Page 64 of Filthy Rich Ex's Brothers

All that’s left is the touch, feel, and sounds of the man under me, his chest beneath my palm, his breath on my neck, the fevered, urgent, animalistic jerking of his hips as we come apart together.

Chapter 34

Ryan

Obviously, I know I probably shouldn’t be watching this.

My trip to the market didn’t take long at all, and when I come back up the path, the first thing I hear is a soft, needy gasp I’ve heard before. I still on the front veranda, shifting the paper bag in my hand and stepping to the side, looking in through the window.

It’s just in time to watch Graham grab Serena’s hips and pull her down flush over his cock.

The sight of it turns my cock hard instantly. It’s like watching porn, but better, because this is Serena. Because I know what it feels like to be inside her, to have my mouth on her ear, to tangle my hands in her hair and feel the flutter of her walls around my cock.

I watch them fuck for too long, I know. Watch Serena rock on him, watch her drop her forehead down onto his shoulder, watch her brace herself on the back of the couch and ride him as if her life depends on it.

And I can’t stop myself from imagining my part in a scene like that. I could be kneeling on the bed, entering her from behind. She could take me in her mouth. I could even just stand behind her, watch, stroke myself and get off onto her back.

Her beautiful bare back, her spine curving, her mouth opening into anO.

Graham finishes quietly, grunting, and Serena starts to let out a noise herself, but he claps a hand over her mouth, holding her as she writhes on him. I watch the muscles in her back contract, relax, then see her curl over top of him, spent.

For a long moment, they stay still like that together. As quietly as I can, I reach into my pocket, grab the Vespa keys, and press the button that makes it beep, like a car locking.

The two of them startle, move, righting Serena’s shirt, hips pulling apart, Graham pulling out of her. I head through the door just as they settle back together, fully clothed but clearly pleased with themselves.

I come to a stop like I wasn’t expecting to see this. Like I wasn’t just watching Serena’s tits bounce, like I didn’t see Graham burying himself inside her.

“Well,” I say, dropping my bag on the counter and raising an eyebrow at them. “This is cozy.”

“Fuck off,” Graham mutters, but when Serena tries to stand up, he tugs her back down, so she’s now sitting in his lap. If her face wasn’t already flushed from the fucking, it would heat now. Even after such a short time of knowing her, it’s something I’ve learned to predict—the pattern of her blushing.

There’s a sound on the stairs, and Travis comes down to find Serena and Graham sitting on the couch together, with me standing in the kitchen. His careful gaze moves among all of us, then he asks, “So, are we doing this? Serena, you’re comfortable with it?”

Leave it to Travis to get right to business.

She swallows, gives Travis a look that I don’t quite understand, then says, “I’m open to giving it a try.”

My cock twitches excitedly at that, still quite worked up from the scene I just watched. I think about the exact measurementsfor my famous scones to make my cock behave. Just for a little bit at least.

I’m sure all three of us want is to steal Serena away to a bedroom. But Serena doesn’t need endless fucking from a bunch of horny men. What she needs—especially after that work-out—is something in her belly.

“I’m going to make dinner,” I announce, gesturing to the bag on the counter, from which a few carrots and a loaf of bread stick out.

“I just got off the phone with the team,” Travis says. “They’re working around the clock. Those pictures of your roommates, Serena? We were able to buy them off. They won’t be showing up anywhere publicly.”

Serena sighs, and Graham rubs his hand over her back. I watch Travis, waiting for him to show any sign of jealousy. But he doesn’t. Instead, he just turns and takes a phone call.

And just like that, we’re over the little detail of us all sharing Serena, like it was never a question at all.

In an effort to show off the best parts of the villa, Serena helps me set up dinner outside, on the second-floor terrace. Even after a quick nap in her room, she still looks jet-lagged, a little clumsy from the exhaustion.

“Are you doing okay?” I ask, as we set out wine glasses and plates. She glances up at me, thrusts a hand through her curls. Earlier, some people from local boutiques arrived with trunks and trunks of clothes. Serena took one look and said she would have to go through it all tomorrow, though there was more than a hint of excitement in her voice.

“Yeah,” her voice is soft, her hazel eyes shining with flecks of gold under the Edison string lights. “I was mostly worried about my roommates, but I feel better knowing about the security. And about that picture not going out. My friend, Sid… he’s really private.”

I nod, “Makes sense. I wouldn’t want pictures of me getting out, either.”

Once the table is set, Serena goes to fetch the other two, and I bring out the food, doing my best not to boast about how good it’s going to be. It’s the best part of being a chef—watching the moment someone takes a bite of your food, and you can see the quality register on their face. That expression ofoh,that’s good.