I LOOK AROUND the bar. The happy sounds that mark the beginning of the weekend surround me. Usually, I’d be glad to be a part of the buzzing atmosphere, adding my brick to the edifice, but I’m still moping after the big failure at the office.
“Snap out of it.’’
I glance at the woman next to me who is sipping a glass of Chardonnay. Her smooth blond hair, disciplined in a smart ponytail, glows under the soft lights of the bar. Her chocolate brown eyes detail my face before they settle back on the bartender who has been eying us ever since we walked in. She waves at him with a flourish.
“What can I get you, ladies?’’ he asks with a warm voice and a cocky smile that must often win him brownie points, but he’s not targeting the right women tonight. I am not in the mood for male attention and my friend here, Joy Allister, is happily married.
She puts both hands on the top of the bar, careful to flash him the big rock on her finger. His eyes zeroed in on it, and he visibly tenses before his smile freezes. Joy’s smile broadens in turn. “We need a round of tequila shots. Not the cheap kind you serve college students with fake IDs. Got it?’’
He nods and busies himself without another word leave the tightness of his lips pressed against each other. Poor guy, turned down before he could play his cards. Must be hard for the ego. I chuckle and bump my shoulder against Joy’s.
Joy and I had been roommates for two years in college. With her, I discovered what it’s like to have a female friend and not just a male best friend. After all, even if Brock and I had always been very close and talked openly about everything, the appendage between his legs makes it difficult for him to understand everything about me. Hence, this bonding night.
As soon as the shot is in front of me, I snatch it and drink it. My eye water when the burning hits me and warms my body. I’m not used to hard liquor. “I needed that.’’
She whistles next to me and then down her shot, wincing afterward. “Now that you’ve got liquid courage in you, will you tell me what is the big deal with Brock?’’
I shrug and wave at the bartender for another shot. Promptly, he refills my glass and goes to do the same with Joy, but she stops him by putting a hand on the small glass. “She needs someone sober enough to get her back home.’’
“I’m not going to get shit faced, Joy. I’m not in college anymore.’’
“Because you need a student ID to get drunk? Tell that to most people here tonight,’’ she replies and waves around us, her eyes still trained on me.
Dejectedly, I gulp the second shot and rub my temples. We both know that I’m stalling. I hate talking about my issues. I hate showing any weakness and Joy is aware of this. I’m not one to readily call a friend because I’m troubled about something. Instead, I either deal with it on my own behind closed doors, or I call Brock. Naturally, Brock is out of the equation and staying alone while ruminating everything doesn’t seem like such a great idea either. That’s why I called Joy as soon as I was out of the elevator. “Something happened with Brock.’’
She glances at her beeping phone and types a quick reply before she puts it away. It’s probably her husband wondering what she’s doing. She lucked out with that man. He’s a sweetheart, gives her the space she often needs and yet is always enquiring about her. He’s not domineering, and that’s precisely what Joy needed since her family has spent decades telling her what to do or not to do. They even chose the college she would go without consulting her!
“I gathered as much.’’
I frown and shake my head. I grab her elbow covered by a thin green forest designer sweater. “No, something happened with Brock.’’
She opens her mouth to ask something and then leans back on her stool, almost falling off. Her brows go so high on her forehead they disappear behind her fringe. She points a finger at my face and narrows her eyes. “You slept with Brock!’’ she shrieks so loud that several patrons turn our way. My face heats up, and I try to hide behind the curtain of my hair, but it’s an epic failure. I hit her arm, and she hisses at me.
“Go on and advertise it in the gossip column of the Chicago Tribune,’’ I mumble and curse my bad star. I use a discarded napkin on my right to swipe clean the bar as small droplets of beer are tarnishing the otherwise unscathed surface. It’s better than to look at her.
“I’m sorry, but it’s a huge surprise. I remember that we all used to think that you two were lying to us when you said that nothing ever happened between the two of you and that you weren’t interested. We also had a bet of when you’d break and sleep together before graduation and we all lost. At this point, I never thought that day would come.’’ She stares at me with questions in her soft eyes, questions I’m not ready to hear or mull over. My head is enough of a mess right now without adding something to it.
“I don’t want to tell you how it happened because it’s surreal, but just know that it was to help me with something. It’s not a sudden moment that opened our eyes or something silly like that.’’
