Justin Haas and Alyse Mosell have been best friends since they were ten years old, and more than a decade later not much has changed. After a bitter break up with her fiancé, Alyse moves in with Justin to mend her life and her broken heart. But, one night of drinking and harmless flirting soon morphs into a passion that’s been simmering under the surface for years. One of them is willing to take a chance on romance; the other is trying to take their heart and run. And it will take nothing short of a Christmas miracle to keep their friendship – and what could be love – from falling apart around them.
Alyse felt that familiar tingle between her legs spreading out into her thighs and into her womb. Her body was starting to flush with heat and she realized distantly that her hips had curved inward and then backwards. Then again. So slow that no one would have been able to see, but the crease in Justin’s brow and his short exhalation of breath told her he felt it.
“You gonna let go of my neck now, Alyse? Or are you trying to see how babies are made?”
She laughed, recalling the old joke. He would say that whenever she tickled him, something he hated but was terribly susceptible to. He would pin her down to stop her, or warn her she was going to wind up pregnant if she didn’t stop trying to cop a feel. Even then there had always been that niggling voice in the back of her mind. What would happen if she didn’t stop? What would happen if her fingers dropped below his stomach and traced over the cut of his narrow hips? What if she held onto him tighter instead of pushing away?
What would happen if she called his bluff now?
“And if I said ‘yes’? Huh? You gonna show me what you workin’ wit?”
Justin’s eyebrows raised a full centimeter in response. A laugh escaped his lips. It wasn’t exactly nervous laughter, but the tension in his limbs and the tightness in his lips belied the ease with which he smiled.
“You couldn’t handle all this, mama,” he said with a wink. “Besides, I gotta get up early tomorrow, so I can’t spend hours giving you the full Justin Haas Experience.”
Again that authentic laugh of hers, throaty and feminine, but deeper than normal somehow. She laughed with her whole body and it vibrated through his.
“That’s a shame, J. I’m probably just drunk enough to let you.”
Fuck. He must be really drunk because he was taking her seriously, or at least his body was. He’d already out lasted his welcome in this embrace, but he couldn’t make himself move or laugh her off. He was starting to get hard; a gradual, tentative erection filling his jeans as if even his dick was wary of where this was going. But the little fucker had always had a mind of its own. It was saying, Remember how many times you fantasized about this? And, Damn, she’s warm… And, Did you feel that? I think she’s rubbing her pussy against me, man! All incredibly unhelpful thoughts in this situation. He needed to get up before he had some explaining to do, before he really embarrassed himself.
But, it hadn’t been his imagination. Ever so slightly, so subtly he would have missed it if his entire body wasn’t crying out for more, she rolled her hips against his. A pulse of desire went through his cock, spreading like fire through his limbs. He licked his lips, staring into her eyes for a long moment. Her smile was playful, but her eyes were dark. Something more than a joke was moving under the surface of her innocent drunkenness. Her tongue darted over her lips and his eyes followed the movement, and then watched her take notice of where his gaze was directed. Her head tilted slowly to the side, her eyes watching his face. He wondered what she saw.
She could feel him hardening against her. His eyes changing to a color she hadn’t seen before. Deep blue, with only a hint of green around the iris; a blue that was like drowning in the depths of the ocean. Was this what other girls saw when he was on top of them like this? Was this what she wanted to see now?
Yes, a tiny voice growled, much louder than the voice of reason. It’s about time.
That voice in her head made her speak aloud, made her lift her hips, knowing that asking her next question would push her past the boundaries of joking. Moving to a place where Justin could either accept what she was suggesting, or forever close the door on the possibility.
“Do you want to see how much you can get away with, Justin?” She’d only whispered the words, but her fingers echoed her intent when they brushed lightly over the soft hair at the base of his neck. “I’ll let you,” she breathed. “If you want.”
He swallowed. Let him what? Kiss her? Fuck her? That was left up to him to figure out, if he were willing. She was offering. She was lying under him, telling him he could take what he wanted if he just had the courage. And he would have an out if he chose; he could blame it on the drinks they’d had, on her sadness, on his need to get laid. He could write it all off as a crazy lapse in judgment induced by her eyes and her rolling hips, instead of years of secret longing.
