Page 19 of Restored Dreams

Forget the flock of flapping birds or the thumping beat. I may have just had a mini-orgasm at the thought combined with the hot stare he’s giving me.

“Winner takes all,” I suggest, trying to keep my voice steady. I don’t think there’s going to be a loser in this game.

“Winner’s choice,” Brut clarifies. “I’ll go first.”

+ + +

The game ends when Brut places the last tiles on the board. M-E.

“How is that a dirty word?” I laugh. Brut has clearly won the game. He’s quick to rearrange the tiles while I’ve been struggling the entire time to come up with combinations, especially as each word he places on the board has me distracted with other thoughts.

“Me. I’m dirty because of all the things I plan to do to you.” His rugged, raspy tone pushes me over the edge. If he doesn’t kiss me, or touch me, or something, I’m going to combust.

“You’re the winner,” I say without needing to tally the score. “What would you like to win?” I don’t recognize my own voice as it drops.

Brut stands slowly and steps to the couch where I sit. His eyes dance as he peers down at me.

“You’re my prize, Lily pad. Lie back.” I do as he says, swallowing the dryness in my throat. I’m already so wound up, and his low commanding tone has me on the dangerous edge of imploding before he even touches me. I wiggle to settle on the cushions, and Brut watches me a minute before he tugs the cushions from the back of the couch and tosses them behind it. He climbs between my legs, forcing me to spread for him. His gaze holds on my body, and I feel self-conscious, but I also feel alive in a way I’ve never felt before. He wants me, really wants me, and I want to please him.

His fingers reach for the hem of my cami, and he briskly pushes it upward, exposing my breasts. Both hands cover the roundness, palming the heaviness. He pinches my nipples at the same time, and moisture pools between my thighs. I’m going to have a problem too quickly if he does it again.

“You have great tits, sugar.” His eyes admire them as he tugs the cami the remainder of the way up my body and over my head. He lays it on the back of the couch and returns his attention to my exposed body. My hips roll upward with thoughts of their own. My core wants at the length straining behind the flimsy material of his shorts. He tsks me. “Patience, Lily pad.”

I receive my own strip tease as he tugs his tee upward by the hem and takes his time to drag it up his body. With arms stretched over his head, I take in the full view of each book-stacked ab, his lightly salted chest, and the muscular biceps straining to remove his shirt. He catches me watching him and smiles a crooked grin.

His fingers move to the waistband of my shorts, and he takes his sweet time removing them, letting the material caress my skin as he shimmies them down my legs. His brow hitches when he notices I’m not wearing any underwear. The slow tease continues, heightening my arousal, which can hardly be contained. Sexy scents waft between us, and Brut lowers his head. He inhales near the apex of my legs.

“You smell delicious.” He adds to the torture of his flirty words when he swipes his thumb through my wet folds. “And you’re fucking soaked.”

He’s pleased with this discovery. Spread-eagle in broad daylight, I should be covering myself from his appraising stare, but I don’t feel one bit of shame. Desire burns in his bright eyes, and I want the expression on his face etched into my memory.

“Here’s how we’re going to play, Lily.” He quickly removes his thumb and reaches with his other hand for tiles on the board game. Six cool, wooden squares hit my stomach. I stretch to read the word, and they slip.

“Uh-uh-uh…no moving. That’s the challenge for you or else you don’t win.”

“I already lost,” I snark, my voice sharp as I grow frustrated. Where’s his thumb?

He replaces the tiles across my belly as he speaks. “Let’s see if you still think you lost when I’m done.” The threat in his tease forces me to stare up at the ceiling. Taking a slow breath to calm myself, I will myself not to move. The challenge is real because I want to rub against him.

“What does it say?” My voice croaks as I ask.

“Sample.” We argued over the word as we played. He said it wasn’t sexy, but when I rolled the word over my tongue in a sentence—I want to sample you—his pupils dilated. He understood sample could be very seductive. A finger outlines the cupcake at my hip, and I shiver, then hold my breath, hoping not to dislodge the tiles on my stomach. As I’m thinking about the possibility of his fingers, his thumb brushes over my clit again. I clench, willing myself not to chase his finger, and realize holding still heightens the euphoria. Damn it, if I get any higher, I’m going to take flight.

“Let’s see how sexy the word really is.” I don’t dare move my head for fear the wooden chips will shift. His firm hands spread my thighs, and then warmth hits my center. I don’t flinch as his tongue laps over my clit, but it takes all my strength to remain still.

“Brut,” I warn already. “I’m so close.”

He smiles against my tight skin before his tongue hits me again, spreading through sensitive folds. He swirls and sucks, and I struggle not to move. My fingers curl into fists, holding back from reaching for his head. He bobs and sways, plunging into me with the strong muscle, and I explode, screaming his name. The tiles slip, but I slap a hand over them, holding them against my belly so he won’t stop.

“Don’t stop. Please.” My back itches to curl, and my thighs quiver to close around his head, but I follow his demand and stay as still as I can. I’m coming so hard stars dance across the ceiling. He doesn’t stop his ministrations, and I feel myself building again.

“Brut, I…” I can’t get out the words. Letters won’t join to form words. The only joining I want is him and me.

He must sense where I’m going because he removes his mouth too quickly. After he leans to his left, I roll my head to find his forearm swiping the game board to the floor, scattering the tiles in all directions. Brut wraps his arm under my back and hoists me upward. My hands find his shoulders for stability. The concentration on Brut’s face remains intense as he removes me from the couch and tosses a blanket on the floor near the ottoman.

“Say yes, Lily pad,” he pleads, and I hum my approval although I have no idea what I’m agreeing to. He twists me away from him and gently folds me to my knees, pressing between my shoulder blades so I lay on my front over the ottoman. My breasts hit the cool fabric and pebble harder, if that’s even possible. The sharp scrape of the material reminds me how turned on I am. I hold still a second, hearing Brut shuffle with his shorts behind me. Then he slaps my ass and rams into me.

“Brut,” I scream as I come the second he enters me. I reach forward for the edge of the ottoman cushion as he grips my hips and fills me repeatedly. Back and forth, he races as my channel clenches at him, fighting the challenge to keep him contained as I release a second time more intensely than the first. I’m lightheaded, but his hammering continues, and I curl back, encouraging him to take what he needs from me.