My Best Friend's Hot Brother (18+)

Who Do You Want To Fuck You; Me or Brandon?

Well, it's very obvious who says this but what do you suppose is the lead up to this quote? 

Sterling

"Straddle your legs on either side, scoot in real close against me, then wrap your arms around my waist and I'll take you for a ride."

I stare at Brandon as he grins at me devilishly and wiggles his brows.

What can I say? The man knows how to make a tempting offer.

"At least buy me dinner first," I giggle, hopping up onto the jet ski and following his instructions. I press my cheek to the warmth of his back where the sun rays hit his bronzed skin and I note that he smells of sunscreen.

Glancing over at the shore, I easily spot Jackson watching us with narrowed eyes as he stabs his fork into Kelsi's potato salad.

If you're jealous, you should have thought of that before you plunged your dagger into my heart.

With a twist of the throttle, Brandon starts his survey of the lake, the watercraft cutting through the surface with a spray that soaks my legs. I squeal in delight upon him careening around a sharp curve. 

After we emerge from the turn, he increases the pressure on the throttle, sending us skipping across the lake in a water rollercoaster ride. The wind whips tendrils of hair from my ponytail and I laugh with a lightheartedness that I haven't felt since arriving in Maine.

It would be exhilarating to be doing this activity with Jackson instead, but he doesn't want that. Or so I resign myself to thinking. But I am not the only one with surprises.

As we slow to a gentle bob near the shore, Jackson pushes himself off the sand and wanders over, his jaw set into a firm line. "Let me have a turn," he demands.

Brandon nods. "Yea, absolutely. Do you know how to operate it?"

He scoffs, stepping closer but he doesn't answer the question.

I move to get off with his friend, but he stops me, pressing his palm on my arm. "Stay. You don't have to leave."

"Okay," I agree, plopping back down and more than happy to go for another round. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"Of course," he rushes out, searching the dash for a clue on what to do next. "Where's the steering wheel?" he mutters.

"Use the throttle," I say with a gesture of my head.

"Yup. Got it." Then reaching back, Jackson finds my fingers and tugs my arms around his waist. He glances over his shoulder at me. "Hold on tightly," he commands gruffly.

I shiver, wondering where this forwardness had been when I was pleading with him to make up his mind over what he wants. Snaking my arms around his lean torso, I happily comply with his request and snuggle my chin into the crook of his neck.

He tosses me a grin before engaging the jet ski in a full throttle. With a sudden jerk that nearly sends me flying from the watercraft, we sail across the lake. Jackson mirrors the path that Brandon has taken, his handling of the equipment far less graceful and I grip him extra tight to ensure that I stay aboard.

He makes an abrupt turn that violently jolts me to the side and my hands slip from his middle as I nearly lose my balance once again. But not to be outdone by his friend, he pushes the horsepower to the max and races us across the surface.

It's then that he decides to change direction at the last second. The sudden change in path leaves no time for correction and the jet ski swerves out of control, ejecting me from my seat and into the depths of the water.