Chapter 1: Midnight Confessions & Morning Temptations
A dull, throbbing pain behind her eyes dragged Ashlee up from sleep. Her mouth tasted like cotton and stale wine. The pillow under her cheek was impossibly soft, the sheets slick and cool against her skin. She blinked, the world a blur of pale morning light and neutral tones.
Her bare breasts were pressed into the silk.
The realization cut through the hangover fog like a shard of glass. She wasn’t wearing a shirt. She’d gone to sleep in one of Kevin’s old t-shirts, the one from that marathon he ran, but now it was gone. The cool air, the direct slide of fabric on her nipple—her heart started a slow, heavy pound against her ribs.
She turned her head slightly.
Kevin was there, on his back, one arm flung over his forehead. The sheet was tangled down around his hips, leaving the rest of him bare. Dawn light sketched the hard lines of his torso, the defined abs, the trail of dark hair that led down. And there, thick and already half-hard against his thigh, was his cock. It lay heavily, just inches from her face on the pillow. She could smell him, a clean, musky, deeply male scent mixed with sleep. Her breath hitched.
His eyes opened. Striking blue, clouded with sleep, then sharpening. He saw her looking. He didn’t move his arm.
“Don’t even think about it, little sis,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. It was a joke, their old joke, but it landed flat in the charged silence.
Little sis. The words echoed. They’d been best friends since high school, a decade of inside jokes and shared history. He’d let her crash here after her apartment flooded. This was his bed. His king-sized, insanely expensive bed in this penthouse that smelled like money and lemon polish.
I’m naked to the waist. He’s naked. His dick is right there.
“I’m not thinking anything,” Ashlee mumbled, her cheeks burning. She started to pull back, to roll away, but a traitorous heat was pooling low in her belly. She saw the way his cock twitched, thickening almost imperceptibly.
Fuck, she’s right there. Her tits are out. Perfect, round tits pressed into my sheets. This is a bad idea. A terrible, catastrophic idea. Kevin’s mind was a war zone. His body, however, was declaring a unanimous vote. Blood was rushing south, his morning erection becoming insistent, full. He kept his expression neutral, a mask of casual indifference. “You’re thinking something. I can hear the gears grinding from here. Pass me the water?”
She reached for the glass on the nightstand, the movement making her breasts shift. She saw his eyes drop for a split second. He took the glass, his fingers brushing hers.
“I must have gotten hot,” she said, a lame excuse for her missing shirt.
“You were snoring like a chainsaw,” he said, taking a long drink. “Maybe you were trying to strip for comfort.”
“I do not snore.”
“You do. It’s cute. In a really obnoxious way.” He set the glass down. His cock was fully hard now, jutting up from the thatch of dark hair. It looked heavy. Nine inches, she knew, from a drunken confession years ago. Veined and thick, the head a dark, flushed pink. It was so close she could feel the heat radiating from it.
Just touch it. Just once. What would it feel like? Ashlee’s thoughts were a screaming chorus. Her own body felt achingly empty. The small gap between her front teeth caught on her lower lip.
“See something you like?” The question was a challenge, low and quiet.
“It’s… in my way.”
“It’s my dick. It’s in its home. You’re in its way.” A smirk played on his lips. He was trying to defuse it with humor, to push it back into their safe, familiar territory. It wasn’t working.
“It’s pointing at me.”
“So move.”
She didn’t move. She looked from his cock to his eyes. “What if I don’t want to?”
Silence stretched, taut and electric. The hum of the city far below was the only sound. Then, quick as a snake, his hand darted out and dug into her side.
She shrieked, a genuine, startled sound, and twisted away. “Kevin! No!”
“You wanna stay? You gotta pay the toll!” He was on her then, a blur of warm skin and muscle, his knees pinning her hips to the mattress. His hands went for her ribs, her neck, the sensitive spots he’d known for a decade. She bucked and writhed, laughter tearing out of her even as she gasped for air.
“Stop! Stop, you asshole!”
