Page 19 of Filthy Rich Brother’s Best Friends (Filthy Rich Harems #5)

Reid

I ’m halfway up Lola’s driveway when I hear the sound of a car behind me. I glance over my shoulder expecting a food delivery vehicle since I know Lola’s roommates don’t cook.

The car looks familiar, but I don’t think much of it—at first. Until the car stops and the driver’s door opens.

Shit .

Wes fucking Hayes.

I blink, but he’s still there. My brain’s already flipping through disaster scenarios like flashcards. I haven’t told him we are living next door to Lola.

He looks up. And stops.

I watch all the different emotions ripple across his face. Recognition hits first, then confusion, then that slow, suspicious squint that tells me he’s not in the mood for guessing games.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks.

Well, I’m certainly not standing on his sister’s porch at ass-o’-clock in the morning after very much not leaving things clean the last time I saw her.

“I live here. Well, not here exactly. There.” I point across the lawn to Miles’s house. “Hell of a coincidence, right?”

Wes looks past me toward the porch, then at the house next door, then back to me like he’s trying to triangulate the odds of this being a coincidence.

“You didn’t mention it.”

“Didn’t come up.” That one’s not a lie. It didn’t come up because I never brought it up. And Miles never would have thought to, so I know he never said anything.

Wes exhales through his nose and pushes a hand through his hair. I watch him scan the lawn, the porch, my face. He might not be as analytical as Miles, but Wes is usually smarter than anyone in the room and twice as hard to read.

Right now? He’s not hard to read at all. The way he keeps looking between the houses says exactly what he’s thinking: I don’t believe you.

I hold his gaze and wait him out. He can fish, but I’m not biting.

It takes him a second, but he unclenches a bit. The edge doesn’t disappear, but he sets it aside. And we fall into something that passes for normal. Sort of.

“You guys settling in?”

I nod. “Yeah, the house is great. And it’s close to everything.”

“How’s Miles doing?”

“He hasn’t come up for air in four days. So I’d say he’s been pretty productive.”

He nods. “Figures. He pinged me last week about expanding the user loop.” Wes pauses. “Said you and Jude were helping map it.”

“We are. He’s already rewritten half the logic.”

Wes glances past me at the house again. “He sleeping at all?”

I shake my head. “Not unless someone shuts off the Wi-Fi and changes the password.”

He laughs once. “Have you seen Lola much since you moved in?”

“A couple times.” I shrug.

Just then the door creaks open behind me. I’m almost praying it’s Gigi, but I know it won’t be. We both turn our heads.

Lola steps outside. She freezes when she sees us.

Her eyes flick to me. Then to Wes. Then back again. And in that split second, I see it all—surprise, guilt, panic. She tries to hide it but fails.

“Hey!” Her voice is wrong. I’ve never heard her at quite that pitch before. It’s…ear-splitting.

Wes doesn’t seem to notice. He gives a lazy wave. “Morning.”

She steps out fully now, gripping the frame of the door like she needs the support. Her shirt hangs loose off one shoulder, oversized enough to pass for modest until you notice the shorts underneath. Those are just long enough to barely cover her ass. My cock twitches in response.

There’s a flush to her skin that I don’t think is from the shock of seeing us. She’s glowing too. Her mouth is swollen in a way I know too well. Even her hair is fucked. It’s been thrown up haphazardly, twisted into a messy ponytail and clearly done on the fly.

She looks wrecked in the way you only look after someone’s taken their time with you. Recently.

And it wasn’t me. Fuck.

I glance at Wes. But he doesn’t seem to see what I see. He’s watching her, but it’s surface-level. There’s nothing to indicate he knows what she was just up to or sees the way she won’t look me in the eye.

My eyes drift back to Lola. Because even after she’s been fucked by someone else I still can’t stop looking at her.

The side gate clicks open drawing my attention for a moment. Miles steps through it. Oh, thank fuck. I need someone, anyone to help me get through this conversation without spontaneously combusting.

I scan the porch as we turn toward the lawn. No sign of Jude, which is weird—he’s usually outside drinking his green juice by now. Is he in Lola’s bed right now, waiting for her to come back?

