Sharing my Best Friend's Brother

Chapter 5

Alyssa

After I get back from the salon, the rest of the day blurs into a loop of breastfeeding, tag-teaming diaper changes, and keeping the kids entertained with Niko and Mason until my body feels wrung out.

Exhausted doesn't even begin to cover it.

But underneath the bone-deep fatigue simmers something hotter. Hungrier.

We haven't had real time with King in weeks.

He's been busy. Too busy.

And I don't want to sound like I'm complaining, but I f*****g hate it.

Especially tonight, when we're all home and he isn't.

Quickies before he passes out aren't enough—not for me. Not when I crave the full weight of him pressing me down, every brutal inch splitting me open, reminding me who I belong to.

Of course, Niko and Mason have been taking care of me—and each other. And it's incredible, the kind of heat that leaves us tangled and trembling, too spent to even breathe right. But even in that haze, it's obvious.

Our nights don't feel complete without our King.

I want to explore his body with my mouth, trace every scar and vein with my hands, watch him unravel just for me—and take my time doing it.

The only problem? My eyelids feel like they've been dipped in lead.

I drag myself into the kitchen and brew a small cup of coffee like it's the only thing standing between me and collapse. The steam curls in the air, sharp and bitter, and I cradle the mug in both hands, willing the burn to chase away the exhaustion dragging me under.

Because if I pass out now and miss the chance to have King all to myself tonight?

I'll lose my f*****g mind.

So I sink into the couch and sip, letting the heat scorch my throat and keep me awake.

Now there's nothing left but to wait for the door—

Wanting.

Needing.

Praying he's got enough energy left to f**k me senseless.

By the time the roar of his bike finally cuts through the night, it's past two in the morning. The sound rips through the gate, rumbles up the driveway, and jolts me wide awake.

I sit straighter, shifting into a pose more seductive than comfortable, ready for him to walk in and see exactly what's waiting.

The front door creaks open. Heavy boots strike the floor. The scent of leather, gasoline, and violence hits a second before he walks in.

King fills the doorway, broad shoulders blotting out the room. His eyes find me sprawled across the couch, and the air changes—thick, electric, charged like the second before lightning strikes.

For a beat, neither of us moves.

I don't breathe.

He doesn't blink.

"What is my kitten doin' awake?" he finally drawls, his voice low and ragged—gravel dragged over silk.

My p***y throbs just from the sound of it.

I rise without a word, my fingers working at the tie of my silky black robe. It slides off my shoulders and pools at my feet. Underneath, a deep green teddy clings tight, garter straps hugging my thighs, satin stretched over every curve.

His gaze drops instantly, dark and heavy, and I swear the temperature in the room spikes at least ten degrees hotter.

My eyes lock on his, my heart hammering as I silently dare him to make the first move.

King never rushes. He doesn't need to.

Even with fatigue etched deep into his face, he's still every inch the predator I know—unhurried, deliberate, savoring the hunt.

The door clicks shut behind him, and he stalks closer, each step measured. My breath hitches, n*****s tightening as feral hunger sparks to life in his eyes.

"All this for me?" he asks, a hint of a growl in his tone.

Heat floods between my thighs, my body squirming under the weight of his stare.

I don't even have the energy to tease him right now.

The greedy b***h between my legs is begging for her owner, and I need my husband.

"Yes, Daddy," I rasp, my voice raw with need. "Please f**k me. I've missed your c**k so bad."

A dark chuckle rumbles out of him—low and dangerous, like he's already imagining every way he's going to wreck me. In two short strides, he's in my space, his hand snapping around my throat as he towers over me.

If he were anyone else, I'd be afraid.

But he'd never hurt me. Never push me too far.

That's what made me fall in love with him in the first place.

"Careful, kitten," he warns, his thumb dragging lazily over my pulse. "I had a rough fuckin' night. If I f**k you, it won't be gentle. I'll tear that pretty little p***y apart."

Oh, f**k.

My lips part, but no words come—just a desperate whimper that makes his smirk twist darker.

"That's what I thought," he mutters, and then his mouth crashes against mine.

It's not soft. Not careful.

It's teeth and tongue and pure f*****g passion. I can't breathe—don't want to. Not when he's kissing me like this. Like he's been starving for me. Dying without me.

His arms hook under my ass, lifting me like I weigh nothing. My legs lock instinctively around his waist as he carries me across the room, his mouth continuing to devour mine. When my back slams into the wall, the impact rips a moan from my throat.

His hips drive forward, and I feel just how hard his c**k is as he grinds against me, fueling the ache building in my core.

