Chapter Twelve
Ava
My frame fits perfectly against Barrett's, like two interlocking puzzle pieces that finally snapped together. His breath is hot against my ear and the scruff of his cheek grazes my neck, making every inch of my skin tingle. He sweeps my hair to the side and kisses me behind my ear and down my neck, his hand wrapped snugly against my hip as he slowly starts grinding his pelvis against me. I let out a little whimper, but he softly lets out a soft “Shh.”
He's right. We may be on a different floor, but we're still under my parents’ roof. My heart is about to beat out of my chest, and my hands are trembling. God, it feels like high school, trying to make out without my parents catching us. Why does that turn me on?
Barrett turns me over so that we’re facing each other. After an entire day spent trying to avoid him, having him here, so close, it's impossible to resist.
“Sorry I got you sick,” I murmur.
“It was worth it,” he whispers back.
I smile at him and watch as his features transform and he breaks into a chuckle. “What?”
“I was just remembering that time you were sick with the stomach flu.”
“Which time?” Thankfully it hasn't happened often, but I don't know what he's referring to.
“I was fourteen, so you must have been, what? Nine?”
Sometimes I forget about our age difference. I nod. “Yeah, I remember that. It was awful.”
“You were so funny back then. You couldn't remember that it was called a stomach bug so you kept telling everyone you had a stomach beetle.”
I swat his arm. “Shush.”
The number of embarrassing stories Barrett knows about me could fill an entire evening.
“I thought it was cute,” he says, touching my cheek.
His lips touch tentatively against mine for the briefest, sweetest of kisses.
The soft thud of footsteps on the stairs makes both of us lock up, frozen in position. It suddenly feels like the time for prayer. Dear God, whoever it is, please don’t let them turn on the lights.
The steps get closer, padding past us and into the kitchen. My hands quiver in their white-knuckle grip on Barrett’s t-shirt. What would we say if we got caught? That the air mattress was uncomfortable? That sleep kissing is totally just as common as sleepwalking?
Neither of us so much as breathes as we listen to whoever is in the kitchen get a glass from the cabinet and turn the faucet on, then off again. We wait for the clunk of the glass being set in the sink, then the padding of the feet heading back up the stairs again.
We take a deep breath in perfect unison. I can hardly hold back my giggles as Barrett gets back to working over my neck with his mouth.
“Why does this have to feel so good when I know it’s so, so wrong?”
He chuckles softly, lifting himself onto one elbow so he can look down at me. “You still feel sick?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. Not really. Just incredibly turned on.”
I don't know what it is about him that loosens my inhibitions. Maybe it's because I've known him so many years, but he makes me feel comfortable, and safe, like I can really be myself.
He groans and leans down to kiss me again, more deeply this time, his tongue tangling exquisitely with mine.
I shift restlessly beside him, wanting more contact, but knowing I'm probably not going to get it.
But then he surprises me by tossing back the sheets and laying his hand flat against my belly—low, like almost touching my panties. His expression is pained, like he's fighting with himself.
“Promise you can stay quiet?”
I nod, barely breathing.
“Then let me take care of it.”
He shifts down to a kneeling position on the floor. Oh fuck, he’s not going to…is he? Grabbing my ankles, he pulls me toward him so that my legs are hanging off the end of the bed and his face is right between my legs. Fuck, he totally is.
It’s Barrett’s turn to pull my sweatpants down, but this time, there’s nothing even slightly accidental about it. With two swift fingers, he pulls my panties to the side and runs a teasing tongue right through me, making my stomach twist in delight.
After several more teasing licks, he takes the waistband of my panties in his teeth and tugs them to the floor. Fuck, he’s smooth. I kick my panties off into the darkness and Barrett pushes my knees apart, studying me with a dark, lust-filled gaze that makes my belly flip.
“You are exquisite. You're literally perfect,” he says, eyes studying my flesh as he runs one long finger along my core. “You know that, don't you?”
I don't have words as his finger caresses me in light, teasing circles, so instead I make a wordless whimper of approval.
“You like that?” he asks. His voice sounds reverent, and his gaze follows the movement of his finger, sweeping over my slick flesh.
I nod, eyes on his. He is so handsome it physically pains me to look at him sometimes. His t-shirt pulls at the chiseled muscles of his chest, and there's dark hair on his jaw, but it's his eyes that always get me—the way they seem to see straight inside of me.
“Come here.” I groan out a frustrated noise, reaching one hand along his chest, down to his abs. “You never let me touch you.”
“Not necessary. Touching you is everything. Trust me.”
And then there are no more words because he lowers his mouth again, and begins tasting me in slow, hot kisses that I'm pretty sure will drive me completely insane.
