Read Online One Night: Denied by Jodi Ellen Malpas - Free Book Online
Authors: Jodi Ellen Malpas
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feel my top being pulled off, and I release his lips to sit up, letting my best friend in the whole world strip me. With a lack of a bra covering my modest breasts, I’m left in just my small pyjama shorts with Gregory’s eyes focused on my tight nipples that are within licking distance.
‘Oh fucking hell,’ he mumbles, looking up at me as I wheeze in his face. ‘Oh fucking, fucking hell.’ He takes the tops of my arms and pushes me to my back, taking my mouth again urgently as he pushes my shorts and knickers down my legs. He’s hard and wedged up against my thigh, pulsing incessantly, and I find myself fumbling at the fly of his jeans. He helps me, lifting his hips slightly so I can rid him of the denim, until we’re both naked, rubbing up against each other, rolling around the bed, kissing and feeling.
‘Fucking hell,’ he curses again, working his mouth across my cheek while I pant up at the ceiling. ‘We should stop.’
‘No,’ I breathe.
‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’ He makes no attempt to halt, finding my mouth again and plunging his tongue in urgently. We’re matching each other in the frenzied stakes. Hands and lips are everywhere as we explore unknown territory. We’re both consumed with desperation to eradicate our woes, neither one of us seeming prepared to stop this. We should halt it. This won’t help.
‘Oh God!’ I yelp, throwing my head back when Gregory cups my breast. I’m squirming beneath him, my whole being tingling with fevered shots of desperate pleasure. Our mouths quickly find each other again and my hand starts venturing downward until I have his hard, hot length in my grasp.
‘Holy shit!’ he barks, his hips bucking forward, prompting a full stroke down his shaft. ‘Oooooh shit.’
Pleasure-filled noises are drowning the room. We’re lost. Gregory pulls back and gazes down at me, his brow shimmering in sweat, his breath spreading across my heated face.
‘Do that again,’ he breathes, pushing his hips forward.
I pull an even swipe of my palm down his hardness and he draws an uneven breath. His head drops briefly, only for a second, before he lifts again and falls back to my lips, swirling his tongue through my mouth. It shouldn’t, but this feels nice. I’m focused only on my best friend kissing me, his hands feeling me, and his body pushed against mine.
‘You taste like strawberries,’ he whispers hoarsely.
Strawberries.
The word hits me like a sledgehammer, and I’m suddenly dropping him from my grasp and wriggling beneath him. ‘Greg, stop!’
He freezes, pulling back to look down at me. ‘Are you okay?’
‘No! We should stop.’ I scramble up and pull the sheets over me, covering my naked body, feeling ashamed . . . guilty. ‘What are we thinking?’
Gregory sits up and rubs his palms frantically over his face, groaning, but now it’s in regret. ‘I don’t know,’ he admits. ‘I wasn’t thinking, Livy.’
‘Me neither.’ I meet his eyes, pulling the protective sheeting closer, while Gregory remains uncovered and quite unbothered by it. He’s still . . . ready . . . and I try to divert my eyes anywhere except at the hard length of muscle jutting from his lap. It’s difficult. It’s like a magnet to my eyes. I’ve never allowed myself to look at my gay friend like this, but when he’s totally exposed and looking so ripped, it’s impossible. He’s everything a man could ask for, and a woman, for that matter. He’s hot, so kind, and totally genuine. But he’s my best friend. I can’t lose him to the awkwardness that will descend if we continue – if it’s not too late already. But that isn’t the only reason. No man could ever fill the gaping hole in my heart, nor could they sate my desire. Only one man can do that.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say quietly, guilt consuming me. I don’t know why. I have nothing to feel remorseful for, except for jeopardising my friendship with Gregory. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Hey’ – he
‘Oh fucking hell,’ he mumbles, looking up at me as I wheeze in his face. ‘Oh fucking, fucking hell.’ He takes the tops of my arms and pushes me to my back, taking my mouth again urgently as he pushes my shorts and knickers down my legs. He’s hard and wedged up against my thigh, pulsing incessantly, and I find myself fumbling at the fly of his jeans. He helps me, lifting his hips slightly so I can rid him of the denim, until we’re both naked, rubbing up against each other, rolling around the bed, kissing and feeling.
‘Fucking hell,’ he curses again, working his mouth across my cheek while I pant up at the ceiling. ‘We should stop.’
‘No,’ I breathe.
‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’ He makes no attempt to halt, finding my mouth again and plunging his tongue in urgently. We’re matching each other in the frenzied stakes. Hands and lips are everywhere as we explore unknown territory. We’re both consumed with desperation to eradicate our woes, neither one of us seeming prepared to stop this. We should halt it. This won’t help.
‘Oh God!’ I yelp, throwing my head back when Gregory cups my breast. I’m squirming beneath him, my whole being tingling with fevered shots of desperate pleasure. Our mouths quickly find each other again and my hand starts venturing downward until I have his hard, hot length in my grasp.
‘Holy shit!’ he barks, his hips bucking forward, prompting a full stroke down his shaft. ‘Oooooh shit.’
Pleasure-filled noises are drowning the room. We’re lost. Gregory pulls back and gazes down at me, his brow shimmering in sweat, his breath spreading across my heated face.
‘Do that again,’ he breathes, pushing his hips forward.
I pull an even swipe of my palm down his hardness and he draws an uneven breath. His head drops briefly, only for a second, before he lifts again and falls back to my lips, swirling his tongue through my mouth. It shouldn’t, but this feels nice. I’m focused only on my best friend kissing me, his hands feeling me, and his body pushed against mine.
‘You taste like strawberries,’ he whispers hoarsely.
Strawberries.
The word hits me like a sledgehammer, and I’m suddenly dropping him from my grasp and wriggling beneath him. ‘Greg, stop!’
He freezes, pulling back to look down at me. ‘Are you okay?’
‘No! We should stop.’ I scramble up and pull the sheets over me, covering my naked body, feeling ashamed . . . guilty. ‘What are we thinking?’
Gregory sits up and rubs his palms frantically over his face, groaning, but now it’s in regret. ‘I don’t know,’ he admits. ‘I wasn’t thinking, Livy.’
‘Me neither.’ I meet his eyes, pulling the protective sheeting closer, while Gregory remains uncovered and quite unbothered by it. He’s still . . . ready . . . and I try to divert my eyes anywhere except at the hard length of muscle jutting from his lap. It’s difficult. It’s like a magnet to my eyes. I’ve never allowed myself to look at my gay friend like this, but when he’s totally exposed and looking so ripped, it’s impossible. He’s everything a man could ask for, and a woman, for that matter. He’s hot, so kind, and totally genuine. But he’s my best friend. I can’t lose him to the awkwardness that will descend if we continue – if it’s not too late already. But that isn’t the only reason. No man could ever fill the gaping hole in my heart, nor could they sate my desire. Only one man can do that.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say quietly, guilt consuming me. I don’t know why. I have nothing to feel remorseful for, except for jeopardising my friendship with Gregory. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Hey’ – he
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