Grumpy Best Friend

I stroked him, wild and stupid and not caring about anything else. He moaned into my kiss and his hand moved down the front of my yoga pants again, and as I worked the tip of his cock, his fingers rolled around my hard little clit. I gasped as he pushed me to the side, my back onto the couch, and he slowly peeled my pants off, staring at me with pure intense lust and desire. I let him look, let him spread my legs wide, let his tongue lap me up—and I grabbed his hair tight in my hands and held him against me, against my wet spot as his tongue did something incredible and wrong and good to my clit. I moaned, head tossed back, and his fingers slid inside me, and I was so overwhelmed that all I could do was whisper his name.

But he wouldn’t let me go there, not yet. “Patience, Jude,” he whispered as he undressed me the rest of the way, pulling off my tank top. He kissed my pink, hard nipples, rolled his tongue around them and bit them, teased my breasts with his hands, and stood to take off his boxer briefs. I stared at his long cock and took him into my mouth, sliding him deep, before he pushed me back and pinned me down, and I felt his tip between my legs, pressing against my soaking spot, and I wiggled my hips, staring into his eyes—

“Tell me you want it,” he whispered. “Come on, Jude. Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

“Please,” I moaned. “I need you.”

“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he said.

“Fuck me, Bret.”

He sank himself slowly inside of me and I shivered, and all those nights we’d spent together, lying side by side talking about our lives, wishing we were somewhere else, wishing we could escape what waited for us back home—all that flashed into my mind in a burst of pure pleasure.

I kissed him, bit his lip, and dug my fingers into his back as he fucked me. I was like I’d always wanted, like I’d always imagined—no awkward fumbling, no uncertainty. There was only pleasure and our bodies coming together, and his cock filling me in a way I’d never experienced before, and his lips against mine, his breath on my skin, his hard muscles, his arms. He took me faster and growled in my ear, growled against my throat, and I moved my hips against him, working fast and arching my back.

He whispered in my ear, but I couldn’t remember what he said, and it didn’t matter. He told me how good I felt, how good I looked, and how much he’d wanted me—how much he wanted my body, my lips, my tongue. I pushed him back and rode him, straddling him, dripping wet and gliding down his hard cock. His hands palmed my breasts, and he slapped my ass, and told me how badly he wanted to fill me up, and I kept going, working faster and faster, riding him, taking him deeper and deeper—

Until I came in a massive burst of moaning, gasping pleasure. He turned me and pinned me again and fucked me, rough and wild, an angry growl on his lips, and I wanted that rough, wanted that anger, and wanted him to come inside of me. I begged for it, panted for it, and he gave it to me in a fit and a start, filled me with a thick, guttural growl.

We collapsed together, sweating and naked and perfect on his couch. I curled up against his chest and stayed like that, unable to look up into his eyes, and wondered how I’d gotten back here with Bret, and how we’d ended up like this, after so long, after coming so close, but never quite going all the way.

“That was unexpected,” I said, breaking the silence, and he laughed.

“Was it?” he asked. “I don’t know. As soon as you walked out of that room looking like you do, I thought it might happen.”

“Oh, god. Is that why you weren’t wearing a shirt?”

“I worked out,” he said. “Purely a coincidence. I thought I had time to cook then shower.”

“Looks like you were wrong.” I kissed his chest then his lips. “This was probably a mistake, you know.”

“I know.” He shrugged a little, but he was smiling. “I’m not sure I care.”

I sat up, then stood. His eyes tracked my every movement, and I felt so exposed. My nipples were hard from the cold air and from his lips, and I ached down between my legs, where he’d been only moments before. I got dressed, and hated the way he stared, but loved it too.

“I’m going to stay with you for a while,” I said, and put my hands on my hips, trying to exude some confidence and power, and totally failing, considering he’d just fucked me into submission a second earlier. “And we’re not going to do that again.”