He's the guy moms warn their daughters about. Bold, outspoken, and self-confident, Brian O'Brien returns to his hometown only to discover some things changed in his absence.
Brian has a new neighbor - a shy, smart girl Leah, who hates his guts since...
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"Thanks, babe."
I slap Bella's red thong-covered ass and grab my shirt and jeans from her bedroom floor.
She strokes a hand down my chest and looks up at me, licking her lips. "Why don't you stay for a bit longer?"
I chuckle. "I gave you three, no need to be greedy."
The chick pouts, and I laugh, pulling the pants up my legs. That shit was good. My boy finally got wet, and I could relax.
As tempting as Bella's offer is, I can't stay. Pops needs me at the garage, and Mac promised to see what we've done with that place. Besides, I'm not one to have post-fucking convos. There isn't much Bella and I could talk about, anyway. My dick, maybe, but she knows the boy's pierced. It's old news.
She loves that shit, not that we ever fuck without a condom on. I have to thank my big bro for my boy's enhancement.
We got smashed once after one of Jimmy's gigs. I teased the hell outta Jim, saying that he'd never make it big cause his songs were shitty.
Jimmy suggested we make a bet: if he didn't get signed in the next three years, he'd pierce his boy. If he got a contract, I'd have to pierce mine.
My big bro's talented as fuck. I should've known better, but I didn't. I was, still am a stubborn fucker.
Long story short, a year and a half later, Jimmy signed a contract with the label.
I remember that day as if it happened yesterday: I was visiting Pops, and we were about to have dinner when the doorbell rang. A delivery guy stood outside, holding a cooler and a box. The cooler was full of ice, and a bottle of champagne was in it.
Pops was the one to open the box. Jimmy's framed photo lay inside, together with a picture of a pierced dick and a note, which read, 'The O'Brien men never give up. I made it, little fucker. The champagne's for Dad. The ice is for your dick cause it might get swollen.'
Pops laughed until he cried, saying he'd seen shit but he'd never seen anything like that. Then, he patted my shoulder and said a bet's a bet, and the O'Brien men always kept their word, swollen dick or not.
Now, every time Jimmy asks if I wanna bet, I say no, and the fucker chuckles and winks at me.
The memories make me smile as I continue getting dressed.
"Bye, sugar," I say to Bella and make my way out, not waiting for her goodbye. I'm one impatient fucker.
A short ride later, I'm at the garage, drinking in the sight of shiny tools and framed pictures. Looking at them is like walking down memory lane.
I helped my dad choose the images of the bikes he used to own, and he added the photographs of my brother, my mom, and me.
Dad isn't home yet; he must've gone to buy groceries. I head to my room and take a shower to wash Bella off.
