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“What are you going to do?”

Her voice is breathy and husky. It torques me with fresh desire.

I don’t bother to answer, just grin as I wrap my arms around her and lift her onto the sofa, facing me on her knees. She frowns, confused, until I inch down, sliding my ass to the edge of the cushion and stare at her pussy right above my parted lips.

She’s so swollen and pink, juicy, soft, and completely smooth. Does she have any idea how much I want her?

Echo gasps when she realizes my intent, her indrawn breath sharp and shocked. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to. Don’t make me stop.”

I grip her thighs and lift my head, then drag my tongue through her slick slit.

Perfect. That’s the only way I can describe Echo’s taste.

I dive deeper, get more of her on my tongue. She’s hot. Sweet as honey. Addicting. I need more—now.

She grabs on to the back of the sofa with a long, agonized groan that urges me on.

I prod her pebbled clit, and she shudders. I want more. I open her pussy wide with my thumbs, settle the flat of my tongue inside her furrow, and cover every wet inch of her in a long, slow lick.

Her thighs tremble. She chants my name like she’s hoping I’ll save her. But I want her to burn.

I eat at her hungrily, tasting, sucking, sampling, exploring until she gasps in increasingly high-pitched breaths. Her legs shudder. Her breasts bob. Her clit turns to stone.

Then Echo tosses her head back and screams.

She looks so fucking beautiful in pleasure… Even if I live to be a hundred and even if I fuck a thousand women, I will never forget Echo in this moment.

As she comes down from her loud, shattering climax, I tuck away the implications of that realization, sit up, and try to take her in my arms.

But Echo has already escaped, slid back to her knees at my feet, and started sucking on my cock with a desperation that literally steals my breath.

Any cool-down the pause in her oral adulation gave me is gone. Less than a half-dozen pulls with her mouth, and I’m lifting to her rhythm, breathing like a bellows, and swearing that my best friend is about to steal my sanity with this mind-melting pleasure.

Maybe that’s not all she’s stealing…

“Echo. Suck me. That’s it. Fuck. Fuck! Oh, my god… Yes! Ahh…”

The pressure coiling and building inside me suddenly explodes. Violent need swirls, churning in my balls and knocking me on my ass. Liquid ecstasy jets, drowning my good sense.

Echo is with me, not skipping a beat, despite how rough my grip in her hair is or how insistently I push into her warm, waiting mouth.

When it’s over, I pant, watching, stunned, as she sits up, swallows, and smiles at me like I’ve somehow made her life complete.

Suddenly, I have the sneaking suspicion that mine never will be if we try going back to simply being friends.

Chapter Seven

Sun seeps through the blackout drapes as I toss and turn restlessly. Something nags at my half-awake consciousness. I’ll have to face whatever it is when I get up, but I doze and ignore it a bit longer.

Until a very naked woman curls herself against me, warm and soft, her head nestling on my arm and her tits plastered to my chest. I open my eyes.

Echo.

Last night rushes back to me. Her undressing. Her screaming in pleasure. Her mouth on me.

Oh. My. God.

I stop breathing and stare. She looks like the best friend I’ve had since we bonded over being the new kids at a new school. The wavy hair she’s bitched about a hundred times curls away from the sleep-soft face I’ve seen nearly every day for a decade and a half. I shouldn’t be freaking out.

But I am, because no matter how familiar Echo is, I’ll never look at her the same.

This morning, I notice things about her I never have. Though she’s all woman, her long, dark lashes brush round cheeks that are almost girlish. Her lips are rosy, the bottom one heavy and pouty when it parts slightly, as if in unspoken invitation. Her bare shoulder is dotted with two tiny freckles, which peek out above the crisp white sheet covering the rest of her body. Not that it does any good. Last night, I saw her. I felt her. And I remember her—every detail. I don’t know how I’ll forget.

We can’t ever go back to being just friends. I’m not sure I want to.

In my arms, Echo smells like sweet female. My erection, which isn’t simply morning wood, prods her, desperate to know what being joined with her feels like. She’d let me take her. In fact, she’d welcome me if I rolled her onto her back, spread her legs, and pushed deep inside her. The thought makes me even harder.

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