Page 37 of Borrowing My Bestie's Brothers

Because in the cold hard light of day, he felt too big, too hard, too perfect, and most of all, too close.

There was a question in his eyes as he opened the shower door and stepped inside the capacious recess. He could hang back and watch me scrub my skin in brisk movements without even getting close to touching me.

“Figured we might save some water showering together.”

This was my opportunity to say no, don’t. That there was something wild and free about last night, but now was the next day. Post-nut clarity, that’s what some of the guys called it, when desire deserted you and left you wondering what the fuck you’d done.

Because I had to get to work today, put in a long shift at the end of the week as Brock’s employee.

When Clinton joked about me having a sleepover, I’d laughed because there was no damn way that was happening. Brock was Brock and I was… turned away from him, scrubbing my body like my life depended on it, right up until the point his hand went to my hip. He brought me around to face him, questions, answers, way too much in his gaze. Most of all there was warmth, the kind that threatened to chase the cold from my bones.

From my heart.

This is fake, I told myself over and over. Fake, fake, fake.

But it didn’t feel like it was and I didn’t know how to deal with that. This was messy by anyone’s standards. Sleeping with your boss, even if my work mates thought we were together. What if this was a one off? What if it wasn’t? What if he wanted more? What would I do if he wanted me to move on to another job after this fake dating thing was done? All good questions to ask before you sleep with your employer. Instead, he stared into my eyes and took the soap from my hands, lathering up in front of me before handing it back to me and going to work scrubbing my back. His touch, those long strokes, they helped settle something inside me, quieting my mind as I just stood there.

If he was scrubbing me, it only made sense I needed to do the same for him if we were to get to work on time, but as I reached out, I wondered where the hell the girl was from last night. She was bold, brazen even, touching Brock like she had a right to. But that was in the dark and this was the light, so I saw my hand, the soap, then his chest as I washed him off.

A low grunt had me looking up to find him staring down at me. I knew satisfaction when I saw it, because I’d worked really hard as an apprentice to earn that look. To get it now from something as simple as washing him was strange, but it emboldened me. The soap, not me, glided across his chest, down his arms and into his hands, which he held out so I could scrub them clean.

I reduced Brock down into parts, hands, arms, chest, shoulders, neck. The tattoos were obscured by the bubbles then washed clean by the shower spray as I moved down. His stomach tensed as I got lower, the muscles like iron under my fingers

And that wasn’t all.

I came up close and personal to the cock I could still feel the echo of inside me, my hand, my focus forcing it to thicken. Not quite hard yet, but definitely interested.

“You don’t have to…” His words faded away as my soapy hand curled around him.

The way his whole body stiffened, the way he sucked in a breath, eyes going wide as he felt me touch him, that went some way to pushing aside the cold bite of fear, warming me up somewhat, but not entirely thawing me. Right now, I had him in the palm of my hand. I was in control, had his entire focus as his hand slapped down on the tiles, his eyes burning into mine as he lunged closer, wanting a kiss.

But I danced back.

I couldn’t do that kind of intimacy now, but this? Feeling him harden so fast my fingers were forced to pull apart to fit him. He studied me, there were questions ready to be asked, but grunts of pleasure drowned them out. My arm worked now, the muscles tight as I jerked him harder and faster. He was tugged along by my pace, his nails scratching against the tiles.

“Jamie…”

My name was a plea now, rather than a term of affection. He wanted this, the pleasure I could give him, not me, which is why I pulled away. I watched the soap get washed off his shaft and then dropped down to my knees.

“No, love, we…”

I had his cock in my mouth, nudging at the back of my throat, but he was the one who was silenced. When I moaned experimentally, it jumped at the vibrations, so my hands went to his hips, pulling him as deep as I dared. My throat flexed, rebelling at this intrusion, but I persisted, moving back and then bobbing my head over and over.

“Fuck, look at you taking my… Just like that, baby.”

My teeth threatened to clamp down at that small term of endearment, but I continued. His hand was gentle on the back of my head, encouraging me to suck him harder, faster, deeper. The shower washed away the strings of saliva that escaped my lips, right up until I felt him harden that little bit more.

“Jamie, I’m coming. Pull off if you don’t want this. Pull off…” But when it became clear I wouldn’t, he held me tightly as I felt him flex and then pulse inside my mouth. Rope after rope of cum filled my mouth and then was swallowed down before I pulled off him with a pop.

His thumb brushed against my lips, then parted it, looking into my mouth and then nodding, all of that sweetness driven away by something harder, hotter.

“What a fucking way to start the day.”

I’d made the boss happy, kept him from looking at me like I was his heart’s desire and apparently that was my aim, but when I went to get up, he scooped me into his arms and pressed me against the wall. A hard, punishing kiss was my reward, something I fought initially, then found myself relaxing into.

When he released me, I was dazed, something restless but hazy rising inside me; but while I was distracted by that, he dried himself off and me. I looked at my clothes from yesterday in dismay, knowing what kind of crap I’d cop if I walked in the door in them before Brock produced the plastic bag of my work gear. I didn’t like to wear the same thing two days in a row, but I was fairly sure the guys did that all the time, so I pulled them on, and that’s when I began to settle. Jamie the mechanic. Jamie, Brock’s employee, was back in the room, and I knew how to be her.

“We might need to grab coffees on the way and eat a breakfast of cold pizza,” he said. “We’re running a bit late this morning.”

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