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And then he really starts fucking me.
Except his eyes are wide open, looking right at me as though he can see to my soul. I think for a moment that I can see into his, too. Dark and lonely, good and sweet, misunderstood and honorable.
His thrusts are steady and powerful, just like the man he is. He’s watchful and caring, making sure he’s hitting that sweet spot inside me just right. And I can tell from the tension around his eyes that he’s getting close.
“Come, Brody. Please.” I wish I could feel the heat of his cum when he does, but we’re way too new, way too casual to go without the condom. Even still, I fantasize that it’s just us, bare and raw, with nothing separating us physically, even though there’s so much separating us emotionally.
He groans, deep and guttural, and grits out, “Err- Ca!” That he can’t get out my full name but tries anyway is sexy as fuck. I love that he’s so lost to pleasure—in me, with me—that he can’t speak.
I can’t feel his cum, but I feel him grow harder and pulse, and it’s enough to satisfy that greedy bitch inside me who wants more. As Brody comes down from his orgasm, he tilts his head, leaning it against my leg. A smile stretches his lips. Not the cocky one or even a flirty one but just pure, unadulterated bliss. Exhaustion tinges the edges, but I can tell he’s happy. I don’t need to see my matching smile to know how I feel.
Tonight was big. Majorly so. And though I keep throwing landmines in his way, Brody is dodging each and every one of them, not ignoring them or denying their power but giving them the respect they deserve. The respect I deserve. As a woman, as a racer, as . . . me.
My armor cracks a little, a small piece of hope worming its way inside. Maybe he won’t try to make me small or make me fit into whatever box he deems appropriate. I don’t have time for him, but if he’s willing to wait while I figure some shit out, a guy who likes me for me is who I would want by my side when I’m ready for more.
Brody flexes and his cock jumps inside me. “Where’d you go again, Lil Bit?”
I focus my eyes on his, and the smile that had melted under the weight of my thoughts returns. “Just thinking that you surprise me, Cowboy.”
Oh, now I get that cocky grin and full-fledged arrogance. It should piss me off, but it’s sexy for some reason. “Well, let’s get upstairs and I’ll surprise you again.”
I wiggle, trying to get up but still impaled on him, and he groans as he puts fierce hands on my hips, stilling me. “Nope, not like that.” He lets my legs fall from his shoulders and slowly tortures us both as he pulls out. He takes off the condom and throws it in the trash can by the wall of toolboxes.
“Two points,” I offer generously, which gets me a sardonic brow in response.
He adjusts his clothes, zipping his jeans, and then reaches for me. He picks me up like I’m light as a feather, my legs wrapping around his waist even as I argue. “Put me down,” I say with no heat, smacking his shoulder like a butterfly. I don’t know why I feel the need to fight this even though I’m enjoying it, but I do. Fighting it feels like something I should want to do.
“You maybe weigh a buck ten, Lil Bit. I could carry you all damn day, so I can sure as shit carry you up the stairs to your apartment.”
That sounds like a challenge to my ornery ears, so I decide to make this a little extra hard for him. Seeing as I can’t eat a dozen cupcakes and weigh more, I go with the distraction method. “Mmmkay, if you say so.” I’m certain those words have never passed my lips, in seriousness or sarcasm.
I kiss and nibble along his stubbled jaw and he groans. Victory tastes sweet. His skin tastes salty. I nuzzle into his neck, smelling the fumes of the racetrack on him, another thing I never knew would turn me on so much. I sniff him and swear to God I don’t know who I’m becoming around this man. When I suck at the skin of his neck a bit, he groans and pauses on the stairs. “Damn it, Erica. You wanna get fucked on the stairs again?” He’s being stern, like that’s some grave punishment.
I laugh, and he takes two more steps, slow and easy. I’m sure he wants me to think he’s doing it so he doesn’t drop me. I’m almost certain he’s doing it so I’ll keep kissing his neck. I think I found a new erogenous zone on my Cowboy. His hands grip my ass hard, encouraging me. I’m pretty sure I just got ten fingertip-sized bruises on my nonexistent butt, but fuck if I don’t like the idea of that. In response, I find that sweet spot over his pulse and suck it, delighting in the way I can feel it race under my mouth. I murmur against his skin, “Keep going upstairs or I’ll stop.”