“You’re not in his head. After all, if it were nothing at all, you wouldn’t be here in a bar getting a sweet buzz because of a tall and handsome man that has always been at your beck and call.’’
I scowl at her and purse my lips. I’m starting to feel the effect of alcohol. Already the sounds are more bearable and my headache less throbbing. In fact, I must be pretty buzzed now because my mouth is numb. I blame the lack of sleep all week and the tension I can’t shake off.
“It’s not like that, Joy.’’ I shred the damp napkin into tiny pieces. “He’s not secretly in love with me. We’re not stuck in one of your poorly written movies. Brock is my best friend, the one guy I know I can count on and now things are strained partly because we fucked like crazies on my couch and partly because we just had a fight after he heard about Leo and me.’’
I giggle at the change on her face. She goes from naughty to disgust in seconds, passing by a pallet of different emotions such as amusement, confusion, and bewilderment. She whistles again and scratches at her hairline.
“I’m sure there’s something I should say right now. Somehow I’m still stuck on the “fucked like crazies’’ bit.’’
I roll my eyes and grab the bar when the room tilts enough to make me doubt my balance perched on such a high stool. And I’m wearing high heels. I don’t want to imagine how precarious it’ll be once I’ll be back on my two feet and walk out with a good buzz.
“Get your mind out of the gutter.’’
“It’s difficult when it’s about Brock. I might be married, but I still have eyes.’’
I grit my numb teeth and glare at her. She smiles apologetically at me and giggles under her breath. I push away the mess I made with the napkin and contemplate my empty glasses all lined up in front of me. I want another drink, but the practical side of me knows it’s not a good idea. That’s one of the downsides of having such an important job. I can’t do crazy things in public anymore, not if I want to be respected once I officially have the CEO title attached to my name. I don’t think that ending heavily drunk in a bar would give me prop points, especially if I end up tagged in a picture on Facebook.
“Don’t make me think about that, Joy.’’ I support my heavy head with both hands, elbows on the bar and eyes glued to the display of bottles shelved for everybody’s greedy eyes. Such colorful bottles.
She bumps her shoulder against mine and forces me to turn toward her instead of gazing adoringly at the liquor. “Did Brock lose it when he heard about you and Leo?’’
I nod and groan just remembering the look on his face. “I told him that it was just a one-time thing, but he didn’t let me finish. He was openly disgusted, and I can’t exactly blame him. I still can’t believe I had sex with Leo and it’s been over three years!’’ I cringe at the images that summoned and shake my head to try and chase them away.
“Then, he doesn’t know that you were not feeling great when it happened. I remember that day even though you never told me why you were feeling so low.’’
“I thought my father was cheating on my mom. It was just a misunderstanding, but I didn’t know it at the time, and Leo was there. Somehow, I just wanted to forget, and he was there.’’
“Convenient fuck.’’
“Crude, but true.’’ I glance around at the people enjoying their night out. All I see are people smiling, talking animatedly and I only want to go and be alone. It was a bad idea to come here for drinks and girl talk. After all, Joy doesn’t know Brock like I do and she sure doesn’t fully understand the connection I have with him. To her, if a guy is mad about something or someone the woman did, then it must mean that he’s interested. But when you’ve been friends since way before you started to walk, the rules don’t apply. At least, not the ones commonly known when it comes to man-woman relationships.
“Force him to listen. You know that if you knock at his door, he’ll answer you.’’
I shrug and bite the inside of my cheeks. “What if he’s already with someone and that someone has boobs?’’
She tilts her head to one side. “Would it bother you if he was with someone?’’
I sit straighter and shake my head too fast. “Nope.’’
“You know what?’’ She stands up and extends a hand for me to grab. I rise to my feet and tighten my grip on her. As predicted, high heels and a buzz don’t mix well. She chuckles and leads me out. “I’m going to pretend that you told the truth.’’
She snatches my purse, rummages through it and fishes out my car keys. She dangles them in front of my face and puts them in her purse. She’s a good friend, but I wouldn’t have tried to drive while intoxicated.
“It wouldn’t bother me,’’ I press on, determined to believe my words when it’s obvious that I don’t. I can’t exactly ignore the tight knot in my stomach at thinking about him with another woman. It’s his life, and he can do pretty much whatever he wants, but it makes me uneasy. “In fact, you’re right. I’ll talk with him as soon as I’m back home.’’
