Thank you for the support and feedback. I've got the whole draft made and plot already set. I try to make the fantasy at least a little bit realistic. I got more steamy smut scenes, and maybe sex scenes, you never know..😉😉
Anyway let's get into it...
I walked down the hallway toward the kitchen, still feeling the lingering heat of Colton’s dick in my mouth, my jaw’s aching, and my throat raw from being abused by his massive fuck stick. I run my tongue over my lips, wanting to savor every bit of his salty spunk. Fuck, he tasted better than I ever thought he would. My head was a mess, trying to wrap around the fact that I’d just sucked him off, sucked my own brother’s cock.
I keep wondering how far he’d actually go. Is it even possible for him to go all the way? I could only imagine taking his massive, thick meat all the way inside my tight small hole, whimpering like a bitch as he stretches me completely. He would grunt and whisper dirty things, pounding that huge fucker into me, leaving me fucked up. I would be begging him to stop, tears rolling and drool spilling. But he won’t stop, not, until he shoots that thick warm load way up to my cunt, and I would take every drop of that sweet, sticky cum. Fuck, just thinking about it made me dizzy, my cock is rock hard straining from my jeans. But knowing Colton, it’ll never happen. He’d just call it gay as fuck, and probably beat the shit out of me. Still, one can dream, right?
I grabbed a cold beer from the fridge, my body still buzzing, my cock hard, aching with release, my hand brushed over the bulge and the damp spot on my jeans. It was raging, hard as hell, leaking with precum, but I was too caught up in the rush to care.
As I started back toward Colton’s room, I heard him talking. His voice was low, but sharp, like he was pissed again. I slowed my steps, instinctively staying quiet as I got closer.
“Yeah, I don’t need you anymore, fucking slut,” Colton’s voice cut through the air, cold and dismissive. “Found another bitch to take care of me, and let me tell you—this one’s hella lot better than you.”
A grin tugged on my lips. I should be pissed off—being called another bitch. I should be humiliated that I was just a convenient fuck. But Hell, instead being irritated, it sent a thrill through me, like I could satisfy him better than any chick ever could.
“Nah, bitch, you can’t even deep throat me,” he continued, his voice dripping with arrogance.
I pushed the door open. Colton was sprawled out on his bed, his back against the headboard, one arm tucked behind his head, his other hand holding his phone. He glanced up at me, his expression unreadable, and then he ended the call without another word. He tossed his phone onto the bed, his eyes locking on mine.
“Took you long enough,” he muttered, his gaze dropped to the beer in my hand as I approached him.
I hand it to him. My pulse was still racing. Colton took it, popping it open with a quick flick of his finger, then took a long, slow sip, his eyes never leaving mine.
He exhaled, settling back into the bed, his arm still behind his head, lazily watching me as if he had all the time in the world.
“Come here,” he said, his voice low, commanding.
I moved without thinking, my body already responding to him, my knees hitting the edge of the bed, as I crawled toward him. Colton shifted slightly, spreading his legs a little wider, still holding the beer in one hand, but his eyes were locked on me.
“You know what to do,” he said softly, taking another sip, his voice dripping with lazy arrogance.
I swallowed hard, my throat tightening with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. My hands moved to his waistband, tugging down his sweatpants just enough to free him. His cock was softer now, but still thick and heavy, the smell hits me harder this time, the lingering scent of cum mixed with the musk of his skin, and the hint of mint from my spit. This time I didn’t hesitate. I wrapped my hand around him, stroking him slowly, feeling the heat and weight of him in my palm as his semi started to stiffen, I was fucking turned on watching his thick cock change from soft to hard, real quick.
Colton groaned softly, tipping his head back against the headboard.
“Fuck, yeah, that’s it,” he muttered, his voice rough, his hips rolling up slightly into my hand.
“You’re getting good at this.”
He took another slow sip of his beer, his eyes half-lidded as he watched me work.
I leaned forward, my breath hot against him as I let my lips brush the tip of his cock, tasting him again. He grunted, his hips jerking slightly. I took him into my mouth, slow and deliberate this time, my tongue swirling around the head as I lowered myself inch by inch. His cock filled my mouth, stretching my lips wide, but I kept going, pushing myself to take more.
