Page 62 of My Ex's Brothers

“Amelia, you in here?” Dane’s voice calls out, and she tenses like a lighting rod.

She breaks away from my mouth, eyes wide in alarm, and pushes me away with one hand on my chest, and it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

But fuck, it hurts.

“Amelia…” I breathe her name and I can hear the sadness in it. Fuck me all to hell.

“I need to go,” she says, shaking her head as she stuffs her perfect breasts back into her bra and fixes her shirt. All I can do is sit back on my couch, my strained, aching cock weeping with interest and sadness because she’s leaving us.

Fuck! I should not have done that. I should have been more careful, I should have?—

“There you are.” Dane comes through the door, shaking some dark hair out of his eyes. “Richie.” He nods at me and I shift my position on the couch, crossing my legs to quell my hardness, to hide it.

I know Dane is…possessive of Amelia, even if he doesn’t say it. I see the way he looks at Tripp, which is a whole other problem.

I don’t know how serious things are between Tripp and Amelia, but I know it’s more than apparent that there’ssomethinggoing on between them, which only makes me feel like shit even more. If she’s seeing Tripp, I should respect that. I should not be sucking her tits and making her come in my damn garage.

But I guess I’m not as good a man as I thought I was, because that’s exactly what I just fucking did and I don’t feel sorry about it.

“Dinner’s ready, when you are,” Dane says, flashing her a soft, puppy-eyed grin.

I meant what I said to Amelia. I don’t have a problem with her or her daughter staying here. Even if I do know how my brothers feel, even if I know how I feel.

I know as intense as we can all be when it comes to the situation—when it comes toourfeelings for Amelia on our own—at least we can all come together to agree to give her what she needs. A place to take care of herself and her baby. A place for her to relax and breathe.

I need to remember that’s what’s going on here.

I need to be better about resisting my fucking desires and hers.

At least, that’s what I tell myself as I watch her cross her arms in front of her chest and smile at Dane.

“Oh, I’m starving,” she says as he motions for her to follow him. I watch as she does, and neither her or Dane wait for me.

I’m not sure how to feel about that. It’s not like Dane, Tripp and I have family dinner every night or anything. Usually Dane cooks, and leaves dinner out until eight. We know we can swing by whenever to get a plate, and if it’s cleaned up by the time we get there, we all know how to use the microwave or the air fryer.

As soon as the door shuts, I collapse back on the couch.

My cock still throbs, and I know this little issue is not going away any time soon.

I close my eyes, letting out a heavy sigh, knowing there’s really only one way to fix this, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel guilty as hell about it.

I unbutton my jeans, unzip my zipper, and pull out my heavy cock with one hand while I use my free hand to slide my shirt up enough to give myself a clear spot to catch my load.

My cock bobs freely, gleaming with precum, one sticky string hanging between the top and my briefs. I slide my thumb through it, covering my head with my palm and rubbing it, spreading it along my shaft like lube.

“Fuck,” I hiss as my head hits the back of the cushion. My hips thrust of their own accord as my hand builds its rhythm. I close my eyes, remembering moments ago, Amelia with those perfect tits on display. So full, so sensitive to my touch and attention.

I remember the faint taste of sweetness in my mouth, the soft feel of skin against my palm. The taste of her tongue in my mouth. The way she kept grinding herself against my aching cock.

Remembering how she reacted to my words. My touch.

The thought of her rubbing that sweet little pussy against me without a barrier between us makes my balls draw up tight.

The thought of filling her so full of my cum and watching it slide down her thighs is what does me in.

“Oh, fuck!” I cry out as I come. Hard and fast. I hold my cock against my stomach, the wet, hot spurts decorating my abs, clear up to my chest.

The sigh of relief that leaves me is as guilty as it is euphoric.

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