My Best Friend’s Brother

"Who is it?" a dark voice comes through the intercom, mixing with the honking and chatter of the busy Manhattan streets behind me.

"It's me." I say, holding the buzzer.

"Who's me?" the dark voice asks me.

I laugh. "Anna."

A chuckle of his own comes through the speaker as he says, "Of course, come on in Anna. Seventh floor."

The sound of the buzzer fills the entry way and I push my way into the lobby of the building. I am greeted by white marble floors and a small seating area. I hit the elevator button and hoist my bag onto my shoulder, aching from the long journey from the airport to the apartment on the Upper West Side. As I'm only here for a job interview and staying just two nights, I opted for a duffle bag. Which I wildly overpacked. Which I am now deeply regretting.

I step into the elevator when it arrives and press the button for floor seven, as instructed. Once the doors shut and I begin moving up, the butterflies in my belly start to flutter. Holy shit, this is happening. I'm staying with Ben, my best friend's brother and the boy of all my childhood fantasies. Well, man now. A 30-year old living alone in the Upper West with a cushy banking job, Ben grew up even hotter than teenage me could've imagined.

The elevator dings and the doors open into that gorgeous face, as Ben awaits me in the hall of the seventh floor. He's still in his work clothes; a dark gray suit, white dress shirt with a few buttons undone, and a blue tie draped around his neck.

"There she is," he says in greeting as he scoops me into a hug.

"Hi," I breathe, dropping my heavy bag to the floor. He grabs it in a swift movement and ushers me to the door on the left.

"How was the flight?" he asks.

"Long. Middle seat. Screaming babies. The whole nine yards", I complain.

"Most people wouldn't call a three hour flight from Minnesota 'long', but I take it you're in need of a glass of wine?" he says, grinning at me as he sets down my bag in the living room.

I nod. "God, yes", I moan. Then instantly flush at how sexual that sounded. I cough to cover my embarrassment, but he doesn't seem to notice. He asks if I prefer red or white and I tell him red.

"Thank you again for letting me crash here for my interview, I know Kayla must've begged you to say yes," I say, internally thankful for any coercing my best friend did on my behalf.

"She didn't have to beg a bit. I was happy to do it. I'm always happy to see you, Anna." He hands me my glass of red and turns back to open the fridge. "Make yourself at home, I'll make a quick dinner."

"Oh my gosh, you don't have to do that. Really, I can Uber Eats us something, I don't mind," I say as I fumble for my phone.

He reaches out his large hand and covers my own as he says "No I don't mind. I was wanting to make pasta anyways, and it's better made for two."

Ben gets to work on the pasta while I take a quick body shower, ridding myself of the smell of airplane and stale coffee. I return to the kitchen 10 minutes later to the smell of onions and garlic simmering in olive oil, but no Ben.

"Right behind ya", he says into my ear as his hands brush my lower back, moving me aside so he can join me in the kitchen. I blush again and look away, embarrassed by the power this man still has over my nervous system. It started in middle school. Just the sound of his voice when he walked into a room would make me sweat, let alone any actual bodily contact.

I watch him get back to work in the kitchen and we make small talk about work and my upcoming interview while he finishes dinner. Every time he looks at me, I imagine him coming up to me, grabbing my face and kiss-- Stop thinking that! I tell myself. He's Kayla's brother, you absolutely CAN NOT go there. Even though we have gone there. Once before. It was just a quick make out, back when he was a senior in college visiting us in our sophomore year apartment. We were drunk and never told Kayla, and honestly, I assume he forgot about it entirely. But I never would, even after eight years.

Topping off our wine glasses, I join him at the dining table where he set down our dinners. A gorgeous homemade red sauce dresses penne and I swoon a little. We sit at his small table, so close our knees brush and my heart beats a little faster.

I dig in and moan again at the bright and tangy taste of the first bite of sauce. The sauce is so good, I'm not even embarrassed by my reaction this time. "Damn, Ben. This is so good. Have you always been able to cook like this?"

He makes eye contact with me, smirking again. "Don't look so surprised, Anna. I'm offended." He mocks surprise and we laugh into our bowls.

After another glass of wine and an hour spent catching up on the recent years of our lives, I stand to clean our dishes. He allows me to do this small task in exchange for the meal, and as I wash the bowls in the kitchen sink, I swear I feel his eyes on my back. I place the final dish in the drying rack and dry my hands. When I turn around, I find him leaning against the kitchen island, eyes boring into me. I startle a bit, because I never heard him stand and move closer to me. I thought the tension I was feeling was only imagined, but there he is.

So.

Close.

I envision him closing the distance and pressing me into the marble countertop with his hips, hands braced on either side of me. I imagine his hot breath as he leans in to press his lips gently to mine.

