How could I fuck my best friend and not have it mean something? Of course it meant something?—
everything
—it meant fucking everything.
When my family moved out of the trailer park, when me and Haven weren’t in the same school anymore, we lost contact. And I thought it was a great time to move on. To make friends. Maybe even to date.
Ha. What a fucking joke.
I was a loner.
A loser.
Haven got me. I got her. We were connected on a deeper level than best friends, girlfriend, boyfriend.
I couldn’t get her out of my head. She was a constant presence that commented on everything I did with her unique blend of naiveté and cynicism.
She thought my choice in women was pathetic. That I went for looks when we both knew it wasn’t about that.
That voice in my head would call me a loser.
Any I couldn’t shake it, even when I got a chance at a girl I thought I could learn to like. That’s why I never committed to anything more than a hand job. That’s why I had to come up witha lie about a girlfriend in Cambridge so people wouldn’t think I was gay.
A loser.
That’s what I am.
What I’ve always been.
A loser who can’t even get my dick up when the only girl I’ve ever loved is naked in front of me, about to get fucked by a man older, more experienced,better at everything.
But then Rooke slides two fingers inside Haven’s pussy, and all those awful thoughts dissipate. Because her back arches, and she moans into her gag, and her hands clench, and it’s so fucking obvious…
How much she loves this.
Haven gasps when I dig my fingers into her thigh, when I stop rubbing my dick and instead grab her tit, pawing roughly at it, kneading it so hard her creamy flesh oozes between my fingers.
Rooke slides closer, his leg now keeping her other thigh braced, leaving his hand free to grasp her tit.
She writhes under us, gasping and moaning, body shaking as the steady thrust of his fingers urges her into a climax that makes her hips buck violently, leaving the bed entirely as she forces him deeper inside.
There’s a thump when her hips land again. A faint metallic rattle from her collar as her head lolls to the side. Then only the drumming rain until she takes a ragged breath through the gag.
I feel Rooke looking at me, and when I glance at him, he moves his eyes to the gag.
So I tug it free.
Haven’s mouth trembles. She licks her lips, wincing as her tongue glides over the bruised flesh of her bottom lip.
“Someone kiss me,” she whispers.
Pleads.
Rooke drops forward on top of her, grabbing her hair and wrenching her head back until her neck arches. But I couldn’t care if he punches me, kicks me, or pulls his gun on me.
Haven’s mouth ismine.
I’ve been waiting my whole life to kiss her.
