My Best Friend's Hot Brother (18+)

This Will Be Our Secret

Sterling

His heated lips are acting as a magnet on my flushed skin, drawn to every hidden part of my body by some unexplainable force. 

The reason for the attraction is something I cannot comprehend. It's something that just is such as the vast aquamarine ocean or the air that I breathe.

All I know is that my desire is greedy and I need more. His touch is tantalizing and it awakens every nerve ending on my skin as he trails his fingers from the swell of my breasts, down to my abdomen and then finally, to the damp spot between my legs.

"Oh, Jackson," I breathe as he enters me. I dig my fingernails into his shoulder blades, the urgency to have him insurmountable. Every second we have together is valuable, for our time spent twisting in between the bedsheets is fleeting.

Any minute, Jackson's sister, Gabby, could appear at the other side of the door.

"Don't stop," I moan as his thrusts pick up in intensity. A fiery warmth explodes within my belly and I know that I have achieved an orgasm. There is no doubt in my mind.

The stars dancing in my vision and the slight tremor in my legs confirm it.

Jackson collapses onto my chest and I stroke the blunt prickly ends of his buzzcut. "What now?" I ask.

He swallows. "We tell no one. This will be our secret."

The alarm shrills on my bedside table and the same dream that has visited me every night since my body began raging with hormones and puberty kicked in, dissipates in a cloud of blue smoke.

It's always cerulean blue. Never any other color. I am disappointed that the sexy story my brain has made up in my unconscious state is not my reality and that Jackson is not mine. But in my fantasies, the world is always painted in a golden filter.

I might love Jackson Moretti but I am certain that he does not love me. It's written in the way he always sighs loudly whenever I visit his sister, Gabriella, who is also my best friend.

"Can't I have one Friday night of peace?" He growls as he angrily tears into a piece of French bread with his teeth. "Whenever you two are together, you always giggle obnoxiously for hours on end as though you're hyenas. It's annoying."

His gaze flits over to me and even though the words are left suspended in the air, I am aware of what he doesn't say. Sterling is annoying.

I sigh as I nudge back my covers. It's the last day ever of high school and I'm surprising even myself by going. Rummaging around in my laundry basket, I pull out a tank top and my soft plaid flannel that I wrap around my waist.

I finish off the outfit by shimmying into a pair of denim shorts that I layer over my black ripped tights before pulling on my combat boots.

When I catch my reflection in the mirror, I briefly flinch. I never really get used to the sight of my bare eyelids and quickly cover them up with a heavy lining of smoky kohl. My hair is so blonde it's practically white and I pull it back into a messy ponytail.

This look is my uniform and I hardly ever stray from it. Not even for Prom.

I bound down the stairs and grab an orange from the fruit bowl on the table decorated with a lacey tablecloth and a vase of fresh daisies. "Have a good day, Dad," I wish my father, leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek.

My mother turns around from her place in front of the stove with a spatula in her hand to use for the omelet she's cooking, an expression of shock on her face. "You're going to school? On the last day?" She's in disbelief.