Page 89 of From Best Friend to Bride
I gritted my teeth as the Delilah in my mind slid her fingertips through her slick folds, rubbing her clit before she edged them inside herself. Her other hand went to her breast, moving the top aside, and she rolled her nipple between her fingers, moaning, as she pushed one, then two fingers inside her.
And I stood there, as perverted in my imagination as I was in reality, unable to move away from the scenario my brain had pulled together.
In this little fantasy, she spared no mercy for herself. She pumped her fingers inside her pussy, and the flex of her hand gave away how she was curving them to hit the right spot. Her imaginary moans echoed off every corner of my mind, and I pumped my dick harder, more desperately.
Heat flushed through my body, and just as the Delilah in my mind beckoned me over to touch her, my release came with a groan that I muffled by biting down on the inside of my cheek.
My cum decorated the tiles, and I leant against the wall, staring dumbly at it. The sweet relief of my orgasm pumped through my body, and I let go of my cock, letting my hand fall flatly to my side as the reality of what I’d just done coursed through me.
Fuck.
I’d just gotten off to the thought of Delilah.
I felt good, and I hated it. I’d thought unthinkable things about my best friend—things I’d never once considered.
It was that fucking sex bucket’s fault. I knew it. Ever since our wedding night where she’d elaborately explained the usage and benefits of that bloody sex toy, I’d barely been able to stop thinking about it.
About her.
But this line… I’d never crossed it. Not until now. Not until I couldn’t stand it.
Was this the point of no return she’d feared from the very beginning? Wasthisthe unavoidable change to our relationship Granny had warned us about?
Would I ever be able to come back from it?
And what if I went further next time?
I pushed off the wall and grabbed the showerhead to remove it from the dock. I cleaned the evidence of my treachery off the wall before replacing the showerhead and finishing my shower like a normal person.
No. I couldn’t do that again. I certainly couldn’t go further.
This was a one-time thing. A moment of weakness. A break in my usual composure.
I stepped out of the shower and wrapped my towel around my waist, then grabbed another for my hair. I gave it a rough dry—ifDeli saw me rubbing and not squeezing she’d yell at me, and the thought brought a quick smile to my face.
Maybe I needed her to yell at me.
I took a deep breath and opened the door to the bedroom, still rubbing my head. She would still be asleep, so there’d be no shouting today.
“What have I told you about rubbing your hair?” Deli’s sleepy voice carried across the room. “Oh, how’d I get over here?”
I turned in her direction. She was sitting up on my side of the bed, looking across the mattress as if it’d personally rolled her over there. The covers were pooled around her waist, and just as in my imagination a moment ago, her nipples were hard and visible through the fabric of her pyjama top.
I swallowed hard, feeling a rush of blood to my cock again. “Same as usual. You accosted me in my sleep.”
“Oh. Sorry.” She yawned. “Come here. I’ll dry your hair.”
I turned to my drawers and waved my hand at her. “No, it’s fine. You go back to sleep.”
If she touched me right now, I’d combust. I was sure of it.
I could barely even look at her, for fuck’s sake.
I grabbed some clothes from the drawer and hurried back into the bathroom. I probably set the world record for getting dressed, tossed some gel through my wet hair to make it do…something…and returned to the bedroom.
She was still sitting there, hair all askew, eyes full of sleep as they tracked my every mood. “What’s wrong with you this morning?”
“Nothing,” I said gruffly, averting my gaze from her.
