The Boys Next Door Ch. 07

Author's Note: New to this series? I suggest starting at the beginning to get the backstory. This chapter has more plot, more drama, and -- yes -- a resolution. Enjoy!

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Diana blinked at the dim shapes of an unfamiliar room. Cool air kissed her bare curves. Deep, peaceful, regular breathing stirred her hair, and a soft pillow cradled her cheek. But she knew the broad male chest pressed against her back, the solid arm circling her waist -- Brendan. His steady touch calmed her, easing the confusion of lying in a strange bed, naked with a buzzing head.

A soft snore behind Brendan made her giggle suddenly, and she quickly rolled over and buried her laugh in Brendan's warm shoulder. He shifted, settling against her and pulling her close, smiling in his sleep. A hand dropped down to cup her ass. Over the slope of his broad back, Diana saw bare feminine curves and one last candle, still lit and near the end of its life.

Last night? Last night. Oh, sweet merciful everything, last night.

Had it really happened? It hadn't. She was dreaming, right now, as her eyes moved over the very detailed poster about Scorpio hanging above the very naked girl fast asleep against Brendan's back. She was definitely dreaming up the five bodies tangled up on one bed. The total stranger sheets pressing against her cheek, soft and purple, smelling like patchouli. The fact that a gorgeous girl, the type who'd always intimidated her, was snoring, not to mention that the bed hadn't cracked.

And everything she'd done — and liked it.

She buried her face in Brendan's shoulder again, breathing in his masculine scent, aware of the other male body behind her and the heat coming off it. God, her hair had to be a sweaty mess, she didn't even want to know the state of her makeup, her skin prickled with the warmth of both twins' bodies, and her thighs were wet and juicy. She couldn't help rubbing her hardening nipples against Brendan's chest. He let out a soft sound of enjoyment.

After she'd drifted off last night, after she'd completely lost control with the twins, and God — those girls — she'd half-woken a little later, pleasantly fuzzy, her head resting on Ian's slow-breathing chest. Hands had smoothed her sweaty hair back from her face. A low voice had whispered in her ear: Brendan, softly asking if she was okay.

She'd nodded and reached for him, pulling him down to her as sensations took over: powerful arms wrapping around her. Brendan's muscular leg parting hers. His cock, gliding easily into her soaked and tingling pussy. His reassuring murmurs that he'd take it easy on her after Ian. Her thighs, sore, but instinctively hugging his waist, as she yielded to his soft kisses on her lips and his gentle strokes into her aching cunt.

Brendan's warm hands held her tightly against him, angling her ass to fuck her more deeply, until she felt Ian stir and she whispered in Brendan's ear that she wanted to turn over. Then she gasped when hardness speared her swollen pussy from behind, moving in and out with coaxing strokes that made her wetter and wetter, while she beckoned Ian in front of her and opened her lips to his cock, hot and silky smooth and juicy and perfect. She wanted him to say something, anything, as she swirled her tongue over his swollen head and lapped up the pearl of liquid oozing out, but he just watched her, eyes half-closed, hands fisting in her hair.

And oh yes, Brendan was exploring her full hanging breasts with one large palm, rubbing his thumb softly over her puckered nipples, arousing her beyond belief and urging her in his most reassuring voice to take Ian's cock deeper and deeper into her mouth. God, her cunt was so full, her mouth was so full, she needed to moan and she couldn't even manage it around Ian's thick shaft, but no way would she stop, not when Ian was actually whimpering above her, raw sounds of arousal and need driving every lick and suck as she bathed his cock with her tongue.

She was vaguely aware of the girls next to them, flashes of smooth shifting bodies and low nuzzling sounds. Soft skin brushed against hers, and two pairs of eyes eagerly watched her writhe between the twins. Diana couldn't resist wriggling more, sucking Ian's cock harder, thrusting toward Brendan's cock faster, moaning louder as Ian pulled back. Jesus, this was so crazy, and it was so hot to hear the girls moaning too as they drank in the sight of the twins fucking her—

But when Brendan's roaming hand massaged its way down the curve of her belly and cupped her mound, one finger finding her clit, she couldn't concentrate on anything but the slow waves of pleasure spreading from his sure touch and the hot cock sliding over her tongue.

"That's it, sweetness," Brendan murmured. "Come for us, Di. Just like that."

