My Brother's Sexy Best Friend (18+)

Get Inside Me. Now!

Matt

Nerves tumbled around in my stomach as though they were laundry in a dryer. But staring up at the looming door towering over me, my insides hardly felt warm and fuzzy.

Even though I had been there dozens of times before, this time was different. After my ban from Vanessa's and Jake's home, being invited back for such a formal occasion, with my father in tow, elicited the feeling that I was being put on trial for whether I could prove worthy of being allowed back.

My crime? Being me, apparently.

My dad, insisting that we knock because he didn't raise an uncivilized miscreant, placed his hand on my shoulder. "Go ahead, Matthew. They wouldn't have extended the invitation if we weren't welcome. No need to be anxious." 

But before my fist could even make contact with the wood, the door flung open from the inside. Vanessa, with a rosy flush on her cheeks and a cream sweater that strained itself over her breasts, greeted us with a wide grin. "Mr. Jones!" She exclaimed. "It's so lovely to meet you."

My father juggled to his other arm the pumpkin pie that he had brought for dessert so that he could shake her hand. Please don't do anything to embarrass me, I silently warned. "Same to you. I've heard a lot about you."

Vanessa arched a brow as her gaze travelled past my dad's shoulders and locked on to me. "Is that so?"

He nodded. "Sure, you and your brother. Matthew has great things to say about you both."

At that moment, Vanessa's mom emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron that was splashed with an image of a cartoon turkey and the words, "Gobble Gobble." "Happy Thanksgiving, gentleman. I'm so pleased you could join us." I searched her pasted on smile for clues that she may double-cross me later and toss me from her house out onto the freshly fallen snow, but she couldn't be cracked.

"I've brought pumpkin pie," my dad responded with glee, holding up the glass dish with triumph on his face. "It's fresh. I just made it this morning. You would almost believe that I had picked it directly from the patch."

I rolled my eyes. There it is. Let the lame dad jokes commence.

As our parents became acquainted, Vanessa grasped my fingers. "Come on," she whispered. "You can help me finish setting the table."

Following her into the dining room, I was awestruck at the crisp maroon tablecloth draped over the table and the two glowing candlesticks flanking an autumn bouquet that served as a centerpiece. I fingered the floral china she handed me before setting it down at the seating area in front of me. "I'm surprised your parents trust me with their fine dishes."

Vanessa glanced up from where she was rolling silver utensils into a topaz linen napkin. She furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?"

"Do you not remember how they forbade me from coming over? I'm surprised they even agreed to tonight."

She shrugged. "Jake begged them and with mom being in an upbeat mood because of the holiday, she relented in a matter of seconds. Plus..." Her cheeks suddenly took on a crimson hue that matched the tablecloth and she abruptly turned towards the china cabinet to pluck a pair of wineglasses from within.

"Go on," I urged, resting my hip against the table. "Plus what?"

She sighed, setting down the glassware in front of her. "Plus, I think my mother felt bad that you two were spending Thanksgiving alone. She said the day is supposed to be about family."

"Oh? Is it?" A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. "I thought it was meant to celebrate gorging myself on food until even the gluttons are disgusted with me." Even though I had made light of the topic, the truth was, it saddened me to spend the holidays at a near empty table, pushing around my green beans in silence while my dad attempted conversation with me.