No Good Mitchell - Riley Hart Page 0,36

this place legit, but he also didn’t trust a bone in an O’Ralley’s body.” I assumed, at least, given the whole feud thing.

“I’m crushed,” he teased.

“Well, I know there’s at least one of your bones I like.” I brushed my hand over his bulge, and Brody hissed.

“Be good. You’ll get me hard again, and they’ll know.”

We began walking down the hallway toward the kitchen. I spoke softly, “Now, that feels like a challenge. I’m gonna have to spend all dinner trying to make you crazy for me without letting Walker and Isaac know what I’m doing.”

Brody’s foot caught on a rug, and he almost tripped. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I assure you I would…and will.” This was going to be fun.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Brody

Cohen made good on his promise of a little foot-action during our meal. Exchanging glances during this tit-for-tat, we seemed to be making a game out of navigating our feet high up each other’s legs as we enjoyed getting away with it around Walker and Isaac.

Cohen was intriguing, beguiling…and just plain fun.

I’d known some sexy guys in my life, but there was something different in the way Cohen Mitchell oozed sex appeal. And apparently it made me ooze enough during our game that Walker asked if I’d spilled some of my drink when he noticed the spot on the crotch of my pants.

What Cohen and I did together—the kiss in the bar, making out in the kitchen, getting off together in the deer stand, and playing footsie under the table—was this combination of innocence and wickedness that felt so fucking right.

A part of me wanted to stay behind at his place so we could wrestle out another load together…oh, that would be fun…but another part enjoyed how everything we did seemed to happen at just the right time, at the perfect, right pace. I didn’t want to spoil it by forcing something too soon.

I’d just gotten home and was passing by Dwain’s room, when he said, “Are you fucking whistling?”

I stepped back and peeked through the door. His and Lee’s double beds were still in there, just as they’d been when we were kids. Lee had his earphones in, head turned toward the wall. Dwain lay across his covers in his tighty-whities, making it impossible not to notice his cock stretching out across the top of his thigh. He looked up from the book he was reading.

“It doesn’t look like Nietzsche is stimulating you very much tonight,” I remarked, and he furrowed his brow, like any slighted little bro would.

“I get a hard-on the more I read about Perspectivism,” he said as facetiously as he could manage. “Now what the fuck were you whistling about?”

His expression was all suspicion, as if he could read on my face, I’ve been doing very naughty things with that Mitchell boy. And wanted to do a lot more. I said, “Are you the whistling police all of a sudden?”

“Can’t you just answer my question?”

“Can’t you mind your own business?”

He rolled his eyes, clearly not in the mood to go back and forth with me. “Whatever. I don’t give a shit.” He glanced at Lee, as if making sure he couldn’t hear us over his music, then slipped out of bed and headed toward me.

It was hard not to notice how his dick shifted in his briefs. “Are you getting harder walking over here?” I asked, raising my arms defensively.

“Oh, probably. You know, I wear these because they fit me just right, you know?” He winked.

“Just keep it at arm’s length,” I teased. I had no desire for him to ruin my own arousal from everything that had happened over at Cohen’s.

He shook his head and frowned. “Look, I saw Big Daddy in his office earlier, and he looked… You know how he’s getting, and he’s not gonna talk to me or Lee about anything. You mind checking on him?”

Ugh. I liked Dwain more when he was acting like an ignorant blockhead, but seeing his worry about Big Daddy reminded me that, at the end of the day, he was the O’Ralleys’ ignorant blockhead, with a much softer side than the hard exterior he too often presented.

I agreed to check on Big Daddy and headed back downstairs to his office. I knocked gently on the door and heard him call out, “Come in.” When I opened the door, I saw him sitting at his desk, a stack of envelopes and papers in front of him. I could see by his red face and watery eyes why