Absolutely perfect.
As soon as his dick started softening inside me, he pulled out. “I better go take care of this,” he said, his voice still a bit choppy from all the appreciated effort that he had just put into me.
Making sure to get rid of the condom was the most important piece in all this. We couldn’t afford to leave any evidence of what we’d been up to. Though we both knew that there was a lot at stake here, the chemistry between us felt like it was holding us prisoner, giving us no choice. However, everyone always had a choice.
Always.
Chapter 1
Skylar~
It was a typical Monday, but unlike most people, I did my best not to complain about work. I was grateful to have a job, and I’d always been grateful for every job that I’d ever had.
Growing up, I’d been fortunate enough to have a warm, healthy, happy childhood. My parents, Trent and Molly McKay, had owned their own bakery, and it’d been successful enough that they had opened a second location five years ago. So, growing up, money had never been an issue. Sure, we hadn’t driven BMWs or carried around Prada bags, but we’d had more than most, and it’d been plenty.
My parents’ dedication to their business had also taught me and my sister the value of hard work. We’d had afterschool jobs, had volunteered at community functions, and had even maintained good GPAs. Hard work had never scared any of the McKays, and it still didn’t.
My sister, Star, was thirty-two-years-old, and she worked at a temp agency. Star got bored easily, so she liked the variety that working for a temp agency provided. She liked meeting new people, and she liked learning new things. The world was her classroom, as she liked to say.
Star was also very beautiful. While we’d both taken after our mother in coloring, Star had gotten Mom’s figure while I had gotten Grandma McKay’s. Star was voluptuous enough to be considered pin-up material, and with her blonde hair and blue eyes, she was often described as such.
Now, while we both had blonde hair and blue eyes, Star was about an inch taller than my five-foot-one, and I was slim and petite compared to her curvy frame. I wasn’t hating on my looks though. I was happy with how I looked, and I also realized what a blessing it was to be able to say that. I was very happy with myself, my family, my job, my friends, and with life in general.
Of course, according to my sister, my contentment was actually a point against me.
How, you ask?
Star seemed to think that I failed to make real human connections because I didn’t feel as if I were missing anything in life. She believed that my ability to have sex without love or commitment attached to it was a sign of some deep inner fear to put myself out there.
It wasn’t.
Never mind that the woman wasn’t a psychologist, but she really believed that sex and love should go hand-in-hand, and while I had nothing against that take on love, I saw nothing wrong with having sex just for the sheer pleasure of it all.
I mean, who in the hell didn’t like sex?
Seriously.
Plus, she also thought that my superficial friendships were a result of my lack of trust, and that was also incorrect. I didn’t have a severe lack of trust for people; I had a severe lack of faith in humanity. Though Star refused to see it, there was a big difference between the two.
I had no problem meeting new people and making new friends. I did, however, have a problem with trusting them immediately out of the gate. I chose myrealfriends carefully and wisely, and I didn’t see anything wrong with that. The more care that you took when choosing friends, the less drama there was later on in life.
I also had a scale that I worked off of, though Star didn’t know it. I had a…pyramid of friends, let’s say. My real friends were at the top, and they were categorized as myactualfriends. They were the people that I depended on and shared my secrets with. They were considered family. The level underneath them were categorized as friendly friends. They were the people that I went out with, had drinks with, invited over for parties or whatever, but we didn’t share any secrets. The level below them were categorized as acquaintances. They were the people that I chitchatted with, the ones that I gave a hug to if I saw them in public. The level below them were categorized as people that I knew. Maybe we’d gone to school together, worked together, or had met at a party or somewhere social like that. We might be social media friends, but we didn’t hang out. The level below them were categorized as coworkers. They were the people that I worked with closely, but we still didn’t hang out much outside of work. The level below them were categorized as anyone else on the planet. I might know that you existed, I might not. Either way, I didn’t care. I wasn’t invested in these people, so I could take them or leave them.
Now, Star said that my view on people made me mean, but I didn’t see it that way. There was nothing wrong with keeping your circle small. There was also nothing wrong with not caring what anyone below that top tier did. My obligations in life did not include asking someone about their weekend, or actually caring about what they did during their weekend.
The same could be said for the men that had come and gone in my life. At thirty-years-old, I wasn’t a spring chicken, but I also didn’t have one foot in the grave. While I had a lot of years of living behind me, I still had a lot more to go, and I planned on sprinkling a few men into those years of mine.
Now, while I didn’t sleep with every or any guy that looked my way, I liked sex, and I made no apologies for it. I had needs that vibrators just couldn’t satisfy, and that mostly included dirty talk. Ilovedit when a guy was vocal in bed and warned me what was to come next. Just like men needed reassurance that they were hitting all the right spots, women needed the same reassurance.
Or, at least, I did.
I also believed that if a guy was being vocal, then that must mean that he was in the momentwithme. He wasn’t daydreaming of his ex or wondering if he’d filed his taxes yet. Unless he called out the wrong name, then telling me all the things that he wanted to do to me made me believe that he was exactly where he wanted to be and with who.
That’s what made me a great friends-with-benefits. Not only did I enjoy sex just for the sake of sex, but I also listened. If a guy told me that he just wanted a casual hookup, I could do that. However, that had to be stipulated at the beginning. I needed to know what I was getting into, and that was more about respect than anything else. Be honest with me, and I returned the favor.
Don’t get me wrong though. I wasn’t opposed to falling in love. Love just didn’t need to be the endgame for me in order to sleep with a guy. If the chemistry was there, the rules were outlined, and everything was consensual, then I was game. I had no problem expressing myself sexually, though I did have my own moral code. I didn’t do married men, separated men, just-broke-up-with-my-girlfriend men, confused men, or any men that seemed like tangling up with them would get complicated.
I wanted light and easy.