"King," I gasp, clawing at his cut and shoving the leather off his shoulders, desperate to get to the man underneath. My hands scramble for his shirt, yanking it over his head and finally baring the muscles I've been itching to touch again.

He doesn't bother with patience.

His hands rip into the lace of my teddy with a vicious snarl, tearing it straight down the middle. The fabric shreds, snaps popping against my skin before it falls uselessly to the floor.

I giggle against his mouth.

Mission accomplished.

That's why I keep a stash of lingerie—no matter how f*****g ridiculously overpriced Victoria's Secret is.

My men love tearing it off me like animals.

And honestly? Watching them do it is the hottest thing ever.

"Impatient, are we?" I tease, my fingertips tracing the V of muscle that leads down to the monster straining in his jeans.

"You have no fuckin' idea."

A needy sound rips from my throat. I need more.

All of him.

I need him to claim me. Destroy me. Tear me apart until the only thing left in my head is how badly I want him to keep taking.

His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back so his tongue can drag down the column of my throat before he seals his mouth there, sucking hard.

"f**k," I moan, writhing against him, my body strung so tight it feels like I'll shatter if he keeps teasing me.

"You're mine," he growls against my skin. "Every inch of this body—made for me to ruin."

"Yours, Daddy," I breathe, the words spilling out like a confession and plea all at once. My fingers claw at his belt frantically.

"That's it, baby," he rasps, heat dripping from every syllable. "Take me out. Show me how bad you've missed it."

He doesn't have to tell me twice.

My hands rip his belt free, fumbling with the button and zipper until I can shove his jeans low enough. His c**k springs free, thick and heavy in my hand.

A broken sound escapes me at the feel of him—hot, hard, perfect in my grip. I guide him down, pressing his length against my entrance, already trembling with how wet I am.

"Please, Daddy," I whimper, everything in me breaking open. "I need you inside me. Now."

King snarls, his control snapping. "f**k, kitten—been starving for this pussy."

In the next breath he slams forward, burying himself to the hilt with a brutal thrust that punches the air from my lungs. The wall shakes behind me as I cry out, my p***y stretching to take him.

He hoists me up in a rough jerk, forcing my legs wider around his waist. Then he's f*****g me—hard, fast, relentless—like I'm his personal ragdoll and he's making up for every night we missed.

Each stroke lands deeper, harder, sparks bursting behind my eyes as my nails carve red streaks down his shoulders.

"Goddamnit, Alyssa," he growls, pulling back until only the tip of his c**k is inside, then burying himself balls-deep again. "You feel so fuckin' good."

"Oh, f**k!" My walls clamp down on him like it's trying to trap him inside me. "Harder... please... harder!"

His teeth scrape my skin, a snarl vibrating against my throat. His grip on my thighs turns bruising as he jackhammers into me, the drywall cracking with every savage thrust. The impact rattles my bones, each stroke tearing another broken moan from my chest.

"You want harder?" His voice is rough, wrecked. "You're gonna take every inch of me until you can't fuckin' walk."

"Yes, Daddy!" I sob, clutching onto him like he's the only thing keeping me upright. Pleasure shreds through me in sharp, blinding waves, my body convulsing around him, milking his c**k with every spasm.

He f***s me through my orgasm without slowing, growling into my ear like an unleashed animal, each stroke rougher than the last.

"Come on, kitten," he pants, his breath as ragged as mine. "Give me another one. Show me how much this c**k breaks you."

"King!" The scream tears out of me as a second orgasm detonates, violent and unstoppable. My vision goes white, ears ringing, while he pounds into me without mercy.

"That's my good girl," he purrs, slamming his warm lips to mine and swallowing every gasp, every broken cry.

His forehead presses against mine, sweat dripping between us as his grip shifts. Then he drags me higher, forcing me down on his c**k like my only job now is to let him use my body for his pleasure.

My gaze locks on the way his muscles bulge, cords of power standing thick beneath his skin.

He looks deranged. Savage.

And I f*****g love it.

Love being nothing but a toy in his hands.

He kills for a living, destroys men without hesitation—

But with me, this is how far his brutality goes.

Not fists. Not blades.

Just raw force, splitting me apart until I can't take any more.

"Oh, f**k—Daddy—please—f**k—too much—Oh God—don't stop—it's so good—so f*****g good."

I don't care how loud I am. King's f*****g the shame right out of me.

My eyes roll back, every thought leaking out of my brain as the wet slap of our bodies colliding echoes through the room.