She pats my shoulder and pushes me to the passenger side of her gunmetal car. I open the door and go to climb in when my lack of coordination due to the alcohol becomes obvious.
I hit my head pretty hard and yelp. Joy, the good friend that she is, starts laughing uncontrollably and doesn’t calm down until she parks in front of my building ten minutes later.
I wave at her and walk to the entrance with as much dignity as I can muster while ignoring the pain on the side of my head. Damn, I sure didn’t miss my head.
In the elevator, I gingerly touch the bump and whimper. The tender flesh under my warm fingertips is going to turn an ugly shade of blue by tomorrow. I don’t know how to explain that one to my parents.
On my floor, the same floor as Brock, I walk down the hall until I reach the last black door. I gaze at it, listening to check if there’s any clue as to if Brock has invited someone over, but I don’t hear anything. After all, it’s not very surprising. The rent here isn’t exactly cheap, and it would be a shame if the walls were paper thin.
I glance over my shoulder at my door and turn around to delay this confrontation for the next day, but then I wouldn’t be able to sleep.
With a racing heart and a swimming head, I knock at his door, biting my lip so hard that I’m ready to draw blood.
I’m waiting with bated breath and then, right when I think my heart will burst, the door opens on Brock. He’s wearing torn up jeans and a simple white tee-shirt that’s strained over his muscled chest. His golden eyes are hard on me at first, but soon, they widen. He grabs my hand and pulls me into his apartment filled with the sounds of the TV probably turned on a geeky TV series he likes.
“What happened to your head? Did someone attack you?’’ He fires questions fast, too fast for my muddled brain to process them.
He releases my hand, closes the door with a hard push and touches the tender flesh near my hairline. I bite my lip to keep in the whimper that threatens to escape. Even though his touch is very soft and careful, it still hurts.
“Addy, answer my fucking questions. Did someone attack you?’’
“No,’’ I breath out weakly and break the eye contact. When he’s this intense, it gives me these weird butterflies people talk about. All week I had to avert my eyes whenever our eye contact lasted for more than necessary.
“What happened then?’’ He straightens up and tows me to his kitchen, identical to mine. He leaves my side to take a few ice cubes from the freezer and wraps them in a fresh white dish towel. Gently, he presses it to my face, and I cringe. “Sorry, but it’s swelling fast.’’
I bring my hand over his to hold the improvised ice pack, but he doesn’t pull away. He just stays close to me, helping me. He doesn’t push away my hand either, and I can’t help my body reaction. The hair on the nape of my neck stands up, and my breathing accelerates.
“It’s ridiculous. You know me when I have a few too many drinks.’’ I wince again and lean against the kitchen island where I see an empty pizza box open. Only a few crumbs are left, and my stomach decides to growl. Fortunately, it’s too low to be heard.
He sighs and brushes aside a few locks of hair. His hands on my face ground me. I don’t feel the restlessness or hopelessness anymore. It’s difficult to balance this new dynamic between us and being afraid of losing him is irrational. He’s mad at me and yet he’s taking care of me with the same application he’s always showed. Brock is my best friend, no matter what, he’ll forever be my best friend.
My eyes water and I erase the space between us. I wound my arms around his narrow waist and hang on, my breathing hard and fast as tears escape the barrier of my eyelids. He tenses for a second, but soon he puts the ice pack on the island to engulf me in one of his trademark bear hugs, the bear hugs he only reserves for me.
I take a deep breath to calm down and instead, his smell saturates me. His rich cologne faded since this morning, but his spicy skin is as enticing as his cologne. I’ve always loved his scent, but now it holds a new underlying threat because the way his odor embraces me to make me melt is dangerous. It brings back a memory I should keep locked up, but it’s too damn fresh.
He runs his hands up and down my back in a soothing rhythm until I finally calm down. I step back and dry my face as best I can with only the sleeves of my jacket. I know my nose is all red, and my eyes are swollen, but I don’t hide. It’s not the first time he’s seen me tear up, but it is the first time directly because of him or because of the tension splitting us.
