24. Griffin #2
I hold his stare as I lean forward and trail my mouth along his jaw, pulling a full body shudder from him as my tongue trails along his skin. His stubble is rough against my tongue, and so foreign and alluring that I groan out loud at the taste of him.
“Griffin,” he curses in warning, and fuck I want to hear him scream my name like that while begging me not to stop.
My mouth and tongue lick, and suck, their way along his jaw and down his neck, savoring every hitch of his breath that I pull from the back of his throat. When my teeth latch onto a particular part of his skin, he uses his hold still on my throat to push me back against the door.
“What’s the matter, Haze, don’t want to wear my mark?” I ask, dropping my head back against the door and praying he can feel the rapid flicker of my pulse against his fingers.
What the fuck is he doing to me?
The hand around my throat squeezes even harder, before his thumb comes up to brush against my lips roughly, and for the first time in my life I wonder what it would be like to suck a cock into my mouth.
Not just any cock though, his cock. The thought has my mouth opening and my tongue darting out to caress the tip of his thumb.
He watches in a mixture of confusion and fascination, and I pray it’s driving him as crazy as he’s driving me.
A thought that is answered when he slams his mouth back to mine again, tipping my head back to give him better access than before, and groaning as his tongue plunges even deeper.
He’s kissing me more forcefully now, claiming me completely, and fuck, I feel like I am free-falling into a pleasure-filled oblivion.
I don’t care that he’s a guy, I don’t care that he’s my best friend, no, the only thing I care about right now is how sweet his kiss tastes, and how fucking good his hard cock feels against mine.
This isn’t just a kiss, a hookup that we will blame on his alcohol and grief, no, it’s an earth shattering realization that I fucking want my best friend. And I can only pray that he isn’t too deep in his trauma to realize the same.
I lose track of time, too lost in his lips to care about anything else, moaning deeply, as his rock hard cock rubs against my own.
I feel like I’m fucking thirteen again and ready to come in my pants, but when it’s for him I don’t seem to care.
I want more, need more, and will take anything he is willing to offer, until I feel his body trembling against my own.
It starts small at first, a little quiver that I think means he’s getting as close to release as I am, until it turns into a violent shake that has him ripping his mouth away from mine.
His eyes are a mixture of lust and panic as he looks at me now, struggling to catch his breath, and pain burns through my chest. He wants this, I know he does, but he’s too fucked up to admit it.
I know him better than I know anyone, he’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and the taste of him isn’t going to erase that.
If anything it only makes me know him more.
I know what he wants, but right now what he needs is more important, and I will my heart rate and cock to relax, as I bring us back down to reality.
“It’s okay, Haze, you’re okay, you’re safe, just take a deep breath for me,” I whisper, my own lust-drenched voice sounding foreign to my ears, as I hold his stare.
It takes everything in me to remain calm, to stay rooted in place, when all I want to do is fucking scream.
She raped him, she raped her own fucking son and I didn’t protect him.
Bile burns the back of my throat with only the taste of him fresh on my lips keeping it at bay.
I want him, and even though it’s a stark realization, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest, or change the way I feel about him.
He’s my best friend and I’d do anything for him, including sacrificing the pleasure currently buzzing through my veins.
“Come on, just breathe for me please,” I plead, his chest still heaving with short, panted breaths, that have me wanting to put my fist through a fucking wall.
Still he nods at my words, because through all that pain and all that abuse, he is somehow the strongest person I know.
His eyes hold mine and I breathe in and out for him, forcing him to mimic my breaths until his body stops shaking.
I have to fist my hands in my shorts to stop myself from touching him, so desperate just to save him, to make up for all the times I fucking failed him.
How many nights did he spend in the dark beneath her? How many times did she touch him and steal more of his light? How many times did she fuck him against his will and erase his voice?
The number is probably too high for me to fathom, and it quickly turns my lust into anger.
We stay pressed against his door, his warm breath colliding with mine, until both our heart rates are back to normal and the tension between us simmers.
It’s not awkward, it’s not unusual, it’s just the two of us existing in one another’s comfort like always.
Neither of us say anything, I’m not even sure what I would say, not after having one of the most intense make-out sessions I’ve ever had, but still I find myself trying.
“Come on, we both need sleep, let’s go to bed,” I whisper, gesturing toward his bed, a place I’ve gotten used to sleeping in the last ten days, and his eyes widen in panic a little.
“Just sleep,” I confirm. “I won’t touch you, I promise.
” Having to make such a promise tastes sour on the tongue that was just tangled with his, because fuck do I want to touch him, but I need him to know he can trust me no matter what.
“You trust me, right?” I ask, desperate for him to say something, and again his eyes search mine before he nods slowly, pulling back.
I trust you more than anything, Griffin. He signs, and it sends a flutter through the pit of my stomach, as a smile tugs on the corner of my mouth.
“Then come on, you heard me, get your ass into bed, Haze,” I order, swallowing down my need for him, and for the first time since that night at the party, he smiles softly.
It’s perfect, and fucking blinding, and despite the shit show that is our life right now, it makes me feel on top of the world.
He excuses himself to use the bathroom first, and I don’t miss the way he readjusts his cock in his pants before he leaves the room.
An action I’ve seen guys do in the locker room at least a hundred times, but never before has it been so damn attractive.
When I use the bathroom, I am barely on the other side of the door before I am shoving my shorts down, fisting my still hard cock and jerking it hard and fast at the taste of my best friend.
Harden is already in bed with his back flat to the wall when I get back to his room and lock the door, and his eyes watch my every move as I approach.
His intense stare has me itching to kiss him again, but I made a promise.
I turn off the lamp and climb into bed beside him, and though it’s nothing new, we’ve shared a bed probably a thousand times, tonight it feels different.
Tonight I know his secrets.
Tonight I know what it’s like to kiss him.
Years of friendship have now been twisted into something more at the taste of him, and I don’t regret a single second of it.
I lay silent in the dark, listening to him breathe for what feels like an eternity, and just as I am about to drift off to sleep, his hand slides across the mattress and curls around mine.
That’s the last thing I remember before I fall asleep.