“Brax,” I whisper, uncovering myself and braving a step closer. Unsure of what I’m doing. I’ve never had this kind of experience, and he probably has. He stands there, tall, still, like a demigod. He’s all broad shouldered, muscles upon muscles, and his always there Braxton charm. It’s like he’s waiting for something. He either wants me to run away, or run toward him, and make the first move. I do neither, I’m almost too scared to breathe.
“You read it, didn’t you.” he again states, not questions. His face gives nothing away, and his fists at his side don’t really help either.
Nodding, I peer down at our feet. Am I supposed to feel this embarrassed? This ashamed of reading something personal of his? If anything, it’s opened my eyes and made me respect him so much more. It’s made me see him for the first time.
I don’t know how long my head bows, or how long we stand here, but when he lifts my chin, I feel an immediate connection I’ve never experienced with Brax before.
It’s shocking. It’s pure. It feels right.
A shiver trails down my spine, pebbling my nipples. Braxton cups my face, rubbing tender strokes down my jaw. He’s not possessive and domineering in an aggressive way, but he does garner my every attention all the same. And when he pulls me closer by the small of my back so I’m flush with his front, I nearly whimper. Hanging between us is a very large, very hard problem.
“Tell me you feel it?” His voice is hoarse with each word. “Tell me it’s not just me—that you feel it too.” I groan softly, not knowing what to really say. Yes, I’m attracted to you? Yes, I’d give up my virginity in a heartbeat? Yes, I can see myself marrying you and making beautiful biracial babies with you? Yes, I’m extremely fucking confused and didn’t realize I’ve been in love with my gay best friend?
All the yeses?
“Yes,” I say on an exhale, and then his lips are on mine. It’s nothing like with Sy. This is warm, passionate, and full of everything a kiss should be. It’s not a stolen kiss, it’s given. He’s not rough, he doesn’t bite, and he doesn’t force me on my knees like Sy would.
He’s just, Brax. Just...Brax. Brax, my best friend.
He growls when I allow him to push his tongue into my mouth. Taking control, eddying his tongue erotically with mine. It’s sensual, sexy, and it’s all mine. There’s no taking, there’s no forcefulness, there’s only him and I giving, fully sharing this moment. Together.
It’s refreshing—and dangerous—and so goddamn intoxicating.
The hand that isn’t cradling my face moves between my wet folds. And though the water has long been cold, it’s hotter than hell in this shower with him.
He strokes my clit, rubbing slow and sure circles. I’m moaning into his mouth, and he drinks each one with more flicks of his tongue.
“Fuck, baby. You don’t realize how long I’ve fantasized of this moment.”
“Brax,” I moan softly, not sure when I became compliant to my sexual needs.
I ache, arching into him with the nearness of my climax. He rubs harder, more deliberate, and then when I start coming, he sticks his finger in me while grinding his palm into me.
“Braxton!” I scream with my release. It’s the sweetest thing, and it’s my first orgasm that’s all mine. He gave me this, he didn’t take for himself.
I love firsts. First kisses, first touches, first orgasms, and the first words after.
“Let me hold you tonight, Lele,” Brax rasps, holding me to his chest.
And those first words are perfect.
Braxton Kol is perfect.
TEN
SILAS
SHE LEFT. LEIA RAN OUT of this club and didn’t respond to me.
I’m a mess by the time I close Cynosure. I need control, to feel like she’s not getting away. If I didn’t have to stay and keep the business running, I’d have chased her down and showed her exactly who she belongs to.
After she left, Braxton and I had a little chat. He admitted he loved her, but I already knew that. Anyone could see his puppy eyes for her. She’s only blind because she doesn’t feel worthy. I told him to stay the fuck away from my girl, and we argued for a good hour before he left.
He didn’t leave happy, and that was enough for me. She won’t pick him, he’s not good enough, she’s not his to have. She’s mine.
I call her several times, but her phone goes straight to voicemail. I leave several messages behind, telling her to call me. She doesn’t.
When I arrive home, Leia isn’t here.
