11. Clover
I’ve had my fair share of kisses. But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared me for being kissed by my brother’s best friend. He doesn’t just kiss me; he consumes me. It’s like he can’t get enough as his teeth nip at my bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. He’s writing his name on my soul with every stroke of his tongue, every scrape of his stubble against my skin, every shift of his fingers tightening on the back of my neck, holding me prisoner to what’s happening between us.
In all my fantasies about kissing my brother’s best friend, I never could’ve imagined this.
The muscles in his arms flex as he drags me onto his lap, and I make a sound I didn’t even know I was capable of making when I feel how hard he is for me.
“Fuck, Clover,” he groans and that sound—god, that fucking sound. I want to live in that sound. Wrap it around myself like a blanket.
My entire body shudders.
I want to beg him to touch me everywhere. To let those big, calloused hands of his run all over my body. To touch him, explore the miles of inked skin and hard muscle. But I can’t seem to form the words, and I don’t need to. Because when he lifts his hips and presses that impressive length right against where I’m dying to feel it, it’s like he knows. Like he can read every thought in my head.
Lightning flashes again, throwing us into nearly blinding white light for a split second. His eyes are wild, pupils completely blown, looking up at me like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted in his entire life.
I slide my hands up his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat under my palms. His skin feels like it's on fire, his muscles rock hard and flexed tight. I have the briefest urge to pinch myself because there’s absolutely no way this is actually happening.
Banks Priestly is looking at me like I’m all his fucking dreams come true.
He grips my hips and grinds up into me, pulling a moan from somewhere so deep it feels like it’s being ripped right out of my soul. That sound coming from me makes him pull in a sharp breath, his grip tightening to an almost bruising intensity. The pain mingles with the pleasure and it’s so good, too good, and I want more.
He tears his mouth from mine and drags it down the curve of my neck, his lips and teeth scraping over my sensitive skin. My hands find their way into his hair, fingers gripping and tugging every time he rolls his hips up into mine. I can barely catch my breath, everything inside of me tightening as his mouth works miracles against my skin.
His teeth graze against the curve of my shoulder, biting down just enough to sting. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he says, his lips brushing against the sting from his bite with his words.
"How long?"
My breath catches in my throat as his lips and tongue and teeth work a trail of fire back up the side of my neck. He’s leaving his mark everywhere he touches, and I don’t think it’s only my skin that will bear the reminders of tonight as I dig my nails into his shoulders.
"I want you so bad, I can hardly breathe," he whispers, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. "You're all I think about. You're all I dream about. You’ve been driving me insane for years."
I'm not sure if he realizes what he just admitted, but it makes me feel bold. Wanted. Sexy.
“Tell me you want this,” he demands as his fingers dig into my hips hard enough to bruise. He’s leaving marks all over my skin like he needs to know neither one of us can deny what’s happening.
"I want this," I tell him, rolling my hips and rubbing against that thick, hard dick of his I can't wait to get my hands on. My pussy is so wet for him, I can feel it soaking through the fabric of my underwear. His hands grip my ass and he stands, stumbling a bit because his mouth is back on mine and we're rubbing all over each other so much neither of us can bear to let the other one go.
He knocks the lamp off the end table, and it crashes to the ground but we don't stop. His tongue is in my mouth, his hands are on my ass and my back slams up against the wall. My legs are wrapped around him and he's grinding into me, my body jerking and writhing against the wall. I'm pretty sure he's going to make me come just by dry humping.
"God, I need to be inside of you," he groans, as I let go of him long enough to rip my shirt over my head and he reaches behind his neck and does the same, gripping his shirt and yanking it over his head. I'm not wearing a bra and the way his eyes go wide when he looks at me, the way his nostrils flare and his gaze darkens, makes me feel sexier than I ever have. It's like I'm a goddess and he's my most devoted worshipper.
I'm going to let Banks Priestly fuck me tonight and I don't think I've ever been more excited about anything in my life.
"So get inside of me."
"Fuck," he bites out, reaching between us to tear open the button on his jeans while he drops one of my legs so I can shimmy one leg out of my shorts and underwear. The need to get naked is urgent, but I can't wait long enough to get completely undressed.
I want him and I want him now.
I've never wanted anything this much in my whole entire life. I'm shaking, I'm trembling, my heart is racing, my pulse pounding. Everything in me is screaming for him and I can't hold back anymore.
He pulls his dick out of his jeans and I don't get any time to appreciate the sight because he has my leg back in the air and he's pressing against me. He grips the base of it, rubs it against my wet pussy, and then he thrusts. One solid, quick, hard stroke that drives the entire length of him inside of me in one motion. I gasp at the feeling, the sensation of being filled by him. He's so big and I'm so wet. It's perfect.
