He was just my best friend until he pinned me against the kitchen counter
of
Denise Mackenzie
genre
straight
We’d been friends for over a year. A friendship with innocent flirting, inside jokes, and late-night texts that sometimes teetered on the edge of something more but never crossed that line. I think we both knew it had potential, but neither of us wanted to risk ruining the dynamic.
That night, I invited him over to help me move some boxes. Nothing major, just clearing out a small storage unit in my apartment. He showed up with takeout, a bottle of wine, and that familiar smile that always made my stomach turn a little. We ate, joked, moved exactly two boxes, and then ended up in the kitchen, just talking.
It was one of those conversations where the rest of the world disappeared. We leaned on opposite sides of the kitchen island, the air between us getting noticeably warmer with every glance. At one point I made some sarcastic comment and he came around the counter towards me, laughing, and then just stopped in front of me.
Close.
Too close.
I expected him to say something smart. Instead, he looked at me, really looked at me, and then he kissed me. Hard. No hesitation, no testing the waters. Just full-on heat, like he’d been holding back for months. Maybe we both had.
I sucked in a breath into his mouth, instinctively grabbing at my shirt. My back hit the counter behind me as he pressed forward, his hands wandering like he wasn’t entirely sure whether to be gentle or take what he wanted. I moaned as his thigh slid between mine, and that was all the invitation he needed.
His hands slid under my dress, fingers gripping the backs of my thighs, lifting me up enough to sit on the edge of the counter. My legs wrapped around him without thinking. There was no slow build, no foreplay, just pure, urgent desire, crackling between us as if waiting for permission.
He pushed my dress up to my waist. I felt his belt. There was no time for finesse. He simply needed me. His mouth didn’t leave mine, even as I moaned as he slid inside me quickly, deeply, desperately. The cold of the countertop against my thighs contrasted sharply with the heat of his movement inside me.
I remember the sound of his breath in my ear, the way he said my name like it was a secret. I remember how we held on to each other, like the moment would disappear if we let go. And I remember the thrill that went through me when he came, buried deep, holding me so tightly I thought we’d crack the counter.
We stood there for a minute. Breathing. Shaking. Silent.
When I finally looked up, he was already smiling. “I should have helped you move the boxes earlier,” he said.
Now, every time I walk into that kitchen, I can still feel the tiles pressing against my skin…and I still haven’t moved the rest of those boxes.
*********
Download All 20 Reads For MEN Books in PDF & EPUB here
https://www.tichaz.com/2021/09/males.html
That night, I invited him over to help me move some boxes. Nothing major, just clearing out a small storage unit in my apartment. He showed up with takeout, a bottle of wine, and that familiar smile that always made my stomach turn a little. We ate, joked, moved exactly two boxes, and then ended up in the kitchen, just talking.
It was one of those conversations where the rest of the world disappeared. We leaned on opposite sides of the kitchen island, the air between us getting noticeably warmer with every glance. At one point I made some sarcastic comment and he came around the counter towards me, laughing, and then just stopped in front of me.
Close.
Too close.
I expected him to say something smart. Instead, he looked at me, really looked at me, and then he kissed me. Hard. No hesitation, no testing the waters. Just full-on heat, like he’d been holding back for months. Maybe we both had.
I sucked in a breath into his mouth, instinctively grabbing at my shirt. My back hit the counter behind me as he pressed forward, his hands wandering like he wasn’t entirely sure whether to be gentle or take what he wanted. I moaned as his thigh slid between mine, and that was all the invitation he needed.
His hands slid under my dress, fingers gripping the backs of my thighs, lifting me up enough to sit on the edge of the counter. My legs wrapped around him without thinking. There was no slow build, no foreplay, just pure, urgent desire, crackling between us as if waiting for permission.
He pushed my dress up to my waist. I felt his belt. There was no time for finesse. He simply needed me. His mouth didn’t leave mine, even as I moaned as he slid inside me quickly, deeply, desperately. The cold of the countertop against my thighs contrasted sharply with the heat of his movement inside me.
I remember the sound of his breath in my ear, the way he said my name like it was a secret. I remember how we held on to each other, like the moment would disappear if we let go. And I remember the thrill that went through me when he came, buried deep, holding me so tightly I thought we’d crack the counter.
We stood there for a minute. Breathing. Shaking. Silent.
When I finally looked up, he was already smiling. “I should have helped you move the boxes earlier,” he said.
Now, every time I walk into that kitchen, I can still feel the tiles pressing against my skin…and I still haven’t moved the rest of those boxes.
*********
Download All 20 Reads For MEN Books in PDF & EPUB here
https://www.tichaz.com/2021/09/males.html
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