Snowed In: Voyeuristic Craving for My Best Friend's Girl

The storm had sealed them in hours ago. Snow piled against the cabin windows in thick, mute drifts, the wind howling like something alive and hungry outside. Alex sat on the worn leather armchair by the fire, a half-empty glass of whiskey warming in his hand, watching Lena move through the firelit living room as if the entire night belonged to her.

She was twenty-six, all long limbs and quiet confidence, a yoga instructor who carried her body like a secret she enjoyed sharing. Mike’s girlfriend. His best friend’s girl. The one Alex had been craving in silence for two years—stolen glances at the pool, the way her tank top clung when she sweated through sun salutes in Mike’s backyard. Now Mike was stuck on the other side of the mountain pass, phone dead, and the cabin felt suddenly too small for the heat crawling under Alex’s skin.

Lena peeled off her sweater without ceremony, standing in just a thin white camisole and soft gray leggings. The firelight painted gold across the curves of her breasts, the dark shadow of her nipples pressing against the fabric. She stretched her arms overhead, spine arching, and Alex’s cock twitched hard against his jeans. He didn’t look away. Couldn’t.

She caught him. A slow smile curved her mouth. “You’ve been staring all night,” she said, voice low, almost amused. She rolled her shoulders, then dropped into a deep forward fold, ass presented toward him, leggings stretching tight over the round swell. “I always knew. The way you watch me stretch at Mike’s place. Like you’re fucking me with your eyes.”