“Fuck,” Colton muttered, his voice low, almost a growl. He set the beer bottle down on the nightstand, both hands now gripping the back of his head as he leaned back further, his muscles flexing under his skin.
“That’s it, bitch. Take it all.”
I moved faster, my hand stroking the base while my mouth worked over him, the taste of him heavy on my tongue. His cock twitched in my mouth, his hips grinding up in slow, deliberate motions, matching my pace.
“Yeah, suck it just like that.”
I paused for just a second, trying to gather myself before taking him deeper, but that brief hesitation was enough to piss Colton off.
“Did I tell you to stop, freak?” He growled. His grip tightened in my hair, and before I could even think, he thrust harder, forcing his cock deeper into my mouth.
I tried to say something, but it came out as a muffled sound, my throat tightening as I gagged around him. The vibrations only made him chuckle, low and smug.
"What was that?" he growled, not letting up, fucking my mouth fast and hard. "Didn’t think so."
I gagged again, my throat burning as he held me in place. My chest tightened, and with a quick, desperate motion, I pulled back, coughing as I finally managed to free myself.
"I was about to deepthroat you, asshole!"
The words came out between coughs, sharp and frustrated. I wiped my mouth, glaring at him, but Colton just smirked, clearly enjoying the whole thing, his grip still firm in my hair.
"Then quit being a bitch and just fucking do it."
His arrogance irritated me even more, but instead of diving back in the way he expected, I shifted my focus. I leaned forward, letting my tongue drag slowly up from the base of his cock, tracing the thick vein that throbbed beneath my touch. My tongue slid over his skin, tasting the salt of his sweat, as I licked all the way up to the tip, teasing the head with a slow circle.
“Fuck…what are doing? Just fucking deep…fuck,” he groaned, not finishing what he was about to say, as I keep licking the underside of his cock head.
I felt him twitch in my hand, his breath hitching as I wrapped my fingers around the base and gave a firm squeeze, drawing out a bead of precum. I caught it with my tongue before it could spill, savoring the slick, salty taste as I swirled my tongue around him.
His cock jerked in response, and I smirked, knowing exactly how to push him further. I moved lower, dragging my tongue down the length of him, trailing over his balls before dipping lower still. My tongue found the sensitive spot beneath them—the perineum—and I flicked over it, making him grunt.
"Oh shit… yeah, right there."
I squeezed him again, deliberately this time, watching as more precum dripped out. I licked it up slowly, my tongue tracing back up to the tip, swirling around the head before taking him in my mouth again.
His grip in my hair tightened, but this time it wasn’t out of frustration—it was raw need. His breaths came heavier as I worked him over, my mouth and tongue exploring every inch of him, my hand squeezing at the base to draw out another drop every time.
"Damn… you just keep surprising me, little bro."
I didn’t let up, licking from the base to the tip again, squeezing out more precum with each stroke and catching it before it could fall. His cock pulsed against my tongue, throbbing hard.
"That’s it… keep going."
This time, I didn’t hesitate. I took a deep breath and pushed forward, letting him fill my mouth completely. Inch by inch, I took him deeper, feeling my throat tighten as I worked him in. I pushed past the burn, past the ache, until my lips pressed against the base of his cock, pubes tickling my nose, my throat stretched around him.
His reaction was immediate—his grip tightened in my hair, and I felt a low groan rumble out of him as I held him there, fully inside me.
“Ohh yeah, fuck, that’s it. Deep throat that big cock.”
I started to move, taking him in and out, deepthroating him fully now, feeling him pulse with every motion. My hand pressed against his thigh for balance as I kept up the rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of my mouth, hitting the back of my throat each time. I could feel him twitching, his body tensing as he got closer.
"Shit… I’m getting close."
I didn’t slow down. I took him deeper, faster, my throat tightening around him as his breaths grew ragged. His hand gripped tighter, and I knew he was right there, hanging on the edge.
“You want me to come in your mouth, fag?” he gritted, his voice was low and rough, his grip tight on the back of my head, forcing me down further onto his cock as his hips thrust up to meet me.
“You want me to give you my load, huh?”
I moaned around him, the vibration making him twitch, his body tensing as he pushed me down even further.
“Then don’t stop, fuck, just keep going,” he growled, voice thick with need.
