Page 135 of Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High 4)

He laughs, sliding back into the seat, so I shut the door and pop my head back in.

“If your brothers call?”

“If they call, they’ll call me. I’m not ignoring anybody, and I don’t lie to them.”

“But they don’t know where we are.” He raises a brow.

“And they won’t ask, ‘cause they know I don’t want to tell ‘em.” I grin. “Get the fuck outta here.”

He laughs and pulls away as I step into the large open grassy area, headed for an empty bench, and plant my ass against the old splintered wood.

“Why are you sitting in my backyard staring at my house?”

I hop right the fuck back up, spinning to glare at the mini-chick raising her brows at me.

She crosses her arms, popping her hip out as she waits. She can’t be more than, fuck, I don’t know. Five-foot max.

Fucking tiny.

Kinda mousy, sunglasses hiding her eyes from me.

I hop over the bench, pushing toward her while her head falls all the way back so she can see my eyes, but she doesn’t back up.

“Why are there no fences around any of these yards to keep people like me out of your yard and to stop me from staring at your house?” I counter her question.

“Because this place is as safe as safe can be.”

“No such thing, baby girl.”

“The worst that happens here is Tom Marvel down the street waters his yard on an even day instead of odd.” She mocks shock, her head tilting.

So she’s a brat.

I glare at her. “Sounds like a good time.”

“Bunches.”

“You said you live here?”

“I did.”

“All five foot of you?”

She straightens her spine, gaining a whole extra inch, but before anything else can be said, the back screen slamming against the wall has both our heads snapping toward it.

A slow smirk spreads across my lips as I take in the sight.

Thick, dark hair, long and lengthy with pasty-ass skin.

A perfect knock off.

There she is.

“Ah, now it makes sense,” the short chick says.

“What, how you’re cramping my style, wasting my time and your breath?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the target as she lights a cigarette, bringing it to her red painted lips.

Her head turns this way the second she pulls it from her mouth, and slowly she blows out a long line of smoke, her eyes narrowing on me and the mouse.

She waits, but so do I.

Here kitty, kitty...

She pretends to be chill, but can’t handle it, and forces herself to take slow strides this way.

“You can go now,” I tell the girl at my side, but she doesn’t move, and quickly my target is stepping in front of me.

“Cousin,” she drags out, but neither of us bother looking her way. “Who’s your friend?”

Her sex smirk makes its appearance.

It’s a good one, too. Little too confident, but it’s all good.

I can kill that, easy. Besides, this would be more difficult if she were unsure about herself.

“Not my friend,” Shorty shares. “He’s here for you actually.”

The girl gives a saucy grin as if she already figured so.

This shit will be too fucking easy.

I shouldn’t play with my food, but what am I to do when it so clearly wants to play back?

I push closer, coming almost eye level with her and hers fall to the tattoos on my neck. “I got an hour before reality comes crashing down, Brielle. What are you gonna do with it?”

She eyes me a long moment and then turns to the cockblocker.

She scowls. “Think you can keep yourself outside a little longer?”

The animosity isn’t missed.

“Do I ever come in when you take over?”

Brielle grins, leading me right where she wants me.

Her bedroom.

It’s a fuckin’ mess, shit all over and the bed’s unmade. I glare at the mattress sitting on the floor, about ready to walk out and drag her ass with me, but then she starts to strip, so I let her put on a little show.

I may be a guy, and a horny one at that, but I don’t do desperate, and she’s borderline just that.

I came for a reason, though, so I sit back and let her do as she pleases, which happens to be me.

With her breasts hanging bare, and tight-ass pants still on, she drops to her knees, frees my cock from my jeans and wastes no time pulling me deep into her throat.

I watch her work me over a minute, and when she moans around my shaft, my hard-on grows just shy of a full salute.

I tether my hands in her hair to give her a bit more drive, and my head tips back a bit, eyes gliding by the window.

I fucking freeze.

Her cousin, as she called her, peeks through the torn blinds, eyes shooting wide when she realizes she’s been caught and suddenly she’s gone, a heavy crash and quiet yelp following.

“The fuck?” I’m soft again in an instant, quickly shoving into my jeans and rushing out the door. “She better not have been recording.”