My boyfriend lends me out to his heart broken best friend.
This one’s a bit longer, but if you enjoy slow burns, gradual buildup, and tension, I think you’ll really enjoy it.
A week had passed after Austin asked me to sleep with Dean, and I hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.
He sat me down on the couch, held my hand, looked straight into my eyes, and said,
“Babe, I think you should fuck Dean.”
I just stared at him, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in shock. I sat rigid beside him, like if I didn’t move or react, the moment might undo itself and I’d realize I had misheard him. Had a stroke. Started hallucinating. Anything but this.
Then I started laughing, a hysterical, almost maniacal burst of giggles spilling out of me before I could stop it. The sound died quickly though, catching in my throat the second I saw the seriousness in his eyes.
The whole situation took me by surprise. How my boyfriend could be so composed, so unbothered by the idea of me being intimate with another man, and not just any man, but Dean, his best friend since preschool.
At first, I wondered if he wanted some kind of voyeuristic thrill, content to sit back in the cuck chair and watch me knock boots with someone else, but no. Austin was quick to assure me it was nothing of the sort. What he asked of me was sincere, rooted entirely in deep, unbridled concern for his best friend.
A few months ago, Dean caught his girlfriend in their bed with another man, ending five years together in a single moment. He moved in with us almost immediately afterward, spending the last three months sleeping on our couch, trying to piece his life back together.
Gone was the charismatic, charming Dean I once knew, replaced by a hollow version of himself, going through the motions and drifting through life like a ghost.
I told Austin I would think about it.
I had known Dean for as long as Austin and I had been together. Ten years. And somehow, in all that time, I had never seen him as anything other than Austin’s best friend. But ever since he moved in, I started noticing him.
Really noticing him.
Dean was an attractive man, with a kind of rugged, almost regal quality that came from long hours working outside. The man worked with his hands, and it showed.
The way he made a white T-shirt and jeans look like pornography was almost unfair, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric taut, the faded denim molding perfectly to his ass.
You should fuck Dean.
Austin’s words echoed in my mind all week, a constant reminder of his proposal.
I spent my days in a mindless haze. Sharing a small space with Dean meant there was nowhere to hide. Every glance, every word, every accidental brush of his skin against mine set me on fire.
Austin told me Dean knew nothing of his grand plan and was waiting for my approval before even pitching him the idea. If he had noticed me acting weird, he never said anything. Dean was the perfect gentleman, always keeping his distance, always respectful.
If anything, it only made me want him more.
By the end of the week, I was bursting with sexual energy. Spending every day with Dean, being around him, watching him, made my body feel like it was constantly humming, vibrating with arousal no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.
So when Austin asked for my answer once again, I said yes.
One night. Me and Dean, alone. Nothing was off-limits, so long as we both consented and used protection.
Hearing the rules laid out so plainly made everything suddenly feel so real. After a week of thinking about Dean, fantasizing, obsessing, the night had finally arrived.
Now here I was, standing in the hallway, hand on the door, heart pounding in my chest.
There was no going back now.
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Walking through the door, the first thing I noticed was Dean’s car keys sitting on the kitchen table. My stomach tightened instantly.
He was here.
“Dean?” I called out.
No answer.
He wasn’t in the kitchen or living room, so when I noticed the bathroom door closed, I figured he was in the shower.
Dropping my bag onto my bedroom floor, I quickly stripped out of my work clothes and into something more comfortable. I debated wearing something sexy for the occasion, maybe a dress and matching lingerie, but a quick search through my closet confirmed I had nothing special to wear.
So I settled on a pair of cuffed denim shorts and a graphic tee. Not exactly sultry seductress vibes, but it would have to do.
Standing in front of the mirror, I gave myself a quick three-sixty. The blue denim sat high on my hips, hugging my curves and rolled just short enough in the back for the curve of my ass to peek out.
