Something forbidden.
I’m confused by it, and when my friend’s lips part, his eyes flicking down to my mouth and his face coming slowly closer, my head starts spinning wildly. There are plenty of reasons to halt what is about to happen, but I can’t think of them at the moment. I can’t think of anything, except that this could be exactly what I need.
I start inching closer, too, until our lips meet and my heart starts thudding in my chest. The unusual feeling of my best friend’s lips on mine doesn’t deter me. I shift my position, throwing my leg over Gregory’s reclined body and settling myself across his hips, keeping our mouths joined, letting our tongues dance madly. The sensation of his hands running all over my back and his mouth pressed hard to mine brings me a strange comfort, even if it’s alien and not what I’m used to. It doesn’t matter. I need different.
‘Livy.’ He breaks our kiss, panting in my face. ‘We shouldn’t. This is wrong.’
I don’t let him try to talk us out of this. I smash my lips back on his and start working him desperately, feeling his strong arms and smoothing down his tight muscles. He groans, the evidence of his hardness beneath me pushing me on.
‘Livy,’ he argues weakly, making no attempt to push me off.
‘We’ll help each other,’ I gasp, pulling at the hem of his T-shirt. He doesn’t stop me. He shifts, making my task easier, and is soon rid of it, leaving his chest exposed to my roaming hands. It’s not long before I feel my top being pulled off, and I release his lips to sit up, letting my best friend in the whole world strip me. With a lack of a bra covering my modest br**sts, I’m left in just my small pyjama shorts with Gregory’s eyes focused on my tight ni**les that are within licking distance.
‘Oh f**king hell,’ he mumbles, looking up at me as I wheeze in his face. ‘Oh f**king, f**king hell.’ He takes the tops of my arms and pushes me to my back, taking my mouth again urgently as he pushes my shorts and knickers down my legs. He’s hard and wedged up against my thigh, pulsing incessantly, and I find myself fumbling at the fly of his jeans. He helps me, lifting his h*ps slightly so I can rid him of the denim, until we’re both naked, rubbing up against each other, rolling around the bed, kissing and feeling.
‘Fucking hell,’ he curses again, working his mouth across my cheek while I pant up at the ceiling. ‘We should stop.’
‘No,’ I breathe.
‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’ He makes no attempt to halt, finding my mouth again and plunging his tongue in urgently. We’re matching each other in the frenzied stakes. Hands and lips are everywhere as we explore unknown territory. We’re both consumed with desperation to eradicate our woes, neither one of us seeming prepared to stop this. We should halt it. This won’t help.
‘Oh God!’ I yelp, throwing my head back when Gregory cups my breast. I’m squirming beneath him, my whole being tingling with fevered shots of desperate pleasure. Our mouths quickly find each other again and my hand starts venturing downward until I have his hard, hot length in my grasp.
‘Holy shit!’ he barks, his h*ps bucking forward, prompting a full stroke down his shaft. ‘Oooooh shit.’
Pleasure-filled noises are drowning the room. We’re lost. Gregory pulls back and gazes down at me, his brow shimmering in sweat, his breath spreading across my heated face.
‘Do that again,’ he breathes, pushing his h*ps forward.
I pull an even swipe of my palm down his hardness and he draws an uneven breath. His head drops briefly, only for a second, before he lifts again and falls back to my lips, swirling his tongue through my mouth. It shouldn’t, but this feels nice. I’m focused only on my best friend kissing me, his hands feeling me, and his body pushed against mine.
‘You taste like strawberries,’ he whispers hoarsely.
Strawberries.
The word hits me like a sledgehammer, and I’m suddenly dropping him from my grasp and wriggling beneath him. ‘Greg, stop!’
He freezes, pulling back to look down at me. ‘Are you okay?’
‘No! We should stop.’ I scramble up and pull the sheets over me, covering my na**d body, feeling ashamed . . . guilty. ‘What are we thinking?’