"Mhm," I said, closing my eyes and rolling to my back underneath him. "More, please."
"Look at you," he crooned, "all orgasm drunk and polite. Who knew?"
He kissed his way across my chest.
"Fuck off," I said, arching into him. "Hey, boy scout?"
"Hmm?" He swirled his tongue around my nipple while his fingers teased the other.
"Where'd my clothes go? And how'd I get upstairs?"
He paused his feast on my breasts for a clipped, one-word response. "Luke."
"You let your brother take my clothes off?"
Brody let out the most dramatic fucking sigh, propping himself up on an elbow. The cool air in the wake of his lips and tongue had me shivering.
I wanted him to warm me back up.
"Nah, I did that part. He just carried your drunk ass up so we didn't both fall and break our necks." He shot me a pointed look. "Now, may I continue? Was doin' some of my best work there and you just keep interruptin'."
I waved a hand. "Proceed."
He flashed me a wicked grin before his mouth was on me again.
He squeezed and licked and sucked at me until I was squirming again. My hands were in his hair, and he showed no signs of going south anytime soon.
"Brody," I said and it was all breathy and… embarrassing.
But never in all my life had a man so thoroughly worshipped me. Never had I let one.
Yet here I was, no place to be on Saturday morning, in a bed that wasn't mine in a house that wasn't mine, with a man that… maybewasmine.
"Brody," I said again, tugging on his hair this time.
He popped up. "Huh? What? Sorry," he chuckled. "Got a little distracted. I love these tits." He took one in each hand and squeezed, moaning right along with me. "Thought about fuckin' 'em all night last night. 'Cause don't think for one damn second I didn't notice you walkin' 'round without a bra."
I smiled up at him and licked my lips—or, tried to, anyway. Was still thirsty.
Before I could tell him to get to work, he hopped off of me—and the bed—walking bare-ass naked through the bedroom door.
"Hey! Where you goin'?"
But he was gone, feet pounding down the stairs.
Cat sat just outside the bedroom door, judging me. "Yes, ma'am? Can I help you?"
"She don't like to be called 'ma'am!'"
"How the fuck did he hear that?" I muttered.
Not twenty seconds later, Brody came strolling back through the door, cock jutting out—thick, and long, and so fucking hard. I wanted him in my hand, my mouth, my pussy… my ass. Anywhere, really. I'd take himanywhere.
When I finally forced my eyes away from his cock, I found him standing above me, holding one hand out to me, palm up. Inside were two Tylenol. In his other hand was a lemon-lime Gatorade.
My fucking sinuses started to sting as he stood there, waiting for me to take what he was offering. And I just stared up at him, because what had I truly done to deserve this man?
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
