Page 47 of My Brother's Best Men
And right now I’m grateful for that skill.
“Yeah, well, kind of hard to keep this monster in check when I’m aroundyou.” I lean in closer, her lips barely an inch away from me.
“Is that so?” she asks, her hand inching closer to my erection. I can see the tremor in her hand, feel the tension in the air. Smell her desire.
“If…” I swallow carefully. “If you want to touch me, Sophie, you can.” I don’t miss how my voice shakes. I can hear the nerves and I hate it.
I hate that even after all this time, after all the women I’ve been with, in her presence it’s like I’m a nineteen-year-old boy again, wanting. Needing. Things I know I shouldn’t.
“You can do whatever you want to me,” I whisper, sealing my doom.
Equal parts shame and desire blanket me, because this isn’t how I usually am with women. Usually, women prefer to be the ones begging for me, but I’ve had too much to drink and the object of my forbidden desires is here and I’m weak. That’s the thing no one really gets, to be honest. Or maybe I just don’t show all my cards to most people.
Or maybe it’s just this way with Sophie. Whatever it is, I try not to overthink my desperate words. Instead, I focus on Sophie. On her wild hair, framing her face, on those perfect, plump lips that begged to be kissed. Lips that would look so fucking pretty wrapped around my cock, painted with my cum.
My cock throbs at the thought, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum as she looks at me.
“Anything?” she asks, her voice husky and warm and slightly off-kilter from all the shots and drinks we’ve had.
We celebrated hard. All night. Not just because of the game, but because this trip, this wedding—it’s Paradise, and it’s onlyhere for a fleeting moment, so why wouldn’t we? Living in the moment is what I’m good at. It’s the aftermath I suck at.
When the haze of alcohol wears off, or the high of a new fuck dissipates. When things go back to “normal” and the amazing rose-colored goggles are off, the after is where it all disappears and is replaced with remorse, regret, and buried secrets.
I don’t want to think about the after now, though. Not with Sophie’s hand on my thigh.
“Anything, princess,” I tell her, needing her to understand. Words are hard. But my cock is harder.
I grimace as it strains against the inside of my slacks and I have half a mind to unzip them and let it out right here. Part of me thinks she’d like that.
The other part thinks that would be a terrible idea, but thankfully that part isn’t as loud. It’s easier to ignore.
I let out a grunt as I squeeze my cock, trying to situate it in a position that isn’t so painful, but as I do so, Sophie leans in, bridging the gap between us, her lips softly pressing against mine, and I melt like ice on the sidewalk.
She tastes like forbidden fruit. Sweet and sour and fucking perfect.
Her hand slides up my thigh, right over my bulge, and I suck in a breath, opening my lips without a second thought. Sophie’s fingers carefully run over the outline of my cock as I slide my tongue into her mouth without question. She lets out a low moan as she rubs my cock through my pants, slowly. Stroking, grazing, feeling me out.
“You like that?” I whisper, thrusting my cock against her palm.
Sophie kisses me again, sliding her tongue into my mouth. I thrust myself against her hand again, eliciting another moan from her, and I have my answer. She grabs my chub in her hand and squeezes and it feels so fucking good I can’t help but moan from the touch.
And then her hand starts to move. Faster. She squeezes and strokes and my head falls back, my eyes falling shut because it feels amazing. If I’m not careful, I’m going to come just like this. Like a damn teenager who just discovered his cock.
My breath comes in fast as I continue to thrust, my cock straining in my pants. I can already feel my balls getting heavy and tight.
I grasp her by the hips, my hands sliding up beneath the hem of her dress. As she continues to squeeze and stroke me, I hold her gaze in challenge as I slide my hand up underneath her dress.
Tell me to stop. Please, dear God, tell me to stop.
She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to stop.”
Momentarily, I wonder if I said that out loud, because I don’t remember speaking, or if she’s just so good at reading minds that she can read mine.
I push her dress up with my hands and it scrunches around her hips, exposing her orange, lacy panties. I slide them over as best I can, getting a good look at her bare pussy. There’s the lightest stubble, telling me she must’ve shaved in the last day or so. I run my thumb over the slight hair growth and her entire body shivers.
“You like when I touch you? Like this?” I ask as I do it again. Her response comes in a squealed yes as she squeezes my cock.So I do it again, this time letting my pointer finger graze over her folds so I can feel how wet she is.
She’s soaked.