He's perfect.
"Oh my god," I whisper, resting my forehead against his, my entire body clenching and tightening around him. "Banks, oh my god."
"Fuck, baby, fuck." He thrusts into me, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back inside. Over and over again. His pace is hard, fast, rough, relentless. His fingers dig into my ass as he pulls my body into his with each drive of his hips like he can’t get deep enough inside of me.
He's still inside me as he kicks off his pants and boxer briefs, stumbling away from the wall. His arms shake as we move. He’s fucking me as he walks toward my bedroom, and I can't even believe the strength in him. Can't even fathom the power in his body. He carries me, fucking into me with every step until he curses. "Fuck, I'm going to come."
Yes, yes, fuck yes. I want that.
My arms are around wrapped around his neck and I use my hold on him to lift myself up and fuck myself back down on him so he can’t hold back. He stops halfway down the hall and his head falls back while he lets out the hottest groan I've ever heard as he comes. His legs shake and the muscles in his chest, arms, and neck strain while his cock pulses.
"Fuck, I'm sorry," he moans as he empties himself inside of me. His voice is rough and so fucking sexy. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm sorry."
"God, that was hot," I tell him as his cock twitches inside me. It's still hard and when he finally takes a step toward the bedroom again, he hits something deep inside of me that makes my entire body shudder.
"Yeah? I've never come that fast, but you... fuck, I couldn't help myself. You drive me fucking crazy." He drops his forehead to mine. "I'll make it up to you."
His elbow slams against the doorframe as he carries me into my bedroom, and he grunts. But he doesn't lose his grip on me, and he doesn't pull out of me either. Instead, he walks across the room and lays me out on the bed like I'm a precious gift. The way he looks at me is almost reverent as his eyes rake over my body stop between my thighs. His hand slides up the back of my leg, and he yanks my shorts off and tosses them over his shoulder before he pulls it up to sit on his shoulder, kissing my calf as he stares down at where his dick is still inside of me.
"Look at you, taking my dick so well," he murmurs, his eyes glued between my legs. The sound of his voice makes my pussy clench around him and his jaw tics. "God damn."
He bends my leg back, opening my body to him even more, and starts to move. Slowly. He's watching where he's fucking me, where he's sliding in and out of me. And then his fingers are against my clit. Everything's slippery and wet and he's sliding right against it, rubbing me in rhythm with the slow rolls of his hips.
How is he still hard?
"I love seeing you full of my dick," he tells me. "Knowing how deep inside of you I am."
I whimper. My body's climbing higher and higher as he works me over. As he grinds into me, making sure to rub that big, hard dick of his against my g-spot with every lazy roll of his hips. I can't even hear the storm outside with the way my heart is pounding. My skin is slick with sweat and my breath is coming in shallow, panting gasps as I get closer and closer to the edge.
"Look at me," he commands, and I open my eyes. He's looking down at me like nothing else in the world matters except the two of us. The look in his eyes is savage. Rabid. It's a look that's meant to claim, to own, to mark. "I'm going to spend all night making your pretty pussy come. Teaching it who owns it now."
Oh, god.
He pinches my clit, and I cry out, my body clenching and spasming as I come. Hard. So hard, I see stars. It's like I'm being sucked into a black hole, and I can't do anything but fall. My entire body shakes, trembles, quakes as the orgasm rips through me. His fingers and his cock are relentless, stealing every bit of pleasure he can from me.
"God, you're fucking beautiful," he says as he leans over me and crushes his mouth to mine. I wrap myself around him, holding onto him like I'm about to float away. And it's a good thing I do because he rolls, taking me with him until he's flat on his back and I'm straddling him. Our bodies are still joined together, and he's still so hard, it makes no sense.
"Banks," I gasp as his cock shifts inside of me, hitting me in places I didn't even know existed.
He smiles at me. A wicked, sinful, toe-curling smile that makes his eyes glitter in the dark. And then his fingers tighten on my hips, and he uses them to lift my body off his dick. I slide up until just the tip is inside of me and then he yanks me back down. My head falls back, and my hair tickles the small of my back as he uses my body like a toy. He's grinning as he fucks into me, and I don't ever want to stop.
"Play with your tits," he says, and I do. I cup my breasts and tweak my nipples, rolling the stiff peaks between my fingers. It makes my pussy tighten around him, and his thrusts grow more frantic. "God, that's so fucking hot."
Nothing has ever felt better than having Banks Priestly between my legs, looking up at me like he's the one who's never felt anything better than being inside of me.
I drop forward and kiss him. Our tongues and teeth clash as he drives up into me, fucking me from below. It feels incredible. I want it to last forever. And yet...
