“I'm the only guy that's ever seen this face?”
Brooke nods as I burrow into the crook of her shoulder, loving the way she claws at my neck as I press her into the wall. Good thing I've spent a lot of time working out my arms because they're already burning like hell. But it's a good feeling, a wild feeling. Sweat drips down my body, trails over my spine, slicks across my belly. I'm not letting go of her until we both come.
“Good. I like it that way.” I shove hard and Brooke whimpers, the slick warmth between us making me wish I could take this damn condom off. At least I've got the ruffled texture of her panties rubbing against my shaft with each thrust, the thin piece of fabric doing literally nothing to keep me away from Brooke's core. “I like that you're still wearing your panties for me. You can strip down at that club, but that doesn't mean shit. You being naked doesn't mean a goddamn thing.”
Uh-oh. I'm getting … aggressive. Some of that possessive male urge I usually shake off creeping down my shoulders and into my arms, my fingers curling tight into Brooke's soft flesh as I slam against her with a vigor I can't quite explain.
I breathe in deep and pull her scent into my lungs, this delicious concoction of fruit and soap and sweat, the faint tease of cigarettes from the club. I hope she can smell me, too, taste the heat of my desire on the back of her tongue with each inhale. And I hope she can feel my piercings, too, feel the warm metal through the condom, brushing down her ridged walls and drumming beats of pleasure into her body.
I play Brooke Overland like an instrument, use my body to strip her of any control, bring her all the way down, crashing into my arms with tears prickling the corners of her eyes as her head drops back and she gasps, cries, shudders in my arms.
Brooke struggles a little against the pleasure, fights the orgasm and tries to push me off, but I won't let go, jerking her tight against me as her legs collapse and the entire weight of her body falls into me, her pussy locking down hard and yanking a small growl from my throat.
I nuzzle hard into Brooke's shoulder and fuck her against the wall until I feel that bright burst of color in my brain, that annihilation of all my thoughts and worries and rules and bullshit. In that split second of clarity I get with each orgasm, I see Brooke in all her wild female glory. I feel like an animal that's just found his mate, seen her standing across a field and just known.
But holy shit, that is so goddamn stupid! What the fuck am I thinking?
I come hard, my body sheathed inside of Brooke, fingers grasping tight enough to bruise. The wash of relief afterward comes with a weird sort of panic as I pull back and finally allow my aching arms to release her weight.
Brooke can't stand up, her back to the wall, sliding to the floor with her right leg still propped up on the step. It leaves her in this wildly sexy position with her thighs spread, her own liquid heat glistening from either leg, breath panting and lips open, head back.
I stumble a few steps away, overwhelmed with a thousand strange emotions I don't understand, my heart pounding frantically as Brooke wraps her arms around herself and closes her eyes, fighting for each breath.
I can't stop staring, my brain a strange tumbled mess as I snap the condom off and jerk my pants back into place. I've had … well, let's just say a lot of sex. But this is … this is … and there's nothing all that special about it, not really. No special positions or toys or weird shit, but—
I'm not doing this right now, letting myself get into my own head.
I move back over to Brooke and kneel down next to her, fighting that violent urge to get the fuck out of there. I'm not like some of my friends, freaking the fuck out because some chick spends the night and wants to stay for breakfast. So what? Big deal. Be an adult. Take her to dinner or something and don't be an ass.
This … I've never been so scared in all my life and I've known this girl for a matter of days. She's as much a stranger as any of those women that come into my shop and yet … she feels like somebody I should know.
“Hey.” I sweep some of that crazy long hair of hers back from her face with inked up fingers. “You alright there, Smarty-Pants?”
She makes a sort of strangled half-sob/half-laugh sound that makes me smile.
“That's what I've been missing out on all these years? I'm a goddamn idiot.”
I chuckle as I sit down cross legged in front of her and take her hands in my lap, rubbing her knuckles with my thumbs.
“Naw. Nobody's as good as old Zay is.” I wink at her when she glances up at me from beneath a fall of chocolate hair, her mascara running in two dark lines like it did that first day. I lift a hand up and scrub one of the lines away with my thumb.