Maybe being this chick's pro bono nanny won't be so bad?
Brooke's fingers trace the stars I shaved into the right side of my head, her other hand tangling in my hair as she encourages me to pay special attention to her neck, nibbling my way along the smooth flesh and breathing in her fruity scent. I still have no idea how or why we ended up in here doing this, but I'm pretty fucking grateful for it.
The soft creak of the bed, the little nook where our bodies fit together in the dip of the mattress, the sunshine on my back. It's sweaty and warm and weirdly intimate (not usually my thing), but I don't let that freak me out. I embrace it, dropping a hand to Brooke's ass and encouraging her to lift one of her legs up to give me deeper access.
When she gasps and flutters around me, I know there's not a dildo in the world that can match my movements. Hot, long strokes, diving deep and drawing all the way out. That's my style, at least until I feel Brooke's heartbeat start to pick up. That's when I drop our pelvises back together and grind up and forward, making sure her clit is moving along with me.
Brooke's voice raises up in a lilting whimper, her hips frantically churning to meet mine, her nails digging into my skin. She's too far gone to kiss me now, her lips parted and her head tilted back into the mound of pillows. When I'm afraid she's going to outlast me, I reach down and slip two fingers in with my cock, stretching her just enough that she loses it, thrashes, comes hard all around me, squeezing me so tight that I don't have to work to finish myself. I just slow and relax into her, coming hard and lowering my body against hers as we both try to breathe past the pleasure and the swirl of happy hormones clogging our brains.
It's always in this moment that I feel like I can really see everything clearly, when the world is crisp and sharp and unclouded.
I look down at Brooke and I'm not sure exactly what it is I'm seeing right now.
Who … who is this chick I just nailed into the mattress? A twenty-two year old virgin with two kids? What am I doing? This isn't a woman I picked up at the shop, some girl who's clearly on vacation with her friends that wants a what happens in Vegas story.
No.
This is something else completely.
I grab the base of the condom and roll off of Brooke, laying there with my arm across my forehead, my eyes focused on the ceiling above the bed. The sex was awesome, and wow, Brooke feels good. But … didn't I tell myself no on this one?
I glance over at her, looking for any sign of tears or disappointment or frustration. Instead, she's also looking at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
“Thanks,” she says, turning her head to look at me with a small smile. “That was great.”
I smile back and feel a small amount of relief wash over me.
“Good. Wouldn't want to disappointment you on your first time.”
Brooke stares at me for a moment, her lips twitching.
“So … can you get out now?”
I blink at her several times before raising both brows. Is this chick kicking me out again?
“Time for you to pick up the kids,” she says, sitting up and sliding off the bed.
I watch her disappear into the bathroom, that perfect ass flashing as she moves, before I groan and reach down to pull the condom off my dick.
Right. Kids.
So much for my after sex glow.
Whoa.
I wait until I hear the sound of an engine before sneaking out of the room and into the hallway. I slide along the wall like some kind of hero in an action flick, peeking past the curtains until Zayden pulls the minivan out of the driveway.
My entire body is on fire right now, tingling from my toes to the crown of my head. The sensations running through me are hard to explain, like the pleasure I get from masturbating … but different. I feel alive, vibrant, like I can do fucking anything right now.
In the back of my mind, I know all I'm feeling are residual shots of oxytocin from the orgasm, but I don't care. I feel too good to care. I just let some guy I met four days ago take my V-card on a shopping spree.
Remaining balance … zero.
I put my fingers up to my temples and press hard, breathing out as I shuffle back to my sister's—now my—room. When I came upstairs to shower, I couldn't stop thinking about Zayden or the way he played with that baby like it was his own. I think some girly hormones are at fault here because … he's just so goddamn cute with that kid. Maybe it's some basic biological instinct telling me that he'd make a good dad or something?
I ignore those feelings and try to let myself just enjoy this moment. I got what I wanted, didn't I? Going to the club and stripping tonight … I'm still not excited about it, but I feel better. Zayden saw me first; Zayden slept with me first. He might be a stranger, but he's a nice guy and at least I get to know that I made the choice to sleep with him.