Page 17 of Three Pucking Ex's Brothers
“Pull over,” Rush bites out, and Freddie says, “I’m trying!”
I barely get a few seconds before I feel the car stop and I all but leap to open the door.
Everything converges on me at once. The last year—all those nights Brett and I stayed in, watching movies that almost always ended with his cock in my mouth. All the late nights he arrived home and showed up on my doorstep, hard and ready to go. How always welcomed him inside—into our house, my body…
All the games I watched him dominate on the ice, and those victorious nights spent in his bed, praising his victory with my legs wrapped around his waist.
I suddenly realize that Brett and I never cuddled during those movies. All those nights, he never showed up on my doorstep to kiss me and tell me he missed me; after he got off, I was left to my own needs.
All those games we celebrated alone, and when I woke he was always gone…with his teammates—at least, I assumed that’s where he was, but now?—
The memory of his hands on her skin, his pulsing cock inside her, hits me once more. The copious amount of drinks and the reality of the situation make for a brutal mix and I heave as the vomit hits.
“Shit,” Rush says, leaning forward. He wraps one arm around my waist, pulling my body closer to his as his other hand gathers my hair and pulls it back.
Another wave of upset hits and I throw up again, groaning as tears run down my face.
“It’s okay, baby,” Rush purrs. “Let it out.”
Baby. He called me baby.
Brett never called me that.
I groan in misery as another wave of nausea hits, but nothing comes.
“I’m sorry,” I mewl. “I?—”
“Shhh…” Freddie’s voice is a soft whisper and when I look up, I see him. We’re on the side of a road somewhere, and the lights from the car illuminate the area, but all I can see is him. “You’re okay. We got you, sweetheart. You’re safe with us, I promise.”
I believe him.
Not because I’m drunk and throwing up on the side of a road, but because when I look at Freddie, when I look into his dark green eyes, I get the feeling Freddie would move heaven and earth for those he cares about.
Am I someone he cares about?
I hope so.
God, I really fucking hope so, otherwise I’m going to feel like an asshole.
He reaches a hand out and strokes my cheek, his cool fingers sliding down my skin to the corner of my mouth. His thumb brushes the corner there and then he pulls away and I realize he just wiped my damn vomit off of me. Shame, guilt, and embarrassment flood me, but he just gently tugs my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“You good, Nora?” Rush asks, and I realize he’s still holding me against him. His hand is still tangled in my hair, holding me back.
My stomach feels empty, but I think the worst has passed.
“Yeah,” I say weakly, bringing the back of my hand to my mouth and wiping what’s left there. “Yeah, I think I’m good, you can uh…take me to m-my brother’s. He’s out of t-town, and?—”
“You’re coming home with us.” Freddie’s voice is stern. Commanding.
“What?” I ask, confused as I look up at him.
Freddie stands up as Rush pulls me back into the car, into his space. Against him. I can feel his warmth, his hard body against me. His chest pressed to my back. My dress riding up my thighs.His hand around my waist like a seat belt. He grunts as he shifts his weight.
“I’m not leaving you alone tonight. Not like this,” Freddie says, looking down at me.
My insides swirl once more. Not with nausea, but a strange, unsettling desire. Something about the tone of his voice, the sharpness in his gaze. My body heats like a flame and I have the strangest desire toobeyhim. To do whatever he says.
Especially if he keeps looking at me likethis…
