Page 108 of The Holiday Fakers
“We’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Thanks, bud,” Brody says.
“You need to keep resting. Keep warm. Fluids. Hot food. More rest,” Ethan tells him, ticking off each point on his fingers.
“We will.”
“And game night is canceled. Sorry.”
Brody glances at me, and I nod. “Tomorrow?” he says.
My brother’s shoulders relax a little. “That’d be great. But only if you’re better.”
“I’m sure I will be.”
Ethan nods, then gives the room another once-over to make sure there are no hidden dangers, like an open window.
As soon as the door closes behind him, Brody’s on his feet, the mountain of covers tumbling to the floor.
“What are you?—”
He takes the top comforter off me and bundles it into a ball. “This one’s in the wrong place.”
“And where should it be?” I ask, my heart rate rising.
“On our bed.”
He tears off his woolly hat, then holds out his free hand. “I don’t know about you, but I’d quite like to ignore Ethan’s advice right now and follow Martha’s.”
I drop my own hat to the floor and take his hand, a zing of electricity running up my arm at the contact. Brody pulls me to my feet and brings my body flush with his.
“You sure?” I ask breathlessly. “Are you fully recovered?”
His answer is to pull me closer against a part of him that’s operating at peak efficiency. “I never would have chosen for this to happen with a houseful of people downstairs, but right now, nothing’s more important to me than being alone with you.”
My heart is beating double time, and all I can do is nod. I can’t think about the future. All I can do is run headlong into the moment I’ve dreamed of my whole life.
Brody steps back and frowns at his bare chest, still dirty from rescuing Billy. “I’m gonna have to take a quick shower.”
I lean into him. “Need any assistance?”
His breath hitches, and then he growls, “Fuck yeah.”
He kisses down my neck, his lips like fire, and my legs begin to buckle.
A loud laugh erupts from the kitchen, and I push him back. “Quick! Before one of them comes back to check on us.”
Like teenagers sneaking around, we stifle our own laughter and tiptoe upstairs. Brody tosses the comforter into our room, then takes my hand and pulls me into the bathroom.
The moment the door closes behind us, I’m on him like my pussy’s got an itch, and he’s my scratching post. I wrap my arms around him and crush my lips against his.
His tongue meets mine, and I swear my mouth is having an orgasm right now. It’s like fireworks, with every fizz and bang ricocheting inside me until I’m shaking.
Brody’s got one hand threaded through my hair, keeping my mouth on his, and the other tugging down the zipper of his pants. I help by reaching inside to free his cock, moaning when I finally wrap my hands around it, like I’ve found the Holy Grail of dicks after a lifetime of searching.
It’s perfect: long, hot, hard, and thick. My rechargeable toyfriend is nothing compared to what Brody’s packing, and I stroke him from root to tip with both hands, swiping the pre-cum from his slit and spreading it over the whole shaft.
Brody’s taking multitasking to the next level, somehow managing to growl the word “fuck” repeatedly while stepping out of his pants and performing the kind of oral gymnastics that deserve a gold medal.