“Say uncle!” He growled, grinning down at her. He was straddling her stomach now, his hard cock bobbing just above her navel. The intimate pressure was dizzying. His balls are right there. Oh my god.
“Never!” she squealed, trying to wrench her wrists from his grasp.
They struggled, a tangled, sweating mess of limbs. He was stronger, leveraging his weight. He got one of her hands pinned above her head, then the other. He was panting, his chest heaving, victory in his eyes. He sat back fully on her thighs, his erection now standing straight up, the tip glistening with a single bead of pre-come. It was level with her chin.
“Uncle,” he demanded, his voice thick.
Ashlee was breathless. Her heart was a wild drum. She looked at his face, flushed with exertion, then down at the swollen head of his cock. It was so vulnerably close. Without breaking eye contact, she stretched her neck forward just an inch and touched her tongue to the salty drop.
Kevin jerked as if electrocuted. “Ashlee… don’t.”
“You lost your leverage,” she whispered. Her tongue swept around the broad crown, tasting him, clean and slightly bitter. Her mind was white static. This is Kevin. This is my best friend’s cock.
Fuck fuck fuck. His internal monologue was a panicked, thrilled loop. She’s doing it. Her tongue. Oh, Christ. Every objection—the friendship, the complications, the sheer wrongness of it—melted under the scalding heat of her mouth. He watched, mesmerized, as her lips parted and she took the head inside.
The warmth was surreal. Her mouth was soft, tentative. He felt her small front teeth brush lightly against his shaft. A groan ripped from his throat. “Okay. Okay, wait.” His hands came up, not to push her away, but to frame her face. His thumbs stroked her cheeks. “Just… just the head. We’re just… experimenting.”
She hummed in response, the vibration making his hips jerk. She took him deeper, her tongue swirling along the thick vein underneath. It’s so big. It’s hitting the back of my throat. She relaxed her jaw, letting him slide further in. Her hands came up to cradle his balls, heavy and tight.
She’s sucking my dick. Ashlee is sucking my dick. My best friend. The thought was taboo, electrifying. It made his balls draw up tighter. “You’re my best friend,” he said aloud, the words strangled. “I can’t believe I’m inside my best friend’s mouth.”
She pulled off with a wet pop, gasping for air. A string of saliva connected her lips to his glistening shaft. “Does it feel good?” Her voice was husky.
“It feels insane.” He was beyond lying. “Put it back. Please.”
She did, with more confidence now, taking him deeper. She used her whimsy, a silly, playful bob of her head she’d seen in movies, followed by a deep, serious swallow that made him see stars. She’s a natural. Oh god, she’s going to make me come.
“We’re always gonna be friends,” he chanted, his fingers threading into her hair, not forcing, just holding. “This changes nothing. You hear me? Nothing.” He was trying to convince himself, to anchor this madness to their solid past.
She was too full to answer. His cock was fully sheathed in her throat now, her nose pressed into his pubic bone. She could breathe through it, just shallow sips of air. Her eyes watered.
I’m in my best friend’s throat. The finality of it, the utter conquest, undid him. The coil in his gut snapped. “I’m gonna come. Ashlee, I’m—”
He pulled her head down hard, holding her impaled on his entire length. His other hand came up and pinched her nose shut. A helpless, gurgling sound came from her. He was fucking her face in short, brutal thrusts, losing all control.
“Take it,” he grunted. “Take your best friend’s load.”
The first spurt hit the back of her throat, hot and thick. The second. The third. She swallowed convulsively, the bitter, salty taste flooding her senses. He’s coming in my mouth. Kevin is coming in my mouth. Four. Five. Six. Seven thick, pumping jets of it, until he was spent, shuddering above her.
He released her nose and slowly pulled out. She gasped, coughing, strings of cum and saliva on her lips and chin. She looked wrecked and utterly beautiful.
Panting, he collapsed beside her, then propped himself up on an elbow. He looked at the white dribble on her chin. With a tenderness that contradicted everything they’d just done, he swiped his thumb through it and brought it to her lips.
