Silence #2
Later, we’d talked about it. A lot. What it meant, or if it meant anything at all. We passed it off as an exciting experience, but I longed to do it again, and when I admitted that to Zayden, he said he did, too.
The heat between my legs increases as Zayden runs his fingertips down my stomach and between my legs. “I—I don’t know if I’m ready. Are you?”
“Yes.” He bites my earlobe. “I want to watch you come on another man’s cock.”
Desire blasts through me, and I angle my head to kiss him, to devour him, to have him fuck me over the vanity until I—
I pull back from the kiss abruptly. “Not your brothers though, right?”
Zayden grins. “Whatever makes you come hardest, baby.”
I tut and shove him away playfully.
Once I’m dressed, to-go coffee in hand, I head for the door, weaving through cardboard boxes dotted about the house from the move.
It’s been weeks, but we’ve been so consumed with work we haven’t had a chance to properly unpack.
Some boxes are definitely missing too, which I blame Xavier and his half-assed organization skills for.
Despite the stress, I’m glad we chose this place. Zayden wanted something bigger, I wanted a change, and we fell in love with the sage-green, five-bedroom suburban home on a family street outside the city.
It was sheer luck that the house next door was up for sale, too.
We’ve all stayed close, property wise as well as on a personal level, so it made sense for Yale to buy it.
“Morning, Bullet.” I scratch the Belgian Malinois’s head as I make my way down the porch steps.
He wags his tail but remains in place, our guardian of the household.
Zayden got him for me two years ago, and he’s almost always been by my side, until we moved here.
Now he sits on the porch, eyeing our neighbors, as if getting a good lay of the land before deciding to return to me.
After some unseasonably warm December weather, rain finally fell in the early hours, and the smell fills my nose. I hop across the property line to the gray house next door, careful not to slip on the freshly mown grass.
“Morning!” I call out as I let myself in, the door clicking closed behind me.
The layout of this house is the same as ours, but unlike ours, it has no stray boxes or missing furniture.
Everything is unpacked and has a place, the furniture is built, and it already feels like a home.
“Putting me to shame,” I grumble, taking the stairs two at a time.
“Yale, where are you? I had a dream and it’s weird and I—”
I skid to a halt at the end of the hall.
One of the bedroom doors is open—and sitting in an easy chair, totally naked, is Xavier.
He has one arm reaching over his shoulder and gripping the back of the chair, his heavily tattooed body heaving, abs rising and falling, biceps flexing.
His eyes are closed, and veins gently pulse in his neck as his other hand—
“Oh my God!” I shriek, slapping my hand over my eyes—just as he comes. The sound he makes has goose bumps rippling across my skin. I fling myself back, mortification burning my cheeks as I grapple for a door to close. “Xavier, what the fuck!”
His groan is breathless, as if still in the midst of his orgasm. “What the fuck yourself, Q. Don’t you knock?”
That damn nickname. When I first introduced myself to Xavier, he’d drunkenly asked why my parents hadn’t called me “Quiet.” A few shots later, I affectionately became known as Q.
“Who jerks off with the door open!” I peek through my fingertips, my back to the room, my other hand still grasping at the wall. “Where’s the door?”
He sighs heavily. “Little bro took it off me. Apparently, I can’t be trusted.”
Understatement. “Where’s Yale?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
“You’re in his house!”
“I was also busy, if you didn’t notice. You can turn around now.”
I grimace. “I’m good, thanks.”
The door across the hall is snatched open, and Yale appears, muscular body soaking wet, a towel slung low around his hips. Unlike Xavier, he has only one tattoo—a Y on the side of his neck. His torso is free of ink, just toned, and rock hard, and—
“I heard screaming.”
My attention darts from the towel to his face. “Why is no one dressed in this house?”
“I was showering, Q.” He leans to the side. “Dude, you better not have been jerking off with that door open.”
Xavier comes up behind me, the heat of his body tickling the back of my neck, but I don’t dare turn. “You took my fucking door.”
“You stole my shit!”
“Then you have to risk seeing my dick in the morning.”
I gag. “Oh my God, what if he had seen you?”
Xavier chuckles, and his voice utters somewhere behind my ear, “We’re brothers. I’ve fucked in the same room as him. Anyway, what’s this dream, Q?”
Heat slides down my spine. “None of your business. I was talking to your brother.” I step forward and push myself onto my tiptoes to kiss Yale’s cheek. “Call me on my lunch break?”
“Will do, love.”
I throw Xavier one final glare. He smiles sardonically and gives me the finger. My heart is still pounding, my dream mingling with the image of Xavier’s hand gripping his very hard, very large dick. Good fucking God. Why did I have to see that, today of all days?
I’m almost at the top of the stairs when Yale calls my name, and I turn, hoping my cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel.
I swallow hard. “Yep?”
“Happy birthday,” they both say, and I wonder if they mean to time their winks as they head back into their rooms.