Page 10 of Unfaithfully Yours

EIGHT

Ryan

I pulled upto my house, slowing dramatically when I saw a car already parked in my driveway.

Kamran's car.

My heart started racing, then someone behind me honked, reminding me that I'd randomly stopped in the middle of the road. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Shit,” I muttered and quickly pulled in next to Kamran’s car.

I could see him sitting on the top step of my porch in a thin sweater. He didn't look up, just sat there looking dejected and my whole body heated up because he was here and I had a weird feeling that I knew what he wanted even though I had to be wrong.

He'd been awkward as hell on Sunday morning. He hadn't wanted to stick around, and I hadn't blamed him either. I'd let him go and hadn't bothered him since.

Pulling myself up by the bootstraps, I opened the door and went outside to meet my potential doom.

Kamran didn't look up until I stopped at the bottom of the steps.

I couldn't speak for a minute because he looked so fucking good .

Dear God. Hair that he hadn't styled today had dried in messy tight curls, hanging into his light green eyes.

All his dark lashes were clear on his pale face.

His stubble was dark and added to the overall look of what some might call disheveled but made me think about him in bed for days, too busy for things like making himself neat and presentable.

“Hey Ryan,” he muttered, not quite meeting my gaze. “Mind if I come in?”

Why did it sound so suggestive? He may as well have asked to crawl straight into my bed. That was how my body reacted anyway.

“Uh, yeah,” I choked.

I walked up the steps, passing him to unlock the door. He stood while I did, coming up behind me.

Too close , my mind screamed, and I hurried inside, trying to put some space between us.

The lines had already blurred too much for me.

My body was confused. Sometimes my head was too.

Like Sunday morning, when I woke up next to him, his hand still in mine, wondering why I hadn't spent all night sucking his dick before remembering that he was just sad, lonely, and desperate, and going there would ruin our eight-year friendship.

He shut the door behind him, his eyes fixed on me.

My skin was crawling. I felt like I was an elk about to be jumped by a predator.

“How are you?” I asked.

There was a pointed tremble in my voice.

Fuck.

Why was my dick getting so hard?

Why was he looking at me like that?

He took a step toward me, and I backed away.

“What are you doing?” I asked. Then, because the first question was stupid and I knew exactly what he was doing, I added. “Don't.”

He was still for a moment, then took a shallow breath before speaking in a quiet, measured voice.

“I'm not drunk,” he said, shrugging lightly.

Well… damn .

I stared for so long that he looked at the floor and started to shuffle like a kid waiting for a punishment to be decided.

“I thought you might still be down to...”

I swallowed.How was I supposed to not touch him when he kept starting it?

“To what?” I asked, needing him to say it.

He looked up, meeting my eyes through those dark lashes, his cheeks going red.

“Would you please just touch me?” he asked.

The raw way he said it, broken down like there was nothing left to hide, got me right in the gut. Kamran had always been my weak spot. But he'd just never asked me for anything like this before. I should have known from the start that there was no way I could ever say no if he did.

I moved toward him, and relief filled his eyes.

“Oh, thank god,” he groaned, and he put his arms around me. And he was sober. I must have been in a dream.

I pulled him in against my chest, reveling in the feeling of his solid, real body and he buried his face into my neck, inhaling me. He sagged against me, everything getting loose aside from the front of his pants.

“What is up with that?”

“What?” I asked, turning my face into his curls. God, he felt so sweet and needy, clinging to me.

“Why do you smell so good?” he demanded.

I chuckled because he'd said the same thing that first night almost two weeks ago and I'd brushed it off as his attempt at a distraction.

“You really like my smell ?”

He nodded, not moving his face. When I tried to pull back to look at him, he came with me, still clinging to me, unwilling to let me go. I refrained from telling him that liking a man's smell was probably the gayestpart about all of this, smiling and pressing my lips to his temple.

That got his attention.

He tilted his head, seeking my mouth with his, almost shyly this time because it was all him. This was Kamran with no alcohol to hide behind. His heart was pounding against my chest like he was being chased and I knew mine was running away right alongside him.

