Page 30 of You Don’t Kiss Your Brother's Best Friends

“I just don’t know how I’ll be able to look your brother in the eye,” I sighed. “I know we promised this wouldn’t change things, but—”

“Look, everything’s going to be the same,” she interrupted me sternly. “The teasing, the flirting, all of it. The only difference is, when I catch you staring at me in my bathing suit? It won’t be half as pervy as it used to be.” She turned to face me, fully exposed, and grinned. “After all, you’ll no longer have to wonder what I look like naked.”

I would’ve laughed, but the sight of her had taken my breath completely away. Jocelyn closed the distance between us, stepping out of the spray. Soapy and glistening, she leaned in and put her lips right up against my ear.

“And you won’t need to imagine what it would be like tofuckme, either,” she whispered hotly. The way she emphasized the word sent electric shivers; straight to my groin. “Because you already know.”

Jocelyn giggled and gave me a quick squeeze. The warmth and wetness of her sudsy body broke me from my trance.

“Hey, you’re making me all wet!”

“So?” she grinned, sauntering back beneath the spray. Her heart-shaped ass shifted enticingly with every step. “Shoe’s on the other foot now, isn’t it?”

She arched her body again, rotating it into the spray. This time however, she turned strategically to give me a full view of her spectacular backside.

“Are yousureyou don’t want to come inside?” she asked coyly. “I’ll let you wash my back.”

She shook her ass at me. My throat constricted.

“You can wash my front too,” she teased. “In fact, I’ll let you wash anything you want.”

I watched as she dropped the soap, made an ‘oops’ face, then bent all the way over to pick it up. Her long, beautiful legs pressed together, giving me a perfect view of her thigh gap… as well as the glistening treasure that lay just above it.

A little voice reminded me that I’d already showered, not even an hour ago.

Even so, I couldn’t get out of my clothes fast enough.

~ 19 ~

JOCELYN

I served dinner in high heels and fishnet stockings, attached with garter belts to the hottest two-piece teddy I could find. It left my midriff bare, my tits pushed together in a one-size-too-small bra that made my cleavage look utterly fantastic against the lace trim. Everything was red, the color of lust. The color of heat, and blood, and outright war, because in my last night here with these men, I intended upon battling for the most fun I could possibly fucking have.

My menu was rife with choices, but very little of them involved food. I put on some music then served them a round of beers while they relaxed on the couch, strutting around so they could get a good look at every part of my outfit. Then, holding out three handwritten menus, I presented them with their choice of appetizers. Andre and Bishop ordered lap dance blowjobs, as I figured they would. Kayden ordered a dripping hot, ten-minute make out session, so I straddled him first, lowered my lips to his, and made the others watch.

It was still somewhat incredible; doing all these intimate things in front of others. Though the three of them had had sex with me in every corner of this wonderful place, the thrill of grinding my ass into a rapidly hardening lap, while making out in front of two other hot men, dying to get their hands on me — hadn’t lost the slightest bit of novelty, or excitement.

Kayden and I kissed so much we lost our breath, our hands roaming freely, and by the time our ten minutes were up he was hard enough to cut diamonds. I patted his hard-on consolingly, winked at him, then dropped to my knees and blew both his friends to completion. Ten minutes later, with my own appetizers now warming my belly, I strutted back to the kitchen and got everyone a fresh round of beers.

The night was beautiful, the air fragrant with the earthy, floral scent of the island itself. The pool beyond the glass doors glowed a deep blood red, a lucky match to my outfit, as a gentle breeze blew in from the atrium. I let the boys order the main course, which was of course BLT’s. It was the one dish I knew Kayden and Bishop totally loved, and I was willing to bet Andre did, too. Not to mention I was good at making them.

With the music playing and the boys sated and happy on their couches again, I smiled to myself and drank deeply from my own glass of wine. I’d planned everything perfectly. Everything except the perils of frying bacon in lingerie, which proved intermittently painful, messy, and—

“Here.”

An arm slid around me from behind, as a warm body pressed into my back. I twisted halfway, and found Kayden holding out a glass lid that fit perfectly over the pan.

“Ah,” I chuckled. “Thanks.”

“No,” he murmured. “Thankyou.”

“For what?” I mused, waving him off. “For dinner? Please. It’s the least I could—”

“No, Joce,” he breathed, his voice soft and meaningful. “For everything.”

I turned to face him more fully, as the bacon sizzled behind us. Kayden’s hand slid to my hips. He smiled beneath his well-trimmed beard, as his eyes met mine.

“You made this week amazing for us,” he said gently. “In all sorts of ways, obviously. But mostly, by just being here. Reminding us of home.”

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