Brock_Four Sons Series

by Dani René

  I lift my eyes toward Brock, telling him with one look what I think, and he nods. We’ve done this plenty of times before, but Camila is so different. I want our time together to be special. Her head drops back and she closes her eyes as I lean in and plant a soft kiss on her pussy. Another soft mewl tumbles through the dark night, hanging between the three of us as my best friend captures her nipple in his mouth over the material of her bathing suit. He goes to work, teasing it, and he reaches for her other tit, groping and fondling. Her hips roll, trying to get closer to my face. We continue our assault on her body until she’s whimpering and shuddering. Our hands are on her, steadying her as she rides out the pleasure. When she finally looks at me again, her gaze is shimmering with need.

  Not tonight, sweetheart.

  “Are you ready? Brock will drop you off at home,” I tell her.

  She flits her gaze between us, suddenly unsure of why we’re sending her home. The thing is, if she stays any longer, I’m going to rip these damn bikini bottoms from her pretty little hips and eat her pussy until she’s screaming so loud, all of goddamn L.A. will hear her.

  “We’ll see you tomorrow,” Brock smiles, settling her confusion. “Tonight, we want you to think about what we said. If you’re willing to try this, a relationship between the three of us—”

  “It will be something that’s new to all of us. But if you stay here, we’ll just distract you and make you agree.” I wink at her, causing her to giggle. The sound is beautiful and melodic, and I want to hear it again. I want to listen to it on repeat. Forever.

  “Dinner is on us tomorrow,” Brock informs her with a cocky smirk.

  “You mean I’m cooking and you’re drinking?” I arch an eyebrow at him, eliciting another laugh from Camila. “There is no pressure to say yes. If all you want is short-term,” I squeeze her thighs, “then that’s what we’ll offer you.”

  “I get it. I’ll have an answer for you tomorrow. I promise.” The look in her eyes tells me she’s already got an answer. And I’m certain it’s yes. But time will tell.

  “Good girl.” I smile. “Brock will drive you home. I’ve had one too many beers.” We’ve learned the hard way that our parties tend to get wild, so one of us is normally the designated adult, and tonight, it’s Brock’s turn.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brock

  “Okay,” she answers, and I grin.

  “Good,” I rise, offering her my hand. Ethan is out of the pool, rounding us. She’s pinned between us, held hostage by our bodies. I lift her chin, forcing her to look into my eyes. “And tomorrow, all bets are off,” I inform her. “Tomorrow, I want to make your pretty little body tremble until you’re passed out from all the pleasure we’ll bestow on you.” My promise makes her shiver.

  “I can’t wait to lick you, taste you, devour you, Camila,” Ethan whispers in her ear, moving her curls from her neck. He suckles on the sweet, caramel flesh, licking and tasting her. Watching them makes me harder than rock.

  “Ethan,” she whimpers, dropping her head to the side, offering him better access, as if he’s a vampire about to devour her. Fuck. I’m solid steel, making my swim shorts rather uncomfortable.

  “Let’s go,” I announce, stepping away from her heat.

  Moments later, we’re in the car, and she gives me her address. For some reason, seeing her working at the shack, I thought perhaps she needed the money, but when I pull up to the mansion that reminds me of my childhood home, I’m shocked at the size.

  “This is me,” she tells me with a shy smile.

  “Don’t put on that act,” I tell her. “Shy girls only get so far.” My eyes land on hers. “Just beneath that shy exterior is a little vixen wanting to be freed.”

  “You caught me,” she laughs, a beautiful, melodic sound that comes straight from her gut.

  “Tomorrow.” I lean in, my lips whispering over her cheek. “We’ll have some fun.”

  She nods, exiting the car. I wait until I see her disappear behind the high gates. I wonder why the fuck she’d be working when she’s as rich as Ethan and I. Shaking my head, I pull back onto the road and make my way home.

