Something caught me just as the line dancers came up to me like an ocean wave and then receded again. I fumbled for the bar and pulled myself up, gingerly checking to make sure I hadn’t rolled my ankle or anything.
I didn’t even feel his hand until he moved it, releasing his fingers where they circled my upper arm, leaving a bright ring of awareness in my mind. Gasping, looking up, my jaw opened like a puppet as I willed myself to apologize or something.
“Brienne?” he said softly, his voice so near and familiar that I whirled in my mind, trying to place him.
I know you? I know your voice?
“Oh, I’m-- Owen?” I stammered, hearing the words as I said them. I looked into his bright blue eyes like I knew him and tried to make sense of it.
He’s too close!
“God, excuse me, I’m sorry--”
“No it’s OK, are you OK? Oh here they come again--”
Just like that, another wave crashed into me and me into him. His arms came right up under mine as I fell, sliding under my forearms and supporting me smoothly. I arched my back to avoid slamming completely into him and as I did, my nipples dragged along the front of his shirt from his belt line to his sternum, pebbling into hard stones as they went.
I mouthed an apology of some sort, I think, as his lips parted in surprise. His fingers closed possessively around the flesh behind my elbow. I pushed back, trying to find my feet under me, trying to disengage.
“Owen, hello!” I choked out politely as though none of this was happening: I wasn’t bouncing my boobs along the ridges of his abs, I couldn’t feel his fingers pulling me closer, I wasn’t blushing and sweating like a prom date. I flattened my palms against his (oh my god, rock-hard!) pecs and pushed myself back to standing.
And then, wham, another body fell into me from behind, forcing me fully onto Owen and knocking the breath from my lungs which came out in a porn-star-quality heaving sigh. I bit my lips together and prayed no more sounds would come out but the body behind me was crushing the air from me.
I felt a hand slide across the front of my hip and fingers digging briefly into the valley at the top of my thigh. Hot breath swept across the back of my neck and I had to command myself not to arch into it, not to just pretend for just a second to be pinned between two hard, throbbing cocks and the plank-like bodies of the men they belonged to.
Oh my god but I totally am…
Whoa…
“Mr. Jack!” I squeaked out as the crowd stopped all at once and broke out into congratulatory applause. I gasped and looked over at them but they were all staring at each other, nodding and clapping. Apparently the song was over and the line dancing had gone super well.
“Don’t call me that,” he chuckled, still far too close as he politely removed his pelvis from my belly, leaving a ghostly outline of his cock that I could clearly see in my head. He set me sturdily on my feet and paused to make sure I would remain upright.
“Owen, yes right. Sorry,” I mumbled, straightening and pushing my hair out of my face. I had a distinct feeling of vertigo, like at any second I could just tip right back onto him.
“Have you met Lyle?” he said with a shy, curious smile.
The body behind me shifted sideways, disengaging from a position that felt surprisingly natural. It was like having a puzzle piece uncoupled from my ridges.
A man pivoted to my side, pushing his dark blonde hair back with one hand and offering me the other to shake. He gave a wry smile. Not as apologetic as Owen, but not offensively douchey either. Confident, maybe.
“Lyle?” I repeated, trying to sound casual, trying to sound like I hadn’t just been pinned… no, crushed between their bodies. Like I hadn’t loved it. Like I wasn’t vibrating like a plucked string.
“Lyle Jack,” the blonde said, holding my hand as he shook it. Just a second too long? Yes, maybe.
“Oh, Jack!” I repeated, putting it all together. “Owen Jack… Lyle Jack… You’re brothers?”
“Yes,” Owen nodded patiently, a playful smile dimpling his beautiful, perfectly stubbled cheeks.
“That’s um… Wow. That’s great,” I yammered, my cleavage feeling suddenly hot and obvious. “Owen comes into the coffee shop every day or so. Where I work. That’s how, um, we know each other or whatever.”
“Oh does he?” Lyle said with a smirk, shooting Owen a look that I didn’t understand.
“Yeah,” I nodded, looking between them, trying to hear their secret communication.
Well, I guess they really are brothers. Go, psychic wonder-twin powers!
Owen crossed his arms in front of his chest, opening the collar of his thick, sumptuous shirt and exposing a furrow between his chiseled pecs. He shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly.