ah.” Jacob tilted his head. “Well, I guess you can’t let her get away with assuming that just because you like cock that makes you, oh, I dunno, GAY or anything.”

“Hey!” Dean didn’t like the insinuation, especially since Jacob didn’t know him well enough to judge him that way. “She knows I’m queer. I never pretended otherwise.”

Jacob gave an exaggerated shrug and made a face. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, sugar. Just wondering if you need to prove it to yourself or something.”

“I’ve known I was queer since the eighth grade,” Dean said flatly.

Jacob’s gaze dropped to Dean’s crotch. “Uh-huh. Like I said. You don’t have to prove it to me. I had your dick in my mouth this morning, remember? Then again…”

“Then again, what?” Dean looked at the door, thinking how he should’ve walked out on this conversation ten minutes ago but hadn’t, and not quite willing to ponder why.

“Even straight guys can be convinced getting head from another dude isn’t gay.” Jacob grinned, showing white teeth just a tiny bit too crooked.

Dean snorted lightly. “Yeah? The fuck you getting at, Jacob? You want me to suck your cock?”

Jacob rubbed at his crotch without breaking the gaze. He knew just how to work this, that little bastard. He’d known Dean all of two weeks and already had his number. Not that Dean was going to admit it, hell no. No guy got under his skin, not that he’d let on. Ever.

“Sure,” Jacob said with a raised brow.

In answer, Dean grabbed Jacob’s belt. Undid the buckle. Then the zipper. He freed Jacob’s dick, stroking it from half-hard to full-on wood in half a minute after that. Jacob swallowed hard, eyes getting heavy-lidded.

“You think I don’t suck cock?” Dean breathed, voice husky in anticipation.

“Well,” Jacob said, feigning a nonchalance made obviously false by the tremor in his tone, “you haven’t sucked mine.”

Dean laughed at that, still stroking until Jacob pushed his hips forward. “Your spaghetti’s going to get cold.”

“I…like…cold spaghetti.” Jacob’s voice broke on a gasp, and that was all the impetus Dean needed.

He went to his knees and yanked down Jacob’s jeans at the same time, baring the other man’s body and gripping his tight ass. Jacob’s cock was thick and hard, bobbing upward at the release from tight denim. Dean captured it at the base with one fist. His mouth found it next, and he slid Jacob’s cock deep into the back of his throat.

Dean closed his eyes.

Not because he didn’t want to see what he was doing. He liked watching, as a matter of fucking fact, but this was different. On his knees, giving head, was different than looking down at someone in the same place. On his knees, Dean liked to lose himself in the smells and sounds, the taste of whoever he was fucking. He let go of Jacob’s ass to put Jacob’s hand on the back of his head, curling Jacob’s fingers into his hair. Urging him to guide the pace, if he wanted.

Yeah, Dean liked being on top. Fucking. But he wasn’t averse to giving pleasure, either, and it was always, always better when the other person felt comfortable enough to say what they liked. Or show him. Dean wasn’t above admitting he could be an asshole, but never let it be said he was a selfish lover.

“Fuck.” Jacob’s fingers tightened in Dean’s hair and his hips pumped. “Fuck, baby, that’s so fucking good.”

Baby?

Dean paused at the endearment, his fist sliding up to meet his lips as his mouth came down. Jacob didn’t stop moving, fucking into Dean’s hand and mouth. And after the barest moment, Dean went on. Sex talk didn’t mean anything.

Then it didn’t matter what Jacob said, because Dean unzipped his own jeans and pulled his cock free. Now came the complicated dance of hands and mouth, stroking and sucking at the same time. He had to catch up–Jacob was already making the low sound in the back of his throat Dean had come to recognize as his prelude to coming.

“Wait, wait.” Jacob tugged harder on Dean’s hair until Dean looked up.

It took Dean a second to understand Jacob wanted him to stop. Who the fuck ever wanted him to stop when he was blowing him? Dean looked up, one fist still pumping Jacob’s dick, the other his own. “What?”

“I just…want…” Jacob licked his lips and swallowed, then cupped Dean’s cheek. “Stand up.”

Dean did with a quizzical laugh. Two men, pants around their ankles, cocks hard. His laugh slid into a groan when Jacob pulled him by the back of the neck to kiss him. It was a hard kiss, but not punishing. Jacob sucked Dean’s tongue as his hand curled around Dean’s dick.

“Use your hand on me,” Jacob said as he stroked. “I want to make you come. I want your mouth on mine when you come all over my hand.”

This was not what Dean had expected but fuck, Jacob was jerking him just right and the kiss went on and on, getting hotter by the second. Nothing to do but stroke Jacob’s cock, too. They fell into mutual rhythm.

His balls got heavy, his cock impossibly harder. The kiss stuttered and broke as Jacob gasped. Dean didn’t have the breath to gasp. He was going to come….

Jacob came first. Heat and slickness filled Dean’s palm. Pleasure exploded out of him. He found the breath to groan.

Panting, Jacob kissed him again. Soft, this time. He still cupped Dean’s cock, but his other hand came up to hold the back of Dean’s neck. Forehead to forehead, he smiled.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Dean said.

Jacob looked between them. “That was hot.”

Dean laughed, shaking his head. “It was definitely not what I was expecting when you told me you wanted me to suck you off.”

Jacob reached behind him to grab up a dish towel, wiping his hands and handing it to Dean. “Baby, I am not what you are expecting.”

Dean wiped his hands and put himself back in his jeans before stepping back. “Is that so?”

Jacob licked his forefinger and drew a “one” in the air. “That. Is so.”

It was a good cue to leave. After all, they’d both already gotten off. Dean’s stomach was rumbling, but dinner was cold and he could pick up something on the way home. He’d already spent last night with this guy. And the morning.

Jacob looked over his shoulder at the sink and the pot with the now-cold pasta. “This will only take a minute to warm up. You staying?”

Dean leaned to kiss him, relishing the taste of salt and beer on Jacob’s mouth. “Sure.”

Late-night conversations. Katie loved them. Darkness and distance provided by the phone made intimacy, and she loved that, too.

Jimmy was good at late-night talk. Jimmy had a voice like melting butter, all warm and soft and sweet. Rich. It didn’t matter what he was saying, really. He told stories like some men built houses, layer by layer and piece by piece, until Katie realized hours had passed and dawn was breaking.

He’d make love like that, too.

Katie wondered if she’d ever find out. She’d met Jimmy weeks ago. He’d flirted with her right away. Asked for her number. He’d actually called, too, something that had surprised her since guys like Jimmy always said they’d call but never did.

Katie wasn’t sure just how they’d fallen into late-night discussions about old movies, art, books, music. About their favorite colors and foods. All she knew was that she told Jimmy things she hadn’t told any guy in a long time, and nothing she said ever seemed to put him off or be too much. Katie had spilled her guts about a lot of things from her most embarrassing moment to her secret fetish for knitted slippers.