When our lips met, everything else dropped away.

I wanted to ask him why he wanted this now. Why with me? Was it still for the comfort, or was their more to it? What did he even wantto do? What was he expecting? Did he just want me to touch him ? Or would it go both ways? Did I even care?

There were so many damn questions that got steamrolled by his tongue pressing into my mouth and the way he moaned at the taste. My body took over, hands sliding up his shirt, skating over his smooth skin.

I pulled him tight against me, feeling his firm body and all the soft spots too. The front of his lower belly which he had been complaining about trying to shed, and the full curve of his ass which I gripped with my hands, and which nearly made me lose my mind.

Kamran used to be all taut skin and firm muscles back when we used to play football together.

He'd been obsessed with working out. That had been nice too, but as the years had passed and real life took over, he'd only gotten better.

More natural and real and something about him not being so perfect made me love him more.

I squeezed his ass probably a little too tightly because he bucked forward, breaking apart from my kiss with a hiss.

“Sorry,” I muttered, but when our gazes clashed, his was overtaken by hooded desire and it was like a hook straight into my lower belly, yanking my need up another few notches.

I pushed him forward, clumsy hands and feet nearly making us both fall before I got him onto the couch.

He sat back and looked up at me, his chest heaving, knees spread on either side of my legs, the front of his pants tented.

I swallowed and lowered myself to the floor in front of him, placing my hands on his thighs. I couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

For a long time, we watched each other. I was aware that we had already come too far to stop now, so I didn't say anything, just pushed his shirt up enough to slide my fingertips under the band of his sweats and pull.

Kamran lifted his hips to help me. There was a moment before they slid down, freeing him.

And just like that I was looking at Kamran's cock and it was fucking glorious, thick around the middle and cut with dark curls around the base and veins dancing up the shaft.

My mouth filled with saliva, and I barely managed to dive forward and press my mouth to the spongy tip without fuckingdrooling because Iwanted to taste it so bad.

My lips parted around him, tongue darted out to slide against the slit and the first taste of moisture there made me moan and my cock twitch, and not to be dramatic, but it changed my life.

This was Kamran, after all. My friend. The man I'd loved for years who I'd always thought was off limits.

But he wasn't off limits any longer. Oh no. Now that I'd had a taste, felt his hips twitch, heard his breath stutter, felt his cock pushing gently against the roof of mymouth and jutting against the back of my throat, there was no turning back. Never, ever.

I sucked him down, taking him as deeply as I could, moaning at the way his cock made my lips stretch, at the taste and feeling of his silky flesh.

He let out a shuddering moan and his hands went into my hair, combing through the strands until I had to look up and meet his eyes and acknowledge the undeniable fact that we were doing this.

And he really did seem to be on board, there was nothing there in his eyes but pleasure and appreciation and that tender something that was always in the back of his eyes when he looked at me.

The gaze of a loving friend. He was the kind of person that made me want to do everything for him.

Case in point, I was sucking his cock like my life depended on it, pulling every move out of the bag, trying to make it the best head I'd ever delivered in my life.

I dipped the tip of my tongue into his slit, sucked his frenulum, kissed my way down his shaft and took time to take each of his balls into my mouth, using my hand to stroke him while I did until he was arching up, his head back, making noises I'd only dreamed about.

When I lifted, I didn't hesitate to take him deep into my throat once more.

His hips started to move, thrusting in a little deeper like he couldn’t help himself. In response, precome spurted from my tip, soaking my underwear.

I groaned, letting him do it, wanting him to do it because having Kamran come apart under me, in my mouth, was better than any long-lived fantasy ever could be.

This was real and reality was swamped with all the little details, the hairs that touched my nose when I took him down, the callouses on his thumbs as they dug into my collar bones, bruising me, the huff of his breath touching my hair, the buttery soft skin of his thighs under my hands.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Oh, fuck. Ryan. ”

I moaned.

If not for everything else, hearing him say my name like that was enough to make me reach down frantically before I emptied my balls into my tight jeans without having been touched. I undid the zipper quickly, reaching inside to grab my aching cock and moaned again around his shaft.