By: Sophie Stern

But my fantasy has more to it than that.

I think about what comes next, what comes after me blowing my load in her hands. I think about her lifting her messy fingers to her mouth and then licking them until they’re clean. Then, in my imagination, in my dreams, Sassy straddles my lap and she kisses me.

She kisses me until everything else fades to grey.

She kisses me until the world goes dark.

She kisses me until there’s nothing left in the universe but me and her and the moment we’re sharing.

She kisses me until that’s it.

Then I take her to the bedroom, and I spread her out on the bed like a fucking feast. I lay her on the comforter and I kneel between her legs.

In my dreams, I take my time with Sassy because she’s a succulent dish to be savored. She’s not something you can rush through. She’s not something you can hurry.

A lot of people make the mistake of thinking sex has to be rushed or hurried. It doesn’t. It shouldn’t be. Sex is something that should be enjoyed slowly and sweetly. No, there’s nothing wrong with going hard and fast and good, but sometimes it’s the slow moments that matter the most.

Sometimes it’s the slow moments that make the best memories.

I want to kiss Sassy.

I want to kiss her mouth before I move down her neck and bite her gently. I want to run my hands up and down her sides as I kiss her. I want to give her goose bumps. I want to make her squirm, make her fidget. I want to make her fucking mine.

Then I’ll kiss her skin, slowly making it come alive, until I reach her breasts. Then she’s all mine. I’ve been thinking about Sassy’s breasts for years. I haven’t forgotten the time we went skinny dipping as teenagers or my first glimpse of her perfect little nipples. I haven’t forgotten the way I hid in the water and she thought I was scared or shy, but I was just worried she’d see my reaction to her. I was worried she’d know how much I liked what I saw. I was worried she’d think I was a pervert.

Still, although I got a lovely view of her tits, I never got to taste them.

In my dreams, I always taste them.

She’s like ripe strawberries and sweet icing on top of a perfect cupcake. When I’m thinking about Sassy, I always lick her nipples. I always circle them with my tongue. I always suck on them until she’s squirming, thrusting up at me. I always bite and nip at her breasts until she’s begging me to finger her, begging me to slide my hand between her legs and just make her fucking come.

Just make her come undone.

Just make her explode.

And now I’m here, sitting on her couch, sipping whiskey like there’s nothing wrong. I’m sitting here, pretending that this is a perfectly normal conversation, pretending that I’m quite all right just being friends with the girl of my dreams, pretending that I’m all right being buddies with the most perfect woman in the world.


No more of that.

No more friend zone.

No more.

Tonight is the night that everything changes.

Tonight is the night I show Sassy what she really means to me.

Tonight is the night I win her heart.

Chapter 5


Elliott is different.

There’s something about him that’s not quite the same. I can’t put my finger on it because to me, he’s still the badass I’ve been in love with since I was a teenager.

Oh, it was childish dreams, I know.

We both dated other people and lived our lives. We both went our separate ways, then found ourselves back in the same city. We never lost touch, never broke our friendship, never gave up on each other.

Through bad relationships and terrible breakups, hopeful dates and failed app hook-ups, Elliott and I have always been there for each other.

Can we really be more?

It’s time to stop being a wimp.

I know that.

I get it.

I’ve been a huge pussy about telling him what I want, what I feel, what I think. I’ve been scared and timid and shy and that’s never been my MO. I’ve always been bold and blunt and terribly honest with people. It’s something some people love and some people hate, but it’s who I am. It’s how I operate.

Now I’m sitting just inches from Elliott on my couch and we’re sipping whiskey.


We’re sipping whiskey and all I’m thinking about is how he’s only a couple of inches away and I could reach out and grab his leg. He’s only a couple of inches away and I could slide my hand up. He’s only a couple of inches away and if I kissed him, he couldn’t run away.

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