Page 10 of The Family Friend

The house sits dark and quiet, every window black. Everyone has retired for the night. Thank God.

We climb the narrow attic stairs in silence, the old wood creaking under our weight. The second the door clicks shut behind us, Heath spins me around and kisses me again, backing me toward the wall. His hands frame my face, thumb rubbing my bottom lip and smearing more of my lip balm.

"We have to be quiet," he whispers against my lips.

"I can be quiet."

He smirks, that same easy grin from earlier now edged with something darker, and flashes me a hot glance. "Can you really?"

Heath doesn't wait for an answer. His mouth crashes into mine once more, and when a moan tries to escape me, he swallows it down, tongue stroking against mine in a rhythm that makes my knees weak. One of his hands slides down my side, grips my hip, guides me backward until the edge of the bed hits the backs of my thighs.

He lays me down gently as his fingers hook into my flip-flops first, sliding them off and letting them drop to the floor with soft thuds. Next come my denim shorts, the button popping open under his thumb.

He peels them down my legs along with my panties in one smooth motion. My shirt follows, tugged up and over my head. His hands reach behind me to unclasp my bra, and then, I'm completely bare beneath him, chest rising and falling rapidly.

I really should feel self-conscious since I'm well aware I'm nowhere near as hot as the women who surround him. But right now, with the way he stares at me, raking his gaze up and down my body, it feels enough. I feel enough.

Heath straightens up. Without breaking eye contact, he kicks off his shoes and shoves his denim pants down strong thighs dusted with dark hair. The flannel shirt gets unbuttoned with impatient fingers and tossed aside. Finally, his boxers hit the floor.

And oh my good Lord. I've always thought he was probably gifted in the manhood department. But thinking it and seeing the real thing are two different things.

His cock springs free, thick and heavy, the head already glistening. I stare, unable to look away. He's huge. Long and veined, curving slightly upward, the sight of him making a fresh gush of wetness slick my inner thighs.

My pussy clenches around nothing, desperate for him already.

He hovers over me, one knee braced on the mattress between my spread legs, and kisses me slow and deep. His mouth moves down my throat, tongue tracing the valley between my breasts.

"You feel like sin, Harriet."

I don't have a response. My mind is nothing but filth.

Heath closes his lips around one nipple and sucks hard, and I arch off the bed. His hand finds my other breast, kneading the soft flesh, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger before pinching lightly.

The sharp sting melts into pleasure.

"O-oh G-god, Heath."

"Shh, Harriet."

He switches sides, sucking the neglected nipple into the wet heat of his mouth. My clit throbs. I'm panting now, trying so hard to stay quiet that my teeth sink into my lower lip.

His free hand slides down my stomach, over my hip, and finally between my legs. Two thick fingers stroke along my slit, spreading the slickness there, circling my swollen clit with just enough pressure to make my hips jerk.

He pushes one finger inside me, then two, curling them, and I almost bow off the bed. The wet sounds of his fingers working in and out of my pussy fill the small loft, obscene in the quiet night but only makes me even wetter.

I'm close already, so close I can taste it, when he suddenly pulls his fingers free. I whine at the loss, but the sound dies when he brings those same fingers to his mouth and licks them clean, eyes locked on mine the whole time.

Jesus. This feels like one of those dreams you have that is not even within the realm of possibility.

The sight of his tongue dragging over his knuckles is going into my core memory.

"Ready for me, Harriet?"

I've been ready for years, but I don't tell him that. "Y-yes."

Heath wedges the broad head of his cock at my entrance, rubbing it through my folds, coating himself in my wetness. Then he pushes in, stretching me open inch by inch until he's buried to the hilt, bottoming out on the first trhrust.

The fullness is overwhelming. I feel every ridge, every vein as my walls flutter around his thickness.