His grip tightened in my hair, holding me in place as his thrusts became more frantic. His breath came in harsh, uneven gasps, his body coiled, hips driving up as he got closer to the edge.
“Fuck, oh fuckkkk, shit, I’m gonna cum.”
With a final thrust, I felt him tense, his cock jerking, throbbing in my mouth as he shot ropes of thick, warm cum, it’s not massive like before but it’s still intense, he spurted maybe 5 ropes down my throat. I swallowed instinctively, taking everything he gave, feeling him twitch with each spasm as he finished. His grip in my hair loosened slightly, but I held him there until the last drop, making sure he was completely spent, wanting all of that warm seed.
“Good boy,” he muttered, patting my head as I still kept going, sucking his cock until it goes limp.
“You did so fucking good.”
Finally, I pulled back, catching my breath, savoring the taste of his spunk as I wiped my mouth. Colton leaned back against the headboard, his chest heaving, his eyes half-closed as he reached for the beer again.
“Fucking cum slut,” he muttered, his voice rough, but there was a grin on his face. He took a long sip of the beer, his eyes flicking down to me.
His chest was still rising and falling, beads of sweat glistening along his skin. My own cock painfully hard and throbbing in my jeans, and I’m pretty sure it’s fucking wet. I couldn’t look away from him, even though my body screamed for release.
Colton’s gaze flicked down to the bulge in my pants, and his smirk widened.
“Well, look at you,” he muttered, his voice dripping with amusement.
“Dick’s raging from sucking your big bro’s cock.” He let out a low laugh, shaking his head.
“Damn, little bro. You really are a fucking freak, aren’t you?”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. My heart was pounding in my chest, adrenaline still coursing through me. But I stayed there, waiting for him to make the next move.
Colton finished off the last of his beer, setting the empty bottle on the nightstand before looking back down at me. His smirk turned darker.
“From now on,” he said, his voice low and commanding, “When I call, you come. No questions, no hesitation. Got it?”
A strange, twisted thrill ran through me, like the more he asserted his control, the more I wanted to surrender to it. This is fucked up, and I loved it.
I swallowed again, nodding slowly.
“Yeah,” I muttered, my voice barely steady. “I got it.”
Colton’s eyes flicked down to my crotch again, where my cock was still straining painfully against my jeans, harder than ever. His smirk deepened, and he shook his head, like he was amused by the sheer desperation he saw in me.
“You’re a real fag, aren’t you?” he muttered, his voice mocking.
“Do you think I would touch your dirty dick?” He leaned back against the headboard again, stretching his arms behind his head, completely relaxed.
“Too bad, little bro. You’re gonna have to take care of that yourself.”
My stomach twist in frustration. I’d done everything for him—given him what he wanted, let him use me—but now, when I was aching for release, he was leaving me hanging.
Colton’s smirk didn’t fade as he watched me struggle with it, his eyes glinting with satisfaction.
“Go back to your room and take care of your shit,” he said lazily, his voice dripping with arrogance.
My breath caught in my throat, and for a second, I just stared at him, unsure whether to be angry or humiliated—or both. But the look in his eyes told me he wasn’t giving me a choice. He was in control, and that control wasn’t up for debate.
“And since I already paid you, go make dinner, like the bitch you are. I’m fucking starving.”
I nodded again, swallowing the lump in my throat as I stood up on shaky legs. My whole body was trembling, my cock painfully hard, my hands itching to reach for it, but I held back. I wasn’t about to beg.
“Good boy,” Colton muttered, his voice soft but full of authority. He watched me with that same smug look on his face.
“Now get the fuck out of here.”
I turned and walked toward the door, my heart pounding, my mind a chaotic mess. As I stepped out of the room, I heard him chuckle softly behind me, a sound that sent another jolt of heat through my body, despite the humiliation burning in my chest.
I closed the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment, my breath ragged, my cock still painfully hard. I should’ve felt used. I should’ve felt ashamed. But I didn’t. All I could think about was how badly I wanted more.
As I walked to my room, my mind still buzzing from what had just happened. Twice. I could still taste him on my tongue, still feel the weight of him in my throat. Fucking hell. Colton had given me his “pay,” all right, and I was riding the high of it.