They had become friends, and that was great, but Katie was beginning to wonder if that’s all it would ever be.

“You stand in front of three doors,” Jimmy said. “What color are they, what is behind each, and which do you pick?”

Katie laughed. “Where do you come up with these?”

“I have a book. Two hundred and seven of the most obscure questions to ask a beautiful woman.”

At least he’d said she was beautiful. Katie cleared her throat. “Let me think about it. You go first.”

“That’s not fair. I’ve had time to think about it longer than you have.”

“Tell me anyway,” Katie told him and settled deeper into the blankets.

“The doors are red, blue and purple. I pick the blue one.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Jimmy said, “blue’s your favorite color and I bet you’re behind it.”

Heat twisted through her. “And what about the other doors?”

“I don’t open them,” Jimmy told her, “so I have no idea what’s behind them.”

“Good answer.”

“Your turn.”

Katie couldn’t begin to think about doors and colors and what was behind them. Or rather, she could think, but every door she imagined was glass, each had Jimmy behind it, and no matter how hard she tried, she could open none of them. She sighed.

“Tell me something else, Jimmy.”

“Like what?”

“What’s your favorite poem? Do you have one?”

Jimmy laughed softly, and Katie imagined the brush of his breath against her neck. “Unless you count Jim Morrison lyrics as a poem, no, I guess I don’t. What’s yours?”

“I like e.e. cummings. My favorite starts off ‘the boys I mean are not refined.’” Katie thought of the girls who bucked and bite, the boys who shake the mountains when they dance. She recited it to him from memory, and Jimmy was quiet for a moment after that.

“I never liked poetry,” he said. “I had a…teacher…in school who made me recite lots of poetry. It was a way to…well, it doesn’t matter why. I hated poetry because of that teacher. I never thought I could actually like a poem. But I like that one.”

She heard him yawn and frowned, safe in knowing he couldn’t see her. She was already making a face in anticipation of him ending the conversation, but her voice was neutral in reply when he told her he had to hang up.

“Yeah,” Katie said. “It’s late.”

The invitation was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. She didn’t want to invite him out, not even to the coffee shop where they’d first met. He might say no. Worse, he might stop calling her.

“Night, Katie. Sleep tight.”

“You too,” Katie said and clutched the phone tight in her fingers after he’d disconnected before she did, too.

She was still thinking of that conversation when she got home with Dean in tow.

“Maybe that’s your problem,” Dean said as he flipped through a magazine she’d left on her coffee table. He tossed it down and looked at her. “What? Maybe he knows too much about you already. Destroyed the mystery.”

“So then why does he keep calling me?” Katie nudged off one shoe with a sigh and then the other before flopping onto her couch. “Do men often call women late at night just to chat because they long to hear the sound of another voice? I think not.”

“You’re asking the wrong guy about that.”

“Do you ever call someone late at night just to hear them talk?”

“Only if I’m jerking off at the same time,” Dean said.

Katie made a face and wriggled her toes, free of the high-heeled pumps. “Maybe he’s jerking off.”

Dean shot her a grin. “Do you?”

“That,” Katie said, “is none of your business.”

Dean slid onto the couch beside her. “You do.”

“Maybe. Once or twice.” Katie curled her feet underneath her, looking at him. “He has a very sexy voice.”

“So why not invite him over? Put on some soft music, make him dinner. Guys love that sort of shit.” Dean tweaked her knee through her soft skirt. “Make the first move.”

Katie shrugged. “I don’t know. I like him. Maybe too much. I don’t want to fuck it up, Dean. If he was into me like that, don’t you think he’d have asked me on a real date or something instead of just calling me and talking for hours?”

“Maybe he’s afraid, too. Guys can be afraid,” Dean said.

“Are you?” She tilted her head to study him.

“I’m not afraid of anything.” Dean frowned.

She let it go. She knew him better than that. After Ethan left, Dean hadn’t said his name again. He’d erased Ethan from his life as thoroughly as though his lover had never existed as part of it. In some ways Katie admired that about Dean, his commitment to forgetting the past. On the other hand, she knew there had to be fond memories among the bad ones. She never regretted remembering relationships, even ones that ended.

So why was she so afraid to take a chance on one with Jimmy? Even if it didn’t work out, she wouldn’t have lost anything and might be missing something great. Katie sighed.

“Hey.” Dean squeezed her again. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

“Huh? About Jimmy?”

“Focus,” Dean said. He pulled out a strip of condoms from his back pocket and unfurled them, dangling, before tossing them onto the coffee table. “About us. This.”

“Oh, the challenge.” Katie drew out the word, then smiled. “No. I’m up for it.”

Dean smiled too. “Good.”

Katie was used to Dean encroaching on her personal space. He was a hugger, a toucher, a stroker. Working together on projects, bent over a computer screen, it wasn’t uncommon for him to stand behind her with his chin on her shoulder to see what she was doing, or to put an arm over her shoulders while they walked someplace. Dean’s physical affection was constant and casual.

This was going to be something totally different.

She wasn’t sure what to expect when Dean kissed her. It was nothing like the New Year’s Eve smooch. That had been rough and teasing, both of them a little drunk and laughing. Not serious.

She should’ve known better than to think her experience with that kiss could’ve prepared her for the sensation of Dean’s mouth for real. He slanted his lips over hers as his hand came up to cup the back of her neck. The couch gave as he moved, dipping under his weight as he braced his hand on the back of it. His knee moved between hers. His mouth opened. He tasted of mint.

She’d closed her eyes automatically when he kissed her and opened them when he pulled back. Dean blinked, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth wet. He slid his tongue over his lips.

“That’s a start,” Katie said.

Dean laughed, low. “You’re not going to give me one fucking inch, are you?”

“No. You’re going to have to work for this, Dean.” She moved closer and brushed his lips with hers back and forth before pausing a breath away. “I told you it wasn’t going to be easy.”

His fingers tightened at the base of her skull. When he licked his mouth again, his tongue teased her lips. They kissed again, deeper this time. Longer. When they pulled apart this time, Katie’s heart had started up a determined thunder-thump she felt in all her pulse-points.

“Your mouth,” Dean murmured, “is so soft.”

She laughed and tipped her head back when he moved to kiss her jaw and throat.

“All of me is soft.”

Dean pressed his teeth to her skin and in the next moment, Katie felt sharp suction. His hands shifted, sliding down her body to her hips. She was on Dean’s lap a moment after that, straddling him with her knees pressing the couch’s soft cushions and her hands on his shoulders.

The kiss got harder still. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing, lips nipping. Dean gripped her hips. Katie pressed herself against him.