He cups my cheek in one of his big palms. He’s frowning and it darkens his feature way too much. He’s not the kind of man who’s grave at all time, not when we’re together at least, but these days he hasn’t been smiling as much as he should.
“Addy,’’ he breathes out my nickname, a catch in his deep voice, “don’t cry.’’
“I'm ridiculous, I know.’’ I put more distance between us and break all contact, chuckling lamely at myself to cover the shame that suddenly takes hold of me.
He swaggers to me and cups my cheeks to tilt my head up until I can’t escape the pull of his golden eyes. His dimples are nowhere in sight, and the bow of his lips isn’t stretched into an inviting smirk that either gets on people’s nerves or attracts women as light does to moths. Even his eyes have this tenseness around them.
“Your tears have always fucked me up, Addy. You’re not one to cry easily and when you do, I know it’s because you’re breaking inside.’’ He leans down to my face, and my breathing goes into a frenzy and I’m shy of actually panting. “And I’d do anything to stop your tears, but I know these,’’ He catches the last one with his thumbs, his eyes watching the small salty drop on his pad before it runs down to his palm. “These are my damn fault, and I don’t know what to do.’’
Slowly as if afraid to do it, I bring my hands to his heaving chest. My palms, flat on his firm chest, tingle with the warmth coming from him. His heart is beating hard under his flesh and bones, as if trying to reach out, just like mine. The fabric of his tee-shirt is soft from too many washes under my delicate skin, and I’m craving to run my hands all over his chest, to explore the valleys of his muscles. It’s more than lust right here and there. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t want to label it, but it is consuming and calls out to that dark place we all have in us but often deny. Because right there, I do want him.
I crave Brock, and it has nothing to do with an eventual pregnancy.
“Don’t stay mad at me, Brock. I hate it when you’re angry,’’ I whisper with a wobbly voice that doesn’t come close to my usual tone. He’s the only one able to peel off all my walls, my shields to expose the vulnerable me.
He kisses my forehead and presses his big, tall body against me. Even though we have several layers of clothes separating us, I can still make out the lines of his hard body, emphasizing the soft curves of mine. I curl up into him, needing that contact, that comfort.
“I can’t be mad at you. I was just shocked, I think. I never imagined something like that happening between you and Leo.’’ The air coming out of his mouth at his every word runs down my neck, and I shiver.
I ball the hem of his tee-shirt in his back and skim the sensitive skin in the crook of his neck with my lips. “You were mad, but I get it. You heard me bitch about him for years and suddenly you hear about… that. I’d have seen red in your shoes.’’ I close my eyes and grip his back, releasing the poor tee-shirt. “But I swear it means nothing. I was feeling awful that day, and he was there. It was mindless and not that memorable contrary to what he’d like to think.’’
His arms around me squeeze me almost to pain, but I don’t mutter another word because I need this, this almost desperate need he has to feel me so close. I want this too. I crave it. He blows a puff of air in my neck and my skin pebble.
“I hate thinking about him in you, Addy.’’ His hands stop their soothing motion along my spine and rest at the small of my back. His pinkie fingers brush the swell of my ass, tantalizing. “Touching you, tasting you.’’ He shakes his head against the side of mine before he runs his nose against the slope of my neck. “I hate thinking about any guy touching you, getting you naked and fucking you when I can still feel you at night when I’m alone in bed.’’ He kisses me behind my ear, just where he now knows I’m hypersensitive. “You were right, I can’t forget what happened, and I don’t fucking want to,’’ he growls in my ear, his breathing hard and faltering.
The blood in my veins pumps faster, making my ears buzz and my temples throb deliciously. Actually, my temples aren’t the only things throbbing.
“Brock—‘’
“Don’t push me away, Addy.’’ He runs his nose along my jawline and up my cheek before he leans back to align his lips with mine, so close and yet not touching. He’s so near me, but not enough so I can feel the bow shape of his lips against mine, anchor the feel of his kisses to my memory. That’s the only thing I can think about. And that’s the only thing I shouldn’t think about or want.
He runs a hand from the small of my back up to my hip, trailing his palm and fingers over my waist, warming my ribcage and brushing his thumb on the swell of my breast, pushing just enough to send my heart skyrocketing once again. When he stops the course of his hand on my neck, right where my pulse is beating harshly under the thin skin, I lock eyes with him and gulp at what I see reflected in them.