Fiddling with the hem of my top, I watched the red fabric stretch tight across my chest, moulding to the swells of my breasts, stark against my pale skin as the faint outline of my nipples showed through the thin cotton.
I wasn’t wearing any panties either, and with every step, my thighs brushed together, the soft fabric pressing intimately against my freshly shaved skin.
It was more revealing than anything I’d ever worn around Dean. Then again, I guessed it didn’t really matter. He’d be seeing me naked soon enough.
God, just the thought alone made me dizzy.
After running a brush through my hair, I spritzed myself with perfume and leaned closer to the mirror, touching up my makeup. I was so focused on my reflection, I didn’t notice Dean step into the room behind me.
“Knock knock.”
“Holy shit!” I yelped, nearly jumping out of my skin as I whipped around to face him.
And my, what a sight that was.
Fresh from the shower, Dean stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans, his broad chest still damp. One hand ran a towel through his wet curls while the other rested lazily against the doorframe.
My breath caught in my throat as a droplet slid from the ends of his hair. I tracked its descent, watching as it rolled down the hard planes of his chest, over his tanned abs, before disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.
With one final swipe through his hair, he tossed the towel onto the floor without breaking eye contact.
Good grief.
This man was trying to kill me.
“Hi,” was all I managed to squeak out.
“Hi,” he said back.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Seconds stretched between us as we stood there in silence. I watched his eyes roam over my body, taking in every inch of exposed skin.
I wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come out. My nipples hardened beneath his stare, hot tingles prickling across my skin.
He must’ve noticed the effect he had on me. His gaze lingered on my chest, pupils widening slightly as his grip tightened around the doorframe.
Then he took a step forward, closing the space between us.
His body loomed over mine, lips hovering just inches from my own. I closed my eyes, waiting for the impact of his kiss.
But it never came.
Instead, I felt the warmth of his breath against my ear, his voice low and rough as he whispered,
“On the bed. Now.”
My body obeyed before my brain could catch up, moving toward the edge of the bed and sitting down.
Pulse hammering in my ears, I watched as he stepped closer, his eyes glazed over. I wasn’t used to this version of Dean. So assertive. So intense.
I looked up at him with wide eyes. My glasses had slipped down the bridge of my nose, and with a shaky hand, I pushed them back into place, the lenses fogging slightly with each breath.
No words were spoken between us, but everything was said the moment his hand moved to the button of his jeans, undoing it in one swift motion.
“Um… I, uh… I guess we should…”
God. I didn’t even know what I was trying to say. I was so nervous my tongue felt like rubber.
Flustered, I reached toward the bedside table and pulled open the drawer, retrieving a single condom. My face burned as I held it out to him, too afraid to meet his eyes, fingers trembling around the packet.
Finally, I felt him take it from my hand, but I still couldn’t bring myself to look.
I had known Dean for years, but never like this. Never with him standing between my knees, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
His hand cupped my chin, warm fingers brushing against my cheek as he gently tilted my face, forcing me to look directly into his eyes.
“I’m going to kiss you now. Ok?”
With my head in his hands, I slowly nodded, a silent agreement passing between us.
Then, he kissed me.
It was gentle, sweet. A smouldering collision of lips that heated me from the inside out, liquefying me until I melted against him.
I reached up, desperate to close the remaining distance between us, but he pulled back before I could deepen the kiss. Instinctively, I chased after him, searching for his lips once more.
I didn’t want it to end.
I wanted more.
“Lay back.”
His words barely registered in my mind, my body still drifting somewhere inside that kiss. Yet even in my daze, I obeyed, like his voice had wrapped invisible strings around my limbs and tugged.
Just a snap of his fingers could make me do anything.
Settling against the pillows, I watched him climb over me, caging me beneath his body as he crashed his lips against mine once more, all traces of gentleness gone.
He was everywhere. Kissing, licking, touching. Not a single part of my body was left unexplored. He claimed me with his hands, his lips, his tongue.
