Accidentally Married to Brother's Best Friend

by Sofia T Summers

  “I didn’t strike you as the kind of guy who would be so… unaware of his own charms.”

  “I’m not unaware. It’s just not something I’m going to let myself notice while I’m at work. I’m a partner at the firm, and that means I’m the boss of pretty much everyone there, except for the other partners. There’s no point in noticing if they want to sleep with me, because it would never happen, and the moment I notice it is the moment it becomes awkward and there’s tension.

  “Besides, I could never date someone in my legal firm. I want to date someone outside of work. I love my job but that doesn’t mean I want it to rule my life. I want to be with someone who has their own life outside of my office.”

  “That’s fair,” I acknowledged.

  Preston oozed such confidence around me—and not in that asshole sort of way, just a quiet, centered knowledge that yes, he was handsome and accomplished, and he knew what it did to people. It hadn’t occurred to me that he wouldn’t want to acknowledge it in some areas, that he would sort of… ignore that alpha male part of him because it was inconvenient to be all cocky and confident.

  “I save the… confidence for when I really want someone,” Preston continues.

  “You must have all the girls swooning then,” I replied, smiling.

  “Not really,” Preston countered. “I haven’t really had time to date. Been too busy with the law firm, with my career. I was ambitious and I wanted to get to the top quickly, so I focused completely on that. And now…” He shrugged. “I found that there wasn’t really anyone catching my eye, I didn’t want to go out to bars or take up some dating app. I wasn’t interested in hooking up with someone a few times and hoping that it would turn into something more.”

  My stomach twisted with nerves. I wasn’t sure if he was saying… that he wanted something more with me or not. It could be viewed that way. But then again, we had just hooked up a few times.

  “I couldn’t do dating apps either,” I said, keeping the subject on safe ground rather than asking and potentially getting hurt. “I was busy with my business and not a lot of people understood that. They wanted me to pay attention to them and make our relationship my whole world and I just can’t do that. I need balance in my life. And I was never sure…”

  I took a deep breath.

  “After what you did, or what I thought you did, after—with college—I just didn’t trust anybody. I never wanted to be in such a humiliating position ever again, so I didn’t let anyone get close to me. I didn’t want to give them the chance to hurt me.”

  Preston’s eyes went soft and he reached across the table to take my hand. “I’m so sorry about that, Lyric. Seriously.”

  I squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

  I still had questions about that—if he really didn’t say anything, then how did people know those details? Who had spread the rumors? How had this become such a huge thing? But with delicious food inside of me, and white wine and champagne, and in this beautiful hotel room with Preston holding my hand and looking at me with such care and concern… it didn’t seem to matter so much. I could deal with it later.

  Besides, what did it matter when we were about to go our separate ways? Go live our old lives again? Once we got this marriage declared invalid, there was no reason for us to talk to each other or see each other again. What would be the point of spoiling this with old wounds when instead…

  I glanced over at the bed, then quickly took my hand out of Preston’s and pointed at the dessert tray. “Shall we?”

  Preston laughed and started doling out the desserts.

  “What about your parents?” I asked. “They must be clambering for grandkids.”

  “Oh, Lord, don’t remind me.” Preston laughed. “I do want kids but I’m not in a rush. My mom’s been doing that whole thing about how if I don’t get married soon my wife will be too old to have kids… I told her I would just adopt in that case. Doesn’t matter to me where the baby comes from, what matters is that I raise them and love them, that’s what will make them mine.”

  “That’s a pretty open-minded attitude. I know most men have this… thing about the kid being biologically theirs.”

  Preston shook his head. “I’ve seen a lot of custody cases in my firm. It’s heartbreaking to watch the kids go through that. Sometimes the parents are good and trying their best. Sometimes the parents are awful. And when they’re awful… it just reminds me that biology doesn’t make a family. But my parents don’t see it that way, of course, the family name is so important, blah, blah, blah.”

