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Mya
Brady isdangerous to my psyche. When I'm with him, I lose control. I find myself acting in a way I've never done before.
I'm bold and daring.
Assertive.
I don't have an issue taking control, going after what I want.
Not that I was trying to trick him into having unprotected sex. I'm not ready for any potential consequences that could come attached to that stupid decision. I honestly wasn't thinking about anything other than the fact I wanted him inside me. My body was craving him, still in a post orgasm haze.
The panic in his eyes when he realized we'd forgotten the condom was startling. I want to know why, but I didn't want to ruin the moment and ask him about it.
And all thoughts of diving down that rabbit hole are forgotten when he slides inside me, this time from behind, with me on all fours, my head in his pillow. His grip on my hips tighten as he thrusts deep before setting a pace that has us both breathing heavily in minutes.
Slowing things down and drawing out the moment, he flips me over, sliding back into me as our eyes connect. I feel it—whatever it is he's trying to communicate with me—but block it out. Because I could get lost in those marble gray eyes and fall for this man even more than I already have.
Taking his time, Brady worships my body. With his hands, mouth, tasting every inch of my skin. Drawing circles around my nipples before sucking them into his mouth. Working me into a frenzy at a slow and steady pace before thrusting deep only to slide almost completely out of me before slamming into me again.
His urgency is back. The overwhelming need growing between us.
Only, this time, we both are able to hold out longer. Making the moment stretch on. The sound of his balls slapping against my ass mixed with our heavy breathing and groans a symphony echoing off the walls of his bedroom.
Music to my ears.
A melody I want to listen to on repeat for hours. Days. Forever.
I can't get enough of the way he feels. Or the way he makes me feel. His hands caressing my body, making me feel cherished and ravished at the same time. His grip on my hips tightening the closer we both rise toward the heavens.
That's what it feels like. An out of body experience at times. Like I’m not really there. That it isn't possible Brady is the man inside me. The man I've secretly lusted after for so long. Who I purposely tried to lure in time and time again only for him to disappear.
Clenching my walls around him, Brady groans, his rhythm faltering. When I finally let go, my orgasm too powerful to ward off any longer, I feel him slip even deeper, and that's all it takes for him to follow me.
"I could do that all night long," he says as he steps into a clean pair of boxer briefs, the outline of his dick still at half mast, causing something to stir inside me.
"Why are you putting on clothes then?" Rolling onto my stomach, I rest my head on my arms and watch as he continues to dress.
"Because I've held you captive for five hours already. I should probably take you home at some point." Brady points at the clock above his bedroom door. It's after eight o'clock already. I'm not sure what time we got here, but it doesn't feel like we've been having sex for hours.
Well, unless you ask my thighs. They're a little sore. Like I've just done a hundred squats.
Brady tosses me my shirt and bra. Pushing into a sitting position, I tuck my legs under me and begin dressing. Brady watches me closely as he turns my leggings right-side out, finally setting those on the bed next to me. I'm about to reach for them when he places his hand on my chest and gently pushes me back against the bed, covering my half-naked body with his.
His lips capture mine before I can protest.
Instead of the demanding nature of our other kisses, this one is slow and gentle. His tongue darts out, licking the seam of my lips and coaxing me to open them for him. His fingers thread through my hair, gripping it before tugging slightly so my head tilts up. When I moan into his mouth, he slows our kiss before pulling away.
"I really should get you back to campus." His lips are still pressed against mine, as if he's not sure of his words. Or he doesn't want them to be true. "If I keep kissing you, I may never let you leave."
The thought of being held captive by Brady doesn't scare me. In fact, it has the opposite effect. It makes me want to strip him of all his clothes and ride him the rest of the night.
I don't get the chