Mag-log inMarcus’s hand stayed exactly where it was—low on my stomach, fingers resting just above where I was still open and leaking. He didn’t move for a while. Just breathed against the back of my neck, chest pressed to my back, cock half-hard against the curve of my ass. Every small shift of his hips smeared more of his cum between us. My phone buzzed again. Alex’s name lit up the screen. I reached for it. Marcus’s arm tightened. “Leave it.” “He’s gonna come looking if I don’t answer.” “Then text him you’re fine.” His mouth dragged along my shoulder. “Tell him you drank too much and went to bed early. Tell him whatever you need to so he doesn’t walk in here and see his little brother with my cock still wet from being inside him.” The words made my stomach clench. I typed with one hand, short and careful: Headache. Going to sleep. See you in the morning. Sent it. Turned the phone face-down. Marcus hummed like he’d won something. His hand slid lower, two fingers pressing gently at my ri
Marcus stayed inside me for a long moment after he came, hips still pressed flush, cock twitching with the last pulses. I could feel the heat of it, the slow leak starting at the rim where we were still joined. My own cum was cooling on my stomach and his fist, sticky between us. Neither of us moved to pull apart. He kissed the corner of my mouth, then the edge of my jaw, then lower, teeth grazing the tendon in my neck. His hand slid from my cock up my chest, thumb dragging through the mess I’d made, then up to my throat. Not squeezing. Just resting there, feeling my pulse hammer. “Still with me?” he asked, voice low and rough. I nodded. My legs were still locked around him. I didn’t want to let go yet. “Yeah.” He shifted his weight and the movement pushed him deeper for a second. I hissed. Everything was oversensitive, the stretch still bright, the slick of his cum making every small shift wetter. He pulled out slowly. The drag of him leaving me was obscene—thick, wet, the sudden
I knew sharing the suite with him was a mistake the second the keycard beeped and the door swung open. Marcus stood in the middle of the room, jacket already off, sleeves rolled to the elbows, the top buttons of his dress shirt undone. He looked up from his phone, and that slow, crooked smile hit me the way it always did—like he’d already decided something I hadn’t agreed to yet. “Little brother,” he said, voice low. “They put us together. Figured you wouldn’t mind.” I dropped my bag harder than necessary. “I’m twenty-three. Stop calling me that.” “Alex’s little brother, then.” He watched me cross the room. “Same difference this week.” The suite was too big and not big enough. One king bed. A sofa that looked decorative more than functional. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the resort lawn where the rehearsal dinner was already being set up. My brother was somewhere out there with his fiancée, laughing too loud, already half-drunk on the good whiskey Marcus had brought. And
Elena. “Miss you already. Call you after the dinner.” The text glowed under Dominic’s hand where he had turned the phone face down. His cock was still inside me, half hard, his cum warm and leaking around the base onto the sheet that usually only smelled like Nathan. He rolled his hips once, slow, pushing deeper, and my cunt clenched around him without permission. “Leave it,” he said against my shoulder. “You can tell him you were in the shower. Right now you are going to ride me until I am hard again, and you are going to decide out loud whether the next trip ends the same way.” I pushed up on my hands. The shift made him slip out halfway. Slick and cum ran down my thigh. I turned, straddled his hips, and sank back down in one careful slide. The stretch was easier this time, filthy with what he had already left inside me. His hands settled on my waist. He did not guide. He just watched my face while I started to move. “Slow,” he said. “I want to feel you use it. Tell me what you
Elena.“March twelfth through the fifteenth. He flies out Thursday morning.” I sent the text on a Tuesday while Nathan was in the shower. Three weeks had passed since the funeral. Dominic had gone back to his apartment two towns over. We had not spoken. The sheet from that night had been washed twice. I still thought about the weight of his cum cooling on my stomach every time I lay down on my side of the bed. His reply came before the water shut off. “Guest room again or somewhere he does not have a key. Your choice. Same rules until you break them.” I stared at the screen. Nathan’s voice carried from the bathroom, humming off-key, already talking about the client dinner he would miss. I typed with wet hands. “My place is empty those nights. Come after ten. Do not park in the driveway.” He did not answer until Thursday. “Leave the side door unlocked. No lights in the kitchen.” Nathan kissed me at the curb at six in the morning, suitcase already in the trunk, and told me to or
Elena.“Landed. Call you when I am in the car. Love you.”The message sat on the screen between my spread thighs. Dominic’s fingers were still inside me, three of them, curled and slick, his thumb resting on my clit like he was deciding whether to move it. His cock stood thick in his fist, the head wet, close enough that I could feel the heat of it against my stomach. He had not come yet. Neither had I. The rule was still hanging in the air: watch him finish on me, clean it, do not come until he said, then he would go back to the couch.“Answer him,” Dominic said. His voice was low. He did not pull his fingers out. “Or do not. Either way you are going to ask me for what you want before I decide this night is over.”My cunt clenched around his hand. The phone buzzed again, a second text: You up?“I should call,” I said. The words came out thin. “He will worry if I do not.”“Then call.” Dominic stroked himself once, slow, eyes on my face. “Put it on speaker. Tell him the house is quiet