The tension between us is nearly palpable, but he breaks it swiftly. "So you can stay in my room, I'll take the couch."

I cough, then flush again, thinking about where my mind had gone. I finish the rest of my wine in one gulp and then excuse myself to change into pajamas and get ready for bed.

Before tucking in for the night, I step into the living room to say goodnight to Ben and am faced with the most glorious scene that had appeared frequently in teenage fantasies of mine. Ben. Shirtless. Wearing grey sweatpants that are snug in all the right places. Knowing I look equally as sexy in my matching silk pajama set I announce my presence. "Thank you again for dinner, and for letting me stay here tonight. And for taking the couch. I'd protest the chivalry, but your bed is too comfortable for me to give up," I joke.

I can instantly tell he isn't listening to a word I'm saying, as he eyes fall to my tits, my hips, my bare legs. When he drags his eyes back to mine, they're slightly glazed and his pupils are wide. I've seen plenty of men look at me with eyes like that, but it's never made me feel the way it does now. I'm instantly wet, and the fire that has been building inside me all night is suddenly ablaze. We both stare for a moment, breathless, before he coughs and looks away. For the first time since I walked in the door, I wonder how one sided my evening of yearning has been.

"Uhh... yeah... goodnight. Let me know if you need anything", he says.

I nod and turn to walk back to his bedroom. My legs are nearly shaking with want, but I hold my composure until I am inside and have shut the door behind me. I lean against the heavy door and take a deep breath. That would've been a terrible idea anyway, Anna. What the fuck were you thinking?

Before I have fully gathered my composure, there is a knock at the door. I turn to open it, and Ben's wide frame fills the doorway, still shirtless. His eyes meet mine, and it's over for me. Our lips crash and it's messy and needy, but something about it feels so fucking perfect. My heart races when he backs me into the bedroom wall and presses his body into mine. He's so close I can feel his heart racing, smell his boyish scent, and hear his panting breaths.

But as quickly as it begins, he pulls away. "Fuck, I'm so sorry," he breathes, running a hand through his messy dark hair.

"Don't be," I whisper back, incapable of forming longer sentences.

"We...can't. Kayla would murder me," he says as an excuse for not fucking me against this wall right now.

"Maybe," I agree. "She'd probably murder me too."

His hungry eyes meet mine again. The only sound in the room is our heavy breathing. It's a game of chicken and I give in first. I close the gap between us and reach for his face, pulling it back to mine. He doesn't even fake a protest, instead he backs me up against the wall once more, this time with more pressure and a deeper kiss.

His tongue pushes between my lips and moves in perfect rhythm with mine. We kiss with urgency and he traps me between the wall and his hips. I can feel how hard he is for me and it makes me feel feral. I slide my hand into his sweatpants and feel his length pressing through his boxer briefs. Slowly, I palm his dick in my hand, rubbing him up and down. With a shaking breath he steps back and takes off his sweats in one smooth movement, and in the next he's lowering my shorts. I wiggle and let them drop to the floor as his hands grab my hips.

My hands tangle in his hair and my mouth finds the beating pulse at his neck. I press my body flush against his, anything to feel more of him-- to feel closer. I've never felt this desperate for someone in my life. His frantic hands grip my hips but his fingers are gentle as they slide my panties to the side and feel my slick wetness.

"Holy shit," Ben breathes in my ear. Two fingers glide back and forth over my entrance, slowly-- just enough to make me want to beg for more. As I am about to do just that, he steps back and slides to his knees, taking my thong to the floor with him. Seeing this gorgeous man on his knees before me is almost too much to handle. My knees shake and he grabs my hips once again.

"Is this ok?" he whispers.

"More than ok," I pant. "I need you so bad, Ben."

"Good," he locks eyes with me, that smirk painted on his beautiful face once more. "Because I've been thinking about this since the moment you stepped into my apartment." And with that his tongue meets my core in a fiery blaze and I for a second, I think I might come then and there. I pull my shit together as he laps at my entrance. Gripping my hips with more force, he finds my clit with his lips and sucks with a glorious amount of pressure. He releases and sucks again, before his tongue starts moving in a faster rhythm that drives me crazy. When he slides two fingers into me, I last about five seconds before I come, hard, panting "oh my god, oh my god." I ride his fingers through the waves of my orgasm as he kisses my inner thigh, up my stomach, breasts, and eventually my mouth. I taste myself on him and smile, shaking a bit while his fingers keep edging out every last second of bliss.

When he finally removes his fingers from me, he licks each one, savoring the taste of me. Then he smiles, backs out of the room saying "Goodnight, Anna."

He closes the door, leaving me alone, shaking, wondering what the fuck just happened.