I make a wordless sound of need-filled pleasure as Barrett kisses my wet, swollen flesh again, picking up the tempo. Everything ratchets up six-thousand degrees, and I can't help but push my hands into his hair.
“You taste delicious,” he says, voice tight.
“Don't you dare stop,” I moan as his warm mouth latches onto my pussy like it's his freaking job.
“Wasn't planning on it.”
Barrett Fucking Wilson—my older brother's best friend, and my own personal walking wet-dream for the past decade—is sucking on my lady-bits. I let out a sharp groan.
“Shh.” He lifts his face from the spot between my legs and places a finger over his lips. “Be quiet or they'll hear you.”
I glance down the hall—we're supposed to be sleeping in the den tonight, not making it our own personal love shack. It should bother me that my parents are under the same roof, it should prevent me from becoming oh-my-God-so-horny, but with Barrett kneeling on the carpet at my feet, head between my thighs as he brings me to heights of pleasure I could never imagine in even my wildest dreams about him, that doesn't even factor into the equation.
Why does the fact that this is forbidden and we could be discovered at any moment make me even hotter?
I gaze down at him, tangling my hands in his hair. His strong jaw, with dark stubble moves as he kisses me intimately. He parts me with his fingers, his tongue doing the most magical things.
He is like a Jedi-ninja of pussy eating. I could watch him do this all day. And somehow, I know I’m going to remember him doing this for the rest of my life.
Ever since I'd accidentally walked in on him in the shower our first night here, I'd been done for. I'd seen what he was packing in his jeans and mama wanted to play. He'd been out of reach my entire life, but now I was more than old enough to go after what I wanted.
“More,” I beg, already so close.
“I’m going to fuck you with my fingers.”
“God, yes,” I say on a desperate sob. Why is he telling me this? Almost like he’s asking permission. After the past three days of banter, and flirting and arguing, I thought it'd be pretty obvious that I wanted this. Wanted him.
While continuing to work me over with his mouth, Barrett sinks one thick finger inside me, groaning as he finds me soaked.
Fuckity, fuck. This is so good.
“I want you.”
He shakes his head, that cocky smirk I've always loved crossing his lips. “You can't handle me and we both know it.”
He's probably right, but I'd never backed down from a challenge, and riding the biggest cock I'd ever seen sounds like a fun way to test my limits.
“But don't you want me to…?”
“Can't. Bro code,” he manages in between licks of his tongue against me.
Screw bro code. His face was already between my thighs. And yes, he was besties with my brother, but surely making me come on his face is also against this supposed law of bros.
“Hmm. So blue balls for you then?” I pant, blood pumping through my veins faster and faster.
He moans, tongue tracing lazy circles against me, like he could do this all day. “I have hands. I'll take care of it later.”
God, he is so infuriating with his boundaries and rules and control. Is it bad that I would literally pay good money to watch him jack off that beast of a cock? I could imagine myself sitting there, slack-jawed with a tub of buttered popcorn in lap. And yes, the popcorn would be buttered, this is my fantasy after all.
“Can I watch you take care of it?” I ask, knowing what he’ll probably say. And get a moan in response from him.
That visual caused a reaction because his movements begin to ramp up. The idea of me watching him excites him…
After a few more seconds, Barrett groans again, almost like he's in agony. “You going to come for me, sweetheart?”
“Gladly.”
My back bridges up as Barrett’s tongue teases against me just right, his fingers reaching to the softest spot deep within me to pull what he wants out from me—a whimper, a gasp, and a mind-blowingly perfect orgasm. My spine collapses against the mattress in a jolt as I pant desperately, trying to find my breath again.
“Good girl.”
He half kisses, half bites my inner thigh and my whole body contracts. I can feel his mouth curve into a smirk on my skin before he hoists himself back up onto the bed.
I think he may have zapped the last of whatever energy this cold hasn’t taken out of me. But how can I not return the favor? Maybe I can get him to set aside that all-powerful bro code for just one night.
Once he’s back on the bed, I pull myself tight against him, but that alone takes all the strength I have left. There’s no way I could do him any justice with how drained I am. My kisses are slow and sleepy with long breaths in between. Fuck.
I grab at the waistband of his sweatpants, but instead of pawing at that beautiful cock that stands at attention for me, I can only steady myself against his hips for a second before sinking into the bed. Damn, I’m beat.
Luckily, Barrett doesn’t seem to mind. He chuckles a bit, folding me tightly into his arms. “Go to sleep, Ava,” he whispers, placing a final kiss on my cheek. My heavy eyelids flutter closed. He doesn’t have to tell me twice.