The Bride's Best Friend's Secret Honeymoon Betrayal

I never meant for any of this to happen. At least that’s what I told myself as I stood barefoot on the moonlit terrace of the honeymoon villa in Bali, the warm night air thick with frangipani and salt. My name is Emily. I’ve been Leah’s best friend since we were six years old. I was her maid of honor yesterday when she married Ryan in a ceremony so beautiful it hurt to watch. And now, less than twenty-four hours into their marriage, Leah was on a red-eye flight back to Sydney because her father had suffered a serious heart attack. She’d begged me to stay behind and keep Ryan company so the honeymoon suite wouldn’t go to waste.

I should have said no.

Instead I poured us both another glass of the chilled Veuve Clicquot the resort had left in a silver bucket. Ryan stood at the railing in a white linen shirt unbuttoned at the throat, the fabric glowing against his tanned skin. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with that easy, crooked smile that had twisted my stomach for years. I’d watched him fall in love with my best friend. I’d smiled at their engagement party. I’d helped Leah pick out her wedding lingerie. And every single time he looked at me too long, I felt it. That dark, shameful pull low in my belly.

Tonight the pull had teeth.

“Poor Leah,” he murmured, staring out at the black ocean. “She was crying so hard when she left.”

“I know.” I stepped closer, the silk of my deep emerald bridesmaid dress whispering against my thighs. The dress was backless, held up by tiny straps that kept slipping off my shoulders. “She told me to make sure you didn’t drink alone.”

Ryan turned to look at me. His eyes were darker than usual, pupils blown wide. “You’ve always taken such good care of her, Em. Of both of us.” His voice had dropped an octave. “Even when you probably wanted to kill me for stealing your best friend.”

My pulse hammered against my throat. The champagne buzzed in my blood. I set my glass down on the wide teak railing and met his gaze.

“I never wanted to kill you, Ryan.”

He took one slow step toward me. Then another. The air between us crackled.

“What did you want, then?” he asked, low and rough.

I swallowed. The truth had been rotting inside me for three years. Tonight the rot felt like honey.

“You,” I whispered. “I wanted you.”

The confession hung there, naked and filthy between us. For one heartbeat I thought he might step back. Instead his hand rose, cupped the side of my neck, thumb stroking along my jaw like he’d been dying to do it for years.

“I’ve jerked off thinking about you more times than I can count,” he said, voice hoarse. “Even the night before the wedding. Especially the night before the wedding.”

My nipples tightened instantly against the silk. Heat flooded between my legs.

“We’re going to hell for this,” I breathed.

His smile was slow, wicked, and utterly without remorse. “Then let’s make it worth the trip.”

He kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t exploratory. It was three years of stolen glances and bitten tongues exploding all at once. His mouth claimed mine, tongue sliding deep, tasting of champagne and sin. I moaned into him, fingers fisting in his shirt, dragging him closer. His hands roamed down my bare back, palms hot against my skin, then lower, gripping my ass through the dress and yanking me against the hard ridge of his cock.

“Fuck, Emily,” he growled against my lips. “You feel even better than I imagined.”

I bit his lower lip, sucking it into my mouth. “Then stop imagining and take what you’ve always wanted.”

That was the moment we both stopped pretending. No more guilt. No more best-friend loyalty. Just raw, mutual hunger.

Ryan spun me around so fast my head spun. He bent me over the wide teak railing, the ocean roaring thirty feet below us. The night air kissed my exposed back as he shoved the long skirt of my dress up around my waist. I wasn’t wearing panties; the silk lines would have shown. He groaned when he discovered that, his big hand immediately cupping my soaked pussy from behind.

“So fucking wet already. You’ve been dripping for me all week, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasped, pushing back against his fingers. “Every time I watched you kiss her I got wetter.”

Two thick fingers pushed inside me without warning. I cried out, the sound swallowed by the waves. He finger-fucked me hard and fast, curling just right, his thumb finding my swollen clit and rubbing tight circles. My knees shook. The railing dug into my hips. I didn’t care.

Ryan pulled his fingers free, and I heard the metallic rasp of his zipper. Then the blunt, scorching head of his cock was sliding up and down my slit, teasing.

“Tell me you want your best friend’s husband to fuck you on her honeymoon terrace,” he demanded.

I looked back over my shoulder, eyes glassy with lust. “I want my best friend’s husband to fuck me on her honeymoon terrace. Hard. Now.”

He slammed into me in one brutal thrust.

My mouth fell open in a silent scream. He was thick, long, and perfect, stretching me open so wide I felt it in my throat. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He just started pounding me, hips slapping loudly against my ass, the wet obscene sound of my pussy taking every inch echoing into the night. Each thrust shoved my hips against the railing. My tits bounced inside the silk dress. I gripped the wood so hard my knuckles went white.

