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Rosie was murmuring nonsense into my hair, the low cadence of her voice incredibly soothing and arousing in equal measures, and I stopped thinking altogether. Something that felt this right couldn’t be wrong. I never wanted to leave the safety of Rosie’s arms and gave myself up to sensation. Rosie’s natural scent wrapped itself around my senses, and I snuggled closer into the embrace, feeling safe and loved for the first time in ages.
“Feeling better now, Princess T?” Rosie’s whispered words skimmed across the sensitive skin just below my ear, as she pulled my hair out of the way and dropped a feather light kiss on the rapidly beating pulse point there. I bit back a moan and simply nodded, not trusting my voice at all. The hand on my thigh tightened imperceptibly, and I willed Rosie to not let go, to skim just a little bit higher, where a rush of moisture coated my panties. She would know then, without me having to tell her.
“If I’m reading this wrong, then tell me to fuck off, babe.” Rosie’s strained words held me in thrall, and I slowly raised my head to look up at my oldest friend. Desire warred with concern in the depths of her beautiful eyes, and I edged closer. Our breaths mingled, and my eyes fluttered closed at the first tentative touch of Rosie’s lips on mine. I sighed in contentment and opened under the gentle pressure, so different from the rough, impatient way Max had always forced his tongue inside my mouth, while his hands forcefully grabbed my tits. I stiffened at the unwelcome memory, and Rosie pulled away. She cupped my cheeks in her hands, and I lost myself in the tenderness of her gaze, as she searched my expression. Her long, slender fingers gently massaged the base of my skull, and I relaxed again. Almost against my will my eyes fluttered closed, and I moaned.
“You’re exhausted, babe. Let’s get you to bed.”
Excitement pooled low in my belly at Rosie’s husky words. Delivered on a slow exhale they raised the fine hair on her arms.
“To sleep, I hasten to add, Princess T. We can talk about this in the morning.”
Chapter Three
Rosie
The insistent buzzing of my phone shook me out of my erotic dream. I swore softly as the damn thing slipped out of fingers too slick with my own arousal to get a grasp on the mobile. It clattered to the floor, the sound far too loud in the quiet night air.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Shit, shit, and double fucking shit. If having sexy dreams about my best friend sleeping in the room next to mine wasn’t bad enough to deal with—I never did give that dildo a workout—some complete moron tried to ring me at—I squinted at the alarm clock on the nightstand—four o’clock in the fucking morning. Whoever the idiot was had left a voice mail. I didn’t recognize the missed call, but I dutifully speed dialed and listened and swore again.
Tirath’s father was clearly drunk, his heavily accented voice slurred and difficult to understand. I got the words fucking slut, no daughter of mine, cunt-loving whore, blow off her engagement, will she, let her see how long she lasts without my money, loud and clear though. My stomach churned, and my fists pummeled the cushion into submission, wishing like hell it was Tirath’s father’s head I was doing some damage to. And I didn’t even believe in violence.
The man had some fucking nerve.
Tirath had danced to his tune all her life, and now, for whatever reason she wasn’t, he was washing his hands of her? She couldn’t have broken up with her fiancé? She would have said and did that mean … no. That man didn’t know his daughter at all. She didn’t do girls. The string of ex-boyfriends attested to that, regardless of whatever had almost happened between the two of us earlier. It was another reason to not give into my body’s urges, no matter what signals Tirath sent out to me. She was a friend in need of comfort and somewhere to stay until she’d sorted out this latest disaster.
That is all. Hands off, Rosie.
I smiled in the dim light coming in through the portholes. Tirath always lurched from one disaster to the other. Granted, this one seemed to have left her vulnerable and confused, and I’d be the world’s worst friend ever if I took advantage of Tirath’s current confusion. And she had to be confused, didn’t she?
You didn’t just wake up one day and decide you were gay. Then again, what did I know? With no family expectations to conform to, I’d always been able to do my own thing. I’d never fancied boys or lusted after some male celebrity or boy band like so many of my peers did in my teenage years. That whole thing had passed me by, and by the time I realized that my feelings for Tirath went much deeper than friendship it had also been abundantly clear that Tirath didn’t feel the same way. She’d lost her virginity to the popular boy in school that week. An anxious wait had followed when she’d been late with her period, and I’d been right there with her, every time she dumped another loser, until we’d parted ways. My own encounters with girls, and the one disastrous attempt at having sex with a guy—to satisfy my curiosity more than anything else—had only confirmed what I’d known all along. I didn’t do boys. And the girls I did hook up with for sex and companionship had never held my attention for long. In short, they weren’t Tirath. Compared to her, everyone else just faded into the background. One of the many reasons why I was so damn horny. Sex for the sake of it had never been my thing, and it didn’t seem fair to any potential partner to string her along when my heart had already been taken.
I groaned into the semi-darkness and gave up on trying to sleep. That was never going to happen now. Having shimmied into a pair of French knickers, I grabbed my sculpting apron off the hook by the door, stopped briefly in the kitchen for supplies, and then settled myself at the far side of the boat. The sculpting chocolate I’d left covered by a cloth was a little too stiff, so I added some more of the just heated chocolate mix to make it easier to work with. I sighed in relief when my fingers slid into the warm mass. The soothing scent of chocolate filled the air, and the familiar sensual sensation of kneading and creating calmed my frayed nerves. My heartbeat slowed, and I closed my eyes to let my hands create at will what my mind envisaged.
Ah, this is what I needed.
If all else failed, using my hands and being creative always worked.
I lost track of time, like I always did, lost in my creative bubble, until a scraping sound behind me pulled me out my thoughts. Before I could process that sound, warm hands settled over mine, and Tirath’s scent surrounded me, as the woman who owned my heart, sat on a stool behind me. Her soft curves molded against my naked back. Her breath whispered across my jaw, leaving me all too aware of her. Whatever thoughts I might have been capable of in that moment fled my befuddled brain as I released a shaky exhale.
“Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just needed to … to…” The words died on my lips, because Tirath’s long, bare legs encased mine, and she rested her head on my shoulder. Our fingers entwined in the fragrant mass, and Tirath’s sigh reverberated through me.
“This feels wonderful. I can see why you like this so much, even if it makes a terrible mess. Can you eat this?”
“Ye-es.” Somehow, I managed to get that one word out past the lump in my throat. Jesus, what was Tirath playing at? I could feel every soft curve of her body against my skin, and my libido woke up kicking and screaming. Not caring one iota that this was my best friend and crossing the border into lovers would potentially be a disaster in the making.
Tirath’s deep-throated chuckle in response settled right in my lower regions, making my pussy tingle in need. Fuck, that had to the sexiest laugh ever, and I bit my lips so hard, I tasted my own blood. Anything to stop myself from groaning out loud.
My resolve was sorely tested when Tirath brought her chocolate-coated fingers to her full lips and sucked the confectionary off the digits with languorous licks of her little pink tongue.
Jesus, what would that tongue feel like between my thighs?
My breath grew shallow, my traitorous nipples beaded against the fabric of my apron, and my clit clenched in a “come to mama” dance. The little appreciative noises Tirath made as the chocolate melted on her tongue pitched my need to taste that tongue wrapped around my own sky high.
I needed a taste of my friend almost as much as I needed air to fill my lungs.
Reason took a hike, and my instincts took over.
I wanted her with a need that bordered on insanity, and she clearly wanted me, too, so why deny us both? I might well regret this in the morning, but for now I wanted to lose myself in the delights of Tirath’s body and to not analyze what this all meant.
