Page 7 of Too Sweet
She’s in college. I don’t deal with college chicks since I graduated college myself.
She’s short, shy, dainty... not my type, but here I am, sporting a raging hard-on.
That’s bad.
Very fucking bad.
Inappropriate.
I can’t think about her that way. She’s Cody’s. Out of my reach and—should be—off my radar.
My dick disagrees, twitching when more arousing images flicker on the edge of my consciousness: flushed cheeks, big, green irises, the inch of collarbone peeking above her blouse...
I fight my instincts for a few moments before I give in and grip the base of my cock, pumping up and down, every tight stroke painfully slow while I picture Mia lying on the piano stool, long hair cascading to the floor.
I pump faster, imagining her pink heels with little bows resting on my back, my face between her thighs, under her pink tulle skirt. I almost hear her moan in that soft voice, feel her skillful fingers tugging on my hair while she squirms on my lips until she cries out my name as she comes, satisfied and trembling.
“Fuck,” I groan, shuddering with release and shooting my load on the tiles, the orgasm so intense my knees buckle.
That’s not good.
Not good at all.
???
The house is quiet when I descend the stairs around ten in the morning, ready for a workout. It didn’t slip my attention that the guest bedroom Mia occupied last night stood open, the room empty.
“Good morning,” Cody says, switching on the coffee maker. “What time did you get back?”
“Where’s your girl?” I counter, resting against the island. “I saw you put her in the guest bedroom last night.”
The only reason I sayyour girlis to check if he’ll correct me. It doesn’t seem likely, considering the love-sick puppy look is back. It’s odd. Mia’s not the triplets’ usual type. I’ve seen the girls they bring home. They’re nothing like Mia. They’re confident and chatty.
“I took her home an hour ago. I should’ve checked with you if she could stay the night, but it—”
Conor interrupts his monologue, entering the room, and rubbing sleep from his eyes, his curly hair a disgraceful mess. I use Cody’s sudden inability to finish a sentence to dismiss his upcoming apology with a wave of my hand.
“I don’t mind. I am curious, though. Why the guest bedroom? And why haven’t you told me about her?”
“Mia’s not mine, Nico,” he admits slowly, each word calculated. “You could say I’m working on it.”
Conor spins in place. A snort of amazed horror sputters past his lips, the half-drunken bliss that twisted his features a second ago now gone. “You’rewhat? You think you can go after Mia without checking with Colt and me first?”
I fold my arms over my chest, one eyebrow raised. He’s as territorial about Mia as Cody, and by the sound of things, Colt might be the same.
It’s not like they give a fuck about anyone other than family, which is reasonable, I guess. They don’t have long until graduation. Once college is over, they’ll enter the mediocre joys of adult life, so they’re using and abusing the last years of freedom: partying and getting their dicks wet five times a week.
“I wanted to run it by you, but shit got out of hand fast last night. First Brandon, and—” He stops, sucking in a harsh breath like he needs a moment to think through his next words. “And then Spencer swooped in like a fucking Knight in shining armor... I couldn’t sit back and watch him hit on her, so I asked her to be my plus one for Mom’s Charity Ball next month.”
Shit, the Ball. I should tell my assistant, Jasmine, to save the date before she makes plans with her girlfriend, forcing me to invite a random woman. There’s still time—five weeks—but Jas plans her life months in advance.
“Youwhat?!” Conor heaves again, blowing his curls away from his forehead. “You can’t do that!”
Cody steps from one foot to another, suddenly defensive. “Why? No dibs on chicks, remember?”
The last of the Holy Trinity joins our gathering. The one who’s most like me, so this is about to get interesting. Instead of hitting my home gym in the basement, I get comfortable on the tall barstool, sipping coffee and watching my nine-years-younger brothers pick up their figurative swords.
“Guess who made a move on our girl last night,” Conor growls at Colt, who immediately zeroes in on me, nostrils flared, murder on his mind.Wrong address, bro.“Not him!” Conor rolls his eyes. “Cody!”
