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Locky places the bottle on the nightstand, then strips out of his underwear. "What?" he asks, when he notices me staring at him. "Don't tell me you've never seen a naked guy before."
I shake my head.
"Not even in a locker room? Or Bishop?"
I continue shaking my head and throw in a vomit gesture since picturing my brother naked is literally the last thing I want to be doing right now.
"Wow. So I'm your first…everything?"
"You sure are, baby."
"And whaddya reckon?"
Locky clasps his hands behind his head and gives a little shimmy shake from side to side, grinning like an idiot and making me laugh.
"You looked fucking hot until you did that."
He laughs, too, stops dancing, and joins me on the bed.
"Thank you for this," he says, stroking the side of my face. "I'm having a really good time."
I bring my lips to his and murmur, "Oh, Locky. You ain't seen nothing yet."
LOCKY
People say it's not the size that matters, it's how you use it.
With all due respect, I beg to differ.
Or at the very least, add a caveat.
Sure. Size isn't everything, but if you've got itandyou know how to use it, you've hit the holy grail of all that's sweet and pure in this world.
Roman's not only bigger than Bailey, but Jesus, the man knows how to use it, surging into me with deep, powerful thrusts before pulling all the way out—I'm talkingallllllthe way out, not even leaving the tip in—and then slamming into me again until his balls squish against my ass.
Over.
And over.
And over again.
The best bit?
He doesn't take his eyes off me the entire time.
I'm lying on my back, his muscular, sweat-sheened arms pinned on either side of me, and those intensely rich, dark eyes bore into my soul while his cock attempts to break my hole.
Can't say I ever saw my night ending likethis.
I thought I'd bust him hiding in a corner somewhere near the house, smoking. We'd have an awkward conversation about that where I'd pretend I was cool with it even though I'd secretly be hating that he'd taken up such an unhealthy habit. Then we'd have an even more awkward conversation about last night's kiss, which we'd put down to too much alcohol and the guys filling my head with all sorts of ideas about fuck buddies and whatnot. Things would be a little weird for a day or two and then we'd resume our lives as normal.
Me making him overnight oats for breakfast.
Him cleaning up the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, and any other room after I'd been in it.
Us not seeing anywhere near enough of each other despite living together.
But instead, we're on his bed, and I am copping the fucking of a lifetime.
