Page 89 of Big Dill

“You really got a thing for lumberjacks, huh?” His lips find my shoulder, teeth grazing lightly, and I shiver.

“They’re snack-ish,” I tease, biting lightly into him in return. His laugh rumbles through me, a vibration that makes my chest hum.

“I guess I’d better be careful wearing flannel around you.”

“Are you saying you didn’t wear that shirt on purpose?”

He gives me a sheepish grin and instead of answering, his mouth finds mine. This time, the kiss, it’s softer, deeper, an exploration of something more. I rake my hands down his back, my legs widening, opening for him, welcoming him into my body…just not my heart.

Nope, can’t do that.

He pushes into me and our groans mingle. Our bodies move together, creating a rhythm as we touch, explore, our pace a little slower this time. In no time at all, my brain shuts down, nothing but pleasure stealing all my focus. He pushes, and I rise up to meet him. A quick angle of his body, his groin teases my clit with every downward thrust and I glance between us, loving the way I’m soaking his bare cock.

Never in my life has skin on skin felt so good. His breathing changes, so does mine and his hips jerk quicker, his groin hitting harder. He pistons forward, his crown hitting my cervix, his groin now grinding my clit, and when he grabs my hands and pins them above my head, his hard chest rubbing against my breasts, the trifecta pushes me to the edge.

“Brody, yes…”

“Fuck, I feel you.”

My body bursts and my hot juices spill from me, coating his cock as he slicks in and out of me. I find his mouth, our lips linger, as we each gasp for breath. I ride out the waves as he struggles to hang on, wanting to wring every thread of pleasure from my body.

“Babe, you’re so wet.”

I clench one last time around him and he groans. “I need to feel you,” I tell him. “Come for me, Brody.”

He dips his head, his teeth grazing my neck as he pumps once, twice and then goes still inside me. His head goes back, his eyes pinched tight as pleasure explodes through his body, and I love that look on his face, love knowing that I could do this to him.

“Babe, you are incredible,” he murmurs, his mouth returning to my neck.

He braces his elbows into the mattress, lifting just enough of his weight to give me air. His face softens as he kisses my nose, my eyelids, my mouth, slow, unhurried, tender. It’s that tenderness that wraps around my heart and gives it a quiet, terrifying tug.

Careful, Jami.

“I guess you were right,” I say, forcing playfulness into my voice before my emotions can spill over. “It could only go up from last time.”

“Up,” he repeats with a grin, his gaze drifting between our bodies as he carefully pulls out of me. “We might need to wait a minute. Or two.”

I snort. “Wow. Not only is your short-term memory failing, but your recovery time is officially underwhelming.”

“Hey.” He retaliates, fingers playfully pinching my sides. I shriek, laughter bursting out of me as I twist beneath him.

When he finally stops, he glances at the clock on the nightstand, and just like that, the teasing fades. His expression turns serious, in a way that reminds me of my brother, the damage I could be doing.

“As much as I’d love a round two,” he says as his phone pings. “We should clean up and get some food into you.”

“Pizza,” I murmur, suddenly ravenous.

He smiles and rolls to check his phone. He stares at it for a moment, then climbs out of bed, reaching to help me up, and all the while I want to ask who texted, but it’s not my business. We clean up quickly, pulling on soft, comfortable clothes. When he slips back into his flannel shirt, I shake my head helplessly.

“Is it any man in flannel?” he asks, smirking as we head downstairs. “Or just me?”

“Any man,” I lie, lifting my chin. “Ego much?”

He laughs. “Guess I’d better hit the department store and buy out what’s left.”

I chuckle. “Worried about me seeing Liam in one?”

He stops short and grabs my waist, pulling me into him. “You’re mine, Little Birdie.”