She doesn’t answer my texts, her phone has to be off. I start panicking, she’s never not come home. Did I finally drive that wedge I so desperately wanted? The one that I wish would never exist. The one that’d force me to let go; to admit she deserves a normal life?
I need her. She can’t just up and leave.
After debating what to do, I call Xo. “Hola, lindo,” she answers. I chuckle a little, I’m no pretty boy.
“Have you talked to Leia?”
“No, but she texted me. She’s staying at Brax’s until her trip to Puerto Rico.”
“Trip to where?” I barely hold in my anger. This is the first I’ve heard about it. Why would she go there? Doesn't she realize the risks she’s going to take?
“She didn’t tell you?” The amusement in her voice pisses me off. “Of course, she didn’t… what’d you do, lobo?”
“What makes you think I did something?” I ask indignantly.
“You always make her mad. Always,” she enunciates.
“It was her this time, but I might’ve flipped out when I found her dancing on the stage at Cynosure.” I leave out the part where I nearly fucked her in my office.
“SHE WHAT?!” Xo screeches into my ear. I hold the phone away while she curses every bad word in the Spanish language. There’s a lot. Even some references I’m not entirely sure I want to understand. After she’s done, she calms a bit. She was no better at this age.
“Why was she dancing? How could you allow that?” She now sounds angry with me, like it’s my fault her daughter acts the way she does.
“I wouldn’t have known if you didn’t send me back early, Xo. Just breathe a bit. She’s a teenager in need of attention.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t let her go?” She seems to ponder out loud, not asking me for advice. She knows I’ll tell her to make Leia stay. I’m damn near ready to force Leia to stay with my own bare hands. I can chain her, lock her up possibly.
“I can’t take this trip away from her, she’s already trying to leave when her birthday rolls around in two months. I can’t lose her too, Silas.”
“You won’t, we made sure of that. Remember?”
“What if it’s not enough? What if he comes for us both?” Fear creeps into her tone. She’s always easily manipulated by him. Not this time.
“You’ll call me, and I’ll fix it. He can’t have either of you,” I vow, and I mean it. I’ll keep him away for once, he won’t take Leia or Xo from me.
“What if I fail again? I still love him,” her voice breaks, the gullible teenager seeping through her tone. Xiomara is anything but weak, unless he’s involved.
“You won’t. Because it involves her too,” I tell her, trying to convince us both that she’s strong and won’t give into his charms.
A loud scream and scuffle sounds from her end of the call. “Fuck, a dancer just fell off the stage, I’ve got to go. I love you, Silas,” she says hurriedly.
“Te amo,” I reply before hanging up.
Without thinking twice, I pull up the contact for Brax. Calling the little fucker’s cell phone, I get a gruff, “Hello?” He’s either just been fucked, or he’s been asleep. It better be the former.
“Bring her home,” I demand, clenching my fists. Forcing myself not to run over there and beat him dead.
“No.”
“I said, bring her home, motherfucker.”
“And I said no. She’s passed out, and she doesn’t want to come home to you. Now go be a good little stepdad a
nd back the fuck off,” he whispers angrily, keeping his voice as calm as possible while being quiet. Which means he’s close to her. And if he’s close enough to have to whisper, he’s too fucking close to my girl.
“Tell her I’m coming for her.”
“Tell her yourself,” he growls before hanging up on me. When I try redialing, his phone too, goes to voicemail.
Hijo de puta!
LEIA
I FELL ASLEEP IN BRAX’S arms. After our shower, we dried off, and he just held me. It’s like he knew I needed the closeness, but wasn’t entirely ready to chat about what boundary we crossed. Do I even hate that it happened?
We did cross the second biggest one. Lines weren’t just blurred between us, they were smeared—erased entirely. I find myself wanting to do it all over again. We didn’t have sex, but I can’t help but want to experience how his body will feel pushing into mine, putting his weight into me while he thrusts.
This is not good.
The entire time he got me off, hell, the entire shower, I didn’t think of Sy once. Brax apparently is my Silas cure. How did I never picture what a future between us could be like? I want to. I shouldn’t, but I really fucking do.
