Page 50 of My Brother's Best Men
And it’s very noticeable. Because the rumors were definitely true. Benny’s Battering Ram is no joke, and right now it’s staring at me with its silver ring and leaky slit.
“Oh fuck,” he grumbles, doing his best to stuff it back in his pants, which only makes it more noticeable in my opinion. “Soph, I’m sorry, I?—”
“Don’t,” I say. “It’s fine, it’s just?—”
Well, it’s certainlynotfine.
Kissing Elijah is one thing, and that in itself is something I can barely process, but…
Images of last night resurface, filling my brain. Benny’s tongue in my mouth. His cock in my hand.
Hiswords.
“Tell me to stop.”
“Tell me how you thought about my cock.”
“Tell me and I’ll let you come.”
Holy shit.
Holy shit on a cracker, this is so bad…
“It was an accident,” I say.
Benny’s blue eyes meet mine, his expression stoic. His dark hair hangs in his eyes as he leans back on the bed, and for a moment he almost looks younger. If he wasn’t covered in tattoos, I’d almost say he looks like the boy I remember. Save for the bulky frame.
“A moment of weakness. That’s all,” I say.
He nods. “Right. No, I get it.”
I worry that his lack of reaction is only cementing the fact that whatever happened between us was fully my fault. I’m a goddamn mess.
His words reverberate in my head. One word, really.
“Mine.”
Even now, the memory of that word threatens to settle the storm raging inside me.
But I can’t let it.
My cell phone rings, as does Benny’s, and I practically lunge for it.
“Hello?” I answer shakily. It’s Sam.
“Hey, you guys still coming to breakfast?” he asks.
Breakfast…right. I totally forgot about fucking breakfast. I look at the clock, noting that it’s already eight. We’re late. Both of us.
Shit, this probably doesn’t look good. Elijah is probably freaking out, since he’s been weird ever since we kissed. Save for the cornhole game, but I can chalk that up to a team player thing. We were both focused on the same thing. Winning. We’ve always been a good team, honestly.
But outside of that, he’s been…weird. Careful. Like I can tell he wants to talk, maybe clear the air, but I don’t want things to be awkward. And talking about how I kissed my ex–best friend while drunk because I’ve had feelings for him for years is a terrible idea.
Also, drinking and making out and giving your former sexual awakening a hand job is not such a great idea and will definitely make things awkward now. Maybe I should stop drinking, because clearly my pussy and my heart can’t handle being in the same room with these men and my repressed feelings.
“Yeah, just slept in. Will be down in?—”
I hear the shower running, my heart sinking because Benny is gone. Well, not gone, he’s in the other room, but…
