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Brandon Uptight King steps back once, twice, and lets me push him, his eyes glazed over, and a tremor rushes through his entire body and beneath my fingers.
Hotttt
Bran would hit me if I were to say this out loud, but he’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
I inch my lips close to the corner of his as I whisper, “You want to know what I think, lotus flower? I think you were fighting your goddamn demons to kiss her. The deeper you went, the more forced it looked. The longer you had your mouth against hers, the more burdened you looked, so it’s safe to say you weren’t hard because of her.”
I snatch his wrist and slam it on the wall above his head.
Sweating
“Your bossiness turns me the fuck on, baby,” I murmur, my lips an inch away from his jaw.
“Only Clara calls me that,” he mutters, seeming to fight, dig, and sink his claws into that control he loves so much. “But you didn’t get hard for Clara, did you, baby?”
My fingers slide from his throat to cup his jaw, my eyes zeroing in on his luscious, tempting lips. He shudders and drops his arm from my neck to shove it against my chest. Only, it’s trembling. Like the rest of him.
“Don’t you dare.” “Or what, baby?” “Nikolai, if you don’t stop, so help me God, I will…” “What? You’re leaving me in suspense again, baby.”
Obsessed
I dart my tongue out and lick along his jaw, all shaven and clean like the rest of him. He tastes of goddamn citrus and I want to drown in it even if it stings.
I trail my tongue down the hollow of his throat and bite on his Adam's apple like I’ve fantasized. And fuck me, it tastes better than any fantasy.
He tastes like my own downfall and I’m ready to drown in it.
A groan rips from Brandon’s lips and I pause, my chest expanding and my dick thickening against my sho...
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I slide my tongue back up to his chin, his cut jawline, and stop near his lips, mine hovering, my nostrils flaring, and my breaths coming out heavy and deep.
I'm pregnant from this scene
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“I told you not to touch me, you disgusting prick.” Aaaand he fucking ruined it.
Straight crush is officially over.
Nah
I pinch the bridge of my nose as I stare at the canvas filled with sharp yellow while holding the phone to my ear.
Yellow
“Listen. I know it’s too soon to talk about this, but I think Grace might be open to take you next year.” I frown.
:(
I know how it must’ve felt to see your brother get all the opportunities this whole time, but you’re as talented as he is, Bran.”
I started to have a vision, made a few strokes, then had to physically force my hand down. It was doing things my brain doesn’t approve of and never will.
Instead, I was thinking of eyes. I don’t fucking do eyes. Eyes send my head up a fucking wall.
My gaze falls back on my phone and my heart thuds when a new text pops in. But it sinks down so hard afterward when I see Clara’s name. Fuck.
Mmmhmmmmmm
Fucking fucker of all motherfucking fucks.
“I’m…drunk.” My chest rises and falls so hard, it grazes his with every movement, every breath, and I’m intoxicated, completely out of my damn mind. “Then blame it on me, baby.”
“Shut the fuck up. Don’t try to ruin this with your fucking mouth. Let me keep that busy for you.” He jams his fingers deeper. “Choke on my fingers instead. I want you to swallow every drop of cum down your throat.”
I fucking love drunk Bran, by the way, would vote for him to be the official version in the next election.
So, apparently, two big, tatted guys stand out in the midst of polka-dotted dresses, feathered hats, and tulle umbrellas. Even though I went through all the trouble to wear a damn T-shirt. The audacity of these motherfuckers.
This was supposed to be a little game, but I don’t think I’m playing anymore. The worst part is that I feel like I’m already losing.
“Oh, right! You’re the help!” “I’m not!” He looks at Lan. “She’s not?”
Eli calling Clara the help will never not be funny
“I’ll text you later, babe.” “Don’t call me that,” I mutter, a migraine starting at the back of my head. “What?” she asks, seeming lost. “Don’t call me babe. I’m not your babe,” I say, clearer this time, and her eyes widen.
He's so whipped
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“I’ll let you know if someone else needs help!” Eli shouts after her and then asks us, “She’s really not the help?”
Eli I <3 you
But where Landon is a show-off, Eli prefers to work in the shadows.
Eli has always been like a big brother to Lan and me. He made it his mission to protect us when we were growing up and he continues to do so.
Eli, Lan, and even Creigh are firm believers of the King name supremacy and consider an offense against one of its members as a declaration of war. It’s not that I don’t share the sentiment. More like, I never felt worthy of the superior last name.
My baby boy </3
“The help dared hurt my precious Bran? Why didn’t you mention that before so I could’ve gouged her eyes out and fed them to the dogs?”
“Rems!! Get the pints out!” A few things are knocked over down the hall before a door is flung open and Remi peeks out, a Cheshire cat grin plastered on his face. “Did someone say pints?”
Remi I'm in love with you
“We’re giving Bran a Congrats for Dodging the Help’s Bullet party.”
“Wake up, spawn! We have a partaayyy.”
“Even my Cray Cray thinks you dodged a bullet.” Eli ruffles his brother’s hair and headlocks him, at which they start to wrestle playfully.
Best bromance
It’s impossible to hide from him, no matter what I do. It’s like a curse.
He wuvs you
“Rems! Do those impressions.” Eli points his beer at his cousin, snapping my attention to the present. “Whatever do you mean, my liege?” Remi says in a dramatic medieval accent. “I shall not be accused of treason when my blood has irrigated these lands for decades.”
Dumb idiots <3
“My darling.” Remi reaches for Creigh and hides behind him, still speaking in the same tone. “Save me from these uncivilized barbarians.”
“No one will save you from the guillotine,” Eli says with an evil smirk. “Hey, there’s no guillotine in Medieval England!” “We’re in the French Revolution, mon ami.” “Spawn!”
He didn’t just leave hickeys. He brutalized my skin and created angry teeth marks on it. Everywhere I touch, he’s there.
Cute
The one who’s driving me fucking insane is none other than a man. A rowdy, always shirtless, mountain of a man who looks at me like he wants to rip me apart.
I ghost my finger on the tight pebble and pinch it again, imagining it’s his teeth. My dick twitches, straining against my trousers, and I bite down on my lower lip.
My heart gets stuck in the back of my throat when I see his name on my lock screen.
That's gay, Bran
I’m totally going to ignore it. My thumb hesitates over the screen before I unlock it and open the text.
