I Was Supposed to Marry His Best Friend… But the Night Before the Wedding, He Kissed Me Like He’d Been Holding It Back for Years [F28/M32] [Late Fiancé’s Best Friend] [Grief + Lust + Guilt] [First Time] [Rough Hands]

The dress was hanging on the door.

White, lace, long-sleeved. Exactly what I used to imagine when I was with Nate.

Except… Nate wasn’t here anymore.

And tomorrow, I was going to marry someone else.

It had taken years. Therapy. Trying to move on. Everyone told me he’d want me to be happy. That he’d understand. And I believed them. Mostly.

But tonight? With champagne untouched on the counter and my chest feeling like it could cave in?

I didn’t feel ready.

And then I heard the knock.

When I opened the door, it was him.

Jake.

Nate’s best friend.

The one who gave the eulogy. The one who helped me move. The one who never stopped checking on me, even when I asked for space.

He was in jeans and a t-shirt. Hair messy. Hands in his pockets like he didn’t know whether to walk in or walk away.

“I figured you’d be alone,” he said. “Didn’t want you to be.”

I didn’t speak. Just stepped back.

Let him in.

We didn’t talk much.

He poured a drink. Sat on the couch. I sat beside him. The space between us burned.

“I’m proud of you,” he said quietly. “For making it this far. For finding someone.”

“It doesn’t feel right,” I whispered.

He turned. “The wedding?”

“No. That Nate’s not here. That I have to do this without him.”

Jake looked down. Nodded slowly.

And then, without looking up, he said:

“I think about him every day.”

There was something in his voice I hadn’t heard before.

Something cracked open inside me.

I reached for his hand.

Just to hold it. Just to say I understood.

But he pulled me in.

Not roughly. Not suddenly. Just… need.

His mouth brushed mine like he was asking permission.

And I gave it.

The kiss started soft. Gentle. But years of grief and guilt and unsaid want poured into it. He cupped my face. My hands went to his chest. He kissed me like it was the last time he ever would — like he’d wanted to for years and hated himself for it.

“I can’t,” I whispered against his mouth.

“I know,” he said. “But you are.”

He pulled back.

But I didn’t let go.

Because he was hard. I could feel it pressing against his jeans.

And I wanted him. Wanted him in a way that made my skin ache.

I kissed him again. Harder. My fingers tangled in his shirt.

His mouth went to my neck. My collarbone. He slipped the robe from my shoulders and groaned when he saw what was underneath.

“Lingerie?” he breathed. “For him?”

“No,” I said. “For me.”

I stood. Pulled him with me. Walked backward toward the bed.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice low.

“I won’t.”

He laid me down like I was something he wasn’t supposed to touch — but couldn’t resist.

My thighs fell open under his hands. His eyes moved over every inch of me like he was memorizing it.

“You don’t know how many nights I imagined this,” he whispered.

I reached for his belt. “Then stop imagining.”

He kissed me again as he slid inside me.

Slow. Deep. Stretching me open until I gasped.

And then he stopped.

“Jake—please—”

“Not yet,” he said. “I need to feel it. All of it.”

He started to move.

And it was everything.

His hands gripping my hips. His cock dragging against every spot inside me like he knew exactly what I needed. I wrapped my legs around him, pulled him closer, gasping into his shoulder as he picked up speed.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled.

“Don’t stop,” I begged.

He didn’t.

He fucked me hard.

Fast.

Desperate.

The bed slammed against the wall. My moans turned into cries. My nails raked down his back. I felt like I was losing my mind — like I’d waited forever to be touched like this.

“I’m gonna come,” I gasped.

“Do it,” he groaned. “I want to feel you come all over me.”

And I did.

Hard. Writhing. Legs shaking. Crying out his name as I clenched around him, body pulsing with release.

He wasn’t done.

He flipped me over. Pulled my hips up. Drove back into me from behind with a growl that made my toes curl.

“Oh my god—Jake—fuck—”

He reached around. Rubbed my clit in tight, fast circles as he destroyed me.

“Come again,” he said. “Be loud. You deserve to be loud.”

I came a second time — harder. Soaking him. Shaking. My face buried in the sheets, his name breaking from my lips again and again.

And then he came.

Spilling deep inside me with a moan so raw it made my heart ache.

He collapsed beside me.

And we lay there. Silent. Naked. Ruined.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be,” I said. “You were the only one who ever understood.”

He pulled me close.

“I still love him,” I said.

“I know.”

“But tonight, I wanted you.”

“I know,” he whispered. “So did I.”