If only it were that easy to play the fool. He was drunk, but he wasn’t that far gone. He knew when the sun came up he’d feel this, he’d remember this. He’d wanted it for so long, how could he not? She would remember, too, and there would be no going back. So, why didn’t he care more? Why wasn’t he getting up, punching her in the shoulder to let her know he’d forget it all and blame it on the alcohol? Why was he leaning down, his eyes closing and his face tilting to the side, licking his lips as he prepared to taste hers for the first time since they were kids in the summertime?
He hesitated, his lips hovering over hers. Remembering that day made him realize not much had changed over the years. She was lost now just like she was then, in a more complicated way. She was relying on him to help her find her way, and he couldn’t do that by taking advantage of an offer made out of loneliness. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
He smiled and a huff of laughter escaped his lips. He shook his head, opening his mouth to apologize.
“You’re taking too long,” she said, cutting him off first with her words, and then with the feel of her lips pressing against his.
She leaned up as she pressed the back of his head down. Her lips were soft and wet, her tongue hesitating for less than a second before it slid inside his shock-parted lips. She tasted the sweetness of his mouth, and the bitter taste of beer. But the alcohol was a dull taste, dulled by being drunk and forcing herself not to think about what she was doing. She didn’t want to think anymore. She only wanted to feel.
She rolled her hips up into his and sighed when a strangled sound vibrated in his throat. The muffled sound of his moan made her pussy practically quiver. It was a deeper sound than his actual voice, desperate and feral. It made her press her body tighter against him, her breasts smashed against his chest as she hungrily sought out the taste of his desire for her.
He tried to lift himself off, though of course he didn’t try hard enough, and before long he was sinking into her, pressing every hard inch of his body down into the softness of hers. He tasted her mouth, brought his hands to the sides of her face, and the coolness of his fingers were warmed by the heat of her cheeks. He nibbled on her bottom lip and then suddenly tore his mouth away from hers.
“Fuck,” he whispered trying to catch his breath. The feel of her lips and tongue against his neck stole it from him.
“Yeah,” she whispered against his jaw, her full lips curving into a seductive smile. “Fuck…that’s what I wanna do…”
Yes, she had really just said what he thought she just said. He knew because his hips pumped hard and fast against hers, and his tongue swept inside her mouth as if he were trying to savor the taste of her offer. She answered him by moaning into his mouth, and then into the silence of the dark apartment as he brought his lips to her neck. Her skin was so soft and silky against his lips, and the way she tilted her head back to give him more access drove him crazy. He stroked down the slope of her throat with his fingertips, his tongue snaked over skin, and whether he knew it then or not, he was fast becoming addicted to the taste of her.
“Justin…” she whispered, arching her body into his. Her hands were clawing at the worn leather of his jacket and traveling down to his jeans-clad ass, which was rising and falling with each increasingly frantic thrust of his hips against hers. She started to pull at the collar of his jacket, trying to get him to take it off so she could really feel him against her. His name escaped her lips again, a desperate cry which made him look down at her. His eyes darted over hers, disappointment blatant on his face. He stopped moving against her, stopped touching her, and she felt the possibility of him giving her what she wanted start to fade away.
He lifted himself off of her. Alyse was too shocked to protest, too busy watching him lick his lips to complain as he stood on unsteady legs and then wiped a hand over his face. The emptiness which flooded her body was physically painful, as if he had robbed her of more than just friction when he separated his body from hers. She sat up while he sat down on the arm of the couch, his hands rubbing back and forth over his knees to combat the tension.
“I’m so wasted right now. I’m sorry, Lyse,” he whispered with a sad chuckle. He’d been so caught up in the feel of her he hadn’t even realized she was trying to push him away, that she was calling out his name to get him to stop while she clawed at his jacket. He’d almost been tempted to ignore her, but he couldn’t. He only wanted to give her what she wanted, and if she’d changed her mind, no matter how painful it was to stop, he couldn’t do anything but that.
She ran her fingers through her black bob, turning so that she was sitting on the couch mirroring his posture. She felt ill. He didn’t want to do this, and she shouldn’t have started it. And then on top of it, she’d made him feel guilty. She didn’t want that; it wasn’t his fault she had preyed on his need for sex.