Oh god, his tongue.
I moaned as he licked a slow path up from my belly button to the middle of my chest, stopping to press a kiss against my T-shirt, capturing a nipple and sucking it through the thin fabric.
“Off,” he said, tugging at my shirt and shorts.
“These come off. Now.”
Obliging his request, I pulled back just long enough to tear off my clothes, my hands shaking with excitement as I stripped naked before him.
A rough sound escaped his throat as his eyes dragged over my body. One hand dropped to the bulge straining against his jeans, adjusting himself beneath the denim.
I needed him. Desperately.
Sitting up, I reached for the zipper on his jeans, but he pulled away, shaking his head.
“Turn around.”
With a pout of my lips, I submitted, turning around in front of him on my hands and knees.
In this position, I was completely exposed to him, the slickness between my thighs visible for Dean to see.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
Glancing over my shoulder, I watched as he moved closer, a predatory look on his face.
“Look at you.”
His words were accompanied by the rough grip of his hands on my ass, squeezing hard.
Yielding to his touch, I dropped down to my forearms, my back arching deeper as my knees spread wide across the bed.
“So fucking perfect,” he cooed, the sting of his fingertips digging into my skin as he spread me open.
I heard the sound before I felt it, a sharp spit leaving his lips as warm saliva pooled between my cheeks, dribbling slowly down the curve of my ass and into my pussy.
Jesus Christ. Dean was fucking filthy.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” Using his thumb, he began massaging his spit into my sensitive skin, the foreign feeling sending a shock to my senses.
“Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted you.”
His hands continued their slow descent, slipping lower between my legs and rubbing against my clit.
“For years, I fantasized about your pretty pussy. About how it would feel, against my fingers, on my tongue, around my cock.”
With a slow swirl of his finger, he barely pushed inside me, and I whimpered. Actually fucking whimpered. Just the slightest touch felt incredible.
Lifting my hips helplessly, I chased the feeling of his touch, desperate for more, but he wouldn’t give it to me. All I managed to do was grind back, bouncing my ass in his face as he traced lazy circles over my clit.
“And this ass. God. This ass.”
A sharp smack cracked through the air as his hand struck me, my body jerking upward as my toes curled against the sheets.
“I was so fucking jealous of Austin. Jealous that he got to you first. He was the only thing stopping me from fucking the shit out of you.”
My mind could barely process what I was hearing. I had no idea Dean felt this way about me. All those years, he wanted me.
It didn’t make sense. He was always such a sweetheart, so polite.
Boy, was I wrong.
“Living with you has been torture. Did you know I could hear every time you and Austin had sex?”
I felt the weight of his chest against my back, the brush of his lips against my ear sending shivers racing down my spine.
“Every night I had to lie awake, listening to your sweet moans, imagining it was me in this room, my lips soaked from your pussy as you rode my face.”
Sweet Jesus. Dean’s dirty talk was driving me insane. I felt like I could come just from hearing his voice alone.
“So imagine my surprise when my best friend told me I could fuck his girlfriend.”
He rocked against me, his lips leaving slow trails of kisses down my back.
I could feel him beneath his jeans. Hard and thick.
“And now, you’re finally mine.”
With the stretch of his fingers, my eyes rolled to the back of my head, a broken groan leaving my mouth as his teeth sank into my shoulder.
“Dean,” I whined, desperate for more.
This time, he didn’t hold back.
He finger fucked me, hard and fast. Curling deeper inside me until he found that perfect spot.
“Jesus,” Dean groaned. “Listen to you.”
I was dripping wet, the pump of his fingers filling the room with obscene sounds, each one filthier than the last.
I was so close, barely hanging on by a thread.
A quick kiss to my hip told me Dean had lowered himself down my body, continuing lower until I felt the flick of his tongue, deep in my ass and then lower again, lapping and sucking at my clit.