This was definitely working for her, but for Dean? Not so much, at least so far as Katie could tell from the lack of stiff, hard cock pressing against her. She broke the kiss and cupped his face in her hands.

“Close your eyes.”

He narrowed them, but didn’t close them. “Huh?”

She took his hand from her hip and put it to her breast, shifting his thumb to rub over her tightening nipple. “These are distracting you.”

Dean looked at his palm full of breast and gave her a rueful grin. “Naw.”

Katie laughed softly. “Close your eyes. Wait. I have a better idea.”

She’d tied her hair back this morning with a soft vintage scarf. Now she pulled it off and unwound it, letting the silky fabric slide over her fingers. She folded it in half as Dean watching, eyes still narrowed.

“I didn’t know you were kinky, Katie.”

“Shh.” She tied the scarf over his eyes and smoothed the fabric, letting her fingers trace his cheekbones and chin before running a fingertip over his lips. He tried to bite her finger but she pulled away before he could.

Then she kissed him again. They kissed for a long time without a break. Katie unbuttoned Dean’s shirt and put her hand inside, flat on his bare chest. His heart had begun thumping, too. His cock had also gone satisfyingly hard against her crotch.

Still kissing him, she moved off his lap and unzipped his fly. Dean lifted his hips to help her push his pants over his hips. He wore navy boxer briefs, the front tenting impressively. Katie took his prick in her hand through the soft material of the briefs and stroked.

Dean groaned into her mouth.

If she spoke, it might spoil the illusion for him, whatever that might be. Whoever he was imagining. So Katie kept silent. Instead, she kissed and stroked him, eventually freeing him from the confines of his briefs. She couldn’t help the small groan of her own when at last she held Dean’s silky hot cock against her bare skin.

Katie’d been serious when she told Dean she had no doubts she could make him come. Now, with his prick in her hand and his mouth open beneath hers, begging, Katie was determined to enjoy it. And not just because it would mean she’d win this challenge.

She moved her mouth down his body, kissing and sucking gently on his smooth, warm skin. Sucking harder when Dean’s breath caught and the tight muscles of his belly jumped beneath her lips. A great hand-job wasn’t about showing off, in Katie’s opinion. It was about paying attention.

It was also about being smart. With a quick glance at Dean, Katie reached for the bottle of lube she kept in the drawer of the end table. She filled her palm with thick, slippery fluid. This time when she stroked him, Dean muttered a low curse.

With this beautiful body in front of her, Katie wanted to worship it. Take hours kissing and sucking and licking every curve and line. Her cunt ached, sweetly aroused at the erotic fantasies stroking Dean gave her. She’d never been a fan of denial, either, saw no point in it, so as she stroked Dean’s cock a little faster, she also slid her hand into her panties and gently squeezed her clit between her thumb and forefinger.

She moved from Dean’s lap to the couch without letting go of his erection. She leaned to kiss him and his greedy mouth took hers in a kiss deep and long and fierce. Her fingers in her panties moved faster as she jerked him off.

When Dean put his hand on hers, changing the pace, the pleasure building in her clit leaped up a notch. This was everything she loved about sex–a little fast, a little rough, a little furtive and dirty. Yet safe, too. Nothing would change between them because of this. Nothing really could.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered as his hand gripped hers, moving it faster. “I’m gonna come….”

“Me too,” Katie murmured as her fingers circled her clit faster.

Dean let out a short, startled gasp. Maybe at the sound of her voice, maybe at his orgasm. His cock throbbed in her fist and he shuddered. Heat spilled over her fingers and the scent of him, along with his low, desperate growl, sent Katie tipping over the edge right along with him.

His hand kept hers from moving more. Panting, Katie fell back against the couch cushions and took her hand out of her panties. Then she laughed, soft at first before getting slowly louder.

Dean hooked the scarf from his eyes and tossed it at her. “You cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat,” she protested. “I told you I could get you off. I did.”

Dean glanced at her lap, her skirt rucked up around her waist, and gave her a smug grin. “So did you.”

“Ah,” Katie said, leaning in to brush a sweet kiss against his mouth, “but you didn’t do it for me. I did it myself. So it doesn’t count, does it?”

“Cheater,” Dean murmured against her mouth, but didn’t pull away.

The kiss lingered. She was surprised. Surprised more by the look on his face when she finally pulled away to rearrange her clothes.

“What?” Katie asked. “Like I was going to leave myself high and dry?”

Dean reached for a handful of tissues from the box on the end table, and took care of cleanup before tucking himself back into his pants. “I call do-over.”

“Do over?” Katie guffawed and got up, letting her skirt fall back down around her ankles as she headed for the kitchen. “You want something to drink?”

Dean caught up to her in the kitchen. He trapped her between his body and the counter as she reached for a glass. “I mean it, Katie.”

She paused. “Dean, it’s no big deal. Really.”

“It’s a big deal to me.”

Before she could answer or protest, her cell rang. She recognized the ringtone. “That’s Jimmy.”

Dean frowned and stepped back. “Guess you’d better answer, then.”

“Is this going to make trouble between us? Because I’d never have agreed to it if I knew that.” Katie grabbed her phone but didn’t answer it. The call went to voice mail and beeped while she waited for Dean’s answer.

“No trouble. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, okay?”

“Dean–”

“Hey,” he said, frown erased by a classic, sunny Dean grin. “This isn’t over, Katie. Don’t worry, I’ll let myself out. See you tomorrow.”

Her phone beeped with a text message. Also from Jimmy. Katie looked at it, then at Dean, who was already waving goodbye as he ducked out the door. “Dean!”

But he was already gone.

It hadn’t been the best hand-job he’d ever had, so why the hell couldn’t he stop thinking about it? Her hands had been small and soft, her mouth soft and sweet, her curves sweet and lush. Katie was a gorgeous woman and he liked her. Being queer didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate her attributes, but until she put the blindfold on, he hadn’t been able to really get into what they were doing.

He was more determined than ever to prove her wrong.

“Your face is going to stay that way,” Katie said serenely from behind him.

She was the one who’d brought the coffee today, two paper cups of it bearing the familiar logo of The Green Bean from down the street. She handed him one and sipped from her own. She looked fresh and bright-eyed, a habit that annoyed him most days but particularly on this one.

“You couldn’t even see my face. My face is fucking fabulous,” Dean said.

“Your eyes are squinty,” she said in a low voice as she passed him, like she was sharing a secret though there was nobody around to hear them. She bumped him with her hip.

He followed her into her office and closed the door. She looked up with a sigh and set her cup down. Dean didn’t sit.

“We didn’t even fuck,” he told her.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Are you still on that?” Katie flipped her fingers at him and leaned back in her chair.

“We said we were going to have sex.”

