My Brother's Best Man

I can’t help but smirk at my Becca, sharing an inside joke about the fake name she used. Her lip twitches, a playful glint entering her eyes, then she quickly looks away.

It’s like she knows what I know.

We can’t look at each other for too long, or all the lust and the want will come pouring out.

We won’t be able to stop.

I can still feel her heat and hear the way her breath changed when our lips were almost pressed together.

I bite down, grabbing a bread roll, buttering it aggressively as though that can get rid of the tension.

It’s easy to disappear into the flow of the bigger conversation. I’m not a complete asshole. I try to make an effort in social situations, and doubly so today. It’s my best friend’s wedding.

And I want to fuck his sister until her young body has no choice but to get pregnant, to give me a family. That’s her duty as my woman.

It’s like a voice in my head, and my seed has developed the ability to speak. I add that thought to the list of insanity.

“So, fellas,” a red-haired woman says. June, I remember.

It’s difficult to even look at any woman who isn’t Becca. My gaze keeps trying to drag my attention there, as though nobody else exists.

“Who’s going to be next, huh?” June goes on.

That provokes a round of laughter and banter, and I do my best to give as good as possible. But it’s way too tempting to return Becca’s attention.

I feel her staring at me, the same way I sneak glances at her when she’s not looking.

My whole body roars impossible things – leap across the table, sweep her into my arms, carry her someplace private, someplace we can reveal our true selves.

But isn’t my true self Alex’s friend? Shouldn’t I be loyal to him first?

“What about you?” one of Alex’s groomsmen says, looking at June. “Think you’ll tie the knot soon, eh?”

I clench my fists under the table, praying nobody makes a comment about Becca, praying nobody suggests – even jokingly – they’re going to claim her for themselves.

If they did, I’m not sure I’d be able to stop myself from shouting, from telling them no.

No.

No.

She’ll never belong to anybody except for me.

Luckily, nobody does, and we continue with our breakfast, Becca and I looking at each other every chance we get.