She’s still topless. Her skirt is still gathered at her waist, and she’s panting, breathless from her own touch.
I slide my mouth against hers. “Jesus Christ, Brooke. You’re trying to kill me, yeah? You sweet fucking thing.” She answers with a moan as I kiss her jaw and suck on the skin beneath her ear. Sugar sticks to my tongue. Gripping her arse in my hands, I groan against her neck. “You taste so fucking good. Like one of those bloody cupcakes you make.”
“It’s my body lotion. Vanilla cake batter. It’s edible.”
“Fuck. Don’t tell me that.” My groin throbs against her belly. I pinch my eyes shut.
Stay focused, mate. You don’t want to rush with her.
Brooke giggles against my ear. “Why not? I’m wearing it for you. Lick away.”
I lean back and bring her hand to my mouth, drawing on the tips of her fingers.
“Mason,” she whispers, moving in to kiss me, sucking her taste off my tongue. Pressing, pressing, harder. Her lips are soft yet commanding, and she tastes like her wine from earlier; a warm, ripe fruit. I bite her lip and she gasps, tilting her head back and brushing her heavy breasts against my shirt. She does the same to me, a quick bite of pain, and I groan, slapping her ass and relishing in the quiet shudder that ripples through her body.
Fucking hell, she likes it.
Her warm hands travel under my shirt and across my stomach, nails dragging against skin, fingers squeezing my hips and pulling me closer while her mouth slowly devours me.
“Filthy fucking devil. Sit. I want to kiss you here.” I press my hand between her legs, my other palming her breast, roughly squeezing it.
She drops back onto the bench, meeting my eyes as I lower to my knees in front of her, as I spread her thighs open with my hands and settle my body between them.
“Were you wet before you touched yourself?” I ask, bending over her and licking between her breasts. I pull a nipple into my mouth and she arches her back, hands fisting my hair and breaths growing hurried and sharp. A whimpered yes catches in her throat when I drag my teeth across the hardened peak.
I know at any second someone could come walking into this room, see the bottoms of my legs, hear Brooke’s quiet, aching noises and investigate behind the curtain.
What would Brooke do? Would she stop me? Cover herself up while I continue working her with my mouth? Maybe she wasn’t only shaking when she stepped inside here because this is a first for her. Maybe she was thinking about the risk, doing this here when we can easily be somewhere more private, a room with four walls and a lock on the door.
I don’t relish in the thought of anyone seeing Brooke, topless and coming against my face, but I want to give her this. Be the person she associates with this memory.
With a thick voice, she begins begging me with quiet words.
More and move and more and yes.
“How wet were you?” I ask her, kissing her ribs, her stomach, licking the skin of her hip. The sweetness from her lotion soaks into my throat, making me dizzy and delirious.
She tastes too good. Smells too good.
“V-very. It was dripping down my leg.”
“Fuck, Brooke,” I growl, ducking my head, meeting her gaze as I press my lips against the smooth skin of her inner thigh. “Here?” I ask, opening my mouth and sucking.
She nods, her lips parting, fingers digging into my scalp. “Higher too.”
I smile against her. “Obviously. But I rather like kissing you here. Can I keep going?”
“Mm.” She tugs gently on my hair. “No. Move up. I want you to taste me.”
“I am.”
I switch legs and slowly drag my tongue closer to her pussy, kissing and licking her skin. She never stops watching me, her hazel eyes wide and hungry, capturing and captivating me.
“Play with your tits,” I tell her, blowing against her clit.
With a soft cry, she lifts and squeezes them, rolling her nipples between her fingers as I slide her legs to my shoulders. I press my nose against her clit and inhale, groaning, blinking up and seeing the awe bloom across her face.
She’s beautiful; the way she smells, the way she tastes. That heavy look in her eyes as she watches me.
“Say something,” she pleads, moving her hands over her breasts.
I take a slow lick, my eyes nearly rolling closed in ecstasy. “Mi stai rovinando.”
You’re ruining me.
Her eyes widen ever so slightly. “What does that mean?”
I open my mouth to tell her but she silences me with her fingers against my lips.
“Don’t,” she whispers, slowly removing her hand and bringing it back to her breast. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
There it is; that quiet panic lingering, never too far away when she begins to feel something unfamiliar or different. The little protective shield she slides into place until she senses it’s okay and safe to let herself just fucking be with me.
I’ll wait. Stand still or move, I don’t care. I’ll go where she goes.