  Moments later, I’m walking into the living room, my mind still on Camila. Ethan is lounging on the couch with the TV on, the volume so low, there’s not even a hum in the background, a pair of gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He’s toned and tan, chiseled with a dark trail of hair that runs from beneath his belly button to his thick cock.

  Everything about him oozes sex. From the smirk that curls his full lips to the way he grips the beer bottle in his hand. His fingers can make a woman scream his name, his mouth can have her finding religion, but it’s his eyes that don’t hide what he’s really feeling—they hold mischief and pain.

  We connected on that pain. It was what brought us together, and throughout the years, it became more than that. I don’t think my brothers understand me. I didn’t think anyone would, and then he came along and showed me there is life after death. No matter the circumstances of that death, those who live on will continue their journey through life’s ups and downs.

  “Hey.” I settle on the sofa beside him. Grabbing his beer, I put it to my lips and take a long swig. The bubbles fizzle down my throat as I swallow the alcohol. He doesn’t respond, merely watches me as I set the beer down on the coffee table.

  He reaches for me, his hand behind my head, and pulls me toward him. Our lips crash against each other like a storm rolling in. Thunder strikes when our tongues tangle, and I’m ready to take this into the bedroom, or wherever we can continue. Since we first kissed and then sucked each other off, it knocked me on my ass. I knew it would be different with him, but what I felt, what my body needed, was so much more.

  All my life I knew I was different, that I didn’t just want women, but it was only when I spent more time with Ethan did I realize it was him. It was always him. I don’t doubt for a moment that when we finally took this step, there’d be no way of coming back from it. And I know he feels the same.

  When he finally pulls away, his dark eyes shine with emotion.

  “What’s wrong?” I question. He’s been quiet today, and it slowly dawns on me what today is. Shit. I totally forgot. “Shit, I’m sorry.” I scrub my hand over my jaw.

  “It’s fine,” he tells me, but it’s not. “I just needed…” A sigh. One that grips my chest. As much as he saved me, I realize now just how much I mean to him.

  “Hey,” I say, grabbing his thigh and pulling it closer to me. “I know it never gets easier.”

  He nods, but doesn’t respond. We sit in silence for a while, staring out the window, listening to the waves crashing on the shore. I recall my own mother. As much as I loved my dad, she was just as bad as he was when it came to fucking around.

  “Mom?” I call out, wondering if she’s home. Nixon and Camden aren’t back yet, and I wander through the house, knowing Hayden is probably out with his friends.

  “What the fuck?” I hear my father’s deep rumble. I know he’s been with other women. I saw him in town, not hiding the fact that he had his hand on some skinny blonde’s butt. Shuddering at the memory, I creep closer to their bedroom.

  “You’ve been doing it for years, Eric,” Mom hisses angrily. Her hand flies up, slapping my dad on his cheek. He looks like he’s been out all night. His shirt, normally ironed to perfection, is rumpled and he looks like hell.

  “Fuck you, okay! You don’t give me what I need,” Dad bites back, tugging his shirt free. When it falls to the floor, I notice the scratches on his back and wonder who hurt him. Maybe it was the blonde woman, or maybe another woman I didn’t see him with.

  “Oh? Like what? You wanted kids. You wanted this fucking house, now I’m left here to fend for myself.”

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it. My boys need a parent while I’m at work. Why don’t you act like a mother and care for them?” Another harsh slap that echoes through the small space.

  “I am a good mother,” she utters,
but it’s a lie. My mother hasn’t been there for us in years. My eyes fill with angry tears when she mumbles, “I love my boys, but you, Eric Pearson…you’re a fucking cheating asshole.”

  I turn away, not wanting to know more about the pain in our home. From the outside, it’s beautiful, pristine, but the ugliness within these walls makes me sick.

  I hate the lies.

  All of them.

  I just want to run away and never come back.