“We did have sex. Sort of.” Katie crossed her legs and her skirt rode up, giving him a flash of thigh and something that looked suspiciously like pink satin panties.

“I want to try again,” he said.

He’d known Katie for a long time. She often had a witty comeback or a response as subtle and effective as a raised brow. He got her, that was the thing, and knew she understood him, too. It was what made them great partners and better friends. Now, though, he could read nothing on her face, nothing in her eyes.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Katie said after a minute.

“What? Why not?” He wasn’t used to this, someone turning him down. That was a cliché and arrogant, but true. Mostly because Dean had a finely honed sense of who to hit on, not necessarily, as Katie had so often said, that nobody ever wanted to refuse him.

Dean had been refused before, all right. He knew how it felt. It sucked.

“Because we’re friends, Dean, and I don’t want to mess that up.”

“You agreed to it before.”

“That was before,” Katie said calmly enough, but he didn’t have to hear a tremor in her voice to see she was sort of upset. He could tell by the way she didn’t drink her coffee.

“Hey. What’s going on?” Dean slid into the chair across from her and moved forward, forcing her to uncross her legs so his knees could press hers. “Something up with that douchebag Jimmy or whatever the hell his name is?”

“Nothing’s up with Jimmy. That’s the problem.”

“Forget him,” Dean said. “If he can’t see what’s right in front of him…”

She laughed at that. “Right. Because you’re the expert on seeing what’s right in front of you?”

Dean frowned and stood. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Katie shrugged and swiveled her chair back and forth. “Maybe I want more than a quick fuck from him, that’s all.”

“Isn’t the problem you’re not getting any sort of fuck?”

She sighed, her shoulders lifting and dropping with the force of it. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”

“So…the challenge is off?”

Katie eyed him, one eye squinting and her head tilted as though she were seriously studying him as something foreign. Incomprehensible. “Why do you have such a bug up your ass about this sex thing?”

“You said I couldn’t,” Dean told her.

And that was the truth, mostly.

His phone rang, the ring tone a snippet of classical music he’d assigned to Jacob. His fingers slipped a little on the phone’s glass face as he looked, anyway, to make sure that was the number. He didn’t answer it.

Katie was smiling at him when he looked up, her smile half-quirked. “Was that him?”

“There is no him,” Dean said.

Her grin got a little broader. “Right.”

She swiveled again, kicking her foot up and down, showing off an expanse of shapely thigh he knew she’d never have revealed to anyone else in the office. Katie didn’t do shit like that, use her tits and ass to get attention, even though she could. She was always more comfortable with him than with the other men in the office, and for the first time, this stung a little.

“Is it because you don’t think I’m manly enough?”

Her grin wavered, her brow furrowed. “What?”

“You don’t think I’m manly enough,” Dean said, convinced.

“Oh, Dean. Really? C’mon. You should know better than that.”

Her scoffing didn’t make him feel better, especially when she turned her chair to face the computer, dismissing him. Dean spun her around to face him again. Katie looked as surprised as he felt.

“I want to do it,” Dean said in a low voice.

Katie drew in a breath. She smelled good. She always did, but today he seemed to notice it more. He seemed to notice everything about her more than usual today, most of it accompanied by the memory of her hand on his cock.

“Would it change your mind,” Katie murmured, her gaze bright, her voice throaty, “if I told you I absolutely believed you could make me come?”

“I’ll prove it to you.”

Her laugh this time snagged, rough and sultry. He’d never heard her sound that way before. “Fine. Prove it to me if it’s so important to you.”

“Done,” Dean said as his phone rang again, the same bit of classical music. “When?”

“Tonight? There’s no point in waiting.”

“Your place?”

“Be there at eight,” Katie said. “I don’t want to be up all night.”

“Oh, you’ll be up all right,” Dean said. “Maybe until tomorrow morning.”

It was no big thing, Katie told herself. It wasn’t like she’d never thought about what Dean would be like in bed, or that she’d never gone to bed with a friend before. As a matter of fact, a few years ago she’d had quite a successful “friends-with-benefits” experience with a man she still kept in touch with, unlike many of her friends who’d tried that sexual experiment and had it end badly. So it was no big thing, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it. How he’d smell and taste and feel, if he could indeed get her off the way he promised.

Katie was sure hoping he could.

Distracted by thoughts of Dean’s hard cock, she nearly got hit in the face by the door to the coffee shop as she was heading in and someone was heading out. An old woman, layered in scarves and carrying a monstrously large cup of coffee, barely even looked Katie’s way as she pushed through the door, but fortunately instead of clipping her face on the glass, Katie only banged her elbow.

“Excuse you,” she muttered, turning to watch the woman pass.

It was the only reason she looked to the street corner and saw Jimmy, wearing familiar and delectable denim jeans, his longish hair tousled, his face scruffy. He was leaning against the street sign talking on a cell phone. If it had been anyone else, even an ex-boyfriend, Katie would’ve had not even a second’s hesitation in approaching him. But this was Jimmy, master of the late-night phone call. Things were always different in daylight.

She didn’t have time to scoot inside the coffee shop before Jimmy looked up, still talking, eyes getting bright. He smiled and said something that must’ve been goodbye, because he slipped the phone into his front pocket and headed toward her.

“Katie.”

“Hi, Jimmy.” She sounded too breathy, too gooey, too junior high. Katie tried again. “How’s it going?”

“Good, good.” He nodded. The breeze moved his shaggy hair, and the sunlight lit up his face. He had eyes the color of caramel, something she hadn’t remembered. “You going in?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh. Yes.”

“Good.” Jimmy grinned again and held open the door, then followed her.

It was the same coffee shop where they’d met, but this time, Jimmy bought her latte and brownies for both of them. He pulled out her chair, too, something no man had done for Katie in a long time. Sitting across from him, their knees bumping every so often, Katie tried hard not to think of this as anything romantic.

It was hard, though, with Jimmy keeping eye contact and laughing at her jokes. Or at the way he casually brushed past her on the way to get more napkins, some cream for his coffee, a fork. He touched her, hand flat on her back between her shoulder blades as he passed. And on the upper arm, and on the shoulder when he got up to greet another friend who’d come into the shop.

He touched her seven times, never in any way that could’ve been construed as anything more than casual, but Katie counted each time, her nerves tingling more with every press of his palm against her. By the time she’d finished her coffee, the brownie not even touched as she’d lost the capability to eat anything while Jimmy flirted with her, Katie thought if he touched her again she was going to melt into a puddle right then and there.

“Well, hey, it’s been great,” Jimmy said suddenly with a glance at the clock on the wall behind her, “but I have to scram.”

He stood, leaving Katie blinking and thinking of something witty to say, but he’d already squeezed her shoulder again and was pushing in his chair.

Damn.

