My Brother's Best Friend- 1

BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND

Chapter 01

I’m Hailey.

I’m twenty-one now, but the second Jake’s convoy rolled in tonight, I swear the last seven years vanished.

Tyler (my big brother) threw the welcome-home party the minute Jake walked through the door: beers cracked, shots poured, war stories shouted over the music. Jake looked exhausted, sunburned, beautiful, still in his desert cammies, dog tags glinting under the string lights. Every time his eyes found me across the room, my stomach flipped like I was fourteen again and stealing his T-shirts to sleep in.

By 2 a.m. the house is finally quiet. Tyler is passed-out, face-down on the living-room couch, one boot still on, snoring loud enough to rattle windows.

I’m wearing Jake’s old Marines shirt (the one I stole when I was fourteen) and literally nothing else. It still smells faintly like him.

I pad barefoot down the hallway, heart hammering so loud I’m scared it’ll wake Tyler. The guest-room door is cracked open. Moonlight slices across the bed.

Jake is sprawled on his back, one arm over his eyes, chest rising slow. Still in his desert pants, boots kicked off, dog tags resting in the hollow of his throat.

I slip inside, ease the door almost shut, and crawl onto the bed.

He stirs when the mattress dips.

“Ty?” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep and whiskey.

“No,” I whisper, straddling his hips, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of him. “Guess again.”

His arm drops. Eyes snap open. Even in the dark I feel the shock hit him.

“Hailey—fuck—what are you—”

I lean down, hair falling around us like a curtain, and kiss him hard.

He freezes for half a second just long enough for my heart to stop, then his hands are on my bare ass under the shirt, gripping hard, pulling me closer.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes against my mouth. “You’re not little anymore.”

“Told you,” I whisper, grinding down. He’s already rock-hard under the cammies. “Feel how not-little I am, Jake.”

He groans, low and wrecked, fingers digging into my hips.

“Hailey, your brother is ten feet away—”

“Then we’ll be quiet,” I say, and slide down his body.

I pop the button on his pants, drag the zipper with my teeth. He lifts his hips so I can yank everything down just enough. His cock springs free thick, gorgeous, leaking at the tip.

I don’t tease. I swallow him down in one slow glide until my nose presses against his stomach.

“Fuck—Hailey—” His hand fists in my hair, hips jerking.

I pull off just long enough to whisper, “I’ve wanted this since I was sixteen. Shut up and let me have it.”

Then I’m back on him, sucking hard, tongue swirling, hollowing my cheeks. He tastes like salt and deployment and every fantasy I’ve ever had.

“Goddamn, baby—slow—gonna come too fast—”

I hum around him, take him deeper, until he’s shaking.

He yanks me up by the hair, eyes wild in the moonlight.

“Get on me. Now.”

I straddle him again, push the shirt up to my waist, and sink down slowly We both moan, too loud. He clamps a hand over my mouth instantly.

“Quiet,” he hisses, but his hips are already rolling up into me.

I start riding, hands braced on his chest, feeling his dog tags under my palms.

“Look at me,” he whispers.

I do. His eyes are dark, desperate, home.

“You feel so fucking good,” I breathe, rocking faster. “Been dreaming about this for years.”

“Same,” he admits, voice cracking. “Every fucking night in the sandbox. I thought I was a sick bastard.”

I lean down, kiss him softly. “You’re home now.”

He flips us carefully never pulling out, puts me on my back, hooks my legs over his shoulders, and starts thrusting slow and deep.

Tyler snores louder in the living room. We both freeze, then laugh into each other’s mouths.

“Shh,” he whispers, biting my bottom lip. “Gonna have to fuck you quiet, baby.”

He does. Long, slow strokes that make my eyes roll, his hand over my mouth when I get too loud, my teeth sinking into his palm when I come the first time.

We switch again me on top, riding him reverse so I can watch the door. His hands grip my hips, guiding me, thumb brushing my asshole just to make me gasp.

“Quiet, Hailey,” he warns every time Tyler snorts or shifts.

I come again, biting the pillow he shoves under my face, pussy clenching so hard around him he has to stop moving or lose it.

He finally flips me to my stomach, slides back in from behind, and fucks me with slow, possessive strokes.

“Gonna fill you up, baby,” he whispers against my ear. “Gonna leave you dripping my cum while you make us breakfast.”

“Do it,” I beg into the pillow. “I want to feel you all day.”

He groans, thrusts deep, and comes hot, thick pulses that flood me, overflow instantly, soaking the sheets and my thighs.

I come with him, silent except for the whimper I can’t hold back.

We collapse, tangled, his arm locked around my waist.

I slip out of the guest room at 4:17 a.m., thighs sticky, pussy still pulsing from Jake’s cum. I tiptoe past Tyler snoring on the couch and collapse in my own bed, grinning like an idiot, falling asleep to the ache between my legs.

6:42 a.m.

I’m up before either of them, wearing the tiniest pale-blue sleep shorts and a cropped tank, no panties, no bra. Hair messy, lips swollen from last night.

I’m at the kitchen sink, “making coffee,” humming, when Jake walks in barefoot in just his dog tags and cammies pants. Tyler’s still dead to the world on the couch, one arm dangling.

Jake’s eyes lock on me, dark and hungry.

“Morning, baby girl,” he murmurs, voice gravel.

I bend over slow, ass high, reaching for creamer on the bottom shelf. The shorts ride up, baring everything.

“Oops,” I whisper, wiggling.

He’s behind me in two silent strides. One big hand yanks my shorts aside, the other fists my hair.

“Hold the fucking counter,” he growls.

I grip the edge. He slams into me raw (one brutal thrust that punches the air from my lungs).

“Fuck—Jake—” I choke.

He sets a punishing rhythm, hips snapping so hard the cabinets rattle, cock splitting me open.

“Quiet,” he snarls, spanking my ass hard enough to echo. “Your brother’s ten feet away.”

Another vicious spank. Then another. My skin burns red.

“Yes—Daddy—harder—” I sob, biting my lip bloody.

He spanks me again and again, handprints blooming, fucking me so deep my toes curl.

“You love this, don’t you?” he rasps. “Love getting wrecked while Tyler sleeps.”

“Yes—fuck yes—don’t stop—”

He reaches under, pinches my clit, and I come instantly, gushing down his cock, thighs shaking so hard I almost collapse.

“That’s one,” he grunts, never slowing. “Gimme another.”

He spanks me through the second orgasm, then the third, until I’m crying into my own forearm.

“Gonna fill this pussy again,” he growls, slamming deep. “Gonna send you to breakfast dripping.”

“Do it—breed me—”

He buries himself and unloads, hot, thick ropes flooding me, leaking out around his cock.

He pulls out slowly, smacks my raw ass once more, and tucks himself away just as Tyler stumbles in, groaning.

“Advil?” Tyler mumbles, eyes barely open.

I turn, legs trembling, cum already sliding down my inner thigh under the counter, and hand him a glass of water with the sweetest smile.

“Right here, big brother,” I chirp.

Jake leans against the fridge, smirking, dog tags glinting.

“Coffee’s almost ready,” he says casually.

I bite my lip, feeling him drip onto the tile between my feet.