Five Brothers

by Penelope Douglas

“But I think you’re just going to want more of me.” I catch her bottom lip between my teeth. “Someone older who has more experience.” She pulls away, lifting her chin. “And which one are you again?”

Army turns, arching an eyebrow at me. “Just give us a break, will you? For once? It sounds fun. A nice break from the same shit we do every day.” “Like Krisjen Conroy?” I throw back, turning my eyes on the girl who thinks she lives here. “You fuckin’ me next, honey?” “If you want,” she chirps, unfazed. “I’d be excited to see if I have to fake my orgasm. Or if you can tell.”

“Don’t tell me the idea of your older brothers having something you got to have first doesn’t turn you on,” I taunt him.

My chest rises and falls with quick breaths. “Yeah, so you can do what men do to women to show what men they are, right?” I feel the fire in my eyes as I goad my ex. “Trace’s tongue between my legs. Iron’s hands squeezing my hips as I rocked on top of him. Army’s mouth sucking me so hard,” I taunt. “They have me coming when called and doing what I’m told, and all they do when they raise a hand to me is crook their finger.” His eyes flare.

I smile wide. “It’s just sad for me that I can’t fit all five at the same time.”

“You did say it was the best you ever had,” Clay points out. “It would make sense, I guess. He’s the oldest, more experienced…”

And around the time I get off work in the early afternoon, I let myself admit silently in my head that if it wasn’t him on the couch that night, I don’t want to know. Even if nothing ever happens between us again, I like the allure of thinking it might’ve been him. And that he wanted me.

“Trace,” I grit through my teeth. “Get out!” “I got a date,” he grumbles. “Right now!” He pushes me aside and leans back under the water, wetting his hair. “I won’t be long.” I cock an eyebrow, moving as far away from him as I can. My eyes fall to his flaccid dick. “You never are.” “Ouch.”

“You can look,” he teases. “I know I’m bigger than Army. Iron, too.” Whatever. “I am, aren’t I?” he coos. Ugh.

He grabs a soda and sets it on the counter, turning to me. I jump when he takes my face in his hands, and I watch him with wide eyes as he comes in close. But then he turns my face side to side, and I realize he’s checking my bruises. “If this ever happens again, I’m going to make an assumption about who was responsible and deal with it, you understand?”

He takes up the whole room. The whole house. I’ve seen him angry. I’ve seen him quiet. I’ve never seen him happy. Or in love. Or scared.

“You have a harem of wives?” I question. He cocks a brow, and I can feel the eye roll even though he doesn’t let it out. “And every girl,” I tell him, “on her eighteenth birthday, has to be submitted to you for first refusal.” “Jesus fucking Christ…” he whispers to himself.

“Let’s take you back to your house,” he says. “We’ll take care of you, and you take care of us.” “Dallas…” I think it was Trace that time, but I’m too stunned to concentrate.

Army takes a sip of his drink. “Doing what you have to in order to survive isn’t noble if your soul can’t survive you,” he states. “Macon knows that now.”