Page 8 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

Look, I went to school for a long time in order to get this business, and now that I have it, I just want to pay off my student loans, get the business off the ground, and maybe sacrifice some creature comforts the first couple of years so that I can be on a solid financial footing before I get a place of my own.

I cringe at the phrase ‘couple of years,’ I can already hear them shrilly repeating, ‘YEARS? Oh, Hannah, no!’

No, ‘years’ won’t do. Gotta find a substitute for that last part. I nibble on the end of my string cheese, pulling a long mozzarella cord and letting it sit between my teeth for a second before chewing.

But anyone who has their own business would get it. Businesses are sacrifice. Real legacies are hard work. If you think you can be a legend in a comfortable two bedroom in Beverly Hills right out of school, well, you can’t. You’re just another face in the crowd.

I remember when Tyler was going through college, rooming with Chris, and they’d come to our house for holidays, and they’d always look so disheveled, exhausted, and grateful for a real mattress and home cooking.

Tyler would say, “The mattresses, Handy, you wouldn’t believe it. We sleep in bunk beds” and then point to the two of them before they’d burst out laughing. They seemed happy, though, back in their salad days.

Chris. Now there’s someone I’ve been avoiding thinking about. My face flushes just thinking about the memory of him being here in the office earlier.

Hewasflirting with me, wasn’t he? Was there a moment? Not that I could date my brother’s best friend if I wanted to. Not that I want to, especially since he’s also my client now.

And he’s so full of himself. He talks like someone who’s never experienced a moment’s rejection. But he has. And so publicly, too. I think it’s all just a big defense mechanism.

I look down at my sketch and see that I’ve given Lucy five legs. I put the canvas down and lay back with my hands behind my head.

I’ve never been rejected either, but I’ve never really put myself out there.

What would that even look like?I try to picture it, closing my eyes and feeling slats of soft sun through my blinds and on my eyelids.

I couldjust say to Chris, “Hey, enough work. How about we do something else?” Then push aside all the paperwork, and reach over to pull him to me by the front of his shirt.

No, that’s too…I don’t know what that is. Too forward, I guess. Not me. I shake my head and open my eyes for a second, then close them again.

I could coyly drop a pen and when he goes to pick it up, I do, too, and our hands meet. Then the touch of my hand ignites something in him and he grips my face with his hands, seeing me in a way no man has ever seen me before.

I sigh. This is so stupid. Nothing will ever happen between me and Chris because I am incapable of reaching out. Unless he reaches out.

But since I basically can’t stand him and find him too arrogant and cocky for words, even that wouldn’t work. But it does conjure up some interesting thoughts…

It’s late at night. We’ve stayed up working on his documents and financial plan. He’s at the door about to leave, and he says, “Aren’t you coming?” and I shake my head. “No, I sleep here.” A brief look of shock crosses his face, but he quickly drops it. “Oh. Well, do you want some company?”

I slide my hand into my underwear, my breathing already heavy, and I hold my lips open, feeling cool air hit the soft, spongy skin inside.

I shrug at him. “Maybe. Are you offering?” He laughs gently and places a hand on my hip, then slides it around to my lower waist, pulling me into him. I look in shock down at his arm and then up at his face. He is smiling and unaware that I’ve never been touched like this…ever.

I slide my finger into my opening, feeling a wall of juices, ready and waiting for something.

I plunge my finger farther into them, coating my digit in the sticky lubricant, and follow the curved tract of my tunnel, then pull it back out achingly slowly, feeling it retract and pulse as I leave it empty.

He puts a finger on my chin and lifts my face to him as he bends down to kiss me softly, his lips two warm pillows. I moan automatically and my hands know what to do on their own as they wrap around his neck and stretch down his shoulder blades.

He wraps arms around my waist and lifts me up to slither my legs around him. His hands are under my ass, holding me up, and he mutters into my ear, “Do you have a bed you want me to take you on or can I take you right here?” and the hair on my arms stands up.

I keep my index finger inside my canal and with my thumb, I slowly increase pressure on the hood of my clit, not rubbing yet, just letting it sit on top and feel the weight of my thumb.

I spread my legs slightly and hold still, enjoying the moment. everythingng is just teetering on the edge. My finger is inside me. My thumb is on my clit. I hold my breath. I’m still.

Even in my fantasy, I don’t know what to say.

I whine a little at the question as he holds me and nibbles on my neck. He brings me over to my desk and lowers me onto it.

“How about I take you right here?” he growls, lowering to his knees. He lifts my skirt and pulls my panties aside, revealing my pussy already wet and ready for him. It’s bald and fat and swollen with a slick of wet sheen.

“Oh, you’re ready, aren’t you?” He looks back at the window then smiles at me. “Do you think anyone can see us? Do you care? Would you like someone to be watching us? Maybe someone is looking now.”

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