Page 37 of Something Borrowed

“Yes, just like that,” he says feverishly, and I tweak them again before rubbing my nail over the crumpled skin. He moans, and I inhale sharply, searching for control as he starts to writhe against my leg, the hard length of his cock digging into me.

I lower my hands and find the waistband of his jeans, quickly unbuttoning them and sliding my hand inside. Raff’s dick is hard and hot, with a damp spot already forming on the soft cotton of his briefs. Fisting his length, I give him a couple of firm strokes, feeling more precome. He groans and arches into my grip, and suddenly, it isn’t enough. I need more skin.

I shove his briefs down and fill my hands with his arse. It’s full and round under my palms, a testament to his trainer. If I could, I’d send her a thank-you card.

The feel of him—touching him in this way I’ve always longed to yet never dared—creates a half second of panic. I’ve had my hand on my best friend’s cock, and now his bare arse is in my palms. What the hell am I doing?

But panic disappears immediately when Raff groans and shoves into me, kissing under my chin and licking and sucking at the skin. I know exactly what I want and need to do.

I spin him around, not even trying to be gentle. “Bend over,” I say hoarsely.

The way he shudders under my hands, and the speed with which he obeys, tells me something new about Raff. He likes being told what to do during sex.

The knowledge sends a thrill down my spine. I’m naturally bossy in bed, and I like to be in charge. The thought that Raff’s desires complement mine sends a fresh wave of pleasure down to my dick. I have to give it a pinch to stop myself coming.

I slide my hand down the long, graceful line of his back as I carefully lower myself to my knees. Then I reach out, filling my palms with his cheeks and spreading them so I can nose inside. I lick a stripe down his channel, and Raff’s whole body stiffens.

“Stan?” His voice sounds almost surprised.

“No?”

“It’s just… Well, I haven’t had this done much.”

Relief floods me, and I bite my lip to hide a smile. “I suppose your usual speedy sex turnaround doesn’t leave much time for intimacy. Your partners might lose the skin off their noses if they linger too long down here.”

“Alright, Quaker Stan,” he says crossly, and I laugh.

“Luckily for you, this is one of my favourite things.”

“I thought that was collecting old Roxy Music albums and the rose and violet chocolate bar from Fortnum and Mason. Ohfuck,” he groans as I lick around his hole, sending my tongue dancing over the wrinkled opening. “God, don’t stop,” he says, his voice going high as I begin to suck.

Ignoring his garbled protests, I pull back and slide my finger through the moisture.

“Why is this so good?” he whispers.

I cock my head. “The better question is, why are you still talking?”

I suck on the opening again before sliding the top of my tongue in as it loosens. Raff chokes out a groan and begins towrithe under my hands, undulating like seaweed in a current while I lick and suck, getting his hole nice and open.

I lose myself in the scent and taste. It’s tart and yet sweet, just like him, and I’m so far gone that it takes me a second to realise that he’s pulling away. His hands urge me up to lean against him. “Raff?”

“I need you to fuck me,” he says, and his voice is wrecked—husky and low.

I hesitate. “But if we do this, what happens after, Raff?”

He strokes my cheek. “Then we carry on being friends like we agreed. Didn’t we already talk this over?”

“Yes,” is all I can manage as my hands move independently of my brain, circling his waist and pulling him close.

“Fuck, I want you inside me.”

That hoarse whisper is too much, and all my caution flies away. I spin him around, pushing him forward until I feel him settle against the sofa again. “Lube,” I gasp. I’m going to come out of my skin if I don’t have him soon.

“In my pocket,” he gasps as I circle his hole with my finger. “Let me get it.”

“You were thinking of picking someone up tonight while I was with you?” I growl.

“No,” he blurts. He hesitates, and I have to strain my ears to hear his next words. “I hoped we’d end up here.”

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