Brock’s face is tense, focused on me as if he doesn’t want to miss a thing. His eyes are vibrant, and yet the golden ring in them is so small that all I can see is the dark pupils showing me how unhinged he indeed is. He keeps his hand on my pulse point, smirking at how fast my heart is pumping blood in my body, warming me to suffocation.
“Things are going to get worse,’’ I whisper in a voice that I barely recognize as mine. I sound out of breath, my timber thicker than usual.
His nostrils flare at the sound of promised sex coming out of my mouth, and I can’t take it anymore. I step closer to him, not leaving the slightest space between us. The shadow of his muscles and the way his whole body vibrates at his shallow breathing awaken my body to dizzying heights.
His belt buckle is biting into my stomach while he’s hardening under the denim of his jeans, getting bigger and thicker by the second to fuel the spell of lust I’m trapped in.
“Worse how? Worse as in I can’t be in the same room as you without a fucking hard on?’’ He nips my lower lip. “Worse as in I can’t stop the wild dreams I have of you underneath me, calling out my name in that sexy voice of yours?’’ He nips my chin next, greasing his teeth. “Worse as in I get fucking mad thinking about any other man having you the way I’m dying for?’’ He cups my cheeks, his strong fingers tunneling in my hair. “Too fucking late, Addy.’’
I whimper or moan, I don’t know and don’t care, at his words. I close my eyes and go up on my tip toes, unable to deny this, deny me. I want it, I want him, and I’m aching for him. I need to feel him, and I need him to fill me.
I crash my lips on his and let out a deep moan in his mouth already opening, not to let me take control over the kiss, but for him to slip his skillful tongue in my mouth.
He pushes me hard against the island, blindly clean everything on the surface before he boosts me on top, my legs spread wide for him to nestle between my thighs. Behind the buzzing in my ears, I hear the faint sound of something hitting the floor, but I don’t disentangle myself to check what the raucous is about.
With jerky movements made messy from the harsh lust, he strips me of my jacket before he tears open my blouse. The small buttons fly in the kitchen. The sharp sounds they make when they hit the floor have me losing it. Damn, I’ve never been so close to losing myself to a man, to lose myself so thoroughly that I don’t care about anything anymore. Even last week with Brock had been less intense, less crazy.
I growl out his name and tug his tee-shirt up and over his head, sending it somewhere behind him. His jet black hair is all over the place on top of his head, going into every and all direction, giving him a wild look matching the sparkles in his eyes.
I let my eyes wander over the expanse of skin on display, smooth flesh dusted with a few black hairs between his pecs and the wonderful trail under his navel going down into his pants. I cross my legs at my ankles over his flexing ass and bring him closer to my face with a hand on his shoulder. He complies, his eyes blazing on me, over the sensitive swell of my breasts only hidden by a thin scrap of lilac lace.
I lean closer to his chest and trail open-mouthed kisses to his sternum and down to his left pec before I grease my teeth along his ribcage. His skin pebbles with goosebumps, and it spurs me on. I claw at his small back, securing him there even though I know he could pull away effortlessly. My nails bite his smooth skin while I explore his flexing abs with my mouth. His groans turn deeper, louder until he grabs my shoulders, squeezes and attacks my mouth with a kiss so deep and feral that my toes curl in my high heels.
I tilt my head up to deepen the kiss and move my hips against his hard length, teasing me relentlessly through our clothes. He’s not sparing me.
His tongue is exploring my mouth most sexily, in turn creating shivers going down my spine. I moan louder when he mimics with it what he’d do with his cock.
His teeth don’t disappoint either when he bites and nips at my lips, driving me so insane that I’m dry humping him so hard I see stars.
He growls and breaks the kiss. His hands skim my exposed skin until he finds the clasp of my bra and discards the tiny piece of fabric. My nipples are already hard and begging for attention.
Hearing his labored breathing, feeling his thick cock between my legs and having his hands working to open my skirt, I can’t take it any longer. I bring a hand to my heavy breast and toy with my already red nipple. I swallow a moan at the sensation and don’t stop, applying a hard pressure until the pain mixes with lust and my whole body clenches.
