Page 3 of Filthy Rich Brother’s Best Friends (Filthy Rich Harems #5)

“I spent the last several hours wondering what your tits would feel like,” he murmurs, and I don’t know whether to moan or punch him for assuming he’d get to find out. I go with the moan. It seems like a better choice.

He drags my shirt over my head—or at least he tries to. He tries to tug the fabric free, but then he frowns. Pauses. Tugs again. “Wait—why won’t this—” His fingers dig at the edge, confused, and that’s it. I lose it and start laughing.

“It’s a bodysuit,” I manage between giggles. “It snaps. Like, under.”

His eyes go wide. “Under-under?”

I nod, still laughing. “Yeah.” I pop the fastener open myself, and he finally pulls it off triumphantly. His mouth is on me a second later.

He kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, over the swell of my bra-covered breast. He brushes his thumb across my nipple until it hardens. My back arches. His mouth finds my neck again, and he groans when I clutch at his hair.

“You’re unreal,” he murmurs.

Then his hips roll forward, and everything inside me short-circuits.

I grab his shoulders for balance. His hand drops to my hip and pulls me tighter against him, and I feel the friction with every move of his hips. His cock presses against me, and I swear I moan into his mouth.

I reach down and pop the button on his jeans, fumble with the zipper, and finally manage to drag it down. He sighs deeply when I slide my hand inside. Then he groans when I wrap my fingers around him.

He’s thick and hard, already leaking, and the sound he makes when I grip him tighter is going to live in my head forever. His eyes close for a moment. When they open again, they’re darker.

“Jesus,” he mutters, his head dropping to my shoulder as I stroke him once, then twice.

I smile. “I take it to mean that feels good?”

He laughs, breath warm against my skin.

Then he kisses me again—slower this time, but no less intense.

His lips slide over mine, tongue teasing until I whimper.

He swallows the sound, and kisses me deeper.

My bra is gone before I realize he’s unclasped it.

It slips down my arms and hits the floor, and then his mouth is on me—hot and open and hungry.

He sucks one nipple between his lips, groaning as I arch into him. His tongue flicks, teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp. Then he moves to the other, giving it the same attention while he tightens his grip on my waist. The man is barely holding himself back.

And then he really doesn’t.

He wraps an arm around my waist, and lifts me up. I squeak, grabbing at his shoulders again as he carries me toward the bedroom. His mouth never strays far from mine, nipping and kissing and sucking, fully aware of the chaos he’s creating.

The second my back hits his mattress, he pulls back just enough to look me over—and the heat in his eyes nearly undoes me.

“Stay there.”

I watch him strip—shirt first, tossed aside onto the floor, then his jeans. His boxers follow, and his cock springs free.

I bite my lip. Hard.

He doesn’t give me time to stare. He drops to his knees, hooks his fingers in my waistband, and yanks everything off in one move—jeans, underwear, all of it. His palm slides up my thighs, nudging them open as he goes.

Then he touches me with the same confidence he had in the studio, only this time, there’s nothing professional about it.

Two fingers stroke through my pussy, spreading me open before circling my clit with practiced precision. My hips lift off the bed, a strangled sound catching in my throat.

“You’re so goddamn gorgeous,” he says, and his voice does that thing where it drops a few octaves.

“Tell me if this is too much,” he says.

“Too much?” I laugh. “You made me come earlier without even touching me. I’d say we’re already well past too much.”

He grins, and I swear it should be illegal. Then he ducks his head, and begins to lick me. The first swipe of his tongue is slow. I jerk, hips twitching, but his hands are already holding me in place.

“Stay still,” he whispers, his mouth close to my skin.

Then he closes his lips over my clit, and sucks.

My head drops back with a gasp and my fingers claw at the sheets.

He flattens his tongue, and drags it through my lips, licking me like he’s starved.

Then he goes lower, dipping into my pussy before pulling back up to circle my clit again.

I can’t stop moving. My hips buck, begging for more.

He presses one strong forearm across my pelvis, holding me down with maddening control.

Then he adds his fingers. One at first. And then another one.

He positions them just so, hitting my g-spot, and keeps his mouth locked on my clit. He doesn’t pull back until I cry out. Then he keeps fucking me with his fingers while his tongue works in tight, relentless circles.

“Oh my god—Jude—I can’t?—”

“Yes, you can.”

And I do. Hard. So fucking hard.

I come with a cry that’s too loud, and a full-body tremble I can’t stop. He doesn’t stop either. He keeps licking me through it, coaxing every last ripple of pleasure from my body until I can’t take it anymore. I push at his shoulders, whimpering, too sensitive to handle another second.

He finally pulls back, mouth wet, lips curved in the most satisfied smile I’ve ever seen.

“Condom,” I mumble. I flop my arm toward the nightstand where I assume he keeps them.

He handles the rest, thank god, because I’m shaking, and my brain is pea soup.

He rolls on the condom, and I feel the weight of him as he settles between my thighs. He brushes my hair back, and looks me in the eyes.

“You sure?”

“Jude,” I pant, “if you don’t fuck me in the next five seconds, I’m going to spontaneously combust.”

He laughs under his breath, but he doesn’t make me wait. He reaches down, lines himself up, and presses in, filling me inch by inch until I moan and my fingers dig into his arms.

I didn’t realize how empty I was until he filled me.

The stretch is so good it borders on painful, but it’s the kind of ache I want to feel over and over again.

It’s too much, and not enough all at once.

It’s been a while. My vibrator’s a trooper, but this?

This is an entirely different realm of pleasure.

He groans into my neck, and starts to move.

I lose track of time. Of space. Of language.

“You feel so good,” he grits out. “So goddamn tight.”

“Well, it’s been a while,” I gasp. “Be nice to her.”

He laughs. Then slams into me so hard I see stars. “Was that nice?”

“Oh my god.”

“Say it again.”

“God, Jude—don’t stop.”

He doesn’t.

He keeps going until my legs are shaking, and my brain forgets how to process anything except more .

Every thrust is deep, rough, and perfectly angled.

It's the kind of fucking that rewires your DNA, and ruins you for anyone else.

I claw at his shoulders, dig my heels into the mattress, and hold on for dear life.

And still, it’s not enough.

He changes his angle, drives in deeper, and suddenly I can’t think. My legs start shaking. My orgasm builds fast and furious. I cry out his name in a half-sob, and fall apart underneath him all over again.

He doesn’t stop though. If anything, he starts fucking me harder.

I come yet again. My body is so wrecked I can’t tell where the pleasure ends, and the aftershocks begin. He fucks me through it all, chasing his own edge with clenched teeth.

“Lola—fuck,” he grits out, voice breaking apart.

Then he pushes in one final time, and everything in him goes still. His body tenses, jaw locked as he groans against my neck. I feel the shudder roll through him as he comes.

We stay tangled for a moment. His weight on top of me, his breath heavy against my skin, he’s still holding me. Eventually, he shifts just enough to look at me. His eyes are soft now, but there’s still a flicker of hunger behind them.

“Worth the wait?” he asks with gravel in his voice.

“If you ever massage me again, we’re going to need a safe word.”

He grins. “I’ll book you in weekly.”

I groan and cover my face with both hands. “I hate how good that sounds.”

He laughs, then rolls us sideways until we’re curled under the covers, limbs entangled in a move so intimate it must be accidental. Because that’s not what this is…right?

He drags his fingers down my back in lazy strokes, and my brain powers off. I don’t have the ability to try and read between the lines anymore. I just lean into the sensation, and fall into a deep sleep.