I closed the door behind me, and immediately went on with it, jerking off to the thought of Colton’s cock, it didn’t take long for me shoot onto the floor, my hands are covered on my own jizz and the floor was a sticky mess. I cleaned everything, and also get myself cleaned up, before I made my way into the kitchen, still couldn’t believe I got to suck Colton’s cock two times.
The house was quiet. Brodie and Damon wouldn’t be back for another hour or so, which gave me just enough time to throw something together. I grabbed the steak from the fridge, tossing it onto the counter, and started peeling the potatoes for the fries. Steak Frites—simple, but it always hit the spot after a long day. Plus, my brothers loved it.
The steak was already sizzling in the pan when I heard the familiar sound of footsteps behind me. Colton, of course, we’re the only ones in the house right now.
He stepped into the kitchen, his presence filling the room before he even said a word. I glanced over my shoulder just as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, that arrogant smirk playing on his lips.
“Steak Frites?” His eyes flicked between the food and me, clearly pleased with what he saw.
Without warning, I felt his hand smack hard against my ass, the sting lingering.
“Hell yeah! My dick must be that good,” he muttered, arrogance dripping from his voice.
“Since I feed you my load, it's only fair you feed me.”
My freakin' face heat up. I focused on the pan, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened.
“I’m cooking for everyone, Colton. Stop distracting me,” I muttered, keeping my voice steady.
He chuckled, but instead of stepping back, he moved in closer, crowding me against the counter. I could feel the heat of him at my back, his chest pressing into me, and then the unmistakable feeling of his cock against my ass. He leaned in, his breath hot on my neck, his grip tightening on my waist.
“So now I’m distracting you?” he teased, his voice low and rough.
“You’re my bitch, remember? I got every right to distract you.” His cock pressed harder against me, making it clear he was in control.
I swallowed hard, my hands tightening around the spatula as I flipped the steak, my focus slipping under his touch.
Colton smirked, clearly enjoying the power he had over me.
“You spoil me, you know that? Keep this up, and maybe I’ll keep you around,” he said, his voice full of smug satisfaction. His fingers dug into my waist for a moment longer before he finally stepped back, leaving me breathless.
As he walked toward the door, he glanced back one last time.
“Don’t burn my steak,” he added, his voice still filled with that cocky arrogance before disappearing back down the hallway, leaving me to catch my breath in the quiet kitchen. I internally flipped him off, cocky bastard.
The house was quiet again, except with the sound of cooking. My heart was still racing from what had just happened, I thought he was about to fuck me right there, but I forced myself to focus on finishing the Steak Frites. The fries were nearly done, golden and crispy, and the steak rested on the counter after a perfect sear.
I was just finishing up when I heard the front door creak open. Brodie’s heavy boots hit the floor, followed by the sound of him kicking them off. He always came in like that—solid, predictable, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, yet he carried it without complaint.
“Al!” he called out, his voice deep and tired, but still with that commanding edge that made my chest tighten.
I didn’t even have to answer before he walked into the kitchen. His presence was all-consuming. The smell hit me first—ripe, masculine, and heady, a mix of sweat, dust, and something primal. It clung to him, soaked into the worn fabric of his flannel and jeans, the kind of scent that made it impossible to think straight.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked, already heading for the sink to wash his hands. His voice was rough, but there was a warmth to it, like he was trying to be kind despite the exhaustion hanging off him.
“Steak Frites,” I said, glancing up from the stove.
“With veggies. Should be ready in a few minutes.”
Brodie nodded, rolling up his sleeves as he scrubbed his hands under the water. His forearms were thick and corded with muscle, veins standing out under his skin, still covered in dirt and grime from a long day. I watched as he washed up.
When he was done, his eyes flicked toward me, and before I could react, he was right in front of me, his rough hand finding its way to the back of my neck, ruffling my hair like he’d done a million times before.
“Good job, baby bro,” he muttered, his voice thick, warm, and close. “You’re a damn good cook, you know that?”
I tried to groan, rolling my eyes like it was just another annoying big brother move.
“Come on, man, don’t mess up my hair. I’m freakin’ too old for that shit.” I grumbled, swatting his hand away.
But inside? Inside, I was a mess. My pulse was quickening, and the warmth from his hand lingered on the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. Brodie’s touch was casual, but it always set something in me. I could still smell him, that musky, earthy scent, wrapping around me, making it harder to breathe.
