My Best Friend
‘He slipped his hand between my legs. I froze. I was throbbing. What would happen if he touched it?’
Imagine if you asked your best friend to pretend to be your fiancé and one night while sharing a bed, your naked body reacted to his touch.
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My whole life my mother told me I would never find love. So when my university’s hot, rich, starting quarterback asked me to marry him, this girl said yes.
We had only been dating for 2 weeks.
By the 3rd week, he had shattered my heart.
Maybe I shouldn’t have made a big deal about bringing him to the next family get together.
Luckily, there was one person who could always fix things when a guy left me in pieces, my best friend, Titus. He was my rock. That’s why I asked him to come home with me to pretend to be my fiancé.
It didn’t even matter that Titus had a chiseled body and he would have to share a bed with a way-too-horny virgin. He was my best friend… my rippling, woodsy-smelling, sleeping-half-naked best friend.
Wait, was I going to screw things up with him like I did all guys?
No! Titus was too important to me.
But feeling his muscular arms slip around me with the moonlight dancing across our bare skin, how could I not risk it all?
There had to be a way to turn my best friend into my happily-ever-after without ruining everything. What was it? And could I do it without breaking my heart?
“Roll over,” he said ordering me onto my stomach.
I complied.
“What are you doing?” I asked open to anything.
“I’m gonna give you a massage.”
“Yes, please,” I said with a smile.
With my head turned to the side, I watched as Titus climbed on top of me. He sat on my ass and pushed his large hands across my back. His two hands spanned the whole thing at once. I felt small in his grasp. The feeling took my breath away.
“How’s that?” he asked.
I couldn’t answer.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” I chirped terrified he would. “No,” I repeated calmer. “It feels good.”
Titus’s fingertips pushed into my muscles relaxing them. My thoughts swirled bathed in the sensation.
Losing myself, I felt his hands find the bottom of my shirt. His fingers touched my flesh. It was electric. I struggled to breathe.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No. Don’t stop,” I begged.
He didn’t. Pushing his hand up my back, he lifted my shirt higher and higher. Finding my sports bra, he pushed his fingertips under the edge of it.
“Don’t stop,” I repeated.
When my shirt and bra pressed against my neck, he pulled them off of me. With his hands sliding against the back of my arms, he leaned down and kissed my back.
His was a trail of kisses. Each delicate and seductive.
Finding the canal of muscle down my spine, his lips entered. Spilling onto my lower back, they slowly climbed the gentle slope towards my ass.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked breathlessly.
“I don’t want you to stop,” I said offering him the final permission he would need before I lifted my hips and he reached under me unbuttoning my pants.
I was aroused, very aroused. His hand discovered it. Caressing my mound through my pants, his hand returned when my pants were off.