He was insatiable. A beast unleashed. Up and down he went, back and forth, side to side, pushing his face farther into me, licking and sucking until I was gasping for air, the force of it enough to leave me wobbling on my knees.
I moaned, my fingers curling tightly into the sheets as I held on for dear life. And just as that familiar feeling began creeping in, tipping me over the edge, he pulled away. I turned toward him, breathless and confused, only to watch as he stripped off his jeans before me.
Oh.
Wow.
Dean was massive. The length. The thickness. I crawled over to him, mesmerized as he tore open the condom packet and rolled it over himself in one fluid motion.
“Come here,” he whispered. “Ride me.”
I didn’t hesitate.
Swinging a leg over his hips, I straddled him, reaching out to take him in my hand. He felt so heavy, so warm, my fingers not quite reaching around his width.
For a second, I just stared at him between my thighs, wondering how I could possibly take all of him. As if sensing my hesitation, Dean reached up, pulling me closer until our foreheads touched.
“Please,” he begged. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
He guided my hand, moving the head of his cock slowly against me, each drag rewarded by the soft, gushy sounds of my arousal.
I watched Dean’s face as I lifted my hips, slowly sinking down onto him, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tipped back in a silent moan.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, the sound so delectable I could almost taste it on my tongue. So I kissed him, swallowing the words from his mouth. Hearing his pleasure wasn’t enough. I needed to consume it.
Rocking forward, I began to move, dragging each roll of my hips out torturously slow, never once taking my eyes off him.
I was so full of him. So deliciously full.
“You’re killing me,” Dean breathed, fingers sliding over my skin, his grip tightening like he needed proof I was real.
I couldn’t look away. Not now. Not when this felt so surreal, like he might disappear the second I blinked.
If this was a dream, I never wanted to wake up.
“Fuck…” He gripped my ass, his hands guiding me faster, my tits bouncing in his face as I rode him harder.
The room blurred around us, nothing but tangled sheets and breathy gasps. Sweat slicked my back as the bed creaked beneath us, every stroke of his cock deep inside me driving the headboard against the wall.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Just like that.”
I was getting close. So close.
“Dean…” I breathed out.
He looked wrecked beneath me, flushed skin damp with sweat, chest heaving unevenly as his fingers dug into my hips, hard enough to bruise.
“Come here,” he breathed, pulling me down against his chest before kissing me hard.
He held me there, helpless and trapped, his arms locking me in place as his hips drove into me. Brutal. Merciless.
I cried out, the sound swallowed by his mouth.
Years. Years of pent-up frustration, desire, longing. I held on tight, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing through the room as Dean fucked a lifetime of desperation out of me.
“Yes,” he breathed against my mouth, his eyes burning into mine. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”
The pressure inside me built and built, toes curling and stomach tightening until my entire body trembled on the edge.
Screaming, my orgasm hit like a punch to the gut. Invasive. Disorienting. My throat burned raw from the force of it, every cry tearing itself from my lungs as I shut my eyes, giving in to the pleasure swallowing me whole.
Dying. I was dying.
That’s what it felt like, the breath leaving my lungs forever as wave after wave tore through me, destroying everything in its path.
“Jesus fucking Christ…” Dean let out a breathless laugh, my body lying lifeless in his arms.
“Are you even real?” he murmured, his fingers combing through my hair as he brushed the sweaty strands from my face.
“I could ask you the same thing.” I laughed, burying my face in his shoulder and licking the sweat off his skin.
I wanted to ask Dean if I had healed his heart. If I had fixed the parts of him someone else had broken. If he had felt it too, this terrifying shift between us.
Shifting my hips, I felt him pulse inside me, my walls contracting around his length in the aftershocks, still hard inside me. With shaky arms, I tried to push myself up, but with a startled shriek, Dean flipped me onto my back, pinning me beneath him.
“Not so fast.” He captured my wrists in his hands, holding them above my head. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Oh God.
This was going to be a long night.
