Those fingers tangle in my tresses again, but he doesn’t hold me down, just lets me bob up and down in his lap, at times tensing and groaning.
After a few minutes, I let him slide out with a pop.
I work my jaw back and forth and grin. “You’re, um, more than a mouthful.”
His chest rumbles with a laugh.
Rising up on my knees, I rest my hands on his broad shoulders. His hands immediately fall to my thighs and pull me against him.
“Condom?” I ask, feeling a little out of breath.
Please, dear baby Jesus, let him have a condom.
He scrubs his face and groans. “The other room. Hang tight.” He scoots out from under me and I watch his muscular ass saunter out of the room.
I stare at the baby monitor and send up another prayer to let Izzy sleep. Which feels all kinds of sacrilegious. Here I am, praying for condoms and uninterrupted sex.
When he strides in, my eyes eat him up. His lean, cut muscles. That beautiful canvas of color on his arms and chest. His manhood jutting proudly between muscular legs.
If you were to ask what my definition of male perfection is, I would point to Brady Shepherd because he is downright breathtaking.
I know it seems stupid to feel so wrapped up in this cloud of lust—which clearly this is—but when I combine it with what I know about him, how great he is with his niece and how much he loves his family, something else blooms in my chest, an emotion I’m too afraid to label.
He stands in front of me, and I tilt my head up to smile. As he stares down, half of his hair falls over his face, and the other half sits at right angles from me yanking on it.
I fight to hold in my grin. Be sexy, Kat. Don’t laugh at the man’s hair.
When I hold out my hand, he grins and steps closer until his big, proud dick bobs in my palm. “Hi, I’m Brady. It’s nice to meet you.”
Laughter spills from my lips. “Oh, my God. I was asking for the condom.”
His lips pull up higher. “Ask and ye shall receive.” He drops the foil package next to me.
I tear it open and roll the latex over his velvety hard muscle. Doing this feels so personal. Like this, whatever this is between us, is so much more than we’re both saying.
Brady motions for me to scoot up the bed, and I shake my head. I get up and motion for him to lie down.
His eyebrow lifts. “Wanna ride me, huh?”
“Like a bronco.” I lick my lips. “This is Texas after all.”
He laughs and collapses on the bed before folding his arms behind his head.
My eyes slide slowly over him. I want to remember the way his hair falls over his right temple. The way his lips ghost a smile. How his beautiful body, cast in shadows, reclines on my bed.
I straddle his lap, enjoying how that hint of a smile disappears when I slide my wet core across him. Those strong hands move down to grab my rear and pull me closer.
Tilting my hips, I rub harder, loving the grunt of approval that escapes him.
And then I open my mouth because I can’t help it. “So you’re sure you’re not gonna bail on me this time?”
I watch for his response as I glide up and down.
“Fuck no.” His grip on my thighs tightens.
Thank God. Because if he leaves this time, I might actually die.
Biting my lip, I angle him toward my entrance. And then I’m sinking, down, down, down.
My head falls back because I can’t breathe as he stretches me.
Wow.
I’m too full, but it’s so good.
He’s thick and hard and hitting all the right spots when I begin to slide up and back down again, taking a little bit more of him each time.
“You feel amazing,” he groans.
I arch my back as I take him all the way. His calloused hands grip my breasts and knead me as I begin to bounce up and down on his lap.
Oh, my God. Yes.
Faster and faster and harder and harder I go, loving how his hands are everywhere—my breasts, my ass, my hips. Tangled in my hair. Toying with my nipples.
But when his hand dips down between us, the contact jolts me. I lean back and grip his thighs to give him more room to touch me. And let’s be honest, to give him a better show.
If I’m basing anything on the feral look in his eyes, I’m doing a darn good job.
His attention is trained between my legs, and I undulate my hips, lifting up just enough so he can see what he’s doing to me. It doesn’t take long before that pressure builds.
“I’m about to come all over you,” I gasp, too far gone to care how wanton that sounds.
He lets out a choked laugh. “Jesus, you’re hot when you talk like that.”
My breath catches as he swirls tight circles against that throb between my legs.
All of a sudden, I’m falling apart. Everything tightens as I squeeze my eyes shut and groan. And just when I think it’s too much, he sits up and wraps his arms around me, sending his cock deeper.
I scream. I can’t help it. He pulses his release in me as he fuses our mouths together to muffle my sounds.
After a moment, he collapses back and pulls me with him.
I’m panting and out of breath. “That was…”
“Oh, yeah….”
“Wow…”
We’re gasping and sweaty, and I’m so awash in euphoria, all I can do is mumble, “Thank you,” against his chest.