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“I want to taste you first,” Brody says, his eyes locked on my core as he spreads my knees. I let him, enjoying the cool air on my overheated pussy, knowing he’s getting off on the slickness I can already feel gathered there.
“Later. Racing always makes me horny, and right now, I’m on edge and I want to come with your cock buried inside me.”
“Shiiiiit.” Brody’s groan is lazy and drawled out, but his hands reach for his wallet and he holds up a condom packet. He unbuttons his jeans, pushing them and his underwear to his knees before rolling the condom down his hard length. I watch the whole show, my hips curling up and my pussy pulsing. I feel a droplet of my juices run down toward my ass, and Brody’s eyes trace its path. He dips down and licks one long line, savoring it. He grins that ‘gotcha’ smile, so cocky that he got a taste, and then lines up with my opening. “Need you, Erica.”
My heart is damn glad he doesn’t give my brain time to pick that apart, because those words seem dangerous and deep. Instead, he thrusts into me with one stroke, bottoming out. I spasm and clench tight on his cock and somehow feel both invaded and complete at the same time. I didn’t know I was empty without him. Wait, what?
My brain starts to dip into that, knowing that sharing my secret with him, taking him to the track tonight, and how he reacted so well are important. Not just for me, but for us. But there’s not supposed to be an us.
Except when he’s buried inside me, it feels like maybe I’m wrong about that.
“Hey, where’d you go?” Brody pauses, his fingers brushing the hair out of my face before tracing the dots along my cheekbone. He cups my jaw, eyes looking deep into mine, almost as deep as he is inside me. And I’m not sure I only mean his cock.
I shake my head, not wanting to do this now. For now, I just want to fuck and enjoy him. “I’m here. Fuck me.”
That makes his eyes narrow suspiciously for some reason I don’t understand.
“Show me what you do. When you come home from a race, turned on by the vibrations underneath you, the power you wield . . . show me what you do.” He takes my hand, kissing each fingertip, pinky . . .ring . . . middle . . . and swirling his tongue over my index finger, and then guides my hand to my clit. “Show me while we fuck.”
There’s an emphasis to his words that brings me back to this moment between us. Not the future, not somewhere deeper, but right here, right now, taking pleasure in each other.
I spread my lips open, knowing that it probably looks obscene and sexy to him to see the place where he disappears inside me. I tease a circle around my clit, heat gathering there from my own touch and his eyes. I find a rhythm, speeding up slightly, and then a pattern, circling a few times before tapping my clit. Brody watches each movement, adding slow and shallow thrusts to the building momentum of my orgasm.
“That’s it . . . fuck, that’s sexy.” I’ll never admit, not even to myself, that his words turn me on even more. I’ve never been with a dirty talker, but I swear, Brody’s more verbose when he’s having sex than when he’s not. “Want more?”
I don’t trust my voice not to waver so I nod, and before I know it, Brody’s got my ankles on his shoulders, dirty boots and all, and his hands locked over my thighs for leverage. He pounds into me, hips slapping and slamming against my ass as I struggle to keep up. He’s going at me so hard my breath escapes with every thrust, leaving me lightheaded and on edge.
My fingers blur over my clit, and though my voice is strangled, I manage to get out, “Don’t. Stop. Fuck, don’t stop.” Beg? Order? Both, most likely.
I hover on the edge, feeling the flight right at my fingertips in a moment of anticipation, and then I explode. My vision blacks out as I squeeze my eyes shut, lost to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through me, and my hearing goes fuzzy as my blood roars. I’m probably glad I can’t hear myself very well because I know I’m being loud, but I’m too far gone to care what the neighbors think. Not that I even have any neighbors this time of night. The garage is the only building around with an apartment upstairs, and we’re blessedly alone.
Brody growls and falls over me, damn near folding me in half as I quickly pull my hands out of the way and try to find purchase on the smooth car hood. I resort to pressing my flat palms down to stay in place. Distantly, I’m thankful for the yoga stretches Emily’s talked me into to prevent back problems because otherwise, I’d probably have just pulled a hamstring from this position. Brody grabs my shoulders, curling my body into his and covering me, his abs to the backs of my thighs.