He groans in his half sleep. His cock tents the blanket we share. I really want to touch him, and that surprises me. I’ve never had the freedom to touch Sy, he always takes my power away. Something tells me that Brax will let me. That he’ll want me too, and he’ll enjoy it.
I adjust, the bed making a semi loud noise. Rolling on my right side, facing Brax’s front, I lean on one elbow while giving myself a mental pep talk to stop being a pussy.
Slowly, I snake my palm over his very hard, very real erection, and he stirs. A low grumble starts in his throat, and vibrates through my fingertips. I giggle at that, it’s so entirely different than what I pictured. This side of Brax is nothing I’m used to.
“No one likes a cocktease, Lele,” he complains, grumbling. He places his hand over mine, squeezing me, making me grip him tighter.
Instead of responding to his comment with sass, I feel braver than ever. Slipping beneath his boxers, I grip his shaft. It’s feathery soft, rigid, but so smooth. I bite my lip, loving that I have free roam of his body. I’ve never felt so empowered and sexier than I do at this moment, not even dancing yesterday.
He moans long and deep, it’s throaty, raspy, and addicting. His half sleepy noises make me clench my thighs. All of these sensations are so new to me. I’m not used to feeling horny at every turn, but between him and Sy, I’m a harp strung too tight, ready to snap at the lightest of touches.
Fisting his length, I stroke upwards, hoping I’m doing a decent job. I’ve never done this before. What if he doesn’t like it?
“Fuck,” he hisses, grabbing my wrist roughly.
“I’m sorry,” I panic, pulling away. He stops me. “Not pain, baby. Fuck.” He smirks at me, the left side of his mouth twitching in a very conspiratorial grin. “I fucking love you touching me. It’s better than I imagined, and believe me, I’ve pictured of this.”
He closes the distance between us and licks my top lip, then he’s sucking it in his mouth. “I’m enjoying it too much, if you know what I mean.” And then he blushes. Brax doesn’t blush, not ever. It’s genuine and sweet, and I love this moment between us.
He slowly puts my palm back on his hot flesh, and I feel a slickness that wasn’t there before. Closing my eyes to stop myself from saying something stupid, I relish that I have this effect on him.
Another desire runs through my mind, I want to taste his flavor. To know if he’s tangy or salty, let him take another one of my firsts.
I wiggle over him so I’m between his thighs. Bending my head to his swollen head, I lick the seam, tasting him. He’s so incredibly hard, and me licking his tip has his skull hitting the headboard.
“Fuck, baby,” he grounds out, his palm cupping my cheek. I brave another lick, and another. I’m not sure what I’m doing. I’m as aroused as I am embarrassed. When I put him in my mouth, slowly easing him in, he makes this rumbly satisfied groan that goads me into continuing.
I try taking him further back, but he’s huge, and I’m having a problem with my gag reflex. But it doesn’t stop me, I relax, my drool sliding down his length to his balls.
Groaning, he messages my head while I attempt to suck him. My pussy clenches with need, this first is so hot and sexy. When he hits the back of my throat I choke a bit before relaxing. Cupping his balls, I test the massaging motion I’ve read about in books. He freezes, his stiffness warning me of an impending orgasm.
“Leia, baby, you’ve got to stop,” he groans, his voice huskier than I’ve ever heard.
I start bobbing my head when a loud noise reminds me we’re in his house, where both his mother and stepfather are. With a loud pop, he slides from my mouth as I try listening for whatever I heard.
“Knock! Knock!” Dahlia yells, from the other side of the bedroom door. Fuck! I scramble to get dressed, and Brax just sits there, smug.
“Brax,” I growl. “Get your ass in gear.” I smack his shoulder for good measure, wishing he’d act more fearful of the situation we’re in.
“You’re overreacting. It’s not like we haven’t slept together before.” His comment is full of innuendo. Now, I’m blushing, and still fumbling to get my clothes on.