“You missed a spot, best friend,” he whispered, feeding it to her.
She opened her mouth, taking his thumb in, sucking it clean. Her eyes, wide and dark, never left his.
They lay there in the silent, sunlit room. The city woke up below them. Everything had changed. Nothing had changed. The hangache was gone, replaced by a new, profound ache deep in her core.
He finally broke the gaze, looking out the window. “We should get breakfast.”
“Okay,” she said, her voice raw.
They didn’t move.
They didn’t move.
The taste of him was still in her mouth, a sticky, salty film on her tongue. She could feel the ghost pressure of his hands in her hair, the rough grip of his fingers. The memory unspooled in her head, vivid and shocking.
His cock slapping her cheek, a light, teasing pat. “You gonna say hello to it, or just stare?” he’d joked, his voice a low rumble. The feel of him, warm and heavy against her skin.
Her own nervous giggle, trying to deflect. “It’s not very polite. It’s just… lying there.”
“Make it polite then.”
And then the first touch of her lips, the shock of his skin, so soft over such rigid hardness. The way he’d groaned, “That’s it, best friend. Use those lips.” The words were filthy and familiar all at once, warping their old bond into something new and dangerous.
Kevin stared at the ceiling, his heart still thumping a wild rhythm against his ribs. The cool air on his wet cock was a stark contrast to the remembered heat.
The sight of her, lips stretched wide around his girth, a clumsy, enthusiastic bob. He’d laughed, a breathless, disbelieving sound. “Who taught you that, a jackhammer? Slow down, you maniac.”
She’d popped off, gasping, a string of spit connecting her to him. “I’m improvising! You want a review card? ‘Ashlee Richards: Three stars, technique lacking but enthusiastic?’”
“I’d give you five for effort,” he’d growled, pulling her back down. His hands had framed her face, thumbs stroking her jaw. Then they’d slid to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. It was gentle, until it wasn’t.
“Open wider for me, little sis,” he’d murmured, and then he’d pushed. Not hard, but insistently, guiding her down until her nose met his skin. The feeling of her throat struggling to accommodate him, the tight, fluttering muscles, had been otherworldly. “Fuck. My best friend’s throat is taking my whole dick. I can’t believe this.”
The silence in the room was deafening. Ashlee traced the pattern of the duvet with a finger, her body humming.
She remembered the building pressure, the way his hips had begun to stutter. His voice, gone ragged. “You’re a world class cocksucker, actually. A natural. My little sister’s gonna swallow my cum, isn’t she?”
The words ‘little sister’ had sent a forbidden thrill straight to her core. She’d managed a gurgled hum, a vibration that made him shout. The first bitter burst hitting the back of her tongue, his hand holding her firmly in place as he emptied himself, pulse after pulse. “Swallow it all. Good girl. Best friend.”
A truck honked on the street below, breaking the spell.
Kevin finally turned his head to look at her. Her hair was a mess, her lips still slightly swollen. He saw her throat work as she swallowed again, reflexively.
“So,” he said, his voice unnaturally casual. “Pancakes or waffles?”
Ashlee blinked, then a slow, unsteady smile spread across her face. It felt weird on her muscles. “Waffles. With extra whipped cream. As a… restorative.”
“A restorative,” he repeated, nodding solemnly. He swung his legs out of bed, his naked back to her as he stood. The tension didn’t leave with him; it stretched across the space between them like a live wire.
She watched him walk toward the bathroom, the powerful shift of muscle, the faint marks from her nails on his thighs. Her body felt heavy, achey, utterly awake.
Just before he disappeared into the en-suite, he paused in the doorway, not looking back.
“For the record,” he said, the words floating in the sunlit air. “The review is five stars. No notes.”
The bathroom door clicked shut.
Ashlee lay there, the flashbacks playing on a loop behind her eyes. Slap of skin on skin. Guttural jokes. The choke. The swallow. She brought her own fingers to her lips, then slowly, deliberately, traced them down her own throat, following the path he’d taken.
