Page 48 of My Ex's Brothers

Destruction is inevitable.

“Okay,” I say, swallowing my fear and my pride.

Richard chuckles before a silence befalls us once more.

“What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?” he asks.

“N-nothing, why?”

“You want proof the others are on board? Come over here tomorrow, and they’ll tell you themselves.”

My heart twists and at the same time it aches, because what he’s proposing…being in the same room…with allthreeof them…is definitely something Ishould do.We should all sit down and discuss the details of a situation like this. But there is also a part of me that feels terrified of being in the same room as all three of them, knowing how I feel about them. How they obviously feel about me.

I’m not trying to start a soap opera here. We’re all adults, but…

There’s also a part of me that wants to see what they’ll do too.

“What time do you want Lyla and I to come over?” I ask quietly.

“How about I pick you up at one o’clock?” Richard asks, his voice melting my nerves.

“Sounds good,” I say, swallowing harshly.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow then, Amelia.” The way he says my name makes me close my eyes in relief.

“See you tomorrow then,” I tell him, hitting the end button far too quickly.

I let the phone fall from my hand into my lap and breathe a heavy sigh, knowing I’m more than doomed. My breath catches and I shift my position on the couch, because I’m wet and uncomfortable.

I slide my hand between my legs, feeling the dampness against my panties, cursing the truth. The friction feels too good to ignore, and I curse to myself, knowing I need this. I need to come and just get some fucking relief.

I get up from the couch, making my way to the bathroom, and set about drawing myself a bath. A hot bath always helps relax me, especially before bed, and I know I need rest. I haven’t really stopped since I set foot back in this town, but if I’m being honest, I haven’t really stopped since I had Lyla almost five months ago.

I remove my dress, letting it crumple to a pile on the floor, and carefully remove my bra and panties which are damn near soaked at this point. I get into the tub carefully, relishing in the feel of the warm water, the scent of the bubble bath, and I slide down easy, my eyes falling shut as my legs open.

It’s been nearly six months since I’ve had any sort of pleasure. The closer we got to Lyla’s birth, the less Dex wanted to have sex, even though the doctor said it was fine. At the time, I just figured it was because he didn’t want to hurt our baby, but now I know the real reason…

I shove the thoughts of my cheating ex out of my mind, because I don’t want to think about him. Not in general, and certainly not now, not when I’m trying to relax so I can have a moment to myself.

A moment of self-care. Masturbating is self-care, I don’t care what anyone says. That relief that comes after you let go…that post-orgasmic high…it boosts serotonin and makes you feel like you can do anything.

And maybe that’s exactly what I need right now, so I keep my eyes shut and I let my hand wander between my thighs. My clit’s already swollen and hard, and just the slide of my fingers between my folds sends a shiver up my spine. I slowly stroke them, my fingers teasing my clit as I try to focus on the feeling, the sensation of my fingers massaging my needy little nub.

I slide one finger inside myself, my jaw tensing when I do.

It feels good, but it’s not enough, so I slide a second one in. Slowly, I pump them in and out as my thumb flicks my clit and my body starts to relax, my mind wandering to thoughts I shouldnotthink.

Richard’s smooth voice calling mebaby girl.

Dane’s fiery gaze as he pinned me against the doorframe.

Tripp’s tongue in my mouth.

“Oh my God,” I say, my insides clenching my fingers at the thought. I know I should not be thinking about any of these men, let alone allthreeof them, for so many reasons. But in the privacy of my bathroom, where no one can see me or hear me, where no one knows my sin but me…

I let myself think about them if only because the thoughts are hard to fight.

Imagining Dane pressing his body against me, feeling his hardness against me, imagining Tripp’s mouth on my neck, grazing my stiff nipples.

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