Diana gasped with need and release around Ian's cock, heard him grunt. As he pulled on her hair, her slick pussy rippled on Brendan's thickness, spasming harder and harder. Ian was flexing his hips now, fucking her mouth, his body taut with the effort to control his movements.

Fingers tightened on her full hips. She hadn't needed to look over her shoulder to know that Brendan was coming deep in her quivering pussy, whispering that she was so sexy and he was so proud of her, while Ian filled her mouth with hot cream, his low hoarse groans meeting her ears.

Ian. The buzzing in her head turned into sharpness. Diana rolled over in Brendan's sleep-heavy arms and reached in front of her for Ian, just wanting to rub her face against his chest and breathe together with him.

Her eyes focused. And oh God, Ian's eyes were closed, his lashes resting on his cheeks, his eyelids looking kissable, moving and groaning softly. A naked female body spooned him from behind. Long brown hair brushed his shoulder. A lithe arm snaked under his, exploring his muscled chest. He shifted and let out an mmmmm as the hand trailed down his hard abs.

This wasn't happening. It was. And it had been okay to see Brendan with another girl in the heat of the moment, even intensely sexy to watch, but one hundred per cent wrong for Ian.

As Diana stared, the girl's hand moved idly over Ian's stomach, exactly where her own hand should be, ruffling the line of hair and stopping to tickle his belly button. Ian's eyes opened, met Diana's, and he grunted more loudly, unmistakeable arousal in his fogged-over gaze. His cock was rapidly hardening. Jesus, was he getting off on her watching?

Suddenly everything halted, everyone was awake and staring at her, Ian was blinking, his eyes not quite focusing, because she'd actually roared "MINE!" and made a grab for him.

Then aching rushed through her head, and she couldn't swallow around the lump in her throat.

"I need to go," she whispered, embarrassment flooding her cheeks. Oh my God, where were her clothes? She sat up, looked around wildly. That was...her black bra hanging off a lamp shade? A bra. Someone's bra. Forget about her underwear, Ian had reduced it to shreds last night, and dammit, those panties hadn't been cheap. The redhead rolled over on the other side of Brendan and mumbled something about saving the drama for the morning. Jesus. Breasts. She was looking at another girl's breasts. She'd done a lot more than look last night. But it was still last night, wasn't it?

"Where the hell is a clock?" Diana grumbled. Suddenly knowing the time was extremely important. "Can someone just tell me where to find a goddamn clock?" God, she sounded grumpy and bitchy beyond all get-out, she wasn't making sense even to herself, and the whole time her body was screaming Ian and she couldn't even look at him. How many times had the twins woken up in the bed of some random girl — apart or together? She'd been determined to handle herself, keep up with them both — Jesus, surpass them. But she'd sensed she was in over her head with the twins, and she was right.

Brendan stirred behind her, put a hand on her back. "It's okay, Di," he murmured groggily.

"No, I really need to go."

Ian was rubbing his eyes, trying to sit up, reaching for her, while the brunette looked from Diana to the twins, her face lit with curious interest like she was watching a show. Diana wanted to hand her some popcorn and tell her to pull up a chair.

"Can everyone please just shut up and go back to sleep?" the redhead groused into the sheets. "I don't do drama before coffee."

"Di," More urgency in Brendan's voice, and less sleep. "Di, you're coming down. It hits some people hard. Don't go anywhere."

But she was already grabbing her crumpled red dress from the floor, pulling it on every which way over her sweaty curves, slinging her high heels over her shoulder and stumbling barefoot out of the apartment though her whole body told her to just stay in bed with the twins.

What happened next was a merciful blur: Ian, running out of the building shirtless, zipping up his pants, his hair mussed in all directions, trying to make sure she was okay while she managed, brilliantly, to call him a slut; Brendan, jogging out a few minutes later, fully dressed and much more together than his brother, trying to calm her down too; her pathetic attempt to stalk away from both of them with what was left of her dignity and catch the next bus home, when in fact they'd stopped running for the night. Not to mention that her wallet was sitting in the twins' car, along with her jacket and glasses.

"Diana, what happened in there—" Ian began. He was holding her arm. Both her arms. Tightly. Brendan's hand was on her back. The two of them were probably the only thing keeping her upright.

"It's not a big deal." She glared at the sidewalk, too embarrassed and upset to even look Ian in the eye. "Forget I said anything. I don't care."