  I knew what he meant about biology not being a guarantee that the baby was going to be raised well. “I mean if you want a good supporting argument, just look at my mom. Tenor raised me more than she did. She’s a good person, she’s just not a good parent. She cared more about having fun and going out and working on her career than she cared about us.”

  “Tenor worried about you a lot, growing up,” Preston admitted. “He was always concerned—that you’d wind up with a bad crowd because you didn’t have parents, so you’d go looking for that sort of love and approval, and you’d end up with a shitty boyfriend or something.”

  “I never thought about it that way.”

  Tenor had always been protective of me, but I’d thought it was just some… weird dude thing, y’know, the whole I’m a man and I know what men are like and nobody can touch my pure baby sister type deal. I never considered that it might be because he feared I would go looking for what I’d lacked at home and get in over my head.

  Maybe that was why Preston was so concerned about Tenor’s point of view of our relationship. It wasn’t out of some ‘bros before hoes’ deal. It was because he knew what Tenor’s fear was and didn’t want to fuck things up.

  “I always felt bad, being younger,” I admitted. “I tried to look after him, too. You two would get into stupid shit sometimes and I was always worrying.”

  “Yeah, we were kids, what can I say.” Preston grinned. “And you were formidable. You might’ve been four years younger but you were a confident spitfire. I didn’t think there was anything in the world capable of bringing you down or making you feel small.”

  There was, though. It was why I’d left Amherst. But I didn’t want to bring that up again.

  “That was one thing my mom was good at teaching me,” I said instead. “Being confident as fuck. Demanding that people respect me. It’s served me well, starting this business and all.”

  “I can imagine. I’m glad you’ve made it such a success. It’s not easy nowadays.”

  “Tell me about it. Just drawing up a business plan—I still have nightmares about it.”

  Preston laughed. “I wish we’d still been in touch. I’m a lawyer, not a businessman, but I would’ve been happy to help you, be an investor or something.”

  “Thank you.” He sounded so earnest about it, how could I not thank him?

  “You have any events coming up?” Preston asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing major. This wedding was taking up all of my time, I figured I’d need a couple weeks of rest afterwards. We have some stuff coming up to plan, though.”

  “I hope I didn’t take you away from any important work.”

  “No, no, this is important.” Having to sign all my paperwork to show I was married would be a pain in the ass. As attracted as I was to Preston, I wanted this marriage out of the way.

  If only there was a way for us to keep this up without the stupid marriage hanging over our heads. Then again, if it wasn’t for that stupid marriage, I wouldn’t be here right now, sitting across the table from Preston and feeling that buzz in my blood, that little swoop in my stomach.

  As we finished off the dessert, Preston stood up, holding out his hand. “Would you like to dance?”

  The music was still playing, soft and low, from the speakers—just enough that I could hear it and enjoy it, but not so low that it became annoying.

  I took his hand and Preston drew me up to my feet. “Ac
tually,” I told him, feeling bold, “I’d rather go to bed.”

  For a second, Preston looked confused and disappointed, as if he thought I meant go to sleep—but then I stepped in, going up onto my toes, and kissed him.

  Preston made a startled noise against my mouth and then wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him. I opened my mouth to him, let him lick right inside. He tasted like the chocolate torte we’d just eaten. It made me moan.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning into him completely, shivering as I felt his fingers dance up my spine. He was so firm and broad, I felt like I was anchored by him and only him—that if he let go, I would float away.

  Preston kissed me like he’d been holding himself back from doing it all evening, like if he didn’t get to taste me completely, he’d die. I clung to his shirt, grabbing fistfuls of it and using it to haul him closer, keep him against me as we kissed like we were dying.

  This might be the last time I got to kiss him. The last time I got to feel his body against mine. I wanted to make it count.

  I had no idea how long we stood there, tasting each other, sliding our tongues together, biting each other’s lips. I felt like I was vibrating with need, shaking with how much I wanted him. I could feel Preston getting hard against me, his thick cock swelling against my thigh, and I shivered. I wanted that inside of me.