He pulls back just enough to look at me—amber eyes blazing, taking in exactly what he's doing to me.

How he's driving me to submission.

Nirvana.

Fucking Insanity.

I sob—like actually sob—the pleasure and intimacy smacking into me so hard it feels impossible to hold in.

"Oh my God—Oh my God—King—f**k—I'm going to come. Please come with me. I need your c*m. I need you to fill me up. I need to milk you."

That's all it takes.

"f**k, kitten—f**k," he roars, his voice shredded as his c**k jerks inside me. "Take it. Take every fuckin' drop."

Heat floods me in thick pulses as he grinds deep, forcing it into me like he's staking a claim no one else could ever touch.

I cry out as another orgasm crashes over, my walls clamping tight, swallowing every ounce he pours into me.

My body convulses, tears streaking down my face as the pleasure rips me open, too much and perfect all at once.

King buries his face in my neck, groaning the sexiest sounds while he thrusts through the aftershocks, f*****g his release deeper until there's nothing left.

My sobs fade to shaky breaths, my body limp in his hold as his arms cage me securely.

Then, still buried inside, he eases me off the wall and carries me across the room to the couch.

The cushions groan beneath us as he sinks down, keeping me straddled in his lap. His c**k still throbs within my walls, but he doesn't move—just uses one big hand to stroke over the sweat-slick curve of my back.

For the first time all night, silence settles between us. Heavy, but not uncomfortable. Only our breathing fills the room, the steady thrum of his heart against my ear as I rest my head on his chest.

"I missed you," I whisper, my lips brushing over the ink on his shoulder. "I'm not complaining, but you've been too busy."

He hums deeply, fingers threading through my hair. "Complain all you want, kitten. Ain't like I enjoy being gone. Just got loose ends to tie up before the wedding—so nothing f***s with our honeymoon. If Gray calls me while I'm buried in your p***y, you know I'll lose my goddamn shit."

That pulls a small smile out of me, even through the exhaustion. "Guess we'll have to put his number on 'do not disturb' then."

Or he might actually kill my brother.

His chuckle rumbles through me. "That's the plan. Only thing I want to hear that week is you screamin' our names."

Heat creeps up my cheek, but the smile doesn't fade. "You're still not telling me where we're going, huh?"

He kisses the top of my head, his hand lazily squeezing my ass. "Damn right. You'll find out when we get there. 'Til then, you'll just have to trust us."

I let out a soft laugh, closing my eyes. "That's dangerous. You could dump me in the mountains in the middle of nowhere and call it romantic."

"C'mon, kitten," he says teasingly. "Give us some credit. We're not that bad at the romance s**t anymore."

I glance up at him, meeting his gaze in the dim light. "I don't need all that from you anyway. I just want you guys to be... you. That's always been enough."

The scar over his eye twitches as his jaw hardens. "Be real with me, kitten. You brush it off 'cause you're scared of it. That piece of s**t only spoiled you after he broke you—never 'cause he loved you. That's why you downplay it now. But you should know..." his tone softens slightly, "...you deserve the world handed to you without strings attached."

I don't answer.

Because maybe he's right.

Isaac's apologies had always been extravagant—jewelry, clothing, dinners that made him look like the good, loving husband he wanted everyone else to see. But they weren't gifts. They were chains. Promises he broke the second he felt like putting his hands on me again.

And it never took long.

My teeth catch my lip as I attempt to look away, but King cups my face, forcing me to meet his stare again. "We're not him, Alyssa. When I give you somethin', it's not to cover my fuckups. It's 'cause you're mine, and I want you spoiled. You get that?"

Heat blooms in my chest, sharp and aching. I nod, though the words catch in my throat.

Damn. This conversation just confirms what I already know—I've still got work to do.

Healing left to do from Isaac's abuse.

And I know my boys will be patient with me while I navigate it.

They always are.

But I just don't want to disappoint them—ever.

"Good," King murmurs finally, a smile in his voice. "'Cause we've got a lot of surprises coming, and I want you ready for all of them."

I really wish I knew what those surprises were. But if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that their lips will stay sealed.

When they make a pact, they stick to it.

I found out that even sitting on Niko's face won't make him crack—and that's saying something.

Still, as King holds me and the last of my strength ebbs away, I realize it doesn't matter where they take me, or what they've planned.

As long as I have them—my men, my family—I'll be ready for anything.

"I love you," I murmur sleepily, burying my face in his neck.

"I love you too, kitten," he rumbles back, his warmth surrounding me from the inside out as sleep pulls me under.