Between Brothers

by Lauren Gallagher

  Darren exhaled. “I know that feeling.” He pushed one side of my blouse aside and kissed the exposed ribbon of skin. “You’re fucking irresistible.”

  I ran my fingers through his hair and tried to continue. “Some of the things he did hurt,” I said, barely keeping myself from moaning. “And, oh my God, it felt good.”

  He exhaled against my skin. “You like it rough?”

  I shivered at the memories of Eric’s teeth on my nipple, the way he gripped my shoulders, the way he drove himself into me so hard he took my breath away. I licked my lips. “I do now.”

  “Duly noted,” Darren said with a grin. He flicked his tongue against my earlobe. “Why don’t we get out of the rest of these clothes? I have a feeling that once you’re done telling me all of this…” He looked at me and grinned, the unspoken suggestion in his eyes taking my breath away.

  We both quickly got out of the rest of our clothes. He pulled a couple of condoms out of his jeans and set them on the nightstand, winking at me. “We should probably keep those handy.”

  I could only nod. He put his arms around me and kissed me before laying me down on the bed again. He lay beside me, propping himself up on one arm. The heat of his skin against mine was almost unbearable, especially as he caressed my breast and thumbed my nipple gently. I wasn’t sure how he expected me to be able to think about anything other than him, let alone put it into words, but he raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “What else did he do?”

  I chewed my lip for a second. Between Darren’s touch and the discomfort of trying to talk like this, I could barely speak. “He…” I wetted my lips. I couldn’t find the words. “He said he loved the sounds I made.”

  “You make the most incredible sounds,” Darren whispered hoarsely, running his tongue around my nipple. “And if he was hearing what I hear every time I fuck you…” He exhaled, closed his eyes for a second, then took my nipple into his mouth instead of finishing his thought.

  I squirmed against him, my body on fire with need for him. Between Darren in my bed and Eric in my mind, I was going insane.

  He looked up at me again. His hand drifted across my stomach and onto my thigh. “Tell me what he did to your pussy.”

  I closed my eyes as a violent shudder rippled through me. I thought I moaned. God in heaven, what didn’t Eric do to my pussy?

  Darren laughed. “Good man,” he said. “I ought to buy him a beer.”

  You’ve bought him many, many beers, darling, I thought. “I should buy you both beers,” I said, trying not to smirk at the irony.

  “Tell me what he did.” The growl in his voice was more strained now, almost pained, like he was begging for more.

  “He didn’t go down on me—”

  “What? Fuck that, I’m taking his beer back.”

  I shook my head and laughed. “Trust me, he earned his beer.”

  Darren’s fingers parted my thighs and he kissed my mouth gently. “Tell me,” he whispered.

  My embarrassment was gone. I was far too aroused by both Eric and Darren to even think of being embarrassed. As Darren’s fingers slipped inside me, I said, “He fucked me with his hand. He had his hand on my clit and his fingers on my G-spot and—” I took in a sharp breath as Darren’s hand came to rest exactly where Eric’s had. “Like that. Just like

  that.”

  He kissed my neck. “Did he make you come this way?” He sounded almost breathless.

  I could only manage a nod as I moaned. His fingers moved slowly, his palm circling my clit.

  “Like this?” he whispered.

  I wasn’t entirely sure if he was asking if I liked what he was doing, or if Eric had done it like that, but the answer to either question was an emphatic “yes”. I moaned an affirmative and he quickened his movements. He was far gentler than Eric had been, but his touch electrified me.

  “Tell me more,” he whispered.

  I struggled to breathe. The more I told him, the hungrier his expression became. And the more I told him, the more I relived that morning with Eric, and the more I needed Darren to fuck me. Finally, I managed, “He made me beg him to fuck me.”

  “Did he?” Darren crooked his fingers slightly inside me, just like Eric had, taking my breath away as his fingertips found my G-spot. “And did you beg him?”

  “God yes.” My body was trembling now, white light creeping into the edges of my vision as he beckoned the beginnings of an orgasm out of me.

  He kissed my neck and moved his fingers faster. There was no mistaking the hunger in his voice as he whispered, “Did you beg to have his cock inside you, Marisa?”

  I moaned.

  “Did you scream for him to fuck you?” His palm pressed harder against my clit. “Did you beg for him to do what I’m about to do to you?”

  The promise and the desperation in his voice propelled me over the edge, my body shuddering with violent, electric tremors, and somewhere amidst the breathless cries, I heard myself say “Fuck me, oh my God, fuck me.”

  He broke contact just long enough to get a condom off of the nightstand and put it on. Then he was over me, and he was inside me, and I was on the verge of coming again. His hunger and desperation were palpable in each deep, hard thrust he took, and in the throaty groan he released as he fucked me harder and faster than ever before. He tried to

  kiss me, but neither of us could remember how.

  I watched his face, watched the way his lips parted and his brow furrowed, the way he closed his eyes as his body began to tremble. The sound that escaped his throat was both a primal roar and a helpless cry, and a second later, he drove himself deep inside me and shuddered, his shoulders tensing as he tried to hold himself up.

  Finally, he collapsed against me. I ran my fingers through his hair as we lay in silence.

