Page 71 of Secret Baby for My Brother's Best Friends

Don't do it. She's for Sam. She might think they're friends, but you know he likes her.

But maybe I'm the bastard that James thinks I am.

Because try as I might to back off, to do the right thing, I find myself closing the gap instead.

21

CHELSEA

The slide of Jake's tongue against mine becomes my undoing.

The kiss could have ended at just that. It could have just been a mistake, a momentary lapse in judgment that lasted a few seconds because I lost my head. Because he was sitting too close, and his eyes were too pretty and he smelled too good, notes of amber and cloves in his cologne, with his fresh scent right underneath it. And his lips feel good, softer than they look yet commanding, coaxing my mouth open as he curls his hand around the back of my neck.

I should have ended it there, and we would have both escaped unfazed.

But then, when I open up for him, and his tongue slides over mine, curling around it, that’s when I know it’s over.

Tremors race through my body, my heart pounding in my ears. I can barely breathe or think past the pulsing in my pussy, the burning hunger in my stomach. It feels like every touch, everyteasing look has led toward this. Like we were playing a game with each other, a game he has now won.

Then, without warning, the kiss takes a turn as he pushes me back onto the couch, his body spreading over mine. It becomes hotter, more frantic; his tongue no longer satisfied with teasing. He's devouring me now. His large hand shifts over my throat, his control thorough.

It should be threatening.

I should be alarmed by how fast everything's moving and how intense it all feels.

Instead, I get wetter.

I moan into his mouth at the move and spread my thighs wider, wrapping them around his waist as he pushes his cock down on me.

He does it at the perfect angle to apply pressure to my clit.

I tear my mouth away and gasp, tingles racing over my skin. He drags his lips down my neck, in wet, frantic kisses, his hand pushing down my pajama bottoms and sliding to find the damp skin of my pussy.

Fuck.

There’s no time to think about the repercussions of this, to wonder what the hell we’re doing. I rear into his touch, moving, trying to guide him to the place that needs him the most.

He finds it without my help.

When his fingers locate my clit, swollen for him, I draw in a sharp gasp.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he groans against my shoulder, his teeth scoring my skin, sending a thrill through me. “You’re so fucking wet already. You’re turned on, huh?”

“Uh huh.” It feels like I’ve been turned on for weeks now. Being around them for those damn meetings, sitting close, or across the table from each other, feeling their gazes on me during every presentation, then coming home to masturbate in the shower while thinking about them…

It's become a vicious routine, a cycle I can't break.

Except that masturbation isn’t cutting it anymore.

Sometimes it leaves me more frustrated than before, my flesh aching for something I can't have.

But it's here with me now. The real thing, and I want it badly, inside me, spreading me wide, driving into me again and again and making my body sing. I want it rough, hard, savage.

I grab the buckle of his pants and try to shift him closer, but freeze and choke on air as he plucks my clit in a way that has pleasure spiking so hard that my vision gets hazy.

“You like that, huh?” he whispers in my ear, and sucks my earlobe into his mouth, as he does it again.

My toes curl from the wave of lust that slams into my body, breaking me apart as I scream my release into the silence.