“What are you sorry for?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice light and swallow the lump in her throat. “I kissed you, remember?”
He stole a glance at her for a moment. There was no laughter in her eyes despite the lightness of her voice. She was looking into the darkness as if she could see something he couldn’t; then she blinked and the look was gone, replaced by the mask of emotional calm she wore when she was hurting. She stood suddenly, wobbled a little bit with a shaky laugh and leaned on his shoulder for support.
She turned to him and said, “It’s no big deal. Just a kiss.”
To prove her point she laid one on his forehead, her lips lingering there for longer than a friendly kiss would allow. Before he could stop himself, his face was tilting upwards without his permission, his lips seeking hers but not touching. He was trying so hard to be good, but his mind was telling him one thing while his body was screaming another. He didn’t want to stop, and the way she was looking at him made him realize she didn’t want to stop either.
He’d been wrong when he thought she was trying to push him away. His fingers were reaching for her waist and slipping inside her jacket to settle on her hip. He could see her throat working as she swallowed. Her lips just barely brushed his as she turned away, stumbling past him with a congenial pat on his shoulder.
“Night-night, Justin,” she said in a sing-song voice, her footsteps stumbling down the dark hallway.
He watched her for a moment, sitting in the dark while first his fingers, and then his tongue, ran over his lips. His mind was lingering over what was now their second kiss, over the way moonlight from the window had been shining in her eyes and over her dark hair like a halo, her face cast in shadow the way it had been all those years ago. He’d never forgotten that kiss, and he knew he would never be able to forget this one either. He wasn’t done, he hadn’t tasted enough of her.
He was too far gone to think about consequences, the morning after, or what would become of them. He was too busy getting to his feet to think about anything but his destination, his legs picking up speed as he followed her down the hallway. She was just about to pass by his room when he grabbed her arm, spun her around, and kissed her so hungrily that her back thumped hard against the wall as he pressed her into it. His hand was cradling the back of her head and his fingers were curled in her hair, refusing to let go of her.
It took no time at all for her to give into his kiss, to slide her hands under his jacket and help him take if off. It was left forgotten on the hall floor along with hers as he walked her backwards into his bedroom. Her hands were under his shirt and his hands were on her face, keeping her mouth pressed to his until she had to pull away, gasping for breath. Even then his mouth was relentless, his lips moving to her neck so he wouldn’t have to stop kissing her.
She squealed when she bumped into something immovable behind her. It was his dresser she realized, and before she could direct him towards the bed he was pushing his hips between her legs, grinding against her and keeping her body trapped. His large hands traveled down her face, down her neck and to her full breasts, grasping them so firmly that she arched every part of her body into him. She felt the first trickle of desire escape her throbbing sex, and as if his body could sense it, his fingers went to the button of her jeans. He was quick to unbutton and unzip her, eager to cup her over the damp, flimsy lace of her panties. Her fingers abandoned his body to grip the edge of the dresser, giving her hips free reign to rub her pussy against his circling fingertips.
Justin was nibbling at Alyse’s full, parted lips and watching her face like a captive audience. His eyes took in the sight of her furrowed brow, the quiver of her lips when he hit a particularly good spot, and then the gasp of pleasure and yearning when he slid his fingers past the fabric, and over the naked, wet heat he was manipulating.
“Is all this for me, Lyse?” he whispered against her lips with a small smile, rubbing her pussy with faster, firmer strokes.
She nodded in response, leaning into him so that she could nibble at his neck in between debilitating shivers of pleasure. She damn near cried when he pulled his fingers out of her jeans. She leaned back, letting her fingers take over the job he’d started as he pulled off her boots, and then roughly tore off her jeans. She was even shorter without the heels, but it didn’t matter when Justin lifted her up and sat her on the dresser, spreading her legs wide for his next pleasurable attack on her pussy.
