Page 71 of Finance Bros
My mind somersaults at his sudden proximity. I find I don’t care so much how he identifies as I do that his lips are extremely close. “Yeah?” I whisper, staring intently at his mouth. I shouldn’t do this. I shouldnotdo this. He basically just described himself as a person who doesn’t know what the fuck he wants except that he wants everything—except his formerstepbrother. Today. But not necessarily yesterday and maybe not tomorrow, but probably, we’ll see.
The problem with me is, I think Iamstill in love with him. I think, in fact, that I am so fucking in love with him, I can’t see straight. He’s a fucking mess, and I love it. I’mcrazyabout it.
It was one thing knowing he didn’t want me and learning to live with that. But this idea of maybe not having to live like that? God, it’s like he’s offering me a million dollars to put myself completely at his mercy. An offer too tempting to resist.
But Ishouldresist it, right? I don’t have to give him my heart again. I don’t have to make any promises. I can just take what he’s offering—if he offers anything. Enjoy it while it lasts. Find out if it’s been worth the misery and the inability to fully offer myself to anyone else. The thing is, I still have these recurring dreams featuring the hazy image of the two of us fifty years from now, still holding each other and whispering quietly, just like when we were kids.
But that’s not what’s on offer here. My dick is obviously on board with getting physical, but I’m not sure my heart is willing to take the chance.
I don’t have to love him to fuck him, though.
I don’t ever have to say those words to him again.
What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
Unless I want it to.
14
MALCOLM
I’m throbbingeverywhere. What I’ve said to Ryan since he walked in the door is a hot mess, I realize that. It’s just that I can’t articulate this particular conundrum: I want him because I’ve always wanted him, but I never wanted to want him like this.
I didn’t want the feelings I had for him to mean that my feelings were likethis.That doesn’t make sense—none of it makes sense. When did it get so goddamn complicated? How do I explain to him that yes, I’m just now figuring this out, but these are old feelings. Deeply familiar and just as uncomfortable as they’ve ever been, but not half as uncomfortable as my untouched cock threatening to knock the towel off my lap.
“Would you wanna go lie down?” I ask. “Watch something on TV maybe?”
Ryan nods, and I exhale with relief.
I stand up, and the loose towel falls. He reaches to grab it, but I put a hand on his shoulder and say, “Leave it.”
He looks at my erection, and I let him. It’s so hard, the tip is a scary purple.
“Your legs,” he says so softly I almost miss it.
“Yeah?”
He lifts a hand and runs it up my right thigh, barely touching me, but it’s electrifying. I want more. Badly.
“This okay?” he asks, glancing up at my face as the pads of his fingertips tickle my leg hair.
“Anything,” I tell him. All the reasons why seducing my former stepbrother is a bad idea leap out the window. It doesn’tfeelwrong. What it feels like is long overdue.
“Anything,” he echoes in a whisper, gaze roaming down my chest, my abs, settling on my cock. “Do you give a fuck if I’m bad at this?”
If he’s saying what I think he’s saying… “You won’t be,” I whisper.
“I want you,” he whispers, and it’s like a song I’ve been dying to hear, though I don’t think he meant for me to hear it.
I inch closer, leaning into his light touch, wanting him to want me. Wanting him unable to resist me.
“Mm…” His hand wraps firmly around my thigh, and I find myself pitching forward. He’s still sitting on the couch, and then my knee is on the cushion, too. His other arm is banded around my ass, but the main thing—the single most important thing—is the way he’s running his lips down the side of my cock and rubbing his face in my pubes.
“Fuck,” I grunt, as he nuzzles and licks at my base. His chin grinds against my balls as he scents and tastes me. I put one hand on his shoulder and one hand lightly on the back of his head so I don’t collapse at the raw hunger he’s allowing me to see.
Was this there when he walked in the door? Is he that good at hiding it? I would have thought he’d stoically accept my advances if I got really slutty about it, but this feral, primitive shit isdoing it for me.
I’m leaking precum onto his cheek by the time he wraps his lips around my right nut. “Jesus Christ,” I gasp, my fingersdigging into his deltoid. “You’re so fucking hot, Ry. So hot.” Because Ry ismyname for him. It’salwaysbeen mine. Fuck Miguel for eventryingto take that from me.