“You okay?” Dahlia calls out to us, twisting the knob. It jingles a bit, and I realize this asshole locked it. Throwing the first object I find at him, I scold him. “I can’t believe you made me flip out! You’re such a dick!” I throw a random balled up pair of socks at his head.
Oomph. I laugh, unlocking the door to a smiling Dahlia. “Sleep well?” she asks. I stretch nervously, pretending to yawn.
“Y—yeah, yesterday was exhausting.”
“Well, school starts in about forty minutes. Time to get up and get ready for the day!” She’s always so cheery. I’m not a morning person unless three cups of coffee are already in me.
I laugh again, waving her off. Turning back to Brax, I flip him the bird and get ready for school.
Live with those blue balls, fucker.
ELEVEN
LEIA
I AVOID SY FOR THE time leading up to my trip. It’s not as hard as I thought it’d be. He’s probably working crazy hours with Mamá trying to get their new club Excision running. He'll probably be taking over when I go off to college. She might even go with him, since they’re married now.
Staying at Brax’s has been a godsend, we’re so comfortable together. That’s why we’re best friends. We do everything together, even more so now. Before, we hung out daily at his football practice or watching TV every so often. But now, we literally go to and from school together, come back to his house and do homework, and then chill while eating dinner with his parents.
He’s my filter, and I feel like shit using him as my own personal safeguard. He protects me from Sy. If not for him, I’d have run back home and possibly lost my last ounce of pride to him. I’d regret it too. And that’s the saddest part of it all. I want them both, but I can’t have them both. Not in a realistic world at least.
I want Brax for the love and late-night binge watching of The Mindy Project, and The Office reruns. The ice cream when I’m bitchy, and the kisses when I need reassurance. And Sy, I want to have babies with, fuck until I can’t walk, and feel dirty and reckless with.
One is forever, while the other is just a pipedream. But damn me for wanting both.
Brax and I haven’t fooled around much, no more than kissing and touching. It feels like I’m cheating on a man I’m not in a relationship with. He hasn’t said anything to me, and I think he knows why I hold back.
Brax is perfect, too perfect really. He can be everything to me if I give in, but only if I let Sy and this twisted fantasy go. I’ve been gathering the courage for our trip, to do exactly that.
I think I’ll do it. I’ll give in, give Brax my virginity, and ask him to be my boyfriend. It’ll be e
asy enough, right? It seems to be a good idea. A distraction. He’s making so much sexual tension pinch inside me with his barely there touches, that I’m ready to give it up. Is it a good idea? Do I really want him and not Sy?
Mariana and Lupe took me lingerie shopping before leaving for my trip to Puerto Rico. I picked a sexy white lacy set, even though it feels cliché and virginal, it’s almost fitting.
I’ll be sleeping with Brax in a short few days. I’m determined that nothing will stand in our way. Unless he does. Then I’m screwed, and not the good kind.
***
BRAX AND I HAVE BEEN in Puerto Rico for two days, in a little town called Esperanza. I call it, Little Hope Town. It’s tiny and not many people live here, it’s population is under one thousand according to Brax. I’ve been staying with my dad’s siblings, his sister Azalea, and his brother, Silva. Azalea is the sweetest while Silva is something else entirely. If mafia men had a persona stereotype, he’d be it. He’s terrifying. And another odd fact, they’re twins. Dad never mentioned that. Dad also didn’t mention they look nothing like him.
I’ve noticed them on many occasions, they talk quietly, huddled in the kitchen or hallway whispering in Spanish. I’m sure it’s about me, but I’m not brave enough to ask.
Their house is huge, much bigger than many houses in this small town. It’s probably something to do with dad and Silva, and what they do behind closed doors.
Mamá has called me several times a day to check in, and we seem to have patched things up without even talking about it. Maybe we were both just in our emotions?
I’ve ignored all thirty-four of Sy’s texts, and we won’t even discuss how many times he’s called and I’ve swiped ignore. The voicemails though, those I listen to. Those play on repeat when I’m close to caving to calling him. They remind me why I ran, why this addiction—obsession isn’t okay. He’s relentless, but I’m sick of being a second choice—his taboo plaything. I’m done.
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