"Okay, I am almost ready. I just need a few more minutes." Carrie Heights shouted down the hall at her best friend Dylan McCray of nearly twenty years as she took one last look in the mirror. Her heart rate quickly accelerated followed by a wave of heat that ripped through her lean yet curvaceous frame. She wiped her sweaty palms on her conservative, thin, floral, polka dot blouse and tugged at her oversized, worn jeans.
"Damn, why do I look so average?" She angrily huffed while rolling her eyes upward at her plain, five foot, two inch frame in her full length mirror. "There's no way Dylan will ever be interested in a girl like me." She mumbled to herself, then quickly slumped down on her full-sized bed. A bed that she recently found herself spending an ample amount of time in personally touching, caressing and relieving her raw, thirsty and deep primal needs. It wasn't something she readily shared with anyone or something Carrie really had a choice in. Her womanly desires had become so intense in the last several months that she was forced to masturbate every night and every morning in order to stay sane.
And boy did she masturbate.
Even now, the act of pleasing herself embarrassed her immensely, but it also turned her on to the point of mind-blowing orgasms. However, nowadays, any single thought involving Dylan made her weak at the knees and had her panties dripping wet with desire.
Over the past few years, Carrie had tried, in earnest, to place some meaningful distance between them, but Dylan simply wouldn't have it. So, sadly enough, Carrie was left with no other choice but to massage and caress herself until she was raw to the touch below. If only Dylan knew how unbelievably sick and sexually frustrated he was making her.
At twenty-nine, Carrie was still a virgin. A ripe, tender bud of innocence that needed the warmth of one man, Dylan McCray. The problem was, he didn't know she existed beyond being his best friend and with Dylan adamantly refusing to give her the space she requested, Carrie was stuck between a rock and a hard place. A place no woman ever desires to be. But what other choice did Carrie have other than to walk away forever. Currently, that wasn't an option.
"Ah shit, stop it!" Carrie swore loudly as she quickly popped up from her bed and shrugged off the unwanted thoughts from her mind. But, it was too late. A familiar pain had already drifted into her core. The cringeworthy, nauseating feeling was called loneliness and despair. These two well-known feelings always seemed to creep into her gut every time she thought about making a decision when it came to Dylan. As much as she needed to find her own way, without Dylan, she didn't have the courage to break away from him. But why?
"It's not his fault. He doesn’t have a clue,” she aggravatingly uttered to herself. And, that simple statement was the truth. Dylan didn't have a clue that Carrie had a deep longing to be in his warm, strong masculine embrace. Throughout the years, on several occasions, she had come close, very close, to confessing her deepest desires to him, but at the last minute, fear always crept in and stopped her. But, with his thirtieth birthday fast approaching, it was time to "woman-up" and take accountability for her feelings and emotions for once and for all. The problem was, she didn't want to scare him away and lose her best friend forever. And, for that reason, Carrie was irrefutably stuck in the friend zone. Her life sucked!
From Carrrie’s vantage point, Dylan had the best of both worlds. He had a 24 hour a day, 7 days a week best friend who would roll out the red carpet for him. On the flip side, he also had dozens of dripping with sex, hot models and corporate executives on speed dial anytime he desired to get laid. And, she assumed Dylan got laid often.
With that jealous thought bouncing around in her head, Carrie immediately slammed her heavy-lidded eyes shut and tried to calm down, but it wasn't