That piece of shit.

Miles’s eyes sweep the driveway, landing on Wes first, then Lola, then me. He pauses just long enough to register the awkwardness.

“Didn’t know you were stopping by,” he says.

“I was in the area, figured I’d come see my baby sister. Apparently I’m not the only one.”

Miles nods, but I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. His attention moves back to Lola, and something in his posture tightens. I’m not imagining things, then. That girl looks like she just hopped off someone’s dick and stumbled down the stairs.

He shakes his head and turns his attention back to Wes. “Good timing. I was just about to make some waffles. Come eat.”

Wes nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Lola hesitates. It’s small, barely a pause, but I feel it loud and clear. Then she nods. “Right, yeah. Sure.”

We head across the lawn, Wes and Miles falling into step together. Lola hangs back, trailing a few steps behind them. She stays as far away from me as possible. Her eyes skim over me once before snapping forward.

Yeah, girl. I know what you were up to.

“How’s the loop coming?” Wes asks.

Miles shrugs. “Needs work, but it’s stable. We’re rewriting some of the sequencing logic. Jude wants to automate the low-priority triggers.”

“Smart. Is it running clean on the dev side?”

“Mostly. Some noise from the rollback handlers, but nothing we can’t patch.”

Jude is in the kitchen when we enter. His face does this tight little twist when he sees Wes walk in.

“Hey man. Do you know my sister?” Wes asks.

“Hey,” Jude says, almost as high-pitched as Lola did a few minutes ago. “Didn’t know you two were related.”

Wes lifts one brow. “You didn’t?”

Lola coughs like she’s choking on air.

Jude’s smile is half polite, half what-the-fuck. He shoots a glance at Lola. He knows he missed a critical piece of intel because she just conveniently forgot to mention her brother is our best friend.

Jude moves toward her. I watch in what feels like slow motion as he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear—but she sidesteps and he moves away from her awkwardly.

Miles bought a huge circular table for the room and I rolled my eyes when I saw it, but today it works in my favor. Because even though Jude snags a spot next to Lola, I can take the one on her other side.

Wes grabs the platter of waffles, takes a couple and passes it. Miles is mid-sentence about task automation. I pour water into the closest glasses, half-listening as he walks Wes through the logic tree he rewrote last night. Lola reaches for the syrup and I pass it to her without comment.

Jude chimes in with something about trigger delays, and Wes nods through a bite of food. I throw in a few comments here and there, but my attention keeps drifting to Lola beside me.

So I notice immediately when Jude leans in toward her to say something. She turns slightly to hear him better. I hate how intimate their postures are. She’s never that relaxed with me. Whatever he says makes her smile and let loose a soft laugh. I clench my fingers around my fork.

While she’s still smiling, he reaches down to touch her thigh under the table.

It’s subtle. I’m sure Wes and Miles don’t even notice, but I do. I see every fucking detail—the curl of his fingers and the flush that creeps up her neck.

I didn’t need confirmation that Jude was the one in her bed this morning, but having it? I want to punch him.

The anger burrows into me and sits there festering. I can feel it burning through my veins.

Jude’s touch lingers, his thumb moving slightly against her leg, and she doesn’t flinch. Eventually he pulls it back and the two of them pretend it never happened.

So, I decide to remind her who the fuck I am.

While the others keep talking, I shift in my seat and drop my hand beneath the table. I take a cue from Jude’s book and slide it to Lola’s thigh. Her fork pauses midair but she doesn’t grab my wrist or give me a look. I take that as permission.

My fingers trail along the inside of her leg, just above the bend of her knee. She keeps her gaze forward, nodding at something Miles says about the new interface. Her body moves a fraction to the right. I press my palm more firmly against her, dragging it higher up her leg.

I slide beneath the edge of her shirt and find the hem of her shorts. My fingertips move just under the cuff, grazing bare skin. She straightens her back and takes a sip from her glass. I inch further, feeling the muscles in her thigh tighten beneath my palm.

The others are deep in conversation, thank fuck, and are paying no attention to what I’m doing.

