
Sumner Comes First
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Vivienne Wren
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SUMNER
The sound of bodies colliding fills the room as Bryce thrusts into me. His fingers dig into my sides, hard enough to leave marks, as he chases his high with a few last, frantic pumps. His breathing turns ragged, his grip tightens—then he finally shudders, groaning as he comes. He sags against me, heavy and limp, then pulls out, rolling onto his back with a sigh.
“Damn, that was good,” he mutters as he pulls off the condom and ties it off, chucking it into the bin. Then he reaches for his phone and starts scrolling.
“Yeah,” I lie. “Amazing.”
I stare at the ceiling. I’m still throbbing—aching for more, for something. It’s just a matter of minutes now before he’ll get out of bed, and I can finally take care of myself.
The mattress dips beside me as Bryce sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’m gonna make some breakfast,” he mumbles. “Want anything?”
I shake my head, plastering a sweet smile onto my face. “I’m all right, thanks. I have some emails to reply to. I’ll be out in a little bit.”
Bryce hums absentmindedly as he tugs on his shorts and steps out. The second the door closes, my hands are under the blanket, sliding down to my aching core. The moment my fingers hit home, my back arches.
It’s that easy—and yet Bryce never gets me there.
I rub hurried circles around my clit, working my way toward my well-deserved orgasm, and muffle my moan into a pillow when it finally hits. I wait for the aftershocks to ebb away, and then toss the pillow to the side, sighing.
My gaze drifts to the suitcases by the bedroom door. We’re leaving in an hour—maybe a vacation is exactly what we need. Maybe some time away, just the two of us, will pull us out of this rigid routine. Lately, it feels like we’ve been existing side by side instead of together. We need to reconnect.
I slide out of bed and take a long, hot shower. When I’m done—clean, smooth, and hopeful—I slip into my new dress. I bought it just for this trip. It’s colorful, short, and maybe, just maybe, it’ll get a rise out of Bryce.
I step into the kitchen where Bryce is shoveling eggs into his mouth. He looks up at me and tilts his head to the side. “New dress?”
I nod and twirl. “You like it?”
He twists his mouth to the side as he looks me up and down. “I guess,” he says lazily. “I don’t know—maybe with a cardigan or something?”
My smile falters. I glance down at the dress. “Yeah,” I mumble. “Maybe.”
Bryce grabs my wrist and pulls me onto his lap. “It’ll look better after you get some sun,” he says, his lips brushing my bare shoulder. “It won’t wash you out as much when you’re a little more tanned.”
I nod, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re right.” I inhale deeply, squaring my shoulders.
This’ll be good. It’ll be exactly what we need.
***
Bryce drags our suitcases down the driveway as I dig through my purse for the keys. It’s been years since I last visited this place. My family and I spent every summer here when we were little. My parents still do, but neither my brother nor I has been particularly excited to spend the summer together since I was fourteen.
It’s been an absolute blessing that my parents are in Greece this summer, so they offered the lake house to us. I stick my key in the lock, and as soon as I turn it slightly, the door swings open.
That’s strange, it wasn’t locked, maybe—
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Adam’s voice echoes through the large, open living room that overlooks the lake.
I nearly drop my keys in shock. “Me?! What are you doing here? Mom offered me the lake house!”
Adam is sprawled across the couch, beer in hand, looking entirely at home. By the looks of his tan, he’s been here a while. “Well, she offered it to me too, and we got here first. So bye, sis.”
I cross my arms over my chest, irritation rising like poison in my veins. “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere. We drove for hours, and Bryce has a conference in Westport next week. We’re staying. You should’ve told Mom you were going if you were planning to—which I did, by the way. Besides, who’s we?”
Adam jerks his chin to the glass wall at the back of the house. I follow his gaze to the lake, and my stomach drops.
Corbin fucking Montgomery and Tyler fucking Simpson are near the water, tossing a football back and forth.
Of course he brought those motherfuckers—can’t he do anything without them?
I sigh, rubbing my temples, and pull my phone from my purse. Behind me, Bryce drags our suitcases into the house and shuts the door with a click.
“Gibson,” Adam says flatly when he notices Bryce.
“Marlowe,” Bryce returns, just as unimpressed.
I check the time, and calculate it’s likely morning time in Greece, so I call Mom.
“Sumner, honey,” she says as soon as she picks up. “Is something wrong?”
“Well, yeah, kind of,” I mutter. “Did you know Adam and the guys were going to be at the lake house?”
Mom is quiet for a moment, then she sighs, pained. “Please tell me that’s not why you’re calling me in Greece.”
“You didn’t tell me you offered the house to him too!” I protest. “I would’ve never gone if I knew they were going to be here!”
“Well, then leave.” Mom sighs. “Or stay. The house is big enough for all of you. Or, you know, you could use the opportunity to finally make amends. Spare me the headache of having to deal with my adult children acting like spoiled teenagers. If that’s all, I have a massage to get to.” She hangs up without another word.
I bite my lip in frustration and flick my eyes back up to the vast living space. There are three bedrooms on either side of the house, each with its own bathroom. The bedroom doors open directly into the living room—the only common space besides the kitchen, but if we take turns, we wouldn’t have to run into each other. And there’s plenty of space at the lake to avoid the guys.
I look at Bryce. “What do you think?”
He grimaces. “We’re not going to find anything else on such short notice. This place is packed this time of year.”
I nod, grab my suitcase, and send my brother a death glare. “You stay on your side, we’ll stay on ours.”
So much for a quiet getaway with Bryce.











