In the bathroom, Kevin braced his hands on the cool marble counter, head hanging. He could still feel the clench of her. He looked at himself in the mirror, a stranger with dark, wild eyes.
“Pancakes or waffles,” he muttered to his reflection, a hollow laugh escaping him. He turned on the shower, hard and cold, stepping under the spray before it had a chance to warm. The water hit him like a punishment. It did nothing. All he could feel was the phantom, perfect heat of his best friend’s mouth.
All he could feel was the phantom, perfect heat of his best friend’s mouth.
The cold water did nothing. It was just noise on his skin. His cock, soft now, felt like a traitor. A spent round. He scrubbed himself roughly with soap, trying to erase the scent of her, of them, but it was embedded in his sinuses. Best friend. Best friend. Best friend. The words had become a meaningless chant, stripped of all context.
He shut off the water and stood there, dripping. The bathroom was all steam and sharp edges. He wrapped a towel around his waist and pushed the door open.
Ashlee wasn’t in bed. She was at the floor-to-ceiling window, wearing one of his dress shirts. It swamped her, the tails hitting her mid-thigh. She was staring out at the Wasatch Mountains, their peaks bleeding orange in the rising sun. She held a glass of water in both hands.
She didn’t turn. “I used your toothpaste. My mouth tasted like regret and your jizz.”
The vulgarity, so casual from her, kicked him in the gut. “Any good?”
“The toothpaste is minty. The regret is… familiar.” She finally glanced over her shoulder. “The jizz is a new flavor profile. Acquired taste.”
He walked to the wardrobe, pulling out jeans and a grey henley. He dressed with his back to her, the silence stretching. He could feel her watching the play of muscles in his back. He turned, zipping his fly. “Waffles, then.”
“Yeah.”
She didn’t move from the window. He came to stand beside her, close enough that the heat from her body radiated through the thin cotton of his shirt. The city below was waking up, tiny cars beginning their crawl.
“That can’t happen again,” he said. His voice was flat. Final.
“Why not?”
“Because.” He gestured between them, a sharp, frustrated slash of his hand. “This. We just nuked the fucking playbook, Ashlee. I came in your throat while calling you ‘little sis.’ What part of that sounds sustainable?”
She took a sip of water. “The part where it felt amazing. The part where I’ve wanted you to look at me like that for, I don’t know, eight years.”
He went very still. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Be honest? You started it. You put your dick on my pillow.”
“You sucked it!”
“And you loved it!” She turned to face him fully now, her eyes blazing. The gap between her teeth was visible as her lips parted. “You fucking adored it. You chanted ‘best friend’ like it was a prayer. You held my nose shut and pumped my throat full of come. So don’t you dare hand me this ‘it was a mistake’ bullshit. It was a choice. We both chose it.”
He gripped her shoulders, his fingers digging in. He saw the flare of something in her eyes—not fear, but a wild, defiant heat. “It was a chemical reaction. Late night. Close quarters. You in my t-shirt. It was a fucking biological glitch.”
“Then let’s prove it,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Prove it was a glitch. A one-time thing. Do it again, right now. And if it’s just chemicals, it’ll be… empty. We’ll know. Then we can go get waffles and forget it.”
“That’s the stupidest logic I’ve ever heard.”
“I work in a call center, Kevin. My logic is perpetually fucked.” She didn’t blink. “Scared you’ll like it just as much? Scared I’m right?”
He shook her, once. A jolt of frustration. Her breasts shifted under the loose shirt. The memory of their weight, their perfect shape, was a physical ache in his palms. He was hard again, painfully so, the denim of his jeans suddenly stifling.
“You’re playing with fire, Ashlee.”
“I’ve been cold for a long time.”
With a groan that was mostly rage, he spun her around, pressing her front against the cool glass of the window. The panoramic view of the city sprawled beneath her. She gasped, her breath fogging the pane.
