Page 28

It’s been a year, but it’s felt like a lifetime since we’ve been together.

“It should be special when we do this again, babe,” he murmurs, and I almost burst out laughing. I grip his leather vest tighter, probably putting marks in it with my nails, but I don’t give a shit.

The last time we did this was at a hotel I’d rented for the week because I didn’t feel like staying with my parents and dealing with their drama while I was doing wedding stuff for Briar.

It was in a cheap motel near the venue in town, but it was the most special week of my life. Being with him. The way I felt with Brock, the way he made me feel—no man has looked at me that way before or since him.

Looked at me the way he’s looking at me now.

Like I’m not real, a fantasy that’s just appeared in front of him, and the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth. Yeah, he could fuck me in the middle of the sandy desert, sand chafing everywhere, maybe even a cactus pricking my side, and I’m pretty sure it would still feel pretty damn special.

When I feel his hands at the waist of my jeans, my belly dips, and I suck in a breath. “Brock,” I hiss.

The night air is warm, the wind just lightly blowing around us. It’s the desert, so it could get cold randomly, but right now it’s warm. Not that any of that matters. My brain is a vessel right now for rambling thoughts, and I force myself to turn them off as I stare up at him, waiting for what he’s going to do.

Then he pops the button of my jeans.

“Brock,” I whisper again, this time my voice sounding just as shaky as my knees feel.

When his hand slips beneath my panties, his finger gliding through my wet center, my back arches and my eyes widen as I look up at him. Wow. I could come here and now. If he slid his thumb against my clit, I think I might actually be done for.

Brock dips his chin, lowering his head, and then his lips touch mine again. He doesn’t deepen the kiss. Instead, he uses it to drive me even wilder than I already am by speaking, his mouth moving against my lips with each word he says.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, babe. Tell me you want me inside your sweet cunt.”

Oh boy, do I—like, right now. Right this damn minute. I want him to be inside me, to fill me. I want him to make me feel good, like I know only he can. His fingers glide inside me, curling there as he begins to make come-hither motions.

My head falls back, my hands releasing his vest just to grab hold of his biceps. My nails dig into his skin, no doubt leaving marks there. He doesn’t stop moving his lips, still pressing against mine as he breathes against me there.

I swallow his breaths, letting them fill my lungs. I don’t know why that’s sexy, but I grow wetter with each moment that passes, and then he presses his thumb against my clit and my entire body trembles.

Rocking my hips, I climb toward my release. He lifts his head, his eyes finding mine. “I’m close, Brock,” I whisper.

The sounds of my words echo around us in the dark, empty parking lot. I’m sure there are cameras here, and if anyone showed up, we would probably be arrested for this, but I can’t seem to give a shit right now.

My entire body jerks when he pulls his fingers from inside me. I want them back there again. I don’t ever want him to leave my body. I want him inside me, surrounding me, whatever and wherever.

I open my mouth to beg him to touch me again. I don’t think I can feel this way for long without losing my mind completely, but he takes a step backward, then I watch as he lifts his hand to his mouth and slips the fingers that were just inside me between his lips.

His nostrils flare as he tastes me, and I know my cheeks turn bright pink at the same time. I’m only slightly embarrassed but can’t find the will to be completely embarrassed, because I want him—need him, desperately so.

“Next time, I’m eating you… and I’m taking my time,” Brock announces before he leans forward, shoving my jeans and panties down to the dirty ground.

His arm curls around my waist before he picks me up and sets me on the seat edge of his bike. I shift my gaze to meet his as I hear his belt buckle clink, then his jeans rustle and he moves closer to me.

His fingers curl around the backs of my knees, spreading my thighs wide as he presses the head of his length against my center. It’s like my body knows exactly who is ready to invade. Every muscle inside relaxes as I wait for his intrusion—as I crave his intrusion.

“Look into my eyes,” he demands.

I flick my gaze up, and my breath hitches when I see the look in his eyes. He’s beautiful. And as he slowly sinks inside me, I lift my hand, curling my fingers around the back of his neck for stability.

Brock begins to move, slowly, evenly, almost sweetly. Leaning back slightly, I place my free hand behind me on the seat. I hold on there as he sinks deep inside me. He begins to move, his gaze never leaving mine.

I’m already close, my body teetering on the edge. It’s not hard and fast. It’s with precision and the perfect rhythm to keep me on edge but not send me over. His eyes stay connected to mine, unmoving, unyielding.

When Brock rolls his hips, his pelvis grinds against my clit each and every downstroke, bringing me closer and closer to the edge. I’m ready to jump off, roll down, and enjoy the ride.

I fall.