Pushing her dress all the way up to her stomach, I growl. “Fuck, Asra.” A thong. She’s wearing a tiny, black, lace thong. The drenched thing hides nothing. The insides of her upper thighs glisten with her arousal, a small stream dripping from her wet pussy.
I could ignore it, move the tiny strip of material to the side and plunge my tongue inside of her. Instead, I breathe her in deep, the sweet smell going straight to my already engorged length. Biting her thong, I drag it down her legs.
“Keep watching,” Brendan instructs as he sucks on her neck while kneading her breast over her dress.
Wobbling some more, she lifts her feet enough for me to take the lacy undergarment off her. After stuffing it in my pocket, I trail a line of open-mouthed kisses back up her legs. She moans and wiggles, yet never takes her eyes off me. As I reach the apex of her thighs, I lick up her moisture, all the way up her folds.
I growl. She cries out, her knees buckling. Between Brendan and I, we keep her standing as I circle my tongue around her clit. Her sweet, musky scent and taste invades all of my senses. I can’t get enough of it. Like the finest wine, she’s heaven. I dive in, lapping and sucking, twirling my tongue before I insert two fingers right into her waiting folds.
As more jumbled sounds spew from her lips, Brendan pulls her sleeveless top down. I glance up enough to moan at the sight of her exposed breasts. Full and perky, her pebbled nipples stick straight out. As I twirl my tongue around her clit, Brendan pinches and kneads one of her nipples to the same rhythm.
He leans down, taking the other one in his mouth. Her back arches, both of our names a chanted prayer on her lips. Pumping my hand faster, I trail my other hand up her thigh. After soaking it in her juices, I trail it all the way around to her backside.
“You like this, Prude?”
I circle my finger around her rear hole.
“Y-Yessss.” It’s a moan as she tilts her head back. Her chest heaves up and down as her back arches even farther, her knees bent, barely supporting her weight.
I add a third finger inside her pussy, cupping my fingers as I find the spot that makes her shake and cry out. Brendan slams his mouth into hers. I circle her rear hole faster, easing the tip of my finger in and out of her puckered hole. Little noises escape her lips, mixing with the wet slapping of my hand. I’m so hard, I think I might bust, but I don’t stop. I add a fourth finger, stretching her completely as I suck on her clit.
Her stomach clenches first. She cries out. Her legs buckle, but Brendan holds her up. Then, her pussy is spazzing against my fingers, clenching them tight as a wave of moisture floods out of her. I lap it all up, every last sweet, musky drop.
As her breathing evens out, we release our hold on her. I readjust myself and stare up at our beautiful, spent girl.
“Think you’re ready to handle tonight?” Brendan whispers, placing another kiss on her neck.
Standing, I suck one of her breasts into my mouth, twirling my tongue around her still pebbled nipple before repeating the process with the other one. “I don’t know, I think she might need a little more warming up.” I smile at him.
He winks, my message clear. We’re only getting started.
But first, we promised her a date.
Straightening her dress, I place a soft kiss on her lips. Cupping her chin, Brendan angles her face toward him and kisses her next. We alternate a few more kisses until she’s panting again.
“Ready for dinner?” I ask, tangling my fingers in a strand of her hair.
She blinks, parting her lips, but no sound comes out.
“Or would you rather just take this to the bedroom?” Brendan asks, kissing her neck.
She swallows, her head tilting to give him more access. “Food . . . Um, food,” she says after a moment even as she closes her eyes and moans.
“Dinner it is then.” Taking her hand, I place a slight kiss on her knuckles, then guide her to the door.
I glance back at my brother. He raises his eyebrows, a slight downward tilt to his jaw. Great, he didn’t plan anything. And I didn’t have a single second to think today.
One look at Asra’s ass, then back to the bulge in his pants as he stares at her retreating figure confirms my own thoughts. We need someplace quiet and private. Not any of the busy, touristy restaurants downtown.
Luckily, I know of one such place. I raise my eyebrows. He nods.
Grabbing my keys, I lock up the house, then escort our girl across the yard to the garage. She pauses beside Brendan’s truck, biting her lip.
“Don’t worry,” I whisper in her ear, “we’re not taking that.”
As her eyes dart to mine, Brendan pulls open the garage door, revealing my BMW i8. Her eyes widen.
“Your chariot, Sweetheart.” Extending my hand, she takes it as I lead her to my deep-blue sports car.