He’d reduced her to speechlessness, which was not her normal state at all. She really hated not being herself around him, that somehow he’d made her the sort of woman who got all giddy and dumbstruck with crush. More than that, though, she hated that Jimmy seemed either oblivious to his effect on her, or so used to creating that response in women that he took it for granted.

“Thanks for the coffee.” Katie stood, too.

“Any time. I’ll call you,” Jimmy promised and shot her a grin.

Katie watched him go, wishing she could believe his offer was real and for her, instead of just his standard response to every female in the world.

Jacob hadn’t been too happy that Dean was going to Katie’s tonight. If any other man had snapped at Dean like that, told him off, said he’d better get his priorities straight instead of fucking around just because he “could” and not because he “should,” well, Dean would’ve told him to fuck off. It had come close to that, actually.

“You want me to cancel?” he’d asked, still tasting garlic and red sauce and wishing Jacob had brought all this up before they’d started eating.

Jacob had cocked his head and looked Dean up and down with a flat, cold gaze. “Would you, if I asked?”

“No.”

Jacob had shrugged. “Then do whatever the hell you want to, Dean. I won’t be that guy.”

“What guy?” Dean had asked, though he was pretty sure he knew.

“The one,” Jacob said as he got up and took his plate, food uneaten, to the garbage can to scrape it, “who waits around for you to figure everything you want and need is right in front of you, while you just keep walking away.”

“Is that a threat?”

Jacob had shrugged and given him another long look. “No, baby. It’s a fact.”

Then he’d pointed at the door, and Dean had gone with his tail between his legs, a fact that pissed him off so much he thought he might just delete that little prick from his phone entirely. But he didn’t. Sitting here in the car in front of Katie’s house, Dean held the phone and waited for it to ring.

But it didn’t.

The last guy he’d wanted and needed had cheated on him, lied to him and finally, left him. What still hurt wasn’t that Ethan had fucked around and been dishonest about it, but that in the end Dean had forgiven him and Ethan had still walked away.

The one who waits around for you to figure everything you want and need is right in front of you, while you just keep walking away.

“Fuck that,” Dean said aloud and tossed the phone into his glove compartment so he wouldn’t hear it not ringing. He looked at the house and wet his lips with his tongue.

He was going to do this, all right. The reasons had gone blurry–he was sure Katie would be okay if he cancelled, but then she’d always look at him when she thought he wasn’t looking and think about how he’d been a pussy. Hell, did that even matter? Why had this become so important? Why couldn’t he just let it go?

The porch light blinked twice. Katie. He probably looked like the biggest douche ever, sitting here in the car like he couldn’t make up his mind. Dean drew in a breath. In, out. Game time.

She greeted him at the door with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hey. I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

“No. I’m here.” He paused, suddenly feeling like maybe he should’ve brought flowers or something like that. Feeling lame. This was Katie, for fuck’s sake, his friend. He could’ve at least brought a bottle of wine.

“C’mon in.” She stepped aside and closed the door behind him.

They stood in the entryway, more awkward than they’d ever been with each other. Dean remembered his senior prom, standing with his date and feeling the same way. Feeling like he was putting on a show that wasn’t fooling anyone.

Should he kiss her? He’d have kissed her on the cheek or hugged her, at least, if they hadn’t agreed to fuck. He’d have at least slipped an arm around her waist as he followed her to the living room to give her a squeeze as he asked about her day. All things he’d done before but now couldn’t quite manage.

“Something to drink? I have some of that wine you like,” Katie offered.

“Actually, I already poured it, so you’d better be having some. I can’t finish the bottle myself.”

She pointed to the coffee table. Bottle, two glasses. It was his favorite.

“Yeah.” Dean sat, took a glass, looked at her. “Do you need this?”

Katie looked a little surprised as she sat next to him, reaching for her own glass. “You mean…for tonight?”

“Yeah.” Dean cleared his throat. “You want to back out? Or you need to be a little drunk?”

Katie laughed and shook her head. “No, sweetie, I totally do not need to be a little drunk to fuck you. Unless…you don’t want to?”

She looked wary and hesitant, an expression Dean felt on his own face and didn’t like. “No. I mean…unless you don’t want to.”

Katie sighed heavily and sank into the couch cushions while sipping the wine. “Oh, Dean. Listen, this was your idea, so if you don’t want to, I totally get it. We don’t have to have sex. Believe me,” she added somewhat sourly. “You won’t be the first man today who didn’t want to make love to me.”

That sounded bad. Maybe even worse than his own trials with Jacob. Dean turned to face her. “That fucker Jimmy?”

She shrugged and ran a fingertip around the top of the wineglass, making it sing. “I saw him today. I mean actually saw, not talked to on the phone.”

She detailed how they’d met by accident. The coffee, the touching. It pissed Dean off to hear how sad she sounded about it.

“He’s a fucking moron,” Dean said flatly. “A foron. Really, babe.”

Katie’s sigh was shaky as she put her glass on the table. “I should just forget him.”

To his alarm, because Katie wasn’t a wilting flower at all, Dean saw she was on the verge of tears. “Hey. C’mere.”

He pulled her close so she could snuggle in at his side, her cheek to his chest. She fit just right in the curve of his arm, his chin against her hair. She sighed heavily again and put her arms around him.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, voice muffled.

He stroked a hand down her hair and they sat that way in silence for a few minutes. The words that came out of him next surprised him, quiet though he said them.

“He wants to be in a real relationship with me.”

“Of course he does,” Katie said, brushing her cheek against his chest again.

“You’re fabulous.”

“…no. I mean…yes,” Dean said. “But that’s not what I mean.” More silence.

“You’re afraid,” Katie said softly. “I get it. I know about you and Ethan, remember?”

For the first time in a long time, Dean didn’t stiffen at the other man’s name. For the first time, Ethan’s face had faded enough another face could replace it. “I don’t want to be like him, Katie, and that’s what Jacob said I was like.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wet though her cheeks were dry. “He said that?”

“Not exactly,” Dean admitted. “I mean, fuck, he doesn’t know about Ethan. Not like you do. But he said he wasn’t going to wait around while I just keep walking away.”

“Ah.” She didn’t move away from him. “Well, sweetie, maybe he has a point, you know?”

“I don’t want him to have a point,” Dean said.

She smiled sadly, her mouth quivering. “We’re a pair, aren’t we? You’ve got someone you’re not sure you want, I have someone who doesn’t seem to want me.”

To her chagrin, because Dean didn’t want to be the reason Katie cried, her tears spilled over her lower lids and traced their way down her face.

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t, okay?”

He swiped the tear with the pad of his thumb and Katie shuddered, turning her face to press her mouth to his palm, holding his hand close to her face for a moment before looking up at him with still-sad eyes. A lot of women had cried on Dean’s shoulder over the years, but Katie never had. Looking at her now, all he could think was how good a friend she’d always been, and how much he didn’t want her to be unhappy.

