John kissed my temple as his callused thumb stroked over my hip bone. His fingers crept lower, then he cupped me possessively with his hand.
“Who’s your best friend?” he asked roughly.
I gasped as he held me intimately.
I couldn’t speak.
John flashed his dimples. “That’s what I thought.” His fingers dipped into my core, and I moaned with pleasure.
Bent forward as my back spasmed with agony.
John pressed his lips against mine, rubbed his fingers against me, and said, “Such a perfect, scary little princess.”
It was too much.
Ecstasy mixed with agony.
It was overwhelming.
I didn’t know what to feel.
“Please just get on with it,” I said desperately.
John was trying to make it good for me, but he didn’t know it wasn’t possible.
I begged, “Please, now.”
I scooched my hips forward so my core was pressed against his hardness. Practically sitting on his lap, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and buried my face into his chest. I couldn’t look at him.
“Are you okay with this, Aran?” John whispered. “We can always fight them to the death.” He winked.
“I’m okay, if you’re okay?” I mumbled into his skin.
“Oh, I’m okay.” John pressed featherlight kisses to both my temples. His voice was a gravelly rasp. “Lift up your hips, bestie.”
I relaxed against him and obeyed.
This was my friend, and I was safer with him than any other man in the universe. That mattered.
“So perfect,” John praised.
A hardness was pressed against me.
I breathed roughly and bit down on the fabric across his chest. John moved both his hands until they grabbed my butt. He squeezed, and his nails dug into my skin as he supported me like I weighed nothing.
John moaned against my neck, “Fuck, Aran, you’re so precious.” He kissed and nipped at my sensitive skin.
I trembled with ecstasy, then shuddered as stabbing pain streaked down my back.
And I just knew.
It was going to hurt so badly.
John slammed his powerful hips forward, and I bit down on his pec to hide my scream.
The pleasure was so good.
The pain was so much worse.