I slide higher until I reach her panties. I pause, but she still doesn’t stop me. There's not a single bit of resistance.

So I slip under the elastic. My knuckles skim the crease of her thigh as I angle my fingers to press against her pussy. She’s soaked. Absolutely fucking dripping.

I keep my voice neutral as I toss out some comment about backend logic, but my fingers move lower, until I find the spot that makes her hips give a traitorous little jerk.

She takes a quick sip of water and nods at something Miles says, pretending like I don’t have two fingers brushing up against her.

I draw slow, torturous circles with my middle finger, barely applying pressure. Her hand clenches around her fork. She doesn’t drop it, but the tension in her grip makes the metal scrape against her plate.

I dip one finger inside her. Her legs move apart and I slide another finger in and feel the pulse of her walls. Her pussy clenches hard around me, and my jaw tightens at the feel of it. She’s so wet I slide in without resistance.

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. Aside from the flush at her neck, you’d never know I was knuckle-deep inside her. She shifts in her chair again, but this time it’s not to get away. Her legs part just enough to let me in deeper.

I keep moving my fingers, fucking her slowly while the table buzzes with conversation. I watch her carefully, tracking every small reaction. She bites her bottom lip. She is working so hard to keep herself together.

My thumb finds her clit and touches it gently. Then I press a little harder to make her gasp. Jude glances her way, and she covers with a cough. I don’t stop.

She’s trying not to give anything away, but her body is betraying her. Every breath she takes is shallower than the last. Her chest is rising faster now, and she’s stopped even pretending to eat.

Wes asks something about server loads. I know the answer so I give it.

I lean in a little until my mouth is closer to Lola’s ear. I pitch my voice low so it doesn’t carry and give us away.

“You’re going to come for me at the table, aren’t you?”

Her fingers dig into the fabric of her napkin. I slide my fingers in deeper, pushing the rhythm just a little harder. I feel her inner walls clench.

She’s close—so fucking close—and still doing everything she can not to give herself away.

A soft sound escapes her—half gasp, half whimper—but she coughs again to cover it.

Miles glances at her. “You alright?”

Lola clears her throat and nods. “Just swallowed wrong,” she says, voice strained.

She bites her lip so hard I think it might bleed. Her whole body tenses, vibrating like a string stretched too tight. I slow the rhythm, easing off the pressure, letting her hover there. Her hips rock forward to chase the sensation.

I grin and fuck her harder. I move my thumb down to circle her clit, giving her exactly what she needs without letting her fall over the cliff too fast.

Every time I drag my fingers out, her body pulls me back in.

The slick heat of her coats my fingers, slicking every thrust. I bite back a groan and keep moving, working her until she’s trembling.

Her thighs tighten around my wrist. Her breath comes in short, frantic bursts. I lean in again. “Let go,” I whisper.

She does.

It starts with a full-body tremble. Then she lets out a strangled breath. Her pussy clenches down on my fingers in pulsing waves, soaking them completely as she comes. She’s silent, but her face gives her away.

How are they not seeing this?

Her eyes are half rolled back. Her neck and chest are flushed with the effort of staying quiet while her entire body falls apart from the inside out.

I could stop now, but I’m not letting her off that easy. I drag every last aftershock out of her. I want her to feel this the rest of the day. I want her pussy aching, and her mind completely fried.

When I finally remove my hand, she shudders and exhales through her nose. I wipe my fingers on her inner thigh, then reach for the waffles like nothing happened.

I tear a waffle in half, and eat it. Then I bring the other hand to my mouth. There’s still a little bit of her slickness coating my fingers. If any of the others looked over now, there's no way they'd miss it.

I meet her eyes and watch her pupils dilate as I slide one finger between my lips. She watches as I suck the taste of her off my skin. Her gaze drops to my mouth, then jerks away just as fast. I keep my expression blank, but I don’t stop until every last trace of her is gone.

“Still think he fucks you better?” I murmur quietly.

Her cheeks flush deep red. Her eyes go wide for half a second before she looks down at her plate.

Jude reaches for the water pitcher and changes the topic of conversation to an upcoming tech conference. No one seems to be the wiser about the fact that Lola just came for me.