The Best Friends Anthology (A New City Story Book 5)

  Table of Contents

  NOT MY TYPE A NIGHT OUT

  UNEXPECTED

  GOOD TIME

  NEXT UP

  PREPARATION

  SPIRAL

  PLAYDATE

  NOT LOOKING FROM AFAR

  PERFORMANCE

  CONNECT

  IS THIS WHERE WE NEGOTIATE?

  REALITY IS SHARP

  DROP

  DAYLIGHT

  THE DRAW

  TRY AGAIN

  PLAY

  NOT GOING ANYWHERE A GUY

  HEARTBREAK

  BFF

  WALLOP

  WHO ARE YOU?

  PLAY IT COOL

  THE DATE

  SPACE

  TURN, TURN, TURN

  GOSSIP

  I’LL BREAK

  REGRET

  SAME NEW

  TALKING

  MATCH

  TORMENT

  BACK STEP

  GAME

  PROMISE

  NOT WISE SCRAPE AND BREAK FREE

  MRS MORLEY

  DON’T SAY I DIDN’T WARN YOU

  YOUTH REVISITED

  PLEASURE

  EXPERIENCE

  WORKDAY

  EAT ME

  SOMEONE TO LOVE

  FUN

  THERE IT IS

  AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY… OH

  TOOL

  SCREWHEAD

  FIXING

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  A NEW CITY STORY

  THE BEST FRIENDS ANTHOLOGY

  By Stefanie Simpson

  Published by Stefanie Simpson

  © 2019 Stefanie Simpson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or modified in any form, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design © 2019 Stefanie Simpson. Image from Unsplash.com

  Books by the author

  NEW CITY SERIES

  A Good Night’s Sleep

  The Way Home

  Saving Suzy

  Getting a Life

  No Cure Required

  A NEW CITY STORY

  Mutual Beginnings

  Victoria Undone

  Prelude to Hope

  My Keeper

  (print only) Anthology books 1-4

  OTHER WORKS

  Demon Beauty

  Witworth Doom Baby

  Tales of the Immortal Court

  This exists for you.

  Kindness is a beautiful gift, and I thank you for it. For anyone who reads this, thank you.

  NOT MY TYPE

  Claire is boring — or so she thinks — living a carefully laid out life, but every now and again she needs to let off steam, and a tequila-fuelled one-night stand leads to her cross-stitching life to be completely upended.

  ***

  Content warning: Graphic depictions of BDSM sex including anal, restraints and pain. References to childhood trauma and violence. Strong language.

  A NIGHT OUT

  I’m not exciting and happy that way, except now and again I need to not be me. I need to go out, have fun, dance, flirt, and let off steam.

  Banging clubs and twenty-year-olds are not my thing, but there I was, feeling about a hundred, while I did tequila shots on a freezing cold February night with my two best friends in the world — and housemates — Anne and Poppy.

  Dating sucks, and the men I meet are shit. If in the unlikely event you find one, they turn out to be a prick anyway. This has been my experience all my life, but a girl’s gotta fuck every now again.

  I was shitfaced, and with the unexpected confidence that imbibed, I saw this guy while I was at the bar and wanted. Like a wallop in the face. The need was so intense for a connection, that despite normal Claire huffing at the back of my mind, drunk not-me decided it was a great idea.

  He was handsome with nice ruffled dark hair, and a cheeky smile. He wore a long sleeve top that was moulded to him with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He screamed fuckboi, but I didn’t care; he’d use me, and I’d use him. We were even. He was sat at a table not far away, facing me.

  We did the eye fuck dance. He looked, I glanced, he smirked, I fluttered and did a shot while staring him dead in the eye.

  Set the scene.

  He made me wait, and I thought about the knitting pattern I’d seen that I wanted to buy and what colours I had in my wool stash.

  “Hey.” A hot, deep voice buzzed in my ear over the bass.

  I turned and looked him up and down. “Yes?”

  He grinned and did this thing with his eyebrows. I think he thought it was enticing. I laughed.

  “What?”

  “Does that work?”

  “Usually.” Suspicion and maybe disappointment lay under his flirty expression.

  Leaning in a little, I appreciated his shoulders and scent. “Look, I hate men with game, seriously.” I was so far gone I used air quotes. “Let’s be honest, do you wanna fuck?” I have no idea what came over me. I’m not that forward, but he was perfectly delicious, and it’d been a long time. Not too tall, nice body, pulse.

  Plus, that he was flirting with me was unusual enough.

  He frowned, searching my eyes. “All right. Let’s start with a kiss.” He held out his hand, and oh god, I took it.

  He led me to a quiet and dark spot. I don’t know what I expected, but he pressed me into the wall and ran his hands up my waist, tattoos covered his forearms, and I wondered how much of him was covered. He bit his lip, and I couldn’t look away from his mouth.

  My fingers danced up his chest to his neck, and I pulled him down to me. He hovered; tension thick in the inches between us.

