Forbidden

“Stop.”

My voice is thin and breathless, a whisper riding the tails of a gasp.

He cocks a brow, eyes burning across my collarbone, over my lips until they rest on mine, “Do you mean that?”

He’s looking up at me and his gaze is almost as hot as my skin feels. It’s too much and I can’t get enough. I don’t mean it, and he knows it as well as I do.

We shouldn’t be doing this, a voice screams in the back of my head, but as his dips back to my breast, teeth grazing over sensitive flesh, I slam the mental door on that voice. I turn my brain off and focus once more on him as he pulls back. The usually-vivid blue of his eyes is blazing now, dark and stormy as he watches me through sooty lashes, waiting for my answer.

Waiting for me. Wanting me.

But he’d never want me as much as I’ve wanted him for as long as I can remember wanting something. Hot disbelief floods my chest as he lowers his head again, lips brushing softly against my nipple. A soft breathless sound falls from my lips, and I shake my head because I know he’s watching me.

“Say it,” he growls against my skin, the vibration of his words setting my blood on fire.

“No. Don’t stop.”

He needs no further encouragement as he moves his hands to the curve of my waist and pushes my dress down to my hips, trailing tiny touches across my stomach like he’s mapping out my body for his memory. His mouth continues its assault on my nipple and I reach for him, one hand at his shoulder and the other in his hair, tugging at the roots with every new nip and flick of pleasure he offers.

Until I pull too hard and his head comes up, eyes so dark they’re nearly black, but a small smile ghosts across his wet mouth, “Easy,” he says in a gruff voice that tightens everything hot inside me and shoots to my core. It pools there, hot and heavy and adding to the anticipation that I’m not sure can amp up much higher because if I’m not touching more of him in the next five seconds I might lose my fucking mind.

I tell him as much and his full lips tug into a cocky grin. I’m tempted to roll my eyes, but worried he’ll stop if I do, so I swallow the words and roll my hips toward him where he’s laying on his side next to me. He has free access to my body from this angle but it’s limiting my reach of his, I realize with a wave of annoyance. I turn toward him, his mouth shifting as I do so to graze across my ribcage and stomach. I reach for him, palm flat against the planes of his stomach and heading toward his belt until he makes a sound of disapproval against my skin. My hand stills, hovering between our bodies, over his belt and the line we can’t uncross.

He’s kissing me, touching me. My top is off. But we can still stop. I close my eyes against the sudden swell of panic that grips my throat. I take a shaky breath, acutely aware of the cool air across my breasts. Then, I nod almost imperceptibly, my decision made as I drop my hand to the bulge at the front of his jeans. My touch obliterates the line we’ve skirted so carefully, and when I grip his thick cock through the layers, I know there’s no stopping this.

It has to happen. It’s happening right now, as his mouth moves lower over the swell of my hip and he catches the fabric of my leggings in his teeth, tugging them down as he moves down my body and away from my hand. Away from kisses and uncertainty until I’m naked in front of him and he’s looking at me like I’m his salvation and also maybe the devil.

I spread my legs and let him look.

He swears under his breath, voice rough and hot with desire. His eyes are glued to me and I feel both drunk with power and at his mercy. A world of contradictions balances in the space between our bodies, and it shatters when he lowers his mouth to me, tongue snaking out to catch the slickness of my folds, evidence of how much I want this. His teasing licks linger over my slit until I’m rolling my hips, mewls of pleased torture pouring from my mouth when his skillfully avoids my clit. I don’t dare grab his hair again and risk him stopping, so I fist my hands in the sheets, twisting against his mouth to get him where I want him.

Except he knows what I want, and he avoids my attempts to get it. His wordless reminder that this is his game, on his terms. When the teasing touch of his tongue threatens to undo me, I beg for more.

“Please just.. Please make me come.” I gasp, hips pressing desperately against him for more. He lifts his head, looking up at me from between my thighs and it’s so fucking sexy I think I might come right then. His mouth is wet with my desire, and he smiles devilishly at me before moving his hands from where they rest on my thighs, up to bracket my hips and hold them still against the couch we’re on.

