Dirty Talk Page 8

  ‘I made a mistake, Amy,’ he says. ‘If I could go back and change it, I would.’

  That’s the problem with mistakes. You can’t undo what has been done. You can only decide how to deal with the mess they make.

  But as I look at Phil, I wonder how much of a mess it is, really. He slept with me for a bet. If I’m honest, really, brutally honest, I slept with him for the same reason. I used him to help me write my story. If Dave hadn’t manipulated us, if we hadn’t allowed him to do it, we wouldn’t have ended up here.

  And we wouldn’t have crossed that line. Maybe we would never have crossed it.

  ‘If you hadn’t made that mistake,’ I say, ‘I might never have noticed what was right there in front of me.’

  Phil gets slowly to his feet. He tucks his hands into his pockets, and watches me warily. ‘Would that have been a bad thing?’

  I take a step closer to him. ‘Yes.’

  He puts a hand on my waist. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers. ‘I never meant to hurt you.’

  ‘I’m sorry too,’ I tell him.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For not trusting you. For thinking that sex could ruin our friendship.’

  ‘I hate to break it to you, Amy, but sex has ruined our friendship. It’s killed it completely.’

  I move closer, put a hand against his chest. I can feel the thump of his heart against my palm. ‘No,’ I say. I shake my head. ‘We’re still friends. We’re just friends with…more.’ Sex can’t kill friendship, not unless that friendship was destined to break.

  I push up onto my tiptoes and press a kiss against his mouth. ‘Take me home,’ I say.

  He smiles down at me. ‘On one condition,’ he says.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Move in with me.’

  I blink. And then I say ‘OK.’

  Because I am his and he is mine, and it feels like that’s exactly how it should be. He leads me out of the bar and along the street, and as he opens his front door I set a hand to his arm and stop him. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I…I have this idea for a story,’ I tell him, biting down into my bottom lip.

  ‘Oh really,’ he says, as he leads me inside and kicks the door closed behind us. ‘What sort of story would that be?’

  ‘The dirty sort.’

  ‘And what happens in this dirty story of yours?’

  ‘Well, it’s about two best friends,’ I say. ‘Who end up in bed together and have all sorts of rude and dirty sex.’

  My hands are in his trousers, and his hands are up my skirt, and his mouth is on mine. ‘What sort of rude and dirty sex?’ he asks.

  ‘She likes it rough,’ I say. We don’t make it to the bedroom, this time. We don’t even make it as far as the kitchen.

  ‘He’s always rough,’ he says. ‘She makes him that way. She’s got this gorgeous body, and these perfect tits, and he’s addicted to the taste of her pussy.’

  He pulls down my skirt, my underwear, pushes me to the floor and opens me up to him. At the first touch of his tongue I’m already close to coming, and I squirm against him, loving the way that it feels. ‘I need to fuck you,’ he says. ‘I need to be inside you, Amy. I can’t wait.’ And then takes me there, on the cold floor of the hallway. He takes me rough and fast and hard. ‘Tell me you like it,’ he says. ‘Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you like this.’

  So I tell him. I tell him all that and more. We’re open and honest and shamelessly raw, as only friends can be. I orgasm hard, and so does he. There’s no holding back, not now. There are no more secrets. There don’t need to be. We know each other too well.

  We lie there, hearts racing, bodies entwined.

  ‘Talk dirty to me,’ I say.

  He smiles against me in the darkness. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘Je t’aime,’ he says. ‘Te amo.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound very dirty,’ I whisper.

  ‘It means I love you,’ he whispers back.

  I smile in the darkness. Because coming from him, from my best friend, those are the dirtiest words of all.

  CARINA™

  ISBN: 978 1 474 03071 7

  Dirty Talk

  Copyright © 2015 Jane O’Reilly

  Published in Great Britain (2015)

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