Page 59 of Three Pucking Ex's Brothers

I’ll know it was.

And just the thought of that is enough to make my cock twitch. I stare at the screen, not wanting to jack off in the damn bar bathroom, but I can’t stop staring at the photo because it truly is perfect.

I’ve seen Nora once or twice in her bathing suit—a one piece, but I’ve always wondered just how perfect her curves and bright hairwould look in a teeny weeny little bikini. While her lingerie isn’t a swimsuit, it’s teeny alright.

The lacy panties cover just enough of her to leave a bit to the imagination.

So, I let my imagination fill in the blanks. I envision myself pushing those lacy panties to the side and swiping my tongue up her slick folds. I imagine trailing my fingertips over those folds, stroking and massaging her clit as I prepare her for my tongue.

Fuck, I bet her pussy tastes as amazing as her tongue. I’d bet my career on it.

I groan, and my cock throbs. I’m so close already, and I’ve barely started to let my mind wander.

I hold the phone in one hand while the other occupies my dick, my strokes coming hard and fast, because I know I’m in public and anyone could walk in on me like this. Anyone could walk in and see this photo of Nora. The one that isn’t meant for me.

The one thatcouldbe meant for me, my brain says, and so I push aside all the concern and worry and I focus on those perfect, swollen tits and on the pale blue underwear covering her rosy skin as my strokes come harder. Faster.

My balls tighten, and I know it won’t be long.

“You’re almost there, just?—”

I nearly drop my phone, but I catch it before it falls in the damn toilet.

“Shit!” I bite out as I do my best to hold the phone against my chest while I keep my other hand solidly on my dick. My toescurl in my shoes, and my ass tenses as I grunt out a heavy sound, positioning my cock over the toilet as cum spurts from my dick.

My shoulders loosen and my head is hazy as I hold my cock straight. I think most of my cum makes it in the toilet, and once again, shame blankets me.

I just jacked off to a photo of Nora—in her fucking lingerie—in a public bathroom.

Freddie is so right. I’m playing with fire all right.

And I want to be burned so fucking bad…

I stumble backward as I shove my cock in my boxers and tuck everything away, shame and guilt hitting me again. Shakily, I bring up Freddie’s number and dial.

He answers on the first shot.

“What?” he asks, and I can hear the bitter tone in his voice.

“Can you pick me up from Hot Shots?” I ask. “I need a?—”

“Yeah,” he grunts. He sounds annoyed. “Yeah, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

He says nothing else, just hangs up abruptly. I lean against the inside of the stall, trying to catch my breath and close my eyes.

When I open them, it’s because I get a buzzing notification on my phone. Part of me hopes it’s Nora, but…

It’s not.

It’s Freddie.

Flash:Here.

I take a deep breath, sliding the phone back in my pocket, and I don’t even bother to find Chris on my way out. I need to get as far away from this place as possible.

So that’s what I do. I find Freddie’s Lexus and jump in the front passenger side.

Neither of us say a word, but we don’t need to. Instead, I listen to the radio all the way home, and the minute I get home, I make a beeline for my bed. I crash on it, clutching my phone to my chest, and give in to slumber, the one place I know I’m safe from the truth.