We were supposed to be watching a movie. But when he finally relents to my ceaseless begging and his lips close around my clit, I can’t even remember my own name much less the movie we were supposed to be watching.

Fuck the movie. This is the show and he is the star.

Then his tongue is everywhere and he’s adding a finger and then two inside of me, and the rough intrusion and onslaught of sensation has me seeing stars. Galaxies. I shatter, coming against his hand and mouth and shouting his name desperately.

When the stars fade, he’s standing between my spread thighs and unbuckling his belt. Unzipping his jeans. Then he’s pushed them down and it’s my turn to stare. Which I definitely do, wide eyed as he stands naked before me. My gaze grows hotter as it trails down his body and settles on his hard cock. He watches me watch him, arrogant smile tilting his gorgeous lips as he kneels over me and I’m shaking my head with some mixture of surprise and desire.

Every inch of him is beautiful. Almost as I imagined, but better.

“Turn over,” he says in a low voice,one hand tugging at my hip until I comply.

He smacks my ass once, a sharp sting of pain that he soothes with a thumb gently across the spot he struck. I yelp in surprise and pleasure at each touch before I feel him against me, hot and hard as he leans into me, his hips against mine and his arms around my waist to hold me there. To keep me close to the feel of his desire trapped between our bodies as he tilts his hips, rubbing the head of his cock against my ass with the most delicious friction. I lean into it, wanting more.

I want all of him, and I tell him as much. He groans, arms tightening around me as he gets impossibly harder. I let my head fall back against his shoulder, exposing my throat that he wastes no time in lavishing with attention, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin where my pulse is pounding.

“Are we doing this?” I murmur through the waves of pleasure and sensation.

He doesn’t answer me with words. Instead I feel his hand slide between us as he lines himself up against me so that if I move at all, he’ll be inside me. He gives me the little control he can afford to, and he waits like that. Thumbs brushing across my breasts, then my ribs and hips. When I shift them slightly, gasping at the intrusion despite how slick I am with wanting him, he groans and tightens his grip. The sound drives us into motion, moving together easily in an age old rhythm that just works without effort with the way our bodies fit together.

His hand finds my hair, gripping it close to the scalp and tugging once. I let out a breathless cry and I can feel his chuckle vibrate against my back before he pushes me forward onto all fours, breaking the contact in favor of a better view. I hear him suck in a breath, and when I peak over my shoulder, he’s watching himself slide into me, watching the way my ass moves with every thrust.

“Jesus,” he says in a guttural groan, “You’re.. This is..”

“I know,” I gasp. I don’t need his words to know just how unreal every sensation is. Every stolen touch and moment. Every ounce of forbidden pleasure that just won’t stop mounting.

When our careful pacing becomes frenzied and sloppy, I reach down for my clit. I want to come. I want to feel him come. But he sees my hand, smacks it away and replaces it with his own and that show of possession is all it takes before I’m falling into infinity once more, this time with him close behind me.

Of all the risks we’ve taken -that we’re taking- this isn’t one we can spare, so at the last second he pulls back, the wet sound of his withdrawal obscene in the otherwise quiet room and he comes all over my ass, my back, groaning my name.

The air is hot and thick, smelling of sex and the popcorn we’d popped for the movie we didn’t watch. Our heavy breathing fills the room and by the time the fog of bliss dissipates, the line we’d been so careful not to cross obliterated, we watch one another.

Wary. Conflicted. Affectionate.

Several beats pass as he cleans me up, then himself, and gingerly tugs his briefs and jeans back over his hips. He hands me mine without a word. Kisses me on the mouth with tenderness that disarms me and when we pull apart, I see my friend again.

He tosses me my shirt with a grin and says, “so.. coffee or whiskey?”

I smile back, catching the shirt and pulling it over my head, “Both. Definitely both.”

We didn’t stop.

And maybe it’s not the end of the world.