Or how much of me she wanted.
“I’ve just been lonely, Adrian.” She kissed me again, tasting of salt and sadness. “I should’ve come to you sooner. You would’ve known how to help.”
I was already balls deep in this woman, and yet she expected the world of me.
Hell, I expected the same of myself.
But what was I supposed to say?
What was I supposed to feel?
I didn’t have a fucking clue what this meant anymore. Honesty would’ve destroyed everything. Denying it would decimate me.
I loved Clover, but I couldn’t fall in love with her. The risk of breaking her heart was too great. And neither of us could lose the most important thing in our lives—each other.
So I had only one option.
I kissed her. I pulled her off my cock.
And I turned her over.
The woman eagerly rose to her knees, allowing me access to her perfect hips, her beautiful ass, and her wet slit all too eager to be filled once again.
I fucked her.
I fucked her so she couldn’t speak.
I fucked her so she couldn’t think.
I fucked her so she’d never know the truth.
My body slammed against hers with such force she collapsed to the floor. And that was better. It was more room for me to take her deeper, harder, and bury every damning secret inside of her with frantic, unforgiving thrusts.
Again and again I pummeled her—far too rough and wild for her sweet words and tempered confessions.
But life made more sense when I mounted a willing and slick pussy and silenced the fears with an unforgiving thrust that stole her breath. My confusion and hesitations and doubts all faded as I rode my pleasure from her.
Impaling my cock. Claiming her body. Denying my feelings.
Her words whimpered into beautiful cries. She tensed, eager, wet, and welcoming. No matter how hard I struck within her, no matter how ferociously I damned myself in her silken heat, Clover shivered with delight. Her desire—her need—strengthened my own. It called to me. Consumed me.
And when she came, it was pure beauty.
Her body tensed. Her back arched. I fell over her, covering her quivering, sweat-teased curves with my brutish size. I clutched her breast, squeezing hard and twisting her nipple just to edge her with a slice of pain as her pussy milked my cock with her sweet tremors.
I slammed into her.
Once. Twice.
Her orgasm set off my own, wrenching the excitement from deep within me. My balls tightened. The heat suffocated me.
And then I erupted, my seed jetting so deeply inside her it might’ve vulgar had she not come from the intensity. Ribbon after ribbon of thick cum coated her from the inside with molten intent. My world darkened, descending into an unknowing and perfect harmony with her mounting pleasure.
I collapsed beside her, panting, reaching for her. Didn’t want to talk. I refused to hear her words. I silenced Clover with a kiss and stole from her a moment’s peace that did nothing to ease the destruction of my soul.
I didn’t know what any of this meant. Couldn’t understand what I even felt for her anymore.
Maybe I didn’t want to admit it, and maybe I tried not to complicate things, but what was a man to do when a woman offered him everything? When she stared at him with adoration, promised him a child, and sealed herself inside his future with the promise of family?
What man was strong enough to resist falling in love?
Clover eventually regained her strength, leaning onto her elbow to look down upon me with wide, curious eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”
Was it wrong to say no? I read the worry in the little crinkle between her eyebrows. Sensed the hesitation in the quick cadence of her voice.
“Can we really be best friends and have sex?” She whispered.
It was the second time she’d voiced such fears.
I had a decision to make. An easy one. I should’ve confronted the question. Answered truthfully, bared my soul, and accepted every consequence.
But it scared the shit out of me.
Instead, I ignored it. Shoved it down deep, where hope, fear, and immoral desire became lost in the nothingness of denial.
I kissed her, lowering her to the floor. Clover eagerly spread her legs for me, granting me access to that messy perfection that promised me heaven while damning me to hell.
“We’re not just having sex,” I whispered. “We’re making a baby.”
Clover nodded, but her voice trembled as she accepted me again within her dripping slit.
“But…I’m not fertile right now.”
My motions stilled. She stared at me, just as confused.
“So…what are we doing, Adrian?” she whispered.
Nothing we shouldn’t have done years ago.
Her words ignited me, and I abandoned the world to seek that lovely heat which enveloped me in peace.
Fucking her was easier than confronting the truth.
I wasn’t falling for my best friend.
I had always been in love with Clover.
16
Clover
The cat’s name was Sniffles because her owner claimed the poor dear suffered from a variety of chronic respiratory infections.
Though informative, this detail did not help me wrangle the calico cat which had pinballed herself against the netting of her carrier during a routine yet intense bout of turbulence. Sniffles had shredded a hole in the carrier and concocted a grand escape.
She now ran loose across the crowded 747.
This complicated an already hellish flight from Ironfield to San Francisco, a trip which had possessed all the hallmarks of a disaster before the wheels had lifted from the runway. Not because of the rampaging kitty or the sleeping passenger in business class who had removed his shoes to air out the mystery fungus growing between his toes. Even the screaming toddler who’d pitched a tantrum for more cookies since Ohio wasn’t the worst part of the trip.
This flight had become a waking nightmare due to one special passenger.
Adrian.
“There goes the cat!” A teenager shouted, though he seemed to be rooting for the cat, if only to ensure his video of the event would achieve maximum virality. “Run little guy!”
I panicked. “Please, don’t run!”
I hobbled passed a father as he dragged his shrieking cookie-monster toddler up and down the aisle. My ankle tangled in the child’s leash, and I crashed into the lap of a businessman in his late fifties—a presumably married man as his wedding band pressed hard into my ass while he un-chivalrously helped me to my feet.
I avoided his wandering paws and gathered the plane's attention with a practiced smile.
“Please, don’t chase the sick cat,” I said. It was a sentence I had never uttered on a plane, and yet, it seemed natural given my luck. “Everyone, remain calm.”
This was too much to ask of Sniffles’ owner. The woman howled, cried, and dug through her bra to reveal dozens of loose cat treats which she then frantically scattered across the entirety of First Class.
I couldn’t blame the cat for wanting to get away.
I sure as hell wanted to run too.
I called across the plane once more. “Please raise your hand if you see the cat. The owner says the kitty is under the weather.” I hesitated as two hundred people stared at me for more information. “Okay, the words mucus and anal glands were mentioned, and the vet thinks it might be contagious to people. So, get my attention, and I’ll place her into her carrier gently and quietly…”