Page 25 of Three Pucking Ex's Brothers
Ex-girlfriend.
My pussy twitches with renewed vigor atthatthought. Rush…masturbating. Taking his cock in his hand and…
I suck in a breath and press my legs together, trying to kill that thought.
No, Nora. Bad fucking idea!
Think of sick puppies and kitties or something! Christ!
Rush glances at me with a knowing look.
I look up at him, my cheeks heating. I should apologize—even though I know he has no way of knowing what’s in my head, it feels appropriate. I should push off of him and head down the hall and get in bed and go the fuck to sleep.
Rush takes his free hand and pushes some damp hair behind my shoulder. His gaze roves over me—over his clothes that I’m wearing.
“What’s the matter, baby?” he asks, his voice faint.
That’s the second time he’s said that. Called mebaby.
He probably calls every girl that, Nora. You aren’t special. And you’re his brother’s ex. That’s a whole other set of problems you don’t need.
For the briefest moment, I consider it, though. The problem.
Rush.
My gaze drifts to his mouth. His lips are the perfect shape. The top slightly thinner, but with a pronounced little dip and a small scar Brett said he got when he got whacked in the mouth with a hockey puck his junior year.
His bottom lip is thick, plump. The hazy intrusive thoughts pervade as I think about biting it.
Yeah, I really should go.
But the way he’s looking at me, that swift touch of his fingertip beneath my jaw, the way his olive eyes are imploring me, I can’t find it in me to move.
“I should go,” I whisper.
But I don’t move. I lean closer to Rush, falling into him like gravity.
He’s quiet, and for a moment I think he’s going to say yes.Go, Nora, get the hell away from me, you needy little bitch.
Brett’s words resurface with a bitterness I’d forgotten.
It wasn’t like he said it often. Just wheneverIasked him for reassurance or whenever I wanted to have sex. I learned to stop asking, and instead let Brett initiate, and once I did that things seemed to get a little better, but…
Now as I sit here, my damn pussy throbbing again as if I didn’t just come merely an hour or so ago, and my mind racing with a plethora of thoughts both confusing and tempting all at once, those words sting harder than they should.
“Do youwantto go?” he asks carefully. I can still smell the alcohol on his sweet breath.
I know we’re both drunk. Well, technically we’re in that space between drunk and sober, where things aren’t making sense and you know you just need to crash.
And maybe itisthe alcohol’s fault, or maybe it’s just that Brett is right. I am a needy bitch. Because as I stare at Rush’s perfect, plump lips, I know exactly what I need.
I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “Do you want me to go?” I ask, my voice so faint I can barely hear it.
Rush’s fingers trail over my jaw, over my neck, until they find the back of my head. His fingers grip my hair, twirling the damp locks around his thick fingers.
“No.” His voice is dark and warm. Smooth, like melted butter, and my pussy throbs again. “Fuck no, I don’t want you to ever leave, Nora,” he whispers, and it’s the strangest, most vulnerable sound I’ve ever heard.
Without thinking, I lean in.
