Page 115 of My Best Friend Is Broken

He shakes his head slowly at me, as if I’m a lost cause. But his eyes are sparkling. Warm and gorgeous.

It’s a look that makes me swoon, as well as igniting something in my soul. He can’t look at me like that and be all the way over there, it’s not fair.

I grab a fistful of his tee shirt and yank him towards me for a kiss. He groans as our lips collide. Heat rushes through me. Passion blossoms from a flame to an inferno.

I love that I get to kiss Nicky. I adore kissing him. I’m going to do it a million times a day for all of eternity.

His tongue slips into my mouth, and I tangle my fingers into his hair, holding him close. I kiss him as if I’m trying to merge our bodies.

In the background, the TV talks to itself. The film forgotten. Nicky is the only thing that exists in my universe. Kissing him is everything. It’s making my body heat and heat. Lust, desire and need have replaced the blood pounding in my veins.

“I want you!” I gasp.

Nicky groans. A helpless sound of hunger and passion. Matching me completely.

Then, he pulls away from me and almost falls off the sofa. He scrambles to his feet.

“Stay there!” he pleads, then he runs to the bedroom.

I stare after him, blinking. My hair is a mess, my tee shirt and boxers askew, and my cock is very hard.

Nicky returns a few heartbeats later, baby oil in one hand, and a towel in the other. “Supplies,” he grins.

“Dufus,” I chuckle.

He rejoins me on the sofa, and his lips find mine. The baby oil drops to the floor with a thud, and the towel lands somewhere. Nicky’s arms wrap around me. He lies down on the sofa and pulls me with him until I’m more than half on top of him.

He stops kissing me, and he stares at me with wide, dark eyes instead.

“I want you to top me,” he says.

All the air leaves my lungs. The oxygen escapes in one big whoosh that makes me dizzy. The room tilts a little, and my cock leaks.

“Fuck,” Nicky whispers in awe. “Keep looking at me like that and I’m going to cum before we do anything.”

Laughter flows out of me, free, easy and unashamed. Nicky grins back.

“Is that why you took so long in the shower?” I tease.

Nicky flushes a deep, beautiful red, and he nods. My tough mafia man is suddenly all bashful.

I lean forward and kiss him again, while my hand slides between us and finds his cock. I stroke him and drink down the moans he spills into my mouth.

“You are wearing too many clothes,” I say in between kisses.

He doesn’t seem to hear me at first, or maybe it just takes his brain a while to process the words, because suddenly he jolts as if electrocuted, and then he is yanking off his tee shirt as if it is on fire.

I chuckle. He glares at me with messed-up hair. “So are you,” he points out.

He’s right. I back away from him, just enough to give us room to work. Then, I pull my tee shirt over my head and yank my boxers down my legs and kick them across the room.

“Much better,” says Nicky.

I turn to face him and find him staring at my naked body, with an intense, appreciative look in his eyes, as if he is observing a great work of art.

Now, I’m the one blushing. Why does he always look at me like that? I’m nothing special.

I lean forward, place my hand on his chest and push him until he is lying on his back on the sofa, one of his legs on my lap, the other one dangling over the edge of the sofa.