  Firm lips met mine and his mouth opened, tongue in sync with me. Soft and careful, finding each other out until he pressed closer and kissed me like he depended on me for air. A deep hum vibrated through us, and his hands found my arse as we went at it.

  I pushed him back, and we panted. My lips hot, and libido picking up, I needed him. It’d been a while, and I’d not had sex since string-me-along-Baz more than eight months ago.

  I’d learnt my lesson: feel nothing, just fuck them.

  He smiled, eyes on my lips. “Wanna get out of here?”

  Horny, drunk enough to not give a fuck, but aware enough to know what I’m doing. The sweet spot. I grabbed his hand and dragged him behind me. I waved bye to my friends who screamed and shouted behind us.

  I didn’t pay attention to the cool night, or the taxi ride, just him. He smelt good, and I still felt his hands on me and tongue in my mouth.

  “I’m Adam.”

  I laughed and turned to him. “Claire.”

  He took my hand and grinned. He seemed sweet. We fell into his place — a nice but small townhouse — and stumbled upstairs.

  He paused on the landing, and I bumped into him. He turned and held me. “Hey, look, I know we don’t know each other, and this... is what it is, but if you change your mind, you’re not obliged to do anything.”

  I stared. A total line, but I didn’t care. I pushed him back into the bedroom, and we fell on the bed. I kissed him, undressing him as fast as I could.

  “Oh fuck, okay.” He kicked off his shoes, and I helped get his
jeans off, pulling him half across the bed. He laughed but once naked I went still.

  His cock stood straight up, bounced and fell against him, and all his arms and chest were tatted. Nipples pierced. Pierced. Right amount of hair, good thighs. Was I doing this? Fuckboi, probably a bad boy, and really out of my depth guy?

  It was a one-off. Fuck it.

  His mirth faded when I pulled off my top, and cock twitched as my bra followed. He sat up slowly.

  “Wait, condoms?”

  He blinked a lot, cleared his throat and dug them out of a drawer.

  With his eyes on my hands, pushing down my jeans, he tilted his head. I stepped out of them, feeling a little vulnerable, but he pulled me to him, and I stood between his legs as he kissed my stomach.

  He tongued and nipped down under my navel and slid onto the floor.

  “Oh, you don’t need to.”

  He looked up; rich blue eyes framed with dark lashes fixed on me. “You’re very lovely, and your pussy is pretty.”

  “Pretty?”

  “It’s gorgeous. And about to be mine.”

  He opened his mouth and lapped and kissed it with a deep moan. My legs gave, and he manoeuvred me onto the bed. My thighs went around his head, and I undulated.

  He was good. Right on my clit, in the exact rhythm, not too hard.

  I hissed, arching into his mouth, and just as I started to tense, the fucker let me go.

  “Hey.”

  “I want you to come while I’m inside you.”

  When I managed to find someone to shag, they were usually pretty mediocre, but this was hot.

  He urged me over him while he rolled on a condom.

  “You want me to suck you first?”

  He paused. “Honestly, I bet that’s so good, but I really want to fuck.”

  “Fair enough.” I inched down onto him. I was used to my vibrator, which wasn’t as thick as he was. I leant my forehead onto his.

  “Oh fuck you feel good.” He hummed and cupped and squeezed my tits.

  He sat up, guiding me up and down, his arms encircled me, holding tight with his face in my neck.

  We enjoyed each other. Almost gentle. His hot breath was loud as we moved.

  “Fuck.” Lifting his head back, he kissed me, hard and deep.

  He completely enraptured me, I was in control and vulnerable to him. It was a strange sensation. My orgasm rose from my feet, I was twitchy and needy. He let me ride him, silent other than for our breath and slap of bodies.

  I came, almost feral. I rode hard, taking from him.

  “Fuck, that’s it, take it, oh fuck.”

  His words spurred me on, and as pleasure ebbed, leaving me spent and limp, he flipped us over and settled my legs high on his waist. “I’m going to fuck you.”

  “Please.”

  Pounding my wet, still pulsing tight pussy, that’s exactly what he did.

  It wasn’t careless jackhammering, it was deliberate fucking with his hard, sweaty body owning me.

  He cried out, stilling and collapsing on me, and kept going in little circles. “You’re fucking amazing.”

  “So are you,” I purred.

  He eased out, disposing of the condom. He pulled me close, and instead of making my excuses and leaving, I fell asleep unable to get up for a piss.

  When I woke, I knew something was different. Then I remembered. Good sex. I still felt the good sex. Then I realised I was not in my bed and crawling mortification of how bad this was going to be dawned. This was not me, which was fine, but having a random hook-up with a sexy bad boy covered in tattoos? I needed an escape route.

  With a muffled groan, I covered my face.

  “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  I pulled the duvet over my head, shuddered at the sexy voice and wanted to vomit. “Oh no.”

  “It’s not that bad, is it?” He snuggled in a little as he said it.

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t mean that.” His teasing tone hummed on my neck, making me shiver.

  “I should get going.”

