Book 1: Knocked up By My Brother's Best Friend

It was my family’s annual New Year’s Eve party and there was only one man I wanted.

My big brother's Best friend.

It was forbidden to be with him. Taboo.

So when he told me I was his and to get on my knees… I was his good girl and listened.

******

001

SAFFA

The ground was frost-covered, because most of the snow from the holiday had melted days before, but a cold front had moved in since then, and now everything looked crystallized.

I stood by the large bay window and wrapped my sweater tighter around my body as the chill seeped through the thick panes of glass. I gazed out at the garden, though my mind was focused on things that I should never even have been entertaining.

And that was… how good my older brother's best friend looked, and how it was getting harder to deny my attraction to him.

It was wrong. Taboo. And people would most definitely say it was nasty.

What was that saying? We listen and don’t judge, or some nonsense like that. Because the truth was, everyone would judge the fuck out of an incestuous relationship.

Behind me, the family gathering buzzed with laughter, conversations, and the clinking of glasses. We all got together for an after-Christmas, pre-New Year’s Eve party. It was the only time anyone really had time to meet up.

But this was the second year in which I felt removed from it all.

Because my attention has been on obsessing over my brother's best friend.

Frankie. My big brother's best friend. He was three years older than my tender nineteen years and built like the linebacker he was. I could imagine him dressed in his football uniform as he played college football, showing up other players as he laid them out.

God, I was turned on to the point my panties were soaked, and I had to clench my thighs together to make sure my pussy juices didn’t slide down the inside of my legs.

I didn’t have to turn around to know where he was. I couldfeelhim. His presence had this strange gravitational pull and force when it came to how my body reacted.

Whether I want it to or not.

I heard him talking in the distance, and my heart beat a little faster. I bit my lip, trying to fight the urge to look over my shoulder at him. But because I was weak where Frankie was concerned, my resolve faltered. And before I could stop myself, I shyly—covertly—glanced over my shoulder and searched for him.

There he was, leaning against the wall, his massive, muscular body positioned so casually despite him towering over every single one of our family members here. He was talking to Rosa, our great aunt, who had the mouth of a sailor and enjoyed her shots of tequila.

Rosa said something—probably something raunchy, regarding her husband—and Frankie laughed. He was grinning as he brought his beer bottle to his mouth and took a long pull from it. And as if he felt my stare, he turned his head, and our gazes locked.

The way he looked at me—with those blue eyes that I saw every day when I looked at my own reflection—always made my breath hitch. I knew I wasn’t hiding how I felt. Because the heavy-lidded expression he gave me said he could see straight through me, right past my mask of carefully keeping my forbidden desires in check.

I could feel the weight of his stare, and it was that intensity that sent a flush of heat through my body and instantly made my pussy wet.

He’d been home for the last couple of weeks, since his college had let out for the holidays, marking the end of the winter semester. And during the entire time he’d been back home, I was caught between the need to say “fuck it all” and just put myself out there with him, or to hide in my room and masturbate until he left and I could breathe again.

I wanted to believe that the stolen glances and subtle touches he gave me in passing meant more than they probably did in reality. And now, with New Year’s Eve just a day away, the electricity between us felt even sharper, like the promise of something dangerous was waiting to unfold.

But there were so many people around us… family members that would see me being totally inappropriate with my brother's best friend. Yet I couldn’t deny that the thought of sneaking around with Frankie was hot as hell.

Everything about Frankie screamed off-limits. But that all just made my pulse quicken as I saw him push off the wall and come toward me. His movements were unhurried yet deliberate, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me and thrived off of it.

God, could he… want me in the same way I wanted him?

And with every step he took in my direction, I felt waves of anticipation all while I tried my damnedest to catch my breath. I turned to face him, and he gave me a slow and sexy smile that sent heat right through me and straight down to my pussy.

“Saffa.” His voice was low, deep, and that one murmured word had tingles spearing right through my nipples.

“Frankie,” I said, his name coming out in the same sultry tone he’d said mine.

He was close now, too close for it to be innocent, if anyone were to know the thoughts running through my head. And when he reached past me to grab a chocolate square from the tray behind me, I didn't miss how his arm brushed the bare skin of my own.

Deliberately.

There was something in his eyes as he watched me while he sucked on that little square of chocolate. He reached past me again, his fingers trailing along my bare back, which was exposed thanks to this dress I wore just for him—even though I tried to deny that fact while I was putting it on earlier. I shivered, and I knew he had caught the involuntary reaction to his touch. The way his pupils dilated told me as much.

God… I think he wants me too.

He held up a little dab of chocolate to me, and I went to take it from him between my thumb and forefinger. He tsked and shook his head, and I felt my eyes widened as he brought it right to my lips.

He wanted to fucking feed me? In front of our family?

“Frankie?” My voice was a whisper, but because his focus was trained on my mouth, I parted my lips so he could slip the chocolate between them.

The way he stared at me told me a hell of a lot without him saying anything at all. It burned with the forbidden and was undeniable. My chest tightened as his fingers trailed along my bottom lip before he brought his beer to his mouth again and took a long drink.

“Don’t swallow,” he said once the chocolate was fully melted and covering my tongue.

I snapped my head to left to then peer around the room, expecting my parents to be watching us as we acted this way, like my family would immediately know how wrong this interaction was, especially my brother.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured. His voice had me looking back at him, but right away, I glanced around again, making sure no one was watching. But the crowd inside this room felt so far away. It was just us, and the air between us crackled like a livewire. I knew I shouldn’t feel this way. I shouldn't want my brother—much less this badly—but I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t control it or rein it in at all.

Especially not when he was this close.

“Bet you want to swallow right about now, don’t you?” His voice was low, and he leaned in, so I felt his warm, hoppy-scented breath as it moved along my neck. God, that felt good. “I know it’s uncomfortable holding that in your mouth. That instinct to swallow. It feels almost painful, doesn't it?”

I closed my eyes and felt myself sway, his words and the melted chocolate on my tongue almost too much for my senses to handle.

“Such a good girl, Saffa.”

I tipped my head back and opened my eyes to stare into his blue depths. He was so close to me that we breathed the same air.

“And when I come in your mouth and shoot my big wad down your throat, I’m going to make you hold it like you’re holding that chocolate—right on your tongue, so you’re forced to taste nothing but me for as long as I tell you to.”

I choked then, the chocolate sliding down my throat involuntarily as I tried to grapple with what he just said.

It was just him and me, suspended in this charged, forbidden space. His hand lingered on my back, the warmth of his touch branding me, before he finally stepped back.

He leaned back and smirked. It was slow. Deliberate. Full to the brim with nasty, taboo intent.

And I wanted more of it.