“God, you’re tight,” he grunted. “Tighter than her. So fucking greedy for me.”

I moaned louder, pushing back to meet every thrust. The ocean crashed below us in time with his strokes. My clit dragged against the railing with every forward slam and the friction was going to make me come embarrassingly fast.

Ryan reached around and rubbed my clit roughly. “Come on my cock, Emily. Let me feel this married pussy squeeze me.”

I shattered. The orgasm ripped through me so violently my vision whited out. I screamed his name into the night as my walls clamped and fluttered around him, juices running down my thighs. He fucked me straight through it, growling filthy praise the entire time.

Before I could catch my breath he pulled out, spun me around, and lifted me like I weighed nothing. My legs wrapped around his waist as he carried me inside the villa, straight to the enormous honeymoon bed still scattered with rose petals Leah had arranged that morning.

He dropped me on my back on her side of the bed. The scent of her perfume still clung to the pillow. The realization sent another dirty thrill through me. Ryan crawled over me, shoved my dress up to my waist again, and pinned my wrists above my head with one massive hand.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered.

I obeyed. Our gazes locked as he pushed back inside me in one long, deep stroke. The eye contact was almost more obscene than the sex. He fucked me in slow, heavy thrusts at first, grinding against my clit on every downstroke, watching every flicker of pleasure across my face. Then the pace turned savage. The heavy wooden bed slammed against the wall. My tits finally spilled free of the dress as he pounded me, nipples stiff and aching.

“Whose pussy is this tonight?” he demanded, never breaking eye contact.

“Yours,” I gasped. “It’s yours, Ryan. Fuck your wife’s best friend. Use me.”

He groaned and released my wrists so he could grab my thighs, spreading me wider, driving even deeper. The wet slap of his balls against my ass filled the room. I was going to come again. I could feel it building like a tidal wave.

He felt it too. “That’s it. Come on your best friend’s husband’s cock again. Soak her sheets.”

I came with a broken sob, back arching, nails raking down his back. My pussy pulsed and gushed around him. Ryan kept fucking me through it, jaw clenched, eyes wild.

When the aftershocks faded he pulled out, flipped me over, and dragged me up so I was straddling him reverse cowgirl. I sank down onto his glistening cock with a long moan, my back to his chest, and started riding him like I was possessed. My ass bounced on his lap, the wet sounds even filthier in this position. Ryan’s hands gripped my hips, guiding me, then cracking sharp slaps across my ass that made me clench harder around him.

“Ride that dick, you dirty little homewrecker. That’s it. Grind on your best friend’s husband like the slut you are.”

I leaned forward, hands braced on his thighs, and fucked him with desperate, rolling circles of my hips. Every time I slammed down, his cock hit that perfect spot inside me. His palm kept cracking against my ass, turning it pink. The pressure built again, fast and vicious.

“I’m gonna come,” I panted. “Fuck, Ryan, I’m gonna come all over your married cock.”

“Do it. Milk me, Emily. Take what doesn’t belong to you.”

I shattered for the third time, grinding down hard, my pussy spasming wildly around him. Ryan’s hips bucked up, chasing his own release, but he held off, breathing hard.

When I finally stopped shaking he pushed me off, stood up, and pointed at the floor in front of him.

“On your knees. Open that pretty mouth.”

I slid off the ruined bed instantly, dress bunched around my waist, tits out, knees hitting the cool tile. I looked up at him with wide, hungry eyes as he stroked his glistening cock inches from my face. The veins stood out. The head was swollen and purple. He looked feral.

I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue like a good whore.

Ryan groaned at the sight. “That’s my dirty secret. Look at you, on your knees for me on my wedding night.”

He fed me his cock. I took him deep, tasting myself all over him, sucking greedily. My head bobbed fast, cheeks hollowing, spit dripping down my chin. I kept my eyes locked on his the entire time. His hand fisted in my hair, guiding me, using my throat.

“Fuck, I’m close. Gonna fill that cheating mouth.”

I moaned around him, sucking harder, one hand cupping his heavy balls. His thighs started to shake.

With a guttural roar, Ryan came.

Thick, hot ropes of cum jetted across my tongue, splashing the back of my throat. I swallowed every drop like I was starving for it, milking him with my lips and tongue until he was spent and shuddering.

Only when I had licked him completely clean did I pull off with a wet pop, looking up at him with swollen lips and glassy eyes.

I rose on shaky legs, letting the emerald dress fall back into place. I kissed him deep, letting him taste himself on my tongue, then whispered against his mouth, voice low and filthy.

“This is just the beginning of our secret honeymoon affair behind your new wife’s back. Next time I want you to fuck my ass on her pillow.”

I smiled, turned, and slipped out into the warm Balinese night, his cum still warm in my belly.