For a moment, I couldn’t help myself. My eyes flicked down. I didn’t mean to, but my gaze dropped lower, and I saw it. The bulge in his jeans, straining against the denim, hard to ignore. His cock. My throat tightened, and I quickly looked away, heat rushing to my face, but I couldn’t unsee it. Images flashed in my mind, impossible to shake.
Brodie didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did, but he didn’t say anything. He just chuckled, the sound deep and rough, vibrating through me.
“You’ll live,” he teased, reaching over to grab a plate from the cupboard.
“Besides, you need something to balance out that pretty face of yours.”
I forced a smile, trying to hide how hard my heart was pounding, he always keeps saying shit like that. If I knew better, I would think he’s flirting with me. If yesterday I ask myself who between my brothers would likely let me blow them, I would say probably Brodie and Colton would be fucking last.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I muttered, attempting to sound unaffected, even though my body felt like it was on fire.
But I couldn’t stop myself from sneaking another glance as he turned away, my eyes drawn back to the way his jeans clung to him, the way his muscles flexed as he moved. He was all broad shoulders, rough hands, and pure masculinity, every inch of him radiating strength. His flannel was unbuttoned at the top, revealing a white undershirt beneath, stained with sweat and dirt, clinging to his chest. He looked... like Brodie. Solid. Tired. But somehow... irresistible.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look away before he could catch me staring again.
Brodie piled food onto his plate, his focus shifting to dinner.
“Damon home yet?” he asked, grabbing a fork and sitting down at the kitchen table.
“Not yet,” I said, turning my back to him, pretending to busy myself with the food. My heart was still racing, and I could feel the heat from my flushed face reaching all the way to my neck. I couldn’t let myself get caught up in this. Not with Brodie. But the memory of that bulge, the feel of his hand on my neck, was seared into my mind.
“Ok,” Brodie muttered between bites of food. “Means we can eat in peace before Colton starts his shit.”
I forced a laugh, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, enjoy it while you can.”
The front door creaked again, and Damon slipped in quietly, closing it behind him. He was always the quieter one, never making a fuss. He kicked off his sneakers and walked into the kitchen with that usual calm energy, like everything was fine in the world no matter what. But he brought another wave of scent—sweat, musk, and the sharp, intoxicating edge of a hard workout. Damon had just come from the gym, and the smell of him was fresh but intense, like he carried the weight of every rep in his muscles.
“Hey,” he said, his voice deep but soft as he grabbed a plate. “Something smells good, is it ready?”
“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound normal. “Help yourself.”
Damon smiled and served himself quietly, sitting down next to Brodie.
“Where’s Colton?” he asked.
And right on cue, speak of the devil and he shall arrive, Colton came swaggering into the kitchen, his usual cocky grin plastered across his face. He went to the fridge to grab a beer. He didn’t say anything at first, just grabbed a plate and piled on food, his eyes flicking from Brodie to Damon and then landing on me, that smirk widening when he caught my eye.
I looked away, my stomach flipping.
Colton leaned back against the counter, taking a swig of his beer as he ate. He didn’t sit down with the rest of us, didn’t bother to join the conversation. He just stood there, watching us like he was somehow above it all. We eat in silence for a while, only the clinking sound of cutlery can be heard in the quite room, until Brodie breaks it.
“You going out tonight?” Brodie asked, his voice tight, his eyes not leaving his plate.
Colton chuckled under his breath, setting his plate down and leaning his hip against the counter.
“Yeah. Why? You got a problem with that?”
Brodie’s fork clattered against his plate as he set it down, his jaw tightening.
“You’re always going out, Colton. You ever think about sticking around, maybe helping out once in a while? Or are you too busy fucking around with your loser friends?”
The tension in the room thickened instantly. Damon glanced up from his plate already preparing to step in, if necessary, his eyes flicking between Brodie and Colton like he was waiting for the explosion.
Colton just laughed, that low, arrogant sound that always seemed to get under Brodie’s skin.
“Relax, man. I’m handling my shit. I don’t need you breathing down my neck all the time.” He took another swig of beer, his smirk never fading.
“Besides, you’re the one who likes playing the hero. Why don't you get a life bro?”
My eyes went wide, even Damon stiffen. Why the fuck did he say that?
Brodie’s hands clenched into fists on the table, his knuckles turning white.