  Preston slid his hands over my body, feeling my curves like he was in awe of them. Squeezing, trailing his fingertips, as if he’d had me before but he’d started to forget and he wanted to relearn my body. Like he was starving for me.

  I was starving for him, too. I finally released my death grip on his shirt and moved my hands down his chest, delighting in the play of firm muscle underneath my touch. I wished that I could just blink and all of our clothes would be gone—I didn’t want to wait or take my time, I wanted him now.

  Preston groaned, squeezing my hips. “You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this.”

  That set my heart to pounding. I’d thought that Preston probably was putting all of this behind him. That he wasn’t thinking about me at all. That the tension I was feeling over dinner was just because of the wine and my own wishful thinking.

  “Me too,” I admitted. “I’ve been… I want you to fuck me.”

  “Didn’t get enough of you,” Preston growled. “I want to hear you screaming for me.”

  He yanked me even closer and kissed me harder, and I rolled my hips, feeling his cock jumping against my body underneath the fabric of our clothes. Oh, God, the memory of that in my mouth… I wanted it again, I wanted my jaw stretching and the feel of him heavy on my tongue.

  I sank to my knees and undid his pants and Preston huffed out a laugh in surprise. “Jesus Christ—I had no idea you were so eager.” He ran his hand through my hair, tugging lightly, working through the strands. “Do you have any idea how much I wanted to jump you all day?”

  Fuck, that sent a bolt of heat straight through me. I wanted to know more. I hummed encouragingly as I opened his pants and drew out his throbbing cock. He was so hard already, and my mouth watered for him. I wanted to swallow him down, I wanted him inside of me.

  “So gorgeous,” Preston murmured, as if to himself. He ran my hair through his fingers again, staring as if he couldn’t get enough of it. I could feel my face heating up.

  Out of all the things we were doing, having my hair played with by Preston was surely the least scandalous. I was on my knees about to suck his cock, for Christ’s sake. But somehow this felt like—it felt intimate. And that scared me.

  We were going to part ways after this. I couldn’t afford ‘intimate’.

  I licked the palm of my hand so that I could wrap it around the base of his cock, stroking what my mouth couldn’t reach, and then licked up his shaft. He was so hard already, but he grew even harder and bigger as I played with him. I could remember so well the things that he’d liked before, in bed in the mansion, and I tried to imitate them again here. I sucked on the head of his cock, running my tongue along the slit, and generally had my fun reacquainting myself with all the ins and outs of how to drive him crazy.

  That competitive part of me came out, whispering that I wanted this to be good for him—to be better than any other woman he’d ever been with. Preston had just told me that he didn’t really do hookups or have time for dating, but surely he’d been with a few people here and there. He was so handsome and charming, how could he not be? I wanted to blow all of them—no pun intended—out of the water.

  I knew it wasn’t logical. We were separating after this night. But I couldn’t help it. I wanted to be the best. It was almost like… after this, I wanted him to still think about me. I wanted him to be haunted by me just as I’d been haunted by him all these years—only in a good way.

  Preston’s hand stayed in my hair—not forcing or controlling, just gently grounding—and I hummed with satisfaction as I bobbed up and down on his cock. Unlike the other night, I wasn’t trying to get him to come. I just wanted to tease him and get him worked up so that he could fuck me. I ran my tongue over the head, the underside, swirling it around, working the slit. I tucked his cock into my cheek and relaxed my mouth so that he could rut up against the soft curve of it and Preston groaned.

  “God, you’re so fuckin’—fuck,” he swore, tightening his grip a little.

  I had to hold in a smile and bobbed my head up and down a few more times, taking him in as deep as I could without choking, and then pulled off, finally letting that smile spread.

  Preston shook a little, gasping. “Fuck.”

  “That’s what I want you to do to me,” I informed him.