  And something tells me, if I did, they wouldn’t even miss me. Not Hayden, not Nixon, and not my parents. The only thing that stops me from leaving is my little brother, Camden.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ethan

  “You’re lost inside your head again,” I tell him, snapping him out of whatever memory had hold of him. Today was the anniversary of my mother’s death. I tried to push the sadness into the back of my mind, and when the apartment was filled with people I didn’t really know, I could focus on anything but that—but her. However, as soon as I was alone, it slammed into me, reminding me she’s no longer here.

  Even though it's been years, there’s still an ache that seems to linger. It’s as if she’s reminding me she loves me.

  Unlike Brock’s mother, mine was loving and spent all her time with me. She was there for me during the moments I learned what I loved—my love of art, surfing—and she gave me the love my father couldn’t offer once she was gone. When she died, I was angry. I blamed my dad for her leaving us, even though I knew it wasn’t his fault. She was ill. Seeing her wither away was more painful than her dying because she was so strong, and as she grew weaker, it hurt me more than I could’ve imagined. It took me years to realize my father hurt as well.

  He just showed it in a different way. He fell into a life of women and work. Even though he provided for me, buying me anything I needed, he couldn’t deal with a wayward teenager who believed he knew everything.

  “I’m sorry I forgot,” Brock tells me, turning to face me. The heat of his hand on my thigh isn’t helping clear my head. Between the sadness of today, and the way my body reacts to him, I’m a tornado of emotion.

  “You don’t need to apologize,” I tell him. Meeting those blue eyes, I feel them search my soul. We took a step into the unknown not so long ago—something that’s always been there, but we never acted on. Now, though, I no longer want to hide my feelings for him. I know I love him, more than a friend, more than I ever thought possible. Our friendship started easily, but it was when I realized my feelings ran much deeper that I finally admitted to myself I was different.

  Brock turns his attention my way. “There are so many reasons I don’t feel like going back home,” he finally admits what I know has been bothering him. “But I know I need to.”

  “You do,” I tell him. Leaning forward, I grip the back of his head, pulling him in for another heated kiss. Our lips touch for a moment. This is new territory for us, just being together. We leaped over the edge, we freed ourselves of the hidden feelings we’ve kept at bay for so long. There’s only so much a barrier can take before it shatters and torrents break free.

  I’ve wanted him.

  Needed him, but this…I wasn’t prepared for it.

  There’s so much more in this kiss.

  His tongue delves into my mouth, tasting the bitter alcohol. We fight for dominance, neither giving up to the other. His hard body is against mine in seconds. My cock throbs as he hovers over me. I grind my hips up against him, and he follows suit.

  Dry humping my best friend, I can’t tamper the groan that rumbles in my chest at the friction his thigh offers my cock. Two strong, chiseled bodies smashed together with a flurry of need. His hand grips my dick, and mine returns the favor.

  Rough. Fast. Unrestrained.

  We move together, kissing, panting like hungry animals. He grips me as roughly as I do him, and I feel it. My balls tighten, drawing up, needing to find release. As I grunt mine out into my boxer briefs, I feel warmth against my hand.

  There aren’t any sounds in the living room. No music. No talking. Just us. Breathing. Heat burns in Brock’s gaze, and I know I’m offering him the same look back. It’s done. We’re something more now, and there’s no longer any denying it.

  “Well,” he murmurs, looking at me, turned on and utterly immersed in the desire swimming in his clear blue eyes.

  “I guess that took care of that,” I tell him, the corner of my mouth kicking into a full-on grin.

  “We need to talk about that.” He moves off me, a wet spot visible in his shorts. “There’s no way we can still just be friends.”

  “We never were just friends. You said so yourself,” I tell him. Shrugging, I swig my beer, downing the whole bottle in one long swallow, trying to stay calm. When I meet his eyes, I notice it—a wolfish grin curling his lips.

  “We’re official then?”

  “I guess we are, asshole,” I chuckle, placing the bottle on the table.

  “Then we’ll have to tell Camila what she’s getting herself into,” he says, smirking, eyes shining with mischief.

  “Do you think she’ll mind? I don’t. We can’t deny this anymore.”

