If he did ask about the praying mantis splayed out on his skin and ready to defend itself from attack, I’d tell him that I chose it just to fuck with him because he can’t stand bugs.
Truthfully, I chose it for him because like the mantis, he’s resilient. Through the pain that life has given him, he’s rebuilt himself over and over again. He’s bounced back and he’s held the trust in whatever it is that he believes in, that there is still good out there for him.
We can be that good for him.
I press down on the patch of ink, lowering his chest toward the sink as I let my palm trail down the length of his body. With a deep thrust of my hips, the pad of my thumb traces the tight ring behind him as it swallows my cock, and he buckles, grinding his hips against mine.
The corners of my mouth pull up at the all-familiar pulsing squeezing my shaft, each beat sending fire from my toes, right up to my scalp. With my eyes locked onto his in the mirror, his brow pinching desperately at the center, I lower my voice to a purr.
“Are you gonna come for me?” I ask him.
My hips punch against his, driving moans from his lips that I’m almost certain are loud enough to wake Jules, even through the door. A desperate look sent over his shoulder tells me that he can’t answer my question.
“If you want your name on my dick, you have to earn your place there,” I tease.
Reaching in front of him, I wrap a hand around Connor’s cock, stroking it while my lips capture his. The kiss, like each stroke of my hand, is languid and heated. Huffs of air hit my faceas he whines, dissolving into a desperate groan when my teeth take hold of his lip.
“Tripp,” he chokes. “God, I—oh, god.”
“Make a fucking mess for me, Schepp,” I purr against his mouth.
And he does.
As his orgasm peaks, his body tenses and jets of cum shoot across the counter, some making contact with the wall behind it. I meet him at the peak, every stroke of my hand a pulse of my cock as I unload inside of him.
My lips trail down his neck and across his shoulders as I slowly pull out of him, the evidence of my visit seeping out of his ass as I do. It takes a minute, with his hands braced on the counters and my thumbs digging into his muscle, for his body to straighten.
“You okay?” I ask him, using my head to gesture toward his body.
Toward the ass that will probably be sore before we even hit the road.
He nods as he reaches for the roll of toilet paper, bunching it in his hand. “Irina’s gonna be here in…” his eyes move to the small novelty clock on the wall. “Minutes. Can you—”
“I got her,” I assure him.
Cupping his face, I press my lips to his, offering an affirmative dip of my chin before trekking to the living room. Jules is already on the couch, sipping from a mug when I reach her. She looks better, like maybe she managed to get some decent sleep in those few hours, and I’m grateful for it.
“Did we wake you?” I ask her, stopping to drop a kiss onto her head before moving toward the front door.
She shakes her head. “Aislin called to ask me about placing a dye order. She’s like those TV dads who don’t know what to dowith the kids when Mom isn’t there. It sounded like you were having fun, though.”
A knowing smile tugs at her lips, my own pulling into a smirk as my brow arches.
As if timing her arrival to the second, the beaten-down sedan that Connor’s sister drives pulls in front of the house and Irina climbs out of it, a fast food bag in one hand and a large metal tumbler in the other.
“Where’s Connie?” She asks as she approaches.
My thumb jerks over my shoulder to direct her into the house. She studies me, scanning head to toe as she pulls in a breath. She never really wears it clearly on her face, but in the small ways that she does, I can tell that she’s annoyed by me. Maybe apprehensive of my existence in her brother’s space; in his life.
I get it. When siblings live through what they did, there’s no chance they don’t grow up to be protective over each other. Time and distance don’t mean anything.
We’ve never had to share anything horrible, we’ve never lost anyone together, and still, I’d burn down the fucking world for my little brother. I’d tear anyone apart who ever tried to hurt him.
“Hey, I get it. I know,” I tell her, taking hold of her arm. “But youknowus. We’re not strangers or roommates or random online connections.”
Her eyes move toward the house, her head shaking as she pulls in another breath. Not of anger, but to steady herself. Maybe to clear her thoughts.
“He’s the only family I have, and he gave up everything to be here for me,” she tells me. “He loves both of you so much and if that comes back to bite him, Tripp, I’m not a violent person, but I swear on our parents’ lives—”