  My guilty feelings lingered in the back of my mind, but all I could really think about just then was what had just happened. Just like Eric had been turned on hearing me fuck Darren, Darren was turned on hearing about the things Eric had done to me. Even as I stumbled, embarrassed and uncertain, through my story, it had aroused him. It had driven him wild.

  It seemed like a lifetime ago that I was uncomfortable even telling a man what I wanted or letting him hear me moan or scream. Yet there I was, basking in the afterglow of an amazing fuck that had been fueled by the story Darren had coaxed out of me the same way he coaxed my orgasms out of me.

  I played with his hair and grinned. What will you teach me next, Master Darren?

  Seventeen

  “So is Eric working tonight?” I asked as I slid out of the passenger seat of Darren’s car.

  Darren nodded. “He said the place is packed tonight.”

  “When isn’t it?” Ambrose’s, the restaurant in which Eric tended bar, was one of the more popular restaurants in Bellevue. Even on a Tuesday night, anyone without reservations was going to wait at least thirty minutes for a table.

  He locked the car and we walked across the parking garage. Pushing the button for the elevator, he gave me a wicked grin. “Do you think they have security cameras in the elevators here?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Probably. Why?”

  He shrugged and looked at the numbers above the closed door, watching them change as the elevator came up. His mouth was curled into a smirk, the kind of look he always had when he was thinking something or trying not to laugh. Or both.

  “Why?” I asked again.

  He shook his head. “No reason.”

  “Liar.”

  His lips tightened. He was definitely thinking something.

  “Darren?”

  The elevator dinged. He grinned at me. “Elevator’s here.”

  I eyed him suspiciously as the doors opened and we stepped inside. He pressed the button for the bottom floor, and as the doors closed, I started to ask again, but before I could comprehend what was happening, I was in his arms. He propelled us both across the tiny space, slamming me up against the back wall and kissing me.

  He inhaled thr
ough his nose as his fingers ran through my hair and his other hand pulled my hips against his. I was only vaguely aware of the railing biting into my lower back; all I cared about was the desperate, unrestrained way he kissed me. He kissed me and touched me as if this would be the one and only chance he ever had to do it again, that as soon as those elevator doors opened, he could never touch me again, and he was hell-bent on getting as much as he could between now and then.

  The elevator jolted slightly as we reached the bottom, and as soon as the bell dinged to announce our arrival, Darren released me. One second he was kissing me like his life depended on it, the next he was standing next to me, waiting for the doors to open so we could go to dinner.

  He started for the open doors, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. He glanced over his shoulder. “Come on, we’ve got a table waiting.” That devilish twinkle in his eyes made me want to smack him.

  Finally willing my legs to hold me up, I followed him. “That was just cruel.”

  He laughed. “Just thought I’d give the security guys something to break up the monotony of their day.”

  I shot him a playful glare. “I’m sure that was exactly what you had in mind. Completely selfless.”

  “I’m a giver, what can I say?”

  “You’re a tease.”

  “Nonsense.” He winked at me as he held open the door to Ambrose’s. “You know damn good and well that I’ll finish what I started later on.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “You will.”

  “Feisty.” He grabbed my ass as he followed me into the restaurant.

  The hostess approached us with a clipboard. “Hi, welcome to—Oh, hi Darren.”

  “Hey Wendy,” Darren said. “We should have a reservation for two.”

  She flipped through the pages on the clipboard and nodded to the other hostess. “Table twenty-seven.”

  “Right this way,” said the other hostess. We followed her through the main dining area. Ambrose’s was an upscale restaurant, one that could be described as swanky but still laid back. A coat and tie weren’t required, but ratty jeans and worn out tennis shoes certainly wouldn’t fly.

  Most of the light was provided by flickering candles, giving each table a deceptively intimate feel, in spite of the proximity to the other diners. Darren and I had spent more than a few dinners here trying to contain our amusement as we caught bits and pieces of nearby conversations that we probably weren’t intended to hear. I knew far, far too much about several women’s troubles with their ex-husbands, and we both swore that one trio of businessmen was planning either a hit or a bank heist.

  We passed through the dimly lit dining area and into the lounge. Here, the tables were arranged in front of a massive bar that boasted only the finest top shelf liquors. After working there for the past seven or eight years, Eric probably would have had an aneurysm if anyone asked him to make a screwdriver with anything less than Grey Goose.

  The hostess showed us to our table and Darren looked over my shoulder towards the bar, nodding to someone. Eric, I guessed.

  As we looked over the menus, Eric came by the table. I had to contain my reaction; it wasn’t the first time I’d seen him in his work clothes—black slacks and a white button down with the top button casually left open and the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms—but it was the first time I’d seen him like this since we’d slept together. He greeted Darren with a fist bump and gave me a quick hug, whispering “You look fucking hot tonight” into my ear—sending my temperature soaring—before pulling away. To both of us, he said, “Drinks?”

  “Guinness for me,” Darren said.

  “And for the lady?” Eric said with a wink. “Or should I surprise you again?”

