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Why am I thinking so much? Just fuck the guy. Get to the orgasm.
“Good,” he rumbles. His mouth takes mine again, and the next second my feet are dangling over the ground.
He carries me to his bed, still devouring my mouth, and then he lays me softly on the sheets. I’m so hot, so wet. I can feel it. I’ve never craved to have a man inside me like this. The muscles between my legs tense and release, just wanting him to enter. Craving that fullness and connection.
I need to stop thinking. Worrying. I always think too much. Of course I’ll orgasm. I’ll orgasm with Brody because he makes every part of me feel alive. He’s unlike any man I’ve ever met or seen on TV. Unlike any man who exists in the entire universe. He’s everything.
I need confidence. I will share in that orgasm. I have to. I’ll implode if I don’t.
I pull him closer and his weight covers me with a comforting pressure. I kiss him back with my own desire and hunger, and his body moves with frantic energy. His hips grind against me, hands exploring my sides, one dipping to cup my ass, the other dangerously close to my chest. He lifts me suddenly to yank off my top.
“Tell me if I’m too rough or chatty,” he says, staring at my bare breasts like they’re dinner. “I’ve been waiting too long to have you.”
I snake my fingers through his hair and pull him down. I want to know what it feels like to have him enjoy my breasts for dinner. His dark hair dusts my skin as he latches on to a nipple. A moan pours from my throat. It’s a sharp sensation when he holds the puckered flesh between his teeth and tugs, releasing it to suck and cover me with the slick inside of his mouth. His tongue is wide, strong, and I wonder what it will feel like between my legs.
“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “Keep moaning like that and I’ll spill in my jeans.”
I moan again, but not to provoke him. The way he’s rubbing my chest—pulling my nipples, squeezing, leaving my skin wet and hot—feels incredible. I need to touch him. I haven’t stopped thinking about that day I watched him. I need to feel his length. My hands are burning for it.
After I fumble with his belt buckle for a few moments, he sits back and does the rest. He pulls off his clothes so my eyes can explore every firm muscle of his physique. He should win every fitness competition ever created. He’s even a million times sexier than Wolverine. Sorry, Hugh.
He strokes himself and my breath stops. Why is that so appealing? So sexy and masculine.
He strokes faster, the head of his cock swollen, moisture already pearled on the tip. “I’m so turned on. You look like you want it bad. Is this what you want?”
I blush. Yes. Yes, I want it. I want him. I press my index finger to my lips while staring at his length.
He raises an eyebrow. “You’re determined to make me come first, aren’t you?”
After he positions himself over me, I take him into my mouth. I hope I do this right. I’ve never done it on a man, only a cucumber for practice, so I can only mimic what I think porn stars do. Starting slowly, I focus on the tip, circling my tongue. He moans, so I pull him in deeper, all the way to the back of my throat. I’m glad I got rid of my gag reflex, because the way he’s groaning and sucking in shaky breaths makes those months of shoving a toothbrush past my tonsils worth it.
I lick up and down his length, gripping the base with my hand. It’s warm and hard, but also velvet. Beautiful, warm velvet in my mouth that swells with every lick. I love the firmness against my tongue. I reach around with my other hand to grip the strong curve of his backside, encouraging him to thrust forward each time I move my head to slide him deeper into my mouth.
He grunts and pulls out. With a shudder, he says, “Give me a second. Seriously, that felt too good. I almost came. I want to pleasure you first.”
While he’s cooling down, I play with my breasts.
He chuckles. “Why did I think I could handle you in bed? My dick is way too eager.”
As he watches me, eyes appreciating my naked torso, something shifts. His demeanor. The flames of passion and hunger in his eyes cool, replaced by something else. Tenderness. He positions himself on top of me, hips nestling between my thighs. We share a gentle kiss and he caresses my cheek.
“You’re so beautiful, and I love having you here.” His lips hang open above me like he wants to reveal a secret. Instead, he swallows. Then he nips my neck and his voice deepens. “I’ve fantasized about this. What you taste like. How you sound when you come.” His hand pushes under the waistband of my yoga pants. “Are you going to come for me?”
God, I hope so.
When his fingers press into my crease, I gasp and flinch. I put my hand on top of his and push down so he learns how to touch so I’m not jumpy.
“Harder pressure?” he asks.
I nod.
“Let me eat you. I need to.” He doesn’t wait for my response. He’s made up his mind, pulling my phone from my waistband before yanking my pants off. He spreads me open and looks. Just looks. Like he’s appreciating an exquisite work of art. He has the look Dr. Strange does the moment he discovers magic is real.
As Brody savors me with his eyes, his fingers are too light on my inner thigh, and I squirm. Grimace.
“Sorry,” he whispers. “Just admiring how beautiful you are.”
