Best Friends Shouldn't Know How Wet You Are

Melissa's POV.

“Beg for it.” 

My eyes close on impulse as my mind slips into the fourth daydream. 

“Xan..Xander please,” I beg as he inserts himself deeper into me.

“That’s a good girl,” he grunts, slapping his thighs against my ass with another hard thrust.

I whimper softly, arching my back, “Please…fuck me,” I moan, loving how my biker boyfriend isn't going easy on me.

He thrusts harder, spanking my ass and fondling my breasts simultaneously. 

I don't realize when I close my eyes to savor the feeling, forgetting I'm bent over a bike in a lonely park.

My heating body is rippling with pleasure, my legs are shaking, and I can feel his groans growing louder and then–

“MELISSA!” A familiar voice startles me from the background.

I almost fell out of the chair.

I quickly throw the book under the table, turning around with wide eyes.

And there he was.

My forbidden attraction.

6ft of pure temptation, green-eyes that have my body heating up from a stare, and the slickest, shiniest black hair I've ever seen.

“What are you doing?” Xander questions with crossed arms.

“None of your business,” I reply, rising from my study chair with a flushed face.

I clutch to the sides of my red bodycon dress, keeping my eyes away from Xander. 

He hums slowly, and that makes my heart race.

“Sure about that? You look like–”

“Shut it! We're late for prom!” I blurt out, glaring daggers at him.

The atmosphere feels tight with tension, and every breath I take makes me feel like I'm suffocating despite being in such a big room.

I bite hard on my lips, trying to ignore the pooling feeling of anxiety growing within me.

Everything about my fantasy is so wrong.

Xander's my best friend, and he even has a girlfriend–well, an almost girlfriend.

We even made a promise to never see each other romantically, but since I discovered my addiction to erotic books, I've found myself blurring the lines between platonic and romantic friendship.

He steps closer, his fruity cologne wafting towards my nostrils. And I almost feel irritated with how fast my thighs tighten.

If only he knows how much power he has over me, even without touching me.

“Where’s the book you were-”

“It's just a geography book, let's–let’s get going,” I stutter, brushing past him quickly.

Thankfully, he doesn't protest.

As we walk out of my apartment, I notice how my dress accentuates my hips so well yet my hands clutches my purse tightly.

Recalling how the guys at school always chuckle and call me “boring, nerdy ass” makes me want to shrink. 

The only person who cared enough to ask me to prom was none other than nerdy Joe–the guy with huge glasses and a tiny voice–whom I rejected.

Not that I'm judging but I'd like to be with someone less nerdy. Someone who's unapologetically hot and adventurous, someone who can seduce me with his voice.

Someone like Xander.

‘Get a grip, Melissa!’ the voice in my head reprimands me.

“Gonna keep me waiting?” Xander's voice snaps me out of my thoughts and that's when I realize I stopped walking. 

I spot him in front of a black SUV, holding out the car's door like a gentleman. See, it's the little things he does for me that melts my heart.

I smile at him, “Sorry.” 

I plop into the car and he gets in after me.

The driver roars the engine to life almost immediately.

“I can't wait to meet my boys,” Xander murmurs, smirking as he goes through his phone.

“I know right? Prom’s going to be fun!” I chuckle.

But deep down, I know prom is just going to be another long night for me.

One where I have to watch Xander get all romantic with his girl.

In a matter of minutes, we arrived at the bubbling hall that had neon lights running through the ceilings. 

The decorations look handmade but they are beautiful regardless. The pop music bursting through the speakers on either side of the stage gave the room a bubbly vibe. 

And everyone around looked rather too elegant to be tagged a teenager.

As usual, a lot of girls are flocking around Xander. Some he entertained and others, he ignored. 

But I don't see his girl around, perhaps she's yet to arrive.

So I just stand there beside him, frowning about the girls he is flirting with.

And in that moment, I noticed the popular gossip group won't stop looking at me and murmuring.

I turn my gaze away with a sway of my hair, pretending to be unbothered by their stares. Though, I wonder what they're planning.

Xander soon moves to the center of the hall with a girl in hand–one I recognize to be his girl.

And everyone around does the same, while cheering the DJ for the change in music.

The disco balls move different bright colors to red, as the students share a romantic dance. 

I bite hard on my lips as jealousy burns through me while watching Xander dance with his girl. As stupid as it sounds, I badly want to switch places with her. 

But since I can’t, it makes my fingers insert deep into my palms. 

Why am I craving something that I'll never have? 

As seconds drift into minutes, the slow dance soon comes to an end, and the master of ceremony announces game time.

There are two kinds of games at prom– the ones for the nerds and the ones for the naughty ones.

Everyone interested in the naughty game usually sneaks out of the hall to a separate room and even though I'm a nerd, I'm allowed to play–thanks to Xander's influence.

“Okay guys, drop your phones in the box!” The host orders and everyone does as they're told.

The game starts and it's wilder than last time.

“All the girls did something naughty at the game last time, but Melissa didn't,” Briella–one of the gossip girls and my rival, points out.

I frown, “But I twerked last–”

“That doesn't count! If you want to be part of the game this year, you have to do something more wild.” Briella states with an evil smirk.

And one by one, everyone agreed to her idea–probably the influence of being a popular gossip girl.

Xander's quiet but his eyes say a thousand things–they’re warning me to back off while I can.

My lips curl downwards, does he think I'm incapable of being naughty?

Not cool.

I'm mature enough.

I'm naughty enough.

“What do I have to do?” I ask, squaring my shoulders.

But when Briella says the words, I wish I never asked.