“Fuck, Addy.’’ His growl makes me part my heavy eyelids and our eyes lock as he finally finds the zipper on my hip. He unzips my skirt, and I help him to strip me. All the while, his eyes are going to and from my hand still on my breast and my eyes. “Keep touching yourself. Don’t stop until I tell you. Got it?’’
I nod and let out a small whimper as another shock wave of pleasure hits my center. The more I build up, the more I ache at the emptiness I feel. The scent of my desire for him doesn’t help, not when I know he’s taking deeper breaths to smell me.
He pulls away, and I’m about to stop touching myself and ask him what he’s doing, but when I see him undoing his belt and jeans, I close my mouth and give him my best shit-eating grin. My cheeks are hurting from smiling so big and his smirk doesn’t alleviate the darkness in his eyes. In fact, it makes the intensity in him all the more potent. And I love it.
Finally naked in front of me, his cock proud, hard and thick, he goes to my panties and makes quick work of them until I’m sitting in my birthday suit on the kitchen island with a hand on my breast and my center wet and begging for attention. I bite my lower lip and move to reach out for him, but he shakes his head, and his smile is etched deeper on his face, letting his dimples out to kill me on the spot. I moan at seeing the crease in his cheeks, damn it!
He kneels in front of me, his eyes twinkling deviously when his intentions become clear. I gasp and tug harder on my nipple while I grip the edge of the island with the other one. I know I’ll need to hang on.
“Last time I didn’t take the time to taste all of you, but I’m not the kind of man to make the same mistake twice.’’ He runs his fingers lightly along my thighs, taking good care of the inside of them and yet not touching me where I truly want him to. He is teasing me, taking dominance and I don’t mind. The thought of fighting for dominance doesn’t cross my mind, something I’m not used to. Usually, I don’t like it when a man takes full control of me and my body.
But with Brock everything is different. He’s Brock.
“Then, if you don’t want me to come because I’m touching myself, you better hurry to put your mouth on me.’’
He winks and kisses my left knee and then the right. His wet lips on my heated skin are starting to be too hard to handle. I sigh and then moan when he throws my legs over his broad shoulders.
I tighten my thighs on either side of his head, unable to control the flex of my muscles as his mouth gets close to where I’m craving it. He blows air over my center, and I whimper, moving my hips over the surface of the island.
He chuckles and nips the top of the inside of my thighs while grabbing my hips to stop me from moving. “You move, and I stop,’’ he says with his ever-present smirk. His eyes are now glazed over and watching him ready to put his mouth on me, having him between my legs that way, is doing wonders for me. “And you don’t want me to stop.’’
On these incredibly hot words, he finally ends the teasing.
As soon as his amazing lips come into contact with me, I arch up and my eyes cross. I palm my heavy breast, goosebumps, and warmth invading every square inch of my skin. His tongue laps at me, thoroughly, unstoppable and I cry out, my eyes blurry from unshed tears at the onslaught of feelings starting at my core to spread and light up my whole body as if so far it’s been dormant.
I want to move my hips, I need to, but his fierce hold on them makes it impossible and I curse him between cries of pleasure.
His stubble scratches the thin skin on the inside of my thighs when his head repeatedly moves with precision.
“B…Brock, I ca…can’t!’’ I stutter between pants. I let go of my breast and grab the wild hair on top of his head, tugging at the locks. My voice breaks under the new wave of pleasure.
He stops, licks at his lips and groans at my taste. He places his fingers where his mouth was, not giving me any respite. “I’m going to make you come hard, Addy. I’m going to make you come so hard in my mouth that it’ll be hell not to shoot my load right here because you taste fabulous. Now, open your legs wider.’’
And I do it. I spread my legs wider over his shoulders until my muscles protest, but I welcome the pain. It makes the pleasure so much more addictive. Flirting with light pain and pleasure is something I’ve always known was my kink, but I never let myself go enough to start exploring that side of me.
In no time he has me screaming his name, moving my hips wildly to deepen the connection to his mouth and his hold can’t keep me still. He hums against my center, and I arch back, my chest jutting upward as black spots invade my vision.
He stands up in front of me, his smile nowhere in sight and he runs a hand over my sweaty, shaking body while his other one creeps to his rock hard cock.