“You think this is a fucking game, Colton? You think I do this because I want to? I’m the only one keeping this place from falling apart while you’re out getting wasted every night. You ever think about that?”
Colton shrugged, his eyes flicking toward me for a split second before settling back on Brodie.
“I’m doing fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“That’s the fucking problem,” Brodie snapped, pushing his plate away.
“You’re always doing fine. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself.”
Damon shifted in his seat, looking at them intently. Even Damon can’t stand Colton and he would side with Brodie, without second thought.
I stayed quiet, my eyes flicking between them, the tension making my stomach twist. This was a familiar argument—too familiar. Brodie always trying to get Colton to take things seriously, to take responsibility, and Colton always brushing it off like it didn’t matter.
But it wasn’t just that. Colton was looking at me, watching me, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. The way his eyes lingered on me, that smug smirk on his face.
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my expression neutral, but my heart was racing. I couldn’t let Brodie see. He had no idea what happened between Colton and me, and if he found out... I didn’t even want to think about it.
Colton finished his beer, setting the empty bottle on the counter with a loud clink.
“Anyway, I’m heading out,” he said casually, like the argument had never even happened.
“I’ll be back later.”
Brodie shot him a glare, his fists still clenched.
“Yeah, of course you are. Just don’t expect me to clean up your mess when you come back wasted. I’m done with your shit, Colton.”
Colton shrugged again, that infuriating grin still on his face.
“Whatever you say, Brodie.” He pushed off the counter and headed toward the door, pausing only to glance back at me, his eyes lingering a little too long.
“See you later, little bro.”
My stomach flipped again, but I didn’t say anything. I just nodded, keeping my eyes on the table.
The door swung shut behind him, and the tension in the room slowly started to ease. Brodie let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair, his frustration still palpable. Damon stayed quiet, glaring at the door.
The atmosphere was heavy, the kitchen was quiet. Damon excused himself, as he went to his room. Brodie also stood up and went to the living room, slumping on the couch, leaning forward with his head in his hands. He looked worn out, more than usual, like the fight with Colton had drained whatever energy he had left after his long day of work.
I sighed, grabbing the dishes and worked quietly, cleaning, and washing the dishes. After I finished drying the last plate and hung up the dish towel, my eyes flickering over to the living room. Brodie hadn’t moved. His broad shoulders were hunched, the muscles in his back tight even from where I was standing. He looked... defeated.
My chest tightened at the sight of him. Brodie wasn’t supposed to look like that. He was the strong one, the one who kept everything together. Seeing him like this, slumped and tired, made me ache to do something—anything—to help him.
I walked over to the couch, the soft sound of my footsteps the only noise in the quiet house. I sat down beside him, the cushions dipping slightly under my weight, but Brodie didn’t lift his head. He just sat there, staring at the floor, his hands rubbing at his temples like he was trying to work out the stress that had been building all day.
Without thinking, I reached out and placed my hand on his back, rubbing softly between his shoulder blades. His muscles were tight under my fingers, the tension radiating off of him like heat. I didn’t say anything at first, just kept rubbing his back, hoping it would offer him some relief.
Brodie let out a long breath, his body relaxing slightly under my touch.
"You don’t have to do that, Al," he muttered, his voice low and tired. "I’m fine."
But he wasn’t. I could feel how tense he was, the weight he was carrying. And I needed to help. I wanted to help.
"Come on," I said softly, my hand still rubbing slow circles on his back.
"Let me give you a real massage. You’re too tense. You need to take a break."
Brodie lifted his head slightly, glancing over at me with tired eyes.
"A massage? You don’t have to do that."
I shook my head, smiling a little.
"No, you’re not fine. You’re carrying too much, Brodie. Just let me help you relax a little, okay? You’ve been working non-stop. You deserve it."
He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching mine, like he was trying to decide if he should let me do this. Finally, he sighed and nodded.
"Alright.”
I stood up, feeling a strange warmth spread through me.
“Let’s go to your room then. Make yourself more comfortable,” I suggested, pulling his arm up.
Brodie pushed himself up from the couch with a grunt, rubbing the back of his neck as he led the way to his room. I followed close behind, my pulse quickening slightly as we walked down the hallway. I’m fucking sure massage isn’t the only thing I’m thinking right now.