  Preston growled, hauling me to my feet and then to the bed, his fingers flying over my zippers and buttons. I gasped as he practically tore my clothes off in his passion. I didn’t feel unsafe or anything—impatient more than anything—but the idea that he wanted me so badly he was about ready to ruin my clothes sent such heat through me that I felt like I was melting.

  I yanked at Preston’s clothes in turn, trying to undo his tie and his buttoned-up shirt, my fingers shaking and clumsy from need.

  Preston growled again and pulled back, undoing his clothes himself, throwing them onto the ground like they were trash instead of the wildly expensive, tailored outfits they actually were.

  Once he was finally naked, he dove back in again, and I thought he would kiss me—but instead he kissed down my neck, kisses that were indulgent and frantic all at once, and then even lower, down to my breasts. A surprised moan shot out of me and I clutched at his shoulders as he licked and sucked at them. We had just eaten a huge meal, but he was like a starving man with them. I shuddered from head to toe as pulses of desire swept through me from his mouth down to my core, right between my legs, as I steadily grew wetter and wetter.

  Preston pulled back, his eyes gleaming with purpose. “Turn over.”

  It took a second for me to understand. My brain felt like scrambled eggs after that. “What?”

  “Turn over.” Preston massaged my thighs. “I want to get as deep inside of you as possible.”

  Lust shot through me so strongly that I felt like I was melting. Yes, please. I turned over, and immediately felt hands sliding over my ass, squeezing, exploring.

  I had always felt like this position was a bit impersonal. That it was for people who didn’t want the intimacy of looking into their partner’s face. But oh God, was I being proven wrong right now. Preston was slowly kissing up my spine, nipping and sucking, and I was trembling uncontrollably. I felt like he held me in his hands completely—like the only thing in the world that truly existed was Preston.

  His hands moved up from my ass around to my front, sliding up and down my body, squeezing my breasts and then moving between my legs.

  “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned, sounding like he’d been punched in the gut.

  I could only let out a whimper in return as his fingers rubbed at my aching clit, curling underne
ath it, flicking it. Oh, God, he was so good at this, playing my body like an instrument. I felt oddly held by him in this moment, leaning back on him even though technically my support was coming from my hands and knees.

  Preston slid a finger into me and I whined. Just one finger was both fulfilling and a tease. I loved it, but I wanted more.

  “Patience,” he growled in my ear as I whimpered and pushed down onto him, seeking more of his touch. “We want to get you nice and open for me. You’re going to feel so good speared on my cock, opening right up for me. Like you were fucking made for this.”

  I felt like I was, in fact, made for this. Made for Preston’s body and nobody else’s.

  He stroked me with just the one finger until I felt like I was going to fly to pieces if I didn’t get more from him. I squirmed, trying to get that finger where I wanted it, trying for it to be enough, but it wasn’t, and I was ready to sob with frustration.

  “Look at you,” Preston said, his voice hushed almost with reverence. “You’re so goddamn hot. Fuck. So gorgeous.”

  He added a second finger at last, and I keened, both at that and at the praise. I knew I was sexy. I’d always been confident in my looks. A bigger body just meant more to love, and I rocked my weight and my curves. But I had never felt confident when it came specifically to sex. How could I know for certain that what I was doing was hot instead of weird or gross unless someone told me?

  And Preston was telling me. A litany of filth was spilling out from between his lips as he fucked me with two fingers, assurances that I was so good, such a good girl and so fucking hot, you have no idea. I felt like I was going to explode soon if I wasn’t given the satisfaction I was craving.

  At last, I thought he might be about to pull out and give me what I wanted—but instead Preston just added a third finger.

  I sobbed. I was so wet I had to be dripping down onto the bedsheets by now. The filthy wet sounds of Preston finger fucking me were filling the air, showing off just how turned on I was, how ready my body was for his cock. I wanted him to fuck me and fill me. His fingers were glorious, curling and hitting all the right angles, but they weren’t enough, I needed more, I needed his cock—