Page 57 of Nailed

His mouth moved lower and I arched into it, gripping the back of his head. Heat seared every nerve-ending as his tongue and teeth explored my chest, so thorough in their discovery that he left no inch of skin untouched.

“You said,” I gasped, pulling him closer. “You said that you couldn’t blame the others. Could you blame me?”

He cursed under his breath, reluctantly moving away from my breasts. He dragged his eyes up to my face, and for the first time in all the time I’ve known Brock Lawson, they looked completely unfocused.

“Lauren, baby. I don’t blame you. You go for what you want…it’s one of the things I fucking love about you.”

Tears pricked the back of my eyes. I thought back to our moment on the rooftop, how he’d pushed back even when I knew he didn’t want to. And now here he was, not just giving into his own desire but fueling mine. Respecting mine.

For a man that followed the rules down to a T, I knew just how huge an admission like this was and it made me want him even more. He leaned down and softly kissed each of my cheeks, his tongue trailing out as though catching my tears. It was such an intimate gesture and yet somehow still fully Brock.

Then he did something that I truly wasn’t expecting.

I’d watched Brock handle heavy pieces of machinery and ceramic blocks without breaking a sweat. I’d marveled as he carried 400-pound timber beams with relative ease while the average man wouldn’t have been able to so much as move them. I was well aware of how much strength his body held.

But I was still surprised when he practically tossed me up like I weighed nothing and buried his face in between my legs as they wrapped around his neck. His huge hands gripped my ass, supporting me but also keeping me trapped with his eager mouth feasting on my pussy.

I threw my head back and whined, holding onto his head as he started walking us into the bay. There was no way he could see anything, and I was wondering how he could even breathe. But Brock had the entire floorplan memorized and knew exactly where to go without even bumping into any of the scattered furniture or construction tools.

He groaned, the sound sending vibrations through my body and I cried out, reflexively tugging on his hair. He laid me down on his makeshift workbench, the same one I’d seen him bent over examining the blueprints a thousand times since the start of the project. It wasn’t the most sturdy but somehow I knew that even if it gave way beneath me, he wouldn’t let me fall.

His hands were firm on my ass.

I could barely catch my breath.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I hissed as my hips rolled up of their own accord and my head flopped back.

“Look at me.” Brock sounded almost like the version of himself that showed up everyday and ran the site with an iron-fist, but still not quite the same. The authority was there but I had never heard him sound this intense.

It was too much.

The sensation riding on the coattails of my last orgasm, the fast change in temperature from cold to a heat so intense I could barely stand it, the way he claimed my body with a desperation and even entitlement. Like he was owed this and he was going to work for it.

I came for the second time, harder than before.

Tears streaked down my cheeks and I had no idea why. Brock kissed his way back up my body, placing a hand behind my neck.

“Are you okay?” he checked in and I nodded, biting back more tears. He kissed my cheek. I was not only okay, I was more than okay. I was overwhelmed and overstimulated, only growing more so when he started moving back down—slowly, deliberately, like he was doing a second sweep to make sure he hadn’t missed any inch of my body.

He kissed my curves like he’d been starving, and was now gorging himself.

“Brock,” I mumbled his name and I didn’t think he could even hear me. He began licking me again and I flinched, too sensitive for another round just yet. “Brock, please. No more, I can’t.”

He mumbled something before dipping his mouth lower and my voice guttered out. His tongue worked its way into my ass while his thumb stroked over my clit and I was practically screaming at the dual sensation.

“Yes, just like that,” I moaned out. “Keep doing that.”

For the first time, it was me giving him the orders. He listened with an uncanny precision and I could feel myself on the verge of cresting again. The shower sex session with Rafe had been the first time anyone had ever played with my ass and since then, I’d been curious to explore that. And now felt as perfect a time as any.

“Fingers, Brock,” I begged. “Please.”

He hummed and obliged, experimenting with just one as my body adjusted around the new sensation. He took his time once he understood what I wanted, decoding the sounds I was making as easily as any set of blueprints. But it wasn’t enough anymore. If he was going to make me come a third time, I wanted him to be inside me when he did it.

I clawed at his shoulders, trying to pull him up and when my words failed me, he listened to my body language instead. I drew him in with my legs, threw my arms around his neck and he lifted me from the workbench, his face nuzzling into my chest.

He carried me upstairs like that, his steps sure and steady and together we collapsed onto my mattress. Seems like we made it to the bedroom after all. He was hard again already.

My mind was gone, all I could do was feel the heat that blurred the boundaries between where our bodies separated. There was just the pleasure that sang between us, skin on skin and then somewhere in the midst of it, he slipped inside me and I melted entirely.