CHARMED, I’M SURE

BRIELLE

Oh God. I slept with the rock star. Just when I thought my choice of lovers could not get any worse. I slept with a man known worldwide for his extremely large cock and his ability to use it. And worst still, I loved every second. I’ve never known desire or passion like that. I’ve never wanted or been that wanted in my entire life. Even now, as he rolls over, throws an arm around me and kisses the top of my head in his sleepy way, with that giant erection pressing into my back and my vagina feeling sore and sorry for herself, the idea of him slipping inside me, is tempting. Too tempting. Non. This cannot happen again. I cannot sleep with the rock star again.

“Brie?” he asks in a husky voice from behind me.

I stiffen. Perhaps if I pretend I am asleep, he will take his giant penis away from me. Beneath the sheet, his arm snakes between my legs, sending a bolt of desire through me again as his expert fingers glide over me, wringing pleasure from my exhausted body as if I had begged him for it. My legs fall open for him.

“Good morning,” he whispers in my ear. Kissing my neck, he trails his lips down my shoulder and collarbone to my breast. He takes my nipple in his mouth and sucks hard. A moan escapes me as he brings me to the brink, but stops, before I can tip over it.

“I do not like mornings.” I huff, because I cannot beg him for more. That would be entirely too desperate, and I suspect he would enjoy it far too much.

“What’s not to like about them when they start with a fucking hot brunette in your bed?”

“You are not as complimentary as you think.”

“I was talking about me.” He grins.

I throw back the covers and sit up, but he draws a hand against my waist and pulls me towards him. His deep chuckle in my ear taunts me.

“You are not as funny as you think you are.”

“Oh, I think I am.” He brushes my hair out of the way and kisses my neck. I try not to breathe into the sensations he’s stirring within my body, but I cannot help it. He knows exactly how to treat a woman, and it’s infuriating as much as it is intoxicating. “Wanna know what else I think?”

A traitorous moan that escapes me and my pleas of “S'il te plaît, s'il te plaît,” spur him on.

“I think you like me a lot more than you let on. I think you like the way I feel against your body, and inside it.” He slides his hand between my legs. For a single heartbeat, I think about telling him no, about pushing him off, but his deft fingers find my clit and he has me panting within seconds. “I think you love to fight with me, but deep down you find me completely charming.”

I scoff. “You are not charming. You are far from charming.”

“And yet you’re naked in my bed, begging me to make you come.”

God damn him, he’s right. Oh, how I hate this man, with everything ... oh, but I do not hate his talented hands, and I did not hate his tongue piercing last night, and I do love the way my body stretches to accommodate him, that delicious torture of pain blending with pleasure and heightening all my senses.

His fingers leave the space between my legs, and I feel him roll over, rummaging on the nightstand. The sound of him tearing a condom wrapper with his teeth sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine, and then he moves closer. He slides the head of his cock across my ass, and down the seam, dipping into my wetness and teasing me. I shift my leg, giving him room to slip in, but he pulls back and teases again. That rat bastard is enjoying this.

“Levi,” I beg, and I hate how whiny I sound. Like a pathetic mewling little kitten. I hate him. I hate how he makes me feel. I hate ... mon Dieu! I love his cock. He glides it over my flesh, pushing just the tip in enough to leave me holding my breath.

“Say it, Brie,” he whispers, catching my earlobe between his teeth.

“Stop teasing.” I hiss.

He chuckles. “Not what I want you to say, and you know it.”

“Fine. I find you charming. In your own very annoying way. Now, can you please shut up and fuck me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He sinks in deep, stealing the breath from my lungs.

Our love-making is slow, sweet, something I never thought a man like Levi would be capable of, but he knows how to worship the female form. He knows how to work my body in just the right ways so that I sing for only him. He knows exactly how to get underneath my skin, and worse still, I like him there.

You cannot lose your heart, Brielle. I remind myself again, but I fear it’s already lost, and I doubt this man is likely to ever give it back.