She murmured against his mouth when he kissed her but made no protest. Her mouth opened. She tasted sweet, the way she had the other day. His hand went naturally around the back of her neck to cup it, her hair a soft, thick weight on his fingers. Somehow she ended up on his lap, straddling him, their kisses turning from soft and slow to hard and demanding.

She’d tricked him before, with the blindfold, but he didn’t need it this time. His mind put together the taste and smell of her with the memory of pleasure, and his cock responded. He pulled her closer, kissed her deeper, put a hand on the small of her back to grind her down a little harder against his dick.

“Dean,” she murmured into his mouth, but his kiss stopped her.

Dean favored men close to his size and build. Compared to that, Katie was so much smaller and softer, he had no trouble putting his hands under her ass and lifting her. She let out a small, strangled gasp but didn’t stop kissing him. Their tongues twisted, tangling, and fuck, it felt good. Really good.

He didn’t try to make it to the stairs, much less up them. Her rug was soft and thick and deep, and he laid her down on it, settling between her thighs as he closed his eyes and sank into the sensations. The semi-desperate surge of pleasure coiling in his gut surprised him, making him think his cock really did have a mind of its own.

Somehow she got him undressed, a feat he could only admire since they never stopped kissing and he was fumble-fingered about her clothes. In her bra and panties beneath him, Katie laughed softly as he tried to figure out how to unhook her bra and got it off herself.

“You really never have done this,” she said.

“Of course not.” Dean slid his hands up her sides but stopped just below her breasts to look into her eyes. “Did you think otherwise?”

She got up on her elbows to look at him. “I guess maybe I thought I wasn’t that special.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Dean told her before kissing her again and saying against her lips, “you’re special.”

She laughed again into his kiss, and that was better than her tears had been. She lay back with him between her legs. Her hand found his dick and stroked it from half-hard to fully erect, and Dean shuddered at how good it felt. When she stroked her fingertips over his balls, he drew in a breath, holding it for a moment, before opening his eyes to look at her.

“Oh no,” he said. “The challenge was to get you off.”

“Sweetie, seeing you enjoy yourself goes a long way toward that.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that, since he was a fan of such tactics himself, but he shook his head. “I’m going to make you forget anyone else tonight, Katie. I promised.”

“Already done,” she breathed, eyes gleaming, and ran her hands up over his thighs. “Touch me.”

He slid his hands up her sides again to cup her breasts. Her nipples tightened against his palms and she drew her lower lip between her teeth. She liked that, he thought, trying to imagine what a woman would like. The same things as a guy, probably if only he could figure out the right parts to focus on. If only he could find them, he thought as Katie parted her legs a little and arched her back.

Fuck, this might be harder than he’d thought.

He bent his mouth to a nipple, sucking gently. Not flat like a man’s, Katie’s nipple peaked and grew as he stroked it with his tongue. And wow, she bucked her hips up against his belly. Dean did the other nipple, too, until both of them were rosy red and hard.

Dean had seen plenty of hetero porn–his college roommate had been addicted to the stuff, leaving skin mags around and playing a nonstop collection of VHS tapes he rented from the video store. It had all seemed sort of vague and mysterious, unlike gay porn in which everyone had erections and came in great, spurting jets of jizz, on camera. Katie wasn’t acting like a woman in a porn video. Aside from the lack of Lucite platform shoes, she was squirming only a little when he touched her.

Kissing her, though, was getting better and hotter. She pulled him to her mouth, her soft body wriggling under his. She was an amazing kisser, knowing when to pull back and when to suck his tongue just hard enough to get him moaning.

She shifted against his cock, hard on her belly, and ran a hand down his bare chest to tweak one of his nipples before pushing her panties down and wriggling until she got them off. She lay back, naked, her gaze bold but her chin lifted a little.

Dean wasn’t stupid. “You’re beautiful,” he assured her.

She raised a brow.

He kissed her, hands stroking over her sides and hips, over her belly, then up again to cup her breasts so he could use his mouth on her nipples again. “You are.”

“That feels good,” Katie murmured, laying back onto the rug and running her hands through his hair.

It wasn’t going to give her an orgasm, he knew that much. Dean might not like pussy, but he wasn’t ignorant about anatomy. All those hours of trying to study while porn ran in the background might pay off now–at least he had an inkling of where to find her clit, something his college roommate never seemed to have managed if the sounds his girlfriends made in their bunk after lights out were any indication.

He rolled onto his side, kissing her mouth again, as his hand slid down her soft belly and through the tangle of curls covering her pussy. His fingers stroked down. This was utterly foreign, completely unexpected…and absolutely erotic for all that. She was soft and hot and wet, and when he found a small, hard bud with his fingertips, she cried out.

Bingo.

Katie opened her eyes. “Right there. That’s good.”

She put her hand on his wrist, shifting him a little, slowing his pace, but letting go as soon as he adjusted. Fascinated, Dean watched her sink back against the rug, her cheeks flushing as she closed her eyes. She bit her lower lip again before breathing in, lips parted.

This was so unlike anything he’d ever done. Cocks came in a lot of sizes, but they were all big enough to grip. To stroke. Beneath his fingertips was the one small spot he had to keep his attention on. This was the real challenge, and Dean wasn’t going to fuck it up.

His cock ached, his balls heavy, as he stroked her, but he didn’t move to do anything about it. He couldn’t afford to lose track of what he was doing. Female orgasms, to his knowledge, could be tenuous and easily lost.

They kissed forever, and he didn’t care. The longer they went, the better it got. He found a rhythm that turned out not to be so different than what he was used to, and the way Katie reacted–moaning softly, rocking her hips, he thought she was enjoying it.

She stiffened, her hand going to his wrist again, her mouth open beneath his but no longer kissing. “Oh…”

Dean paused, fearing he’d somehow done something wrong. “Katie?”

“Oh, god, so close,” she whispered, and looked at him. “Just…slow down a little. Make it last.”

Dean grinned, slowing his circling finger. “Like this?”

Her eyelids fluttered. “Oh, god…”

The sound of pleasure suffusing her voice sent a throb from the root of his cock all the way through it. She moved against his hand. The flush on her cheeks had spread down her throat, across her breasts, and without thinking too much about it, Dean bent to suck gently at her nipple again.

Katie cried out, something wordless and ecstatic. The feeling of her moving, the sound of her–fuck–the smell of her arousal sent slickness oozing from the head of his prick. His balls tightened. When she kissed him, he felt her clit pulse under his fingertips. She moaned into his mouth.

“Fuck me,” Katie said, not like a command but more like a plea.

