I shouldn’t be on the road tonight with the snow swirling around us and the wind blowing hard. I should be with my husband, instead I’m with his handsome best friend.
My husband told me that Christmas was postponed this year. He was going out of town on work and I would be alone. I was heartbroken. This wasn’t the first time his priorities put me last.
Wheels screeching we slide off the road. With a thud we’re buried in a snow drift. Unharmed but shaken as the cold winds blow and the only place I can turn for comfort is the hard body of his best friend.
His best friend proposed this trip to go see him on Christmas day. His best friend drove me out here. His best friend is next to me, and I don’t think I can help how I’m feeling.
Whispered confessions. Long denied feelings. A growing ache and need between us as we come closer in the darkness of this car.
And I know it’s wrong to want him. I know it’s wrong to touch him. I know that I should pull away.
But I don’t think I can help myself.
Excerpt
His arms pulled me in closer and I shuffled in, finding comfort in him in so many ways. I pressed my hands into him, feeling the firmness of his abs and settling down closer, squirming in closer to him to push my hands down between us.
“Sometimes I can’t believe that Jack found a woman like you to marry him,” he said, “And then I can’t believe that he went and screwed it all up. That he’s going and ruining it bit by bit. I see it on your face and I know your opinion of him is changing. I know that he’s losing you and it’s driving me mad because part of me wants you to just end things with him and be done with it and on to something better and another part of me is worried that the only reason I’m thinking that-“
He cut himself off and I felt him trembling.
“Say it,” I begged him, “Please Taylor say it. Say what we both need you to say.”
“That the only reason I’m thinking that is that I want you all to myself.”
I closed my eyes tight, fighting against the tears and the pain and anguish rushing through me. It was wrong to think these things that I was thinking. It was so fucking wrong to even consider doing this to Jack.
But I couldn’t help it if I wanted it. I couldn’t help myself.
It felt so right to press myself against him like this. It felt so good to be in his arms.
And when I pressed my hands down lower and brushed against the bulge in his pants I heard myself moan as if it was happening to someone else. And when I tilted my head up to look at him I saw that we had both lost control.
But maybe that was right.
Taylor pulled me up and into his lap and his lips were on mine in an instant. As the storm swirled and roared angry outside of our car we took comfort in the warmth of each other and the sudden and urgent need to feel and be felt, to touch and be touched.
To give in to a desire that both of us knew was so wrong.
I attacked him with my hunger, pushing through my doubts and taking solace and comfort in the feel of him and the feelings he was building in me. Our eager fingers worked at each other’s clothing, lips connecting again and again in desperation as moans were interspersed with giggles and shudders of delight.
Bit by bit we stripped each other, and when I had him down to just his boxers I delighted in kissing his chest, in feeling the firmness of his body beneath me.
I felt his hands moving over me, unclasping my bra and tossing it to one side, slipping my panties down over my ass and letting me do the rest of the work.
And when he had me naked and off-balance he shifted me around and pinned me down to the back seat, working his way down my body.