It wasn't the same. That hand was cruel. This one was worshipping.
Just as quick as the flash had come, Brody removed his hand from my neck, bringing me back to myself.
"Shh, I've got you." Brody kissed me soft before pulling back to look into my eyes. "You okay?"
I don't know what he felt, what he saw. But it was something. Something made him stop and switch tactics.
But… shit, I wanted his hand back around my throat.
"Can I eat this pretty pussy again?" He reached between us and palmed my mound, fingers teasing my entrance. "Been craving it for weeks."
"Yes," I whispered. The only word I had left in my vocabulary.
Brody kissed my lips. Then my chin. My neck. He kissed and sucked and nipped his way down my body as I squirmed beneath him. My hands were in his wild blonde hair when he finally made it to my pussy.
"Don't come," he said quietly.
"What?"
"Shit." He looked up at me from between my legs and took a deep inhale. "Didn't mean to say that out loud. Pep talk for my dick. You can come. You should definitely come."
I grinned down at him and he returned it before his face turned serious. That shift—from goofy to intense in the space of a single breath—was so incrediblyBrody. Bright light, big heart. He dipped down and ran his tongue from my dripping pussy up to my clit, never breaking eye contact. I shuddered out the breath I'd been holding while I savored the sensation of having his tongue where I needed it most.
He didn't tease. Not this time.
His mouth closed over my clit and I stopped thinking entirely.
My back arched off the tarp and my fingers tightened in his hair, nails dragging against his scalp. He groaned against me like he was the one being worshipped, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat rolling through my core. One large hand pressed flat against my lower stomach, holding me in place when my hips tried to roll up into him.
"Stay still," he murmured against my pussy. The words buzzed straight through me.
"Then don't stop," I gritted out.
He didn't.
He worked me with a patience that made my thighs tremble—not rushing, not performing. Just learning. Like he was cataloguing every sound I made, every involuntary twitch, and filing them away for later use. Two fingers pressed at my entrance, slow and deliberate, and I exhaled a shaky breath as he curled them just right.
"Brody."
"Found it," he said against me, smug as hell.
I would have told him to shut up but then he did that thing with his tongue again and the words dissolved entirely.
The orgasm built differently this time. Not the quick, sharp thing from earlier. This was deeper, slower, winding through me like it had roots. I felt it in my thighs, in my chest, behind my eyes. I felt it in the place I didn't let people get close enough to touch.
"Don't stop," I breathed. Then, before I could think better of it, "please."
Brody made a low, broken sound against me. Like that word from my mouth undid something in him.
Then he took me apart so thoroughly I forgot my own last name.
When I came back down, my chest was heaving and my fingers had gone slack in his hair. Brody pressed a single, soft kiss to the inside of my thigh and then looked up at me with an expression I absolutely was not prepared for.
Not smug. Not triumphant.
Justwarm.
"You're gonna be the death of me," I said to the ceiling.