He wanted to, but there was the matter of logistics. Katie blinked again, her gaze clearing for a minute, and she pushed at him to roll him off her as she reached into the drawer of her end table to pull out a box of condoms. Just as she’d figured out how to get them both naked before he could, now she pushed him to sit up as she opened the box, tore open the package and sheathed him in latex before he could do more than shift his hips. Straddling him, her thighs gripping his, Katie put her hands on his shoulders. His cock rubbed at her belly and then lower as she looked at him.

“You sure about this, sweetie?”

“Did you come yet?” Dean asked, voice hoarse at the pressure of her cunt pushing his cock against his stomach. Her ass was smooth under his palms.

Katie smiled and reached between them to grip his dick at the base. She bit her lower lip, looking down, as she shifted and then…oh, fuck.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean said aloud. “You’re so hot. And tight.”

Blinking, surprised, he let the pleasure wash over him as she sank onto his cock all the way. She was tight, and hot, and slick, too. Her cunt gripped him better than any fist ever had, and he had to breathe out, slowly, to keep himself from shooting off like a kid with his first strokebook.

Katie pressed her forehead to his shoulder for a second. “Oh. God.”

He’d never fucked in this position before, but it didn’t take him more than a second to figure out how to shift and thrust upward. His cock slid inside her without effort, and she bit down, hard, on his shoulder. Dean had never been one for painplay but that was too fucking much. His cock throbbed and he made a low, grinding noise.

“Yes,” Katie breathed into his ear. “Fuck me. Just like that.”

Soft, low, distinctly feminine, her voice was in no way like a man’s. Her body, soft and curved, not like a man’s. Nothing about this was like anything he’d ever even fantasized about, but Dean discovered it didn’t fucking matter, not then, not with her cunt wrapped around his cock like that. Not with her tongue licking at the sore spot her teeth had left. Not with her moving on him, riding him. Fucking him as pleasure built and built and built.

“Touch me,” Katie said into his ear. She took his hand, slid it between them, pressed his thumb to her clit. “Oh, yes. Right there. Like that, just like that…oh, god, Dean. Yes!”

Until this point, everything he’d promised her had been all talk. Until he felt her shudder and heard the soft sighing gasp of her breath as orgasm swept over her, Dean hadn’t really been sure he could make her come. But now Katie rocked against him and his own climax shuddered through him. Perfect timing.

She blinked rapidly and looked at him, then laughed. “Wow. Well, I guess I’d say you won. Very well done, sir.”

Dean blew out a breath, fingers tightening on her hips as his breathing slowed. “Saying I told you so would make me sort of an asshole, wouldn’t it?”

Katie kissed him lightly on the cheek and eased herself off him, stretching as she reached to snag up her panties and T-shirt. “Sort of.”

He watched as she got dressed without appearing to be the least bit embarrassed. He admired that about her. Not that he was embarrassed, exactly. Just more like wondering what the hell he’d just done.

Katie looked over her shoulder at him as she pulled on her clothes, then frowned. “You all right?”

Dean nodded, sitting there on the floor with a condom on his getting-limp dick, after having fucked one of his best friends. A woman, at that. It wasn’t his most shining moment.

But Katie, still frowning, crouched next to him and pulled over a small garbage can and handed him a box of tissues, then his clothes. “I didn’t think you’d be the one to get all emo, afterwards.”

“I’m not emo.” Dean frowned and took care of cleaning up, then pulled on his briefs and jeans.

Katie studied him. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m not.”

She smiled and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek again. “We fucked, Dean. And it was good. For me, anyway, and I’m pretty sure you enjoyed it. It doesn’t make you straight. Just…open-minded.”

Her smile urged his, even though none of this was as gratifying as he’d expected it to be. He’d thought it would feel like a conquest. Instead, he found himself hoping Jacob would forgive him.

“Damn it,” he said, suddenly miserable. “Remind me that I like sort of being an asshole?”

“Why? Are you going to say you told me so?”

“No. Not about that.”

She knew him too well, Katie did. “Ah. It’s him, huh?”

“Jacob.”

“Him has a name?” She looked impressed. “Wow, Dean. Wow.”

“Fuck.” He sank onto the couch and cradled his head in his hands. “Fuck, Katie, what did I just do?”

“Hey.” She sat beside him and took his hand, linking their fingers. “Seriously, you’re going to give me a complex, here. What happened…do you really think it was all just that stupid challenge? I mean, I know you don’t do pussy as a general rule, but…maybe that’s why you did it. Not why you suggested it, sweetie–that was all your huge ego. But…maybe it’s why you actually went through with it.”

He wasn’t getting it, and she could tell.

“What I mean is, being with him scares you. I know why. But being with me isn’t scary. Right?”

“No. Of course not.”

She smiled. “Because you and I both know that no matter how stellar that living room rug fuck just was, and it was pretty delicious, it’s not going to lead to anything. Right?”

He gave her a cautious nod. “Well…right.”

“And for me,” Katie said, “I really just needed someone who was into me. Even if only for an hour.”

“I’m into you for longer than that,” Dean told her and squeezed her hand.

She laughed, sounding better than she had earlier, which made Dean feel better.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I do.” He leaned back against the couch cushions and stared at the ceiling.

“He makes it all seem so easy.”

“It’s not how he makes it seem,” she said. “It’s how he makes it feel.”

Jacob made it all feel easy, too. Dean frowned as Katie’s cell phone rang, vibrating the coffee table. She looked at it and sighed, but didn’t pick it up.

“It’s Jimmy.”

“Douchebag,” Dean said and picked it up. “Hello?”

“…Katie?”

“She’s busy,” Dean told the guy.

“Oh. Um, can I leave a message?”

“No,” Dean said, and hung up.

“Dean!” Katie looked shocked, but was laughing.

Dean shrugged. “Maybe he’ll think better of jerking you around.”

“Maybe he’ll never call me again!”

“Would that be a bad thing?” Dean asked. “For real?”

Katie frowned without answering, and Dean pulled her close to hug her. They sat like that for a while without speaking. Then she sighed and pushed away from him.

“Go to him,” Katie said.

Dean nodded and stood, then handed her the cell phone. “Call him back.”

Katie almost bailed.

She’d waited until the morning to call Jimmy, not sure if she wanted to go down that road, maybe waiting to see if he’d call her first. He didn’t. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

It didn’t matter how she felt now, though, since she’d already called him and asked him to meet her for coffee. He’d hesitated before saying yes, a pause that had lasted a thousand years while she forgot to breathe. She wasn’t, in fact, sure she remembered to now when he walked through the door.

He looked too damned good, she thought. It wasn’t fair.

“Hey,” Jimmy said as he slid into the chair across from her with a cup of coffee he put on the table. He shook his shaggy hair out of his face and shrugged out of his coat. His grin was at half-wattage.