"Banks," I moan his name as I come again, tightening around him while his pelvis rubs against my clit at the perfect angle. "Fill me again. Please. I need it. Need to feel it."
"Fuck," he groans as he thrusts into me again, then one last time, his entire body going stiff as he shoots hot and deep inside of me. I can feel every twitch of his dick as it spasms and jerks. Every pulse as he fills me. "God, yes, take my cum. Take all of it. Every fucking drop of it."
He rolls us again, putting me on my back as he settles on top of me, his hips grinding into mine as his cock keeps pumping cum inside of me. My arms are around his neck, and I hold on to him as he rides out the wave, as his body jerks and shudders. His face is buried in the crook of my neck, and I feel the heat of his breath against my skin.
"Damn," he murmurs, his lips pressing a kiss against my neck. "I've never come so hard in my entire life."
"Me either," I tell him.
He lifts his head, pushing up on his elbows to look down at me. "Yeah?"
I nod and bite my lip to hide the smile trying to break out over it. I don't know what it is about the awe in his voice that makes me want to giggle, but I'm not about to let him hear that right now.
He kisses my forehead. Then my nose. And finally, my mouth. It's soft and sweet and I can feel his smile as he does it. When he pulls away, he brushes my hair back off my cheek and then pulls me down so I’m cuddled up against him.
For a long time, neither of us speaks. There’s just the sound of our breathing gradually starting to even out and the distant rumble of thunder as the storm slowly starts to move on.
Banks’s fingers run through my hair and I sigh, letting my heavy eyes close. I’m tucked against Banks’s body like he can’t stand the thought of even a sliver of space existing between us.
I really should be freaking the hell out right now. Panicking about what we just did and all the catastrophic ways this could potentially blow up in both of our faces. But as I lie here, with Banks’s steady heartbeat thumping under my palm, all I feel is this unexpected sense of peace that I can’t remember ever feeling before.
"You good, Freckles?" he asks, his fingers tracing these slow, lazy circles on my bare back now.
"I'm…" I search for the right word and finally just settle on the truth. "Yeah. Actually, really good." I trace the lines of one of the tattoos on his chest. "That was…"
"Mind-blowing?" he offers, a hint of his usual cockiness in his voice.
I nod against his chest, not having the energy to look for better words to describe what just happened between us. We fall quiet again, just breathing together as the storm rumbles off in the distance. He’s different like this—softer somehow, all that usual cockiness gone. And honestly? I kind of really like seeing him this way.
"We should probably actually talk about what just happened," I finally say, because someone has to be the responsible adult in this situation, and that unfortunate job always falls to me. Sometimes I really hate being this person.
"Probably," he agrees, but his arms just tighten around me, pulling me even closer. "Or… we could just enjoy this for another minute before reality ruins everything."
Maybe it's smarter to have "the talk" right now, get all the awkwardness and consequences out of the way. But I just can't bring myself to ruin this moment with all the reasons we shouldn't have done what we just did. That conversation makes me unfathomably sad and feels way too heavy for my exhausted body to handle at the moment.
Instead, I just curl even closer to him, my head finding that perfect little spot right on his chest where I can clearly hear his steady heartbeat. His arms wrap tighter around me, like they were divinely designed to hold me exactly like this.
"We'll figure it out tomorrow," I murmur sleepily, my eyelids already slipping shut.
"Whatever you want, Freckles." He presses another soft kiss to the top of my head. "I'll be right here."
As I start to drift off, that annoying little voice of reality tries to creep in, whispering all sorts of unwelcome reminders: We've officially crossed a line that can never be uncrossed. Everything between us is different now. Kasen might murder Banks when he eventually finds out what just happened. And he may never speak to me again.
But with Banks's heartbeat thumping under my ear and his arms locked tight around me like he's afraid I might disappear if he lets go, I let myself believe that maybe this doesn't have to be just some temporary, heat-of-the-moment thing.
Maybe it could actually be so much more.
I wake up to sunlight assaulting me through my thin curtains. Guess the storm’s over. I'm about to roll over and bury my face in the pillow when I become very, very aware of several things all at once: the heavy weight of an arm slung possessively around my waist, the warmth of another body pressed against my back, and the delicious ache between my thighs.
Oh damn.
Last night comes flooding back in a rush of toe-curling detail. The storm. The blackout. The life-altering kiss. Being fucked up against the wall. Banks ruining me in this bed. The filthy, delicious things he whispered in the dark while he made me come undone.
Holy freaking hell. I had sex with Banks Priestly.
Well, it’s official. My brother is one hundred percent going to murder me. Probably Banks, too, if Kasen gets to him first.