  My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Every time we came into Ambrose’s, I told Eric to surprise me with a mixed drink. I wondered if the question had ever had the thinly-veiled flirtation in it before, but it certainly did tonight. I swallowed and said, “Surprise me, as always.” He shot me one last devilish look before he excused himself back to the bar.

  Moments later, he returned with our drinks. He set the Guinness in front of Darren, and handed me a glass of what appeared to be orange juice with a hint of pink. I couldn’t decide if the pink was from the dim light or something in the drink.

  “So what is this one called?” I asked.

  Eric smiled. “Try it first.”

  I lifted it off of the napkin, but paused as something caught my eye. Written on the napkin, slightly smeared from the dampness of the glass, were the words “Let’s do it again.” My eyes flicked towards his, and he ran the tip of his tongue across the inside of his lower lip. You two are killing me tonight.

  I took a sip and grimaced. “Wow, that’s stronger than I expected.” It was delicious, incredibly sweet, vaguely tart from the orange juice, but undeniably alcoholic. I took another sip, then said, “So what is it called?”

  The wicked expression on Eric’s face almost made me regret asking. “They call it a Slow Comfortable Screw Against the Wall.” He glanced back at the bar. “And I have customers, so I’ll leave you to enjoy it at your leisure.” Don’t wink at me, don’t you dare give me that wink, you sexy fucking… Damn you.

  And he was gone. I went for my ice water.

  “So when are you and Casanova getting together for a rematch?” Darren asked as he set his glass down.

  I choked on my drink. “What?”

  He laughed. “Oh come on, don’t tell me you aren’t getting together with him again.”

  I cleared my throat. “Trust me, I fully intend to get together with him again.” I was thankful that my back was turned towards Eric. Though Darren and I were completely fine with sleeping with other people, I still couldn’t help feeling a little guilty about sleeping with his brother.

  “Good, I’m glad you’ve found a guy who knows his way around a woman.”

  “Besides you?”

  He laughed. “Well, at least now you believe me that they’re out there.”

  “True.” And they all happen to live in your apartment, by the looks of it.

  “It probably doesn’t hurt that you’re getting more confident and assertive in the bedroom.” His voice was low, just loud enough for me to hear, but my cheeks still burned. It was odd to have such candid conversations about my sex life, even with someone who was an active participant in the same.

  I sipped my water, sucking on a piece of ice for a moment. “I’m learning. It’s just nice to finally be with men who are responsive.”

  “Well, you’re learning to communicate what you want and what you need. Not to mention learning not to be embarrassed of what you want and need.”

  I rolled the ice cube around on my tongue and nodded. Truer words were never spoken.

  He closed his menu and laid it across the table, folding his hands over it as he leaned a little closer to me. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll start branching out now. Try some new things. Get a little daring.”

  The ice cube clicked against my teeth as I abruptly stopped playing with it. I swallowed it and said, “Daring? How so?”

  He shrugged, that “trying not to laugh, but definitely thinking something” smirk twisting his lips again. “Well, you don’t have a problem saying what you like, asking for more, things like that. Right?”

  I nodded.

  “Now who’s to say you won’t start suggesting totally new things? New positions. New places.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “New places?”

  He laughed. “You know, somewhere other than the bedroom?”

  My cheeks were on fire. “Right, of course.”

  It was his turn to choke on his water as he figured out what I’d been thinking. “That’s not what I meant. Though if you’re into—”

  “No.”

  “Fair enough.”

  I sipped my other drink. “So, when you say other places…” I trailed off.

  He absently ran his fingers up and down the sides of his pint glass. “I suppose
I shouldn’t be surprised that you haven’t spent a lot of time somewhere other than the bedroom.”

  “Just call me Plain Jane of the Bedroom,” I said.

  He chuckled. “We’ll fix that, babe. Don’t worry.”

  I have no doubt. No doubt in my mind. “So, tell me about some of the crazy places you’ve fucked.” Someone at a nearby table stiffened, and I realized my voice might have carried farther than I thought. I couldn’t decide if it amused me or embarrassed me more, but I lowered my voice after that. “I’m assuming you’re speaking from experience on these things.”

  He rolled a sip of Guinness around in his mouth for a second before swallowing it. “You could say that.”

  “Do tell.”

  “You would probably never be able to touch a single piece of furniture in my apartment if I told you.”

  I blinked. “Like, the couch?”

  He snickered. “The couch. The kitchen table. The kitchen counter.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, I am, believe me. You know, that kitchen table I have is the perfect height for—Jesus, Marisa, I have never seen that shade of red on your face before.” He paused. “No, scratch that, I have. Usually right before you—”

  “Darren.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  I shook my head and laughed. “The more you tell me, I swear, the more naïve I feel.”

  “You have to start somewhere,” he said. “Eventually, you’ll get ballsy enough to come out of the bedroom. Try new things. There are things that probably horrify you right now, but down the line, you’ll be itching to try them.” He paused. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll even get up the nerve to try something in public.”

  I could only imagine the stunned expression on my face just then, and I was thankful that I hadn’t been taking a drink. “In…public?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I think I’d be too afraid of getting caught.”

  He leaned farther across the table and lowered his voice. “It's the thrill of almost getting caught that makes it so hot.” He grinned. “Trust me on this one.”