Still in a daze after such an orgasm, I watch him through half-mast lids as he runs a thumb along the thick vein under his cock. Then, he fists his base tight and jerks himself off. His heavy breathing battle with, and ultimately overcome, my shallow and loud intake of breath. He widens his stance. His hand on my hip squeezes me and his other one moves faster up and down his cock.
I glance at his face and find his eyes already on me. His mouth is red and swollen, still damp from going down on me. His teeth peek out when he bites his full lower lip. My eyes trail down, and I enjoy the way his muscles flex in his arms, chest, and thighs as he pumps himself harder the longer I watch him.
Soon, too soon after such an earth-shattering orgasm, my center clenches in desperate need of him. I straighten and grab his thick wrist, altering his movement. He growls and releases himself, crashing his mouth on mine. I can taste myself in his mouth and I moan, clawing at his shoulder. I wound my legs around him and cross my ankles over his ass to bring him closer to me.
The tip of his cock brushes against my folds and I gasp in his mouth. But he doesn’t thrust into me. Instead, he breaks the kiss.
“Condom or not?’’ His voice is deep, guttural from the rough sounds he made, from the desire coating and enveloping us.
“I’m back on the pill.’’ At his arched eyebrows, I shake my head and tug his head down to me. “Don’t ask now.’’
He nods and grabs me by the nape of my neck while his other hand stays on the small of my back. Forcefully, he thrusts into me, and I tense. I slowly stretch around his length. He growls in my neck, his shoulders moving slightly up and down from the sheer force of his breathing. Perspiration coats his skin.
I bite on his shoulder, and it propels him to move. And damn, does he move well.
He starts slowly, shallow thrusts, but when he feels me tighten around him, he goes hard and deep, his hold on me unforgiving while he pounds into me, tearing out of me cries and moans so loud that they ring in my ears, and probably in his. But the growling sounds coming from him, and his barely enunciated words coaxing me to move with him, to claw at his back harder, to just let go entice me to do just that. I let go.
I run my teeth along the hard line of his jaw and over his collarbone while my nails trail down his powerful back when I soar. I arch against him, almost slipping over the slick surface under the strength of him pounding in me, but he keeps me there, not letting the slightest space between our sweaty bodies slapping against each other.
“Come now, Addy.’’ He locks eyes with me, his demand harsh and clear in his glazed over eyes. His nostrils flare, the tendons in his neck tighten, bulging as much as the muscles in his body. He’s close, just as close as I am. “I want to feel you come. Now!’’
I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. I just can’t, not when I’m exploding, soaring higher and higher, bucking so hard against him that it’s a wonder he’s not slipping out of me. I cry out, head thrown back, nails digging into his skin as he thrusts a few more times before I hear my name rawr out of his open mouth. He tenses and when I fall limp against him, his body shakes. He braces himself on the island with one hand and cradles me against him with the other.
“What was that?’’ I pant. My brain slowly starts to come back to work. I blink and swipe off my bangs that stick to my sweaty forehead.
I meet Brock’s laughing eyes, the golden-brown now back to its bright blaze. My heart falters at his crooked smile. He nips my swollen lips and cups my face. “That was stratospheric sex.’’ He moves his thumb over my cheek, his pad soft on my hot skin. “Are you all right? I didn’t want to be so rough with you.’’
I chuckle and hide my face in his sweaty chest. His hand previously on my face is now in my hair on the nape of my neck, massaging me soothingly. “Looks like I love it rough, so I’m more than fine.’’
“It was perfect.’’ He kisses the top of my head and doesn’t try to tilt my face up. I stay hidden, but I listen more closely to his next words barely whispered. “You were perfect.’’
I pull away, unsure of what to do or say. I keep my hands on his waist, but my eyes stay down to my bare stomach. I’m afraid that if I get a glimpse of his body, I’d want him all over again. “I didn’t do anything special.’’
He sighs and comes forward to hug me, the same kind of hug we’ve always shared, but this time we’re naked. It feels different with my still hard nipples brushing his chest and our mingled scent enveloping us. And it’s without saying that the scent of sex permeating the atmosphere doesn’t help to settle my sex drive.
“What are we going to do?’’ I ask, breaking the comfortable silence with the dreaded question that’s running through my head, echoing inside of me to conjure up the tensions I felt earlier.
When he tenses up against me, my fears go up a notch, and I brace myself.