“Hi, Jimmy.” Katie had a mug of coffee in front of her, but she hadn’t even sipped it. It was cold now, but she clutched it anyway as though the porcelain would warm her hands.

“This is nice. Meeting like this. Thanks for asking me.” Jimmy sounded hesitant, uncertain. Not his usual self at all.

But what was his usual self? Did Katie even know? She had to admit she probably didn’t. Everything about Jimmy was late-night conversation, and just because she’d bared her soul to him didn’t mean he’d done the same.

“Thanks for coming. It’s nice to see you.”

They never talked like this. Even the first time he’d called her, they’d slipped into a loose back-and-forth that had only gotten easier over time. Now it was as though they’d only just met and had no reason to get to know each other better.

Jimmy’s smile amped up a notch, still far from his usual bright grin, but noticeable. “Yeah. Two times in one week, that’s some kind of crazy, huh?”

Katie had always believed honesty to be the best approach, but facing Jimmy across the tiny café table, all she could think of was how she wanted to make up some lame excuse for why she wanted to see him instead of just telling him the truth. “Yeah. Super crazy.”

Jimmy seemed to relax a little bit, his long fingers turning his cup around and around on the table. His knee nudged hers. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

This was going nowhere. Katie hated it. She wanted to ask him if he liked her, or if she was just some myth, a story he liked to tell over the phone. She wanted to tell him about how she smiled at the sound of his voice. Of how she wanted more.

Jimmy glanced over her shoulder toward the counter. “I’m going to grab a refill. You want one?”

Katie shook her head. “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

He touched her again as he passed. A hand on her shoulder, fingers curving and squeezing just momentarily. It was too much, the final straw, that casual touch that felt too good.

She got up without thinking, without looking back, heading out of the coffee shop and down the street. The wind burned her eyes, not tears, she told herself as her heels click-clacked on the sidewalk.

She was almost to the alley before he caught up to her.

“Katie!” Jimmy hooked her elbow, turning her as she stiffened at the sound of her name. He didn’t let go. “Hey. Wait.”

Katie opened her mouth to protest or maybe just to walk away without a word, she wasn’t sure and had no time to decide before Jimmy was kissing her. Openmouthed and hungry, his hands on her hips pulling her close up against him. He tasted better than she’d imagined, his kiss deeper, his body harder.

He pulled away, shoulders rising and falling with his breath. His gaze searched hers. “I didn’t…was that…”

Katie kissed him. Softer than he’d done, her tongue stroking his as her fingers wound in the hair at the back of his neck. She pulled a little as his hands gripped tighter on her hips. She felt the bulge of his crotch through denim against her belly, and she pulled away, her own breath coming fast and sharp.

Jimmy smiled, his lips wet. “I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t sure you wanted something like this,” he said. “With me, I mean.”

People passed them on the street, some giving them curious glances but most ignoring them. He stepped her backward into the relative privacy of the alley and leaned against the brick wall of the storefront without letting her go. Katie pressed against him, noticing he’d run out after her without a coat.

“Why on earth not?” she cried, pushing at him with her fists but not too hard. “God, Jimmy. We’ve been talking for months. You know the color of my favorite panties and the name of my first dog!”

“I know, I know, but…hell, I’m better on the phone than in person,” he said.

Katie frowned and swiped her tongue over the taste of him lingering on her lips.

“That sounds like a very bad excuse.”

He sighed, looking serious. “I know. B-but…” Jimmy paused, drew a breath. “Well, I’ll tell you. Until I was about fifteen, I stuttered.”

Katie raised a brow.

“I grew out of it, or taught myself not to, whatever,” Jimmy said slowly. “But by then I’d already found out I was better on the phone than talking to someone face to face. On the phone I could take my time or something, I don’t know. It became a habit.”

She shook her head. “I don’t care if you stutter. You could’ve told me.”

Jimmy nudged her just a bit closer into the space between one cocked leg and the opposite thigh. “I liked you the first time I met you, Katie. But then we started talking…”

“And you didn’t like me any more?”

“No.” He laughed. “I liked you more. A lot more. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

She made a disgruntled noise, already forgiving him because to do anything else would only spite herself. “You almost did.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Jimmy kissed her again, lingering this time. “Do you think we could start over?”

“Hell no,” Katie told him, wrapping her arms around him and getting up on her toes to return the kiss. “Start at the beginning? No way. Let’s go straight to third base. Unless,” she paused meaningfully, “you really are better on the phone.”

Jimmy grinned, eyes gleaming, and leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “Why don’t we go to my place and you can decide for yourself?”

“That,” Katie said, “sounds like an excellent idea.”

Dean had brought flowers.

He didn’t even know if Jacob liked flowers.

Dean liked flowers, purple and red and yellow, tied with a green ribbon. He liked them in vases around his house. Dean liked flowers because they were pretty and they didn’t last long, and he didn’t have to take care of them the way he’d have had to be responsible for a potted plant.

Maybe it was time he stopped being so afraid of taking care of things.

He’d just tossed them into the bushes by Jacob’s front door when he was caught by the door opening. Jacob looked at the bushes. Then at Dean.

“Why are you throwing flowers into my bushes?”

Dean tried to look innocent and knew he failed by the way Jacob’s eyebrows rose.

“Uh…”

Jacob peered behind the bushes, then put a hand on his hip. “Did you bring me flowers and then throw them away?"

“Yes.” Dean’s jaw tensed.

Jacob smiled.

When Dean kissed him, it felt right. Like coming home. When Jacob kissed him back, it felt even better.

“I like flowers,” Jacob said against Dean’s mouth. “Thank you.”

Dean pulled away just enough to look into Jacob’s eyes. There was probably more to say but nothing came to him just then. He spoke with his body, his mouth using kisses instead of words to express what he wasn’t sure he should say aloud. Jacob seemed to understand, though.

He smiled against Dean’s mouth. “Come inside.”

Dean nodded. Then he smiled too as he followed Jacob through the doorway, walking behind him.

Not walking away.

If you liked this story, look for more erotic tales by Megan Hart—including more sexy shorts from Spice Briefs, and full length novels published by Spice:

Spice Briefs

Gilt and Midnight: An Erotic Fairy Tale

This Is What I Want

Reason Enough

Layover

Newly Fallen

Everything Changes

Spice

Dirty

Broken

Tempted

Stranger

Deeper

Switch

Naked

Available now wherever ebooks are sold!

Hungry for more? Spice Briefs to suit every taste are available now at www.spicebriefs.com, including these recent titles:

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For something a little longer, visit www.spice-books.com or stop by your local bookstore for stories that will ignite your senses!

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ISBN: 978-1-4268-5160-5

The Challenge

Copyright © 2010 by Megan Hart

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