Somehow, they talked her into getting in the Jeep and riding home with them: Brendan in the front, driving carefully at half the speed Ian had used to bring them there; Diana in the back with her aching head in Ian's lap, the place she most and least wanted to be right now.

Silence filled the car. The clock she'd been wanting so badly beamed a steady green glow from the dashboard: 4:19 am. Ian's hand was rubbing the back of her head, and it was soothing her headache and making her angry all over again at the same time, because she never wanted him to stop.

"Di, we thought this would be good for you," Brendan began, placatingly. "We thought it would help you."

"Shut up, Brendan." Ian's morose voice made it through Diana's head slowly, but she looked up soon enough to see Brendan's stunned expression in the rearview mirror. The twins never fought. They'd made an agreement, they'd kept it since they were seven, and the two of them arguing was suddenly the most wrong thing about this night.

"Don't yell at Brendan," she snapped, and instantly regretted it because the effort made her head throb more.

"Diana, you don't even—" Ian broke off. She felt the soft thud of the seat as he banged his head against it. "The club was your idea," he said in a lower voice, clearly aimed at his brother. "This fucking threesome was your idea. It's Brendan's idea. It's always Brendan's idea."

"You have lots of ideas." Brendan's tone was mild. "It wasn't my idea for you to climb in Diana's window alone and make her guess who you were." Crazily, he didn't seem bothered, more like he was trying to support his brother — but Diana couldn't bear to hear anymore.

"Let's just forget that happened," she blurted out. Silence. Ian's leg stiffened against her cheek, and after a second, his hand left her hair. Without thinking, she grabbed his palm and pulled it back. He sighed and began to rub her head again.

"Your hair's a mess," he said softly. And he was just making it messier, his warm fingers buried against her scalp and rubbing her neck. His other hand found the open back of her dress — half-buttoned, in her rush. Slowly, he began doing the buttons up.

"Yeah, well, you sound like shit warmed over," she mumbled into his leg. His jeans smelled like smoke and beer. "Both of you." Though it was really only true for Ian. "And you look like it too."

A brief half-laugh. Streetlights streaked by through the window. The Jeep rolled through one intersection after another, the only car on the deserted streets.

After a few silent minutes, Brendan turned on the radio, keeping the volume low. Diana was about to tell him to turn it off immediately, but when she saw his arm crooked out the open driver's window, his head leaning to the side, his solid body looking exhausted, she kept her mouth shut. Better for the driver to stay awake. And dammit, the song on the radio was mellow and warm, all sunlight and happiness and a long lazy summer ahead.

"Sorry, man," Ian said in a low voice.

He was apologizing, Diana thought. Not to her. To his brother.

"No, I'm sorry," Brendan said after a minute.

"Thanks."

"That's it right there, isn't it?" Diana told herself to just stop talking, that at least the twins were making up, but her mouth wasn't paying attention. "That's the only apology that matters to either of you. At the end of the day, you don't really care about anyone else. You only care about each other."

There was a very long silence. Too long. Or maybe it just felt that way because her head was drumming five rhythms at once against Ian's leg, and his hand had stopped rubbing her scalp and just cupped it, holding still.

"That's not true, Di," Brendan said quietly. Finally. The car had stopped. She recognized the maple trees from the window, even lying down. They were in front of her house.

Ian let out a long exhalation. "Diana, can we please just sleep this off and talk tomorrow?"

"No, Di, we shouldn't leave you," Brendan cut in. "Let us stay with you 'til morning — or you can sleep over at our house and I'll explain to your parents—"

That was an explanation she'd like to see Brendan give her mom. But hearing the twins disagree — they'd always worked together, so smoothly she'd barely been aware of it — made up her mind.

"I need to be alone." Fuck, her voice was shaky. She didn't want to be alone — no, she wanted it more than anything else — she had no idea what she wanted right now. "For awhile. Don't call me, Brendan. And Ian, I don't need to say that to you because you never have."

Now she did manage to look at both twins as she climbed out of the Jeep. They were still masculine. Still good-looking. No doubt about it. But worn. Brendan leaned his forehead against the open window frame, shadows under his eyes. Ian, in the back, did look like shit warmed over. Hair sticking up everywhere, heavy-lidded eyes staring back at her, and she just wanted to grab him and drag him up to her room and fall asleep with her head in the crook of his shoulder.