“This what you want?” he snarled in her ear, yanking the tails of the shirt up to her waist. She was bare underneath. His hands cupped the full curves of her ass, kneading the soft flesh. “You want me to fuck you against the window so all of Salt Lake can see?”
“They can’t see,” she panted, pushing back against him. “We’re too high up.”
“I can see.” He ran a hand down the cleft of her ass, then forward, through the coarse hair between her legs. She was soaked. Slick heat greeted his probing fingers. “Fuck. You’re dripping. You’ve been thinking about this the whole time.”
“Since you walked out of the bathroom,” she admitted, writhing against his hand. “Since I tasted you.”
He shoved two fingers inside her without warning. She cried out, her forehead thunking against the glass. She was tight, clenching around him in hot, rhythmic pulses. “You’re my greedy little best friend, aren’t you? Getting wet thinking about your own throat getting fucked.”
“Yes,” she hissed. “God, yes.”
He worked his fingers in and out, crooking them, finding a spot that made her legs tremble. He watched her face reflected in the window, her mouth slack, eyes squeezed shut. With his other hand, he unbuckled his jeans, freeing his cock. It sprang out, thick and angry.
He coated himself in her wetness, rubbing the head through her folds. “This is the last time. You understand? After this, we reset. We go back to normal.”
“There is no normal after this,” she moaned.
He positioned himself, the broad head pressing against her entrance. “Say it. Say ‘it’s the last time.’”
She shook her head, her hair sticking to the glass.
“Say it, Ashlee, or I walk away right now.”
A sob caught in her throat. “It’s the last time.”
He drove into her in one brutal, deep stroke.
She screamed. The sound was muffled by the glass. He sheathed himself to the hilt, the shock of her internal heat almost making him come on the spot. She was impossibly tight, a velvet fist squeezing him relentlessly. He held still, buried inside her, letting them both feel the full, devastating intrusion.
“Oh, god, Kevin,” she whimpered. “You’re so deep.”
“You feel that?” he growled, pulling back almost all the way before slamming home again. “That’s your best friend. That’s me. Ruining you. Ruining us.”
He set a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving her body against the unyielding window. The world was below them, indifferent and bright. His grip on her hips was iron, sure to leave bruises. The slap of their flesh was a raw, private music.
“Tell me you’ve thought about this,” he demanded, his voice ragged. “Tell me you’ve imagined my cock in this perfect, fat pussy.”
“Always,” she choked out. “For years. Imagined you just like this… using me… fucking me like you hated me…”
“I don’t hate you,” he grunted, his pace becoming erratic, losing its discipline. “I fucking… I can’t… I’m gonna come inside you. Is that what you want? You want me to fill you up?”
“Yes! Please, Kevin, mark me, claim me, do it, do it!”
Her words shattered his final shred of control. With a roar that was torn from some primal place, he pistoned into her, three, four, five final, frantic thrusts before he slammed home and held. His orgasm erupted, a scalding flood pumping deep into her core. He saw stars, his vision whiting out at the edges, his whole body seizing as he emptied himself.
He collapsed against her, his chest heaving against her back, both of them slick with sweat. He was still inside her, pulsing weakly. Her inner muscles continued to flutter around him, milking him dry.
Slowly, the world filtered back in. The hum of the central air. A distant siren. His own ragged breath in her ear.
He softened and slipped out of her. A trickle of his release leaked down her inner thigh, a stark, wet trail on her skin. He watched it, a sense of bleak finality settling over him.
He stepped back, tucking himself away, zipping his jeans with hands that weren’t quite steady.
Ashlee slowly straightened, letting the shirt fall back down. She turned around. Her face was flushed, her lips bruised-looking. She looked utterly ravaged. Beautiful. His.
He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’ll get the car warmed up.”
He walked out of the bedroom, leaving her alone by the window, the evidence of their transgression cool and sticky on her skin. The promised waffles tasted like ashes in his imagination. There was no going back. She was right.
The silence in the penthouse was no longer comfortable. It was the silence of a crime scene, after the bodies have been taken away.