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“You’re cute when you're smug,” I teased, instantly rewarded with the full wattage smile that few ever saw. Fuck, he was gorgeous. Having evidently granted me enough time to catch my breath, Broderick captured my lips, my hands flying to wrap around his back, and feeling the muscles bunch as he ground against my hips. Goosebumps pricked across my skin when he ran his nose over the length of my cheek, his warm breath a caress of its own. I traced down the long, lean lines of his body until I hit the damn belt between us, fingering along the edge of leather until I slipped between our bodies to unfasten the thing. He rocked us together again, my body coiling as if he hadn't just released all that pressure.
For all his big talk about wringing me dry, when I whimpered, “Please?” his cheek just twitched, and he popped his hips up into plank to make it easier for me to shimmy his pants below that tight curve of his toned ass. When his cock sprang free, my eyes dropped between us because fuck, he was big. Long, thick and veiny. I salivated just looking at him. Breath coming a little faster, I looked up, locking on his gaze as I wrapped that steely, tantalizing length in my fingers. It was the moment my thumb ran over the slick head, spreading that bead of pre-cum, that a shudder ran through his body, eyes sliding shut.
I peacocked internally as a sigh rumbled through him. “Dammit, El. Your touch is incredible.” He reared back, glancing around and patting at the pocket of his half-discarded pants before his eyes slid shut in frustration and he muttered something inaudible that sounded a lot like a curse. I laughed morbidly as realization dawned.
“You don’t have condoms?”
“I certainly had no interest in bringing someone else into this room, and thought it was good insurance to not break the pact.”
“Fuck the pact.”
He winced, but joked, “What happens in Vegas, right?”
“Fuck me, Broderick. Just us.”
His eyes rounded in surprise. “What?”
“I’m protected and all clear, and I trust you.”
For the first time, he seemed hesitant, lips popping open as he said, “El, there’s a lot we can do together and I’m not asking you to give me that.”
“You’re not asking. I am. Fuck me, Broderick. Please. I’ve wanted to feel you since I was seventeen, and like hell am I waiting to find a fucking condom if you say you want me back.”
His full lips fell open as his eyes searched mine, and then he was moving, nipping down my body line before the flat of his tongue licked straight up my soaked center, sending shudders of pleasure up my spine.
“You taste so damn good. I don’t know what I want first.”
“I can relate.” That was all she wrote. If for no other reason than Broderick Allen was fucking me with his mouth, a blunt finger sliding home again.
“Soaked for me,” he muttered, almost reverently, before sucking my clit between his lips, sending my back arching. He slipped another finger into me, licking, sucking, pulling, eviscerating my ability to articulate as pleasure wracked tremors through my limbs. I grasped at his muscled shoulders, the sheets, my own desperate body. “Damnably perfect—I never stood a chance,” he growled as my hands found my breasts, palming them over the fabric of my bra. “Sit up,” he ordered, abruptly standing and stripping the pants and briefs from his legs, where I’d abandoned them. My thighs tightened at the demand in his tone, and I did what he asked, curious to see where this was going. “Bra–off.”
Well. Fuck me sideways. The girls always said it was the quiet ones that blew the roof off. “Mmm, sexy, bossy Broderick does things to me.”
“He’s about to,” he countered as I contorted to unclip my bra. When I slid the final strap aside, freeing my breasts with a little bob, his nostrils flared, gaze darkening as his eyes looked over me. And I finally let my eyes drop down the length of him. All six feet of glorious, warm umber skin stretched over muscles that demanded I memorize their lines with the tip of my tongue. Goosebumps pebbled my flesh, and it had nothing to do with the purr of the heater kicking on in a gust of chill wind.
“Of course, you’re fucking perfect,” I muttered as I traced the outline of those muscled thighs, a gorgeous adonis belt, and a dick so proud it looked almost painful. Some primal part of me preened at that. That I did that to him. I needed it in my mouth like I needed my next breath. Slowly, watching his eyes for any reaction, I sat up and poured myself onto the floor at his feet.
“Oh, fuck me,” he muttered as I tossed my hair behind my shoulders and gripped his erection.
Chuckling darkly, I said, “That is the idea, Professor. Suck you off, let you fuck my throat.”
“Jesus Christ,” he snarled, dropping his head back to look skyward, hands settling against my cheeks like he couldn’t not have his hands on me. I knew the feeling. “That mouth.”
I gave him a wicked smile a beat before I wrapped my lips around his cock and sucked him deep, savoring the salty bead of pre-cum and throaty growl I earned in one blunt motion. Wrapping his fist in my hair, Broderick acted as a guide, but it was my turn to growl when he slowed me down, a hand resting on the side of my face as I pulled him to the back of my throat.
“Easy, Pix. The first time I come, it’ll be in your perfect pussy, not your mouth.”
I nodded as much as possible around a mouthful of cock. And then slid down as fast and hard as I could until he hit the back of my throat, my eyes watering as I gagged. Fighting against the reflex, I pulled him in again, my cheeks hollowing out as I urged my jaw to relax, to fit all of him, as futile as the effort might be. That hand wrapped in my hair tightened as his thighs clenched, and I pressed my tongue into the base of him, nails digging into his perfect ass before sliding back off with a little pop.
“Stand up,” he ordered, but his hands were already scooping beneath my arms, hoisting me to my feet so he could devour me wholly. “Need you. On the bed. Hands and knees.”
Nodding, I stole one last decadent kiss, our lips swollen with lust and sex, skin glistening with sweat. I turned over, crawling up onto the bed, the stiff white sheets crinkling beneath my hands and knees.
“Ass up, baby.” Broderick’s decadent hands wrapped around my waist, halting my movement, and pulling my ass against his hips, where he stood at the end of the bed. But then his entire body went rigid, a sharp intake of breath the only sound in the silence as one warm hand slid up my spine before veering left to my ribs, tracing the line the bra left on my skin.
“What’s this?” he asked, that rich baritone raked over coals. I smiled softly, not needing to glance back to know which tattoo his fingers found on my trap, where it hid beneath the straps of bras and bikinis. Just for me.
“Wildflowers,” he croaked, the gravel in his voice betraying the emotions that penetrated his lust as his fingers firmly traced the outline of the word, the spirals of vine and Alaskan wildflowers that sprang away from the lettering. Every drive out the road, late night beach bonfire, stolen hike, front porch sunrise, and cuddle under the northern lights played through my mind. Because we always played Tom Petty when it was the two of us. It was the sound of home.