"You know, Di," Brendan said quietly. "It's a lot of work to try to make everyone happy."

Diana rubbed her eyes. The maple trees rustled overhead. It was either way too late at night or way too early in the morning. "Is that your job? Along with talking for Ian?" Who she couldn't look at again, and who wasn't saying a word from the back.

"One of them."

"Maybe you should find some new jobs." She slammed the car door and made her way inside her dark house without glancing back. Behind her, the Jeep's engine turned over, the only sound in the sleeping neighborhood beside the chirp of the crickets.

*******

After a few hours of tossing and turning, Diana folded her pillow over and punched it, glaring at the cheerful early morning light pouring through her window. No chance anyone would climb through that window now. No twin would make the branches shake outside as he clambered up, beaming, with a naughty graduation gift in a brown paper bag, or wrapped in shadow, refusing to tell her who he was. She'd made damn sure of that in the Jeep, when she'd been too upset to think straight.

It was ridiculous to have her feelings hurt, she knew. After all, she'd been with both the twins. She'd picked up those girls right along with them. Her body clenched with sharp arousal, remembering. And if she had a do-over card for last night, she knew deep down she'd do it all again, except for the last half hour. But that didn't ease the hollow in her chest.

She buried her face in her pillow, mashing it against the cotton. From the beginning, there'd never been any secret: Brendan and Ian were players. She'd been an idiot to hope for more. Naive to think all that bullshit Ian had spouted on graduation night about her being beautiful and perfect actually meant anything besides wanting to get his dick up her ass. He'd probably done that with a hundred girls and knew exactly what to say.

But she couldn't stop hearing their voices in her head: It's always Brendan's idea. It's a lot of work to try to make everyone happy. Was this how the twins went through life — getting into scrapes together, Ian taking the blame, Brendan taking care of the cleanup? She kicked at her covers. She was not going to feel sorry for them, even though she knew, deep down, she'd been unfairly mean in the car. Hurt their feelings. She wanted to make things right, but she didn't have the first idea how.

When the doorbell rang, she pulled her pillow over her head. Didn't the world know not to make loud sounds right now? Her mother's enthusiastic "Brendan!" carried right through the plump down. Oh boy.

"Diana's resting right now, but I can let her know you're here. How late did you boys keep her out last night? I hope Ian didn't give her anything to drink."

"No, Mrs. Cooper, he didn't. Don't worry." That deep voice was definitely Brendan's, but he sounded subdued. "Let Diana sleep. I don't want to bother her."

Diana sighed, heaved the pillow across the room, padded to her door, and opened it.

"Brendan can come up," she called down the stairs, then hesitated. "If he wants to."

There was a pause, some low voices, then the floor creaked. Diana blinked at the bulk of Brendan's body coming up the stairs. Her hair was still saturated with smoke, some other girl's perfume clung to her skin, the pink camisole and boy shorts she'd managed to pull on before tumbling into bed were stuck to her sex-scented body with sweat, and she'd thought this was a good idea why? But Brendan was already in her room, closing the door with a soft click behind him, and looking around for a place to sit in a way that made it very obvious he was avoiding her bed. Diana noticed something tucked under his arm.

"Hey." She gestured to herself. "I know. I need to shower."

"Yep. You do."

A hint of a smile flashed across Brendan's face, the cleft flickering in his chin, but Diana couldn't help noticing: this was the first time she'd seen Brendan not trying to be charming. She'd never fully realized how much the charm was on — day, night, awake or asleep. Always, since they'd been kids. Now, he just looked tired. Diana wondered if he'd slept as badly as she had. And Ian—

Impulsively, she patted the bed next to her. The mattress sank under Brendan's weight, his leg warm against hers.

"I came over to give you this." He held out her jean jacket, folded into a tidy bundle. Diana couldn't keep back a sigh of relief. She reached into the front pocket, found her glasses, and put them on. Her room sharpened into focus, and she immediately felt better.

Brendan was already close enough to see clearly, — very close to her, in fact — but the glasses just made it more obvious: tired or not, he was still gorgeous. But she didn't recognize his expression. They'd grown up together, they'd had all kinds of sex the past two weeks, but she had to wonder if she knew him at all. Or Ian, or herself.

"Thanks."

"Check the sleeves."

Diana slid her hand into one sleeve. Out came her black satin bra, neatly tucked into the denim.