I turn over as carefully as humanly possible, trying not to wake him, but his eyes are already open. Those hazel eyes that saw every single inch of me last night, that now know exactly what I look like naked and begging him to make me come, are currently studying my face with the same unwavering attention he always gives me.
"Morning," he says, his voice a low, husky rumble that sends a fresh wave of goosebumps skittering across my skin from the tips of my toes all the way to the top of my head. Ugh, I am in so much trouble.
"Hi," I manage to squeak out. Why the hell do I sound so breathless? I clear my throat and quickly glance around my bedroom, noticing the flashing numbers on my alarm clock. "Looks like the power's back on."
This is so awkward.
"Yeah," he agrees softly, his thumb drawing slow, lazy circles on my bare hip under the sheet, and it feels way, way too good. "Sleep okay?"
"Better than I have in…" Forever. "A while.
Something hot flashes in his eyes, a brief flicker of something intense and maybe even a little possessive, before his expression smooths out, becoming more guarded. "About last night…"
And here we go. The awkward morning-after conversation where we both pretend it was just some moment of temporary insanity brought on by the storm and the close proximity. Where we agree to never speak of it again and try our very best to avoid making direct eye contact for the rest of the time we’re stuck living together.
I need to say it first, before he does. Rip off the damn band-aid and all that.
"It was the storm," I blurt out, the words tumbling out way too fast. "And the power outage. And being stuck here together in the dark. Just… a mistake." The words taste like ash in my mouth as I say them. I hate that I’m saying them. I want to grab them and shove them back in even as more pop out."A onetime thing that doesn't have to make things weird or change anything."
Liar, liar, my entire damn body is currently on fire.
Something in his face closes off, and his thumb stops its lazy circles against my hip, but he just gives this small, tight nod. "Right. A mistake."
His easy agreement shouldn’t feel like a baseball bat to the chest, but it absolutely does.
"We're adults," I continue, even as this hollow, sinking feeling starts to spread through my chest. "We can admit that things got a little intense last night, but we can also agree that it probably shouldn't happen again."
His eyes narrow. "Shouldn't," he repeats slowly, his gaze intense. "Or… can't?"
The question just hangs there between us. "Both," I finally manage to choke out, ignoring the way every single cell in my body is screaming at me to shut the hell up.
Why am I even doing this again?
Oh, right. My overprotective brother. And my very specific life goals. And the fact that Banks is exactly the type of guy to sleep with a woman and be gone before the sun even thinks about rising.
There are a million perfectly logical reasons, but they all feel flimsy and unimportant right now when all I really want to do is reach out and hold on to him. "You're Kasen's best friend. I'm his little sister. We're temporary roommates. You only do casual, and I don’t exactly have the time or the inclination for anything complicated. It would be a disaster."
His eyes roam over my face for what feels like an eternity, like he's searching for something. I hold my breath, waiting. Finally, he nods once, his jaw clenching. "Sure. It’s not a big deal. Nothing needs to change."
I should feel relieved. This is exactly what I wanted him to say, right? So why does it feel like he just reached into my chest and crushed something vital?
I’m the one who called what we did a mistake in the first place, so why the hell are my eyes stinging like I’m about to cry?
"Great," I say, forcing a bright, cheerful smile that feels like it might crack my face in half. "So… we're good then?"
"We're good," he agrees, and the smile he gives me in return doesn't even come anywhere close to reaching his eyes. Then he leans forward and presses a quick, soft kiss to my forehead that somehow manages to hurt way worse than if he'd just slapped me across the face. "I should probably go take a shower."
He slides out of bed, and I watch every single ripple of muscle in his back as he stretches. I really shouldn't look. It's only going to make this whole thing even harder. But I can't seem to tear my eyes away from the man who completely and utterly wrecked me just a few short hours ago.
I swallow hard, fighting back the tears that are threatening to spill over. I’m starting to have this awful feeling that he might have just ruined me for anyone else.
At the door, he stops and turns back. The raw, honest expression on his face makes my breath catch in my throat—it’s something that wasn't there even just a minute ago when we were both lying our asses off to each other.
"For what it's worth, Freckles," he says, his voice low and rough, like he hasn't quite cleared the sleep from it yet, "last night was the best damn mistake I've ever made in my entire life. And I wouldn't take back a single fucking second of it."
Then he’s gone, and I’m left alone in my bedroom with wrinkled sheets that still smell like him and the feeling that we just made everything a thousand times more complicated by pretending last night wasn’t everything.
Because no matter what kind of bullshit we just fed each other, I know—I absolutely know—that nothing between us will ever, ever be the same again.
And the only thing that might be worse than knowing it was a terrible idea?
Wanting to do it all over again.