"Want to talk about it?"

Blake sat beside me on the couch, sipping the beer I'd given him when he arrived a few minutes ago. He didn't look at me as he spoke. Instead, he gazed out the window at the clouds darkening the sky.

Patient as ever, he waited for me to explain the text I'd sent him earlier that afternoon: Please come over. I really need to see you. But now that he was here, I couldn't find the words. I spent all day talking, trying to be an effective advocate in an effort to ease the suffering I encountered in the course of my job. At this point, I was tired of hearing my own voice.

As a social worker, I was chronically stressed while struggling to manage a large caseload. Blake had been a mentor of sorts when I started out, and he repeatedly warned me about burnout. Taking a swig of my own beer, I struggled to swallow past the tightening in my throat. Finally, I looked over at him and said quietly, "Today just about broke me."

His expression softened in understanding. Instead of making empty promises that it would get easier, he placed a comforting hand on my back. "I'm sorry, Angela."

A tear streamed down my cheek, and I angrily wiped it away. "I shouldn't have asked you to stop by; I need to handle this on my own."

"No, you don't." Blake set his beer aside before turning toward me. Having come straight from the office, he was dressed in business casual. If I hadn't sent him that text, he'd probably still be at his desk working, for he put in even longer hours than I did. I'd changed into lounge pants and a T-shirt as soon as I got home, and I now felt guilty for wearing comfortable clothes when he hadn't even had the chance to grab dinner. "You can't keep all this bottled up," he went on in a gentle voice. "It helps to talk about how you're feeling—"

"I don't want to talk about it." My tone left no room for argument.

Blake raised his eyebrows. "Then what would make you feel better?"

I drained my beer and set the empty can aside. He extended his arm, as if to provide me a sheltering wing to nestle beneath, but I chose to slide onto his lap instead. He couldn't hide his surprise when I straddled him. Though we'd been friends for years, our relationship was strictly platonic.

Until now.

Blake didn't try to tell me we shouldn't do this. He didn't speak at all. But the moment I slipped my arms around him, he readily embraced me in return. Burying my face in his neck, I inhaled his scent. It soothed me in a way no words could. Tentatively, I pressed my lips against his skin and was rewarded with the sound of his soft sigh.

He wove his fingers through my hair, lifting my head in order to study my face. The room was so quiet that I heard his breathing quicken. Though we were surrounded by deepening shadows, harbingers of the approaching storm, I easily discerned the yearning in his stare.

The kiss Blake gave me seemed to reach all the way into my core. A hot current of arousal rippled through me as our tongues met, and his moan made me almost instantly wet. I broke the kiss long enough to pull my shirt over my head. He moaned even louder upon seeing that I wasn't wearing a bra. Was that a calculated decision on my part? I wondered. Maybe I'd craved this kind of intimacy with him for much longer than I was willing to admit.

The sight of my bare breasts unleashed his desire. With his hands splayed against my spine, he supported me while I leaned back and thrust my tits in his face. The way he fervently suckled my right nipple, and then my left, made me whimper with need. We'd just begun to enjoy each other, but I already ached to have him inside me.

Sitting up, I reached to stroke his cock through his pants. When he eased me onto the couch, I lifted my ass from the cushion so he could quickly strip me from the waist down. Watching him undress, I didn't try to hide my longing.

Once we were both naked, I spread my legs wide, inviting Blake to kneel between them. With his fingers, and the tip of his hard cock, he massaged my clit. His stare moved from my face to my pussy, and then back again. It was as if he was intent on teasing us both.

"Please!" I begged. There would be time for sensual foreplay later. Right now, I needed to be taken.

Blake didn't make me wait any longer. His first deep thrust filled me with such satisfaction that I let out a guttural groan. Though we both fully surrendered to our lust, our lovemaking still held an underlying gentleness. I smiled, delighting in the way he cradled me even as he drove himself inside my pussy.

Again, his mouth found mine. The pumping of his hips grew more insistent, pushing me desperately close to orgasm. When I began quaking, he held my stare, eager to witness my undoing. Finally, I came all around him, drawing a cry from his throat as well as my own. Tears spilled from my eyes; it was impossible to stop them in the wake of such a powerful release.

Blake climaxed inside me with a fierce shudder. Before he'd caught his breath, he leaned to kiss my damp cheeks, gathering up my tears with his lips.

The afterglow of that tenderness stayed with me for the rest of the night. When I woke the following morning, I found myself in Blake's arms, and in the warmth of his smile, I found the strength to try again.