  He didn’t say anything, and clearing my throat, I slid out of bed, but my body wasn’t cooperating, and I fell on the floor and lay there mortified.

  “What are you doing?” The gravelly voice reverberated through my head, and he laughed.

  Completely naked on his floor, I turned to look at him nearly died. As hot as I remembered. Hotter.

  He perched on his side as I stood up looking for my clothes and watched with a little smirk.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll knock that smirk into next week.” I wrestled with my bra.

  “Now that I’d love to see.” He grinned so hard I thought the top of his head would break off. Clearly being mean wasn’t working. “Are you always so grumpy in the morning?”

  “Yes.” I pulled my jeans up.

  “Coffee before you go?”

  I winced at his cheerfulness and left. He followed, still naked. “I’d like to see you again.”

  I spun to face him as I shouldered my little bag in the hall, not looking at that lovely body, covered in beautiful patterns. The little bars through his nipples drew my eye, and I blinked. “Huh?”

  He tongued his bottom lip, smirking. “Last night was great, so you can’t say that wasn’t brilliant sex.”

  “Fine, it was.”

  Smug bastard grinned and stepped closer. He smelt good in a not gross but sexy man way. “Stay, spend the day with me. We can get to know each other a little. At least breakfast, then I’ll drive you home.”

  “But then you’d know where I lived.”

  He squinted, walking back to the kitchen to the side.

  Fuck it, if I got another shag and food out of it, who was I to complain. I took his offered hand and admired his arse as he went.

  “There’s nothing like a post-fuck fry-up.” He popped the kettle on.

  “Shouldn’t you get dressed?”

  He looked down. “Hmm.” He padded out and from a laundry basket in the hall, pulled on some sweats. “There, better?”

  No, not really. Letting myself stare, he laughed at me.

  He pointed to the breakfast bar. “Sit.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He narrowed his eyes and bit his lip before tidying up and pulling a few things out of the fridge. He started cooking, and the smell of food made my mouth water.

  Adam slid over a coffee. “What do you do?”

  “Bookkeeper in an MOT centre. You?”

  “Insurance broker.”

  I laughed.

  “What? You think this,” he pointed at his chest, “means I’m a criminal?”

  “Sorry. It’s just... Insurance?”

  He plated the eggs up. “What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know. Look, this isn’t me. At all. Tequila happened, and well, here I am.”

  The same look as last night flashed across him. Something sweet and sad.

  He set both plates on the bar and sat next to me. “Do you regret it?”

  “No, it was amazing. Really.”

  “But?”

  I ate a little first, and it was heaven. “I’m boring and probably not your thing.”

  “I don’t agree, and I’d like the chance to find out. Live a little.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  All my confidence evaporated. I ate quietly, thinking, but felt him right there next to me. His presence, that sexy body and the way he looked at me did things.

  “Okay.” The word fell out.

  “Good.” He wiped the yoke off his plate with the last of his bread and shoved it in his mouth.

  I wanted a shower, so we exchanged numbers, and it’s like he saw me processing and needed to think. Push but not too hard. He really had game, and that worried me.

  He offered to take me home, but I declined. As my taxi turned up, he kissed me, pressing me into the front door, all hands and grinding as a reminder of last nigh
t. He left me dazed as I wandered out and got in the car.

  I let myself in and Anne, my fellow young granny, wore her hangover hoodie, with a face like death.

  “Hey.”

  “You’re chipper.” She sipped her tea.

  “I had the best sex.”

  “At least someone did. I ended up with two pumps and a squirt.”

  “Sorry.”

  She shrugged. “Your guy was hot.”

  “He wants to see me again.” Still perplexed, I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

  By the time I’d showered and relived the night fifty times, I was convinced I’d never hear from him again.

  Convinced.

  UNEXPECTED

  Sunday, he texted me, and I screamed. I was watching — okay re-watching — ‘Pride and Prejudice’, knitting a shawl, when I got it. I stared at it for about ten minutes.

  It was pancake day on Tuesday. Did I want pancakes at his? Did I? I suppose I did because even the most challenging pattern I’d tried couldn’t distract me from thinking about him.

  I said yes.

  On Tuesday, I drove to his and sat in my car for several minutes. When he knocked on the window, I went a foot in the air.

  He levelled that giant grin at me. “We’re not having pancakes in your car.”

  Opening the door, I couldn’t look at him.

  “Hey.” He pulled me close and kissed me. We fell into the moment on the pavement, and I wanted him.

  He lifted me up and walked us inside, we stumbled as he shut the door and laughed. I dropped my bag, he pushed my coat off, and we started kissing again.

  “Come on.” He pulled away, breathless.

  In the kitchen, he kept glancing at me. I couldn’t figure him or what we were doing out, and as much as I wanted to roll with it, it was off.

  “Go on.”

  “What?” I felt like I’d been caught out.

  “You’re thinking very hard.” He started whisking. No premade batter for him.

  “What is this? Like, why?”

  He stopped whisking.

  “I mean, you’re incredibly hot, and I’m a twenty-seven-year-old granny. So...”