Page 49 of My Ex's Brothers

And I imagine Richard, bending me over the hood of my piece of shit car and…

“Oh, fuck!” My orgasm comes hard and fast and I’m not ready for it. My legs stiffen as they hit the side of the tub and my pussy clenches around my fingers, spasming as euphoria spreads throughout my body like lightning. Lazily I thrust against my fingers, my eyes screwed shut as the pleasure hits its peak, until I catch my breath.

When I open my eyes, I stare at the ceiling, at the cracks I hadn’t noticed before.

And I tell myself as I unravel in the hot water, my pussy still spasming with the aftershocks of pleasure, that they are justfantasies.They don’t mean anything.

And as I peel my limp body out of the tub, the exhaustion hitting as my relief crescendos, I tell myself I won’t think of them likethatagain.

And as I fall asleep, sated by the return of my pleasure, I feel good enough that I actually believe my own lie.

14

DANE

Morning practices are my favorite.There’s something about the early rise, the routine of getting my coffee and making breakfast before everyone else is up, that just sets me right for the day. And over the last couple years, since Richie and Tripp moved in, we’ve established a sort of routine ourselves. I might be the middle child technically, but sometimes it feels like I’m the oldest, especially when they sleep in and come crawling out of bed just as the bacon hits the plate.

Just as I’m turning the coffee pot on, Richie comes out from the hallway, fully dressed and ready to go. I have to blink to make sure I’m not seeing things, because I swear he’s never up this early.

“Rough night?” I ask as the coffee percolates. I reach into the cabinet for two mugs.

He shrugs. “I mean, I slept. Got my eight hours in and all.”

“But…” I head for the skillet to toss around my scrambled eggs.

“I suppose you haven’t been to the garage since you got home last night?”

I shake my head. “No…why?” I stop mid-egg toss. “What did you do, Rich?”

He scoffs at me as the coffee pot dings. He grabs his mug, heading for it, shoving me aside but not aggressively.

That’s just how Richie is. He’s like a grumpy old grizzly bear, I swear, but I guess that comes with the territory being a forty-five-year-old divorcé living in your brother’s house alongside your twenty-four-old stepbrother.

The Brady Bunch has nothing on us.

Most people think he’s an asshole, and I guess I can see why, but I just figure the people who know him best know his bark is worse than his bite. I know when to pick my battles with Rich, and coffee isn’t worth it.

“Did Tripp tell you he ran into Amelia yesterday? At school?” He pours his cup, going about adding his one sugar cube and a splash of half and half nonchalantly.

“No, he didn’t mention it last night…”

Richard raises an eyebrow before taking a sip of his coffee. “Interesting. Well, turns out Amelia applied for a job at the campus.”

Oh. That’s…good. Still, I had hoped she’d land the job at the Bugle. But I know she can’t wait around forever for her dream job or anything. Not with a five-month-old…

“And he walked her to her car, like the good kid he is,” Richie says, shaking his head with a sigh. I can see the hint of jealousy behind his eyes, hear the faintest tinge of disapproval in his voice.

Which makes me stand straighter.

While I don’tlikeTripp’s obvious intentions because they misalign with my own, I’m confident enough that my history with her speaks for itself, not to mention the other day at her apartment, when I stopped by. If my phone hadn’t interrupted me, I’m almost fairly certain I would have given in to the desire, that overwhelming curiosity that arises every time I’m with her. And with the way she was looking at me, at mymouth,something tells me she feels more for me than she lets on. Tripp or no Tripp.

But Richie is a whole other type of competition.

He’s older, wiser. Divorced. Not that I would consider any of those things appealing in the slightest, but then again, I know how pissy and asshole-ish he can actually be.

I was there for the fifteen years he was married. Yes, he took care of Ellyn the way he should have, but he wasn’t the nicest husband in the world either. Richard doesn’t know how to let anyone, man or woman, call the shots. It’s his way or the fucking highway.

The only people he actually listens to are Mom and me.

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