Her ass was sitting on the dresser, the wood rocking and scrapping against the wall as he moved aside her panties and resumed rubbing her aching slit. He kissed her with deep thrusts of his tongue, making her excited to see just how well lower things on his body could thrust into her. Her fingers were hungry for more of him, scratching over the back of his head, his shoulders, down his chest and over his firm abdomen. She slid her hands under the grey cotton of his sweater, scraping her nails over his nipples and down the chiseled lines of his body. Justin pulled his mouth away from hers with a strangled groan, lifting his arms in the air so she could pull off his shirt while she licked and bit at every inch of skin her mouth could reach.
His skin was so warm, slightly tanned yet ruddy, and freckled around his chest and shoulders. His chest and toned arms were strong, his shoulders broad, and then there was his long, narrow waist, with a light feathering of reddish gold hair leading down to the hidden cock nestled between her legs. He pressed it harder against her and she moaned, almost screaming her need for release.
“Fuck! Justin…” Alyse whimpered, peeling off her own shirt so she was sitting in her black lace bra, her ample breasts smooth, silky and heaving with her labored breaths. She loved the look on his face as he gazed at her half naked body. Her skin flooded with heat and desire when she recognized the mature, intense look of longing she’d only seen dull glimpses of over the years. That look, those deep blue-green eyes, and his perfect body were hers, and in that moment, it felt like they always had been. She was claiming him as she gave herself up to him.
Then, she couldn’t think at all. Two of his long fingers pressed inside of her, his thumb circled her clit, and all of sudden she was clawing at his chest, his forearms, bucking against his fingers like he was killing her with pleasure. She leaned into him, her eyes glittering with intent as she claimed his mouth. There was nothing subtle or feminine about the way she was rocking her hips into his fingers. There were no reservations. It was too late for all of that now. She was staring into the deep blue of his eyes, the green surrounding the iris almost disappearing under his need for her. She wanted that look. She wanted him, all of him inside of her. She wanted to be lost in the feel of him.
Her fingers fumbled with his belt, jerking his hips forward as she ripped it off. She unbuttoned his jeans with shaking hands and unzipped him with violent urgency. She slid her hands inside his underwear, her fingers curling around the hot, pulsing treasure hidden inside of them. He lowered his head and growled into her breasts, pulling the fabric of her bra down so they were sitting free over the lacy cups. His tongue and teeth were merciless as she stroked him, and her free arm wrapped around his neck to pull his eager mouth closer to her hot flesh.
His tongue licked and his teeth nibbled over the soft, sweet skin of her breasts, and his mouth sucked hard on her taut, dark nipples. One glance up at those glittering cat eyes of hers and he knew it was time. He needed to be inside of her and soon, before it was too late and he came all over her talented fingers. He came up to his full height, burying his face in her neck while he spread her legs wider, shoving his jeans down his hips to make way for what his body was craving. He was breathing so fast he felt faint, his temples throbbing and his ears only able to hear the sound of her moans and her pleads for more. He ripped aside the lacy fabric of her panties, her body jerking roughly away from the wall as he tore them off of her. Her mouth released a shuddery moan from the way he opened her pussy to the air with his fingers.
Years of waiting were coming to an end, each one falling away as he ran the dripping head of his cock against her glistening slit. One of her hands was gripping his shaft, drawing him into her heat. The other hand was above her head, clawing at the wall while his mouth sated itself with the taste of her lips. His cock dipped in and out of her sex. Once. Twice. Three times. His will was telling him to go slow, to make this last, but the sound of her high-pitched cry as he buried himself further was what his body heeded. With a deep kiss and sharp roll of his hips he sheathed himself to the hilt, groaning at the snug fit waiting for him. She was so wet, so hot; the silky flesh inside of her body curved around him. Welcoming him home. It took no time to start thrusting into her, to make himself truly at home within her depths
About the Author
Kaia Bennett is a native of New Jersey, a college graduate and U.S. Army veteran who loves music, movies, astrology, tattoos, martial arts, animals and, of course, the written word. She heard the siren call of the writer as a teenage girl, but took her sweet time answering it until she had lived and loved enough to share her work with the masses.
She is an erotic author who loves to write stories with diversity, depth, realism and viscerally hot encounters that flirt shamelessly with the taboo. A lover of all genres and a voracious reader, she aims to write stories that are transformative for her characters and readers alike.