  “Yeah, we’re past the pretenses now.” He nods, rising from the sofa. “I have to tell my family, my brothers. I can’t live in denial. Not that I was,” he adds quickly. “I just mean…for so long, I’ve tried to tell myself nothing was going on between us.”

  “I know. My father knows,” I tell him. Levi isn’t stupid. He’s known for a long while.

  “Hayden and Nix definitely know, even though I haven’t told them anything yet.”

  “I figured we’d be a one-time thing,” I shrug, sitting forward, my elbows resting on my knees.

  He rises, heading toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Do I look like a manwhore?” He chuckles. “I won’t just fuck my best friend and never do it again, you should know that by now. And besides,” he stops at the entrance of the long hallway, “you know we were never going to be a one-time thing.” With that, he leaves me alone in the living room with my thoughts.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Camila

  Two guys. Young, handsome, and far too rich for their own good. As much as I should run and hide, they intrigue me. After meeting them both and spending some time with them, as friends, and then as lovers, I couldn’t think of anything else.

  Since they spoke to me that day, things have been intense, but I wouldn’t change it. It burns brighter and hotter each day. Brock and Ethan are so different, but also, so very much alike. I don’t know what they’ve seen in me, but their offer of a real relationship is something I thought about before they even mentioned it.

  It’s not normal. But then again, I’ve never been normal. Being unique, being different, it makes sense. My father may never accept my choice to be with them, but I’m old enough to make my own decisions.

  My stomach somersaults wildly at the thought of giving them their answer tonight. I know they’re nervous. I can see it dancing in their eyes when they look at me. It’s strange having so much power over two men, but I love it.

  Learning about them both has given me little more insight into the two. Talking and learning about their families, I noticed the tension that races through Brock at the mention of his siblings, which makes me think they don’t know about his relationship with Ethan yet.

  I pull on the skirt I chose for tonight, noticing how it hugs my hips, ass, and thighs. It stops mid-thigh, and the soft blue matches my eyes. The top I’m wearing which is the color of night, with buttons down the front, is loose fitting, but offers a hint of cleavage. Not that I have much. And I can’t help wondering if Brock would rip it open. Ethan is gentler when he touches and kisses me, whereas Brock is rough around the edges and his grip is feral. They make the perfect match, and being between them is like flying. The soft and hard, the rough and gentle, and the pleasure they gave me is something I never thought possible.

  “Mila.” My name sounds from behind me, an
d I spin around. My stepsister takes me in, her dark brow arched in question. “And this?” she bites out, waving her hand up and down, referring to my outfit.

  “What?” My indignant tone sets her into motion.

  She stalks closer, tugging at my wild curls. “Who is he, Mila?” Her voice is a low hiss in my ear. My sister is only two years older than me, and sometimes, it feels as if she’s attempting to take my mother’s place in my life. However, because she’s not my blood relation, she’ll never be welcomed into the family. My grandmama, has already said she’s no child of the Alvaro bloodline.

  “He is none of your business, Manuela,” I bite out, tugging away from her grasp. My blood simmers, awaiting her attack. The frustration of being held down, watched like a hawk, is something I always experience around her. If she would live her life and ignore me, I’d be happy. Only, it won’t happen. Not when she’s hated by my family.

  I wish I could move out. To be far away from her would be my ultimate goal. My father would miss me, but it’s time for me to find a place of my own. Or… Perhaps I could ask Brock and Ethan if I can crash in their guest room. I wonder if it’s something they’d consider. If I wasn’t so scared to ask, I’d do it tomorrow.

  It may sound strange, but there’s something between us, all three of us, and I can’t forget how they both feel. Near me. Touching me. Kissing me.

  “Don’t you go whoring yourself out, little sister,” Manuela sneers, her eyes traveling from my head to toes and back again. Then, thankfully, she spins on her heel and leaves me to get ready. Even her sour mood doesn’t dampen mine. Excitement skitters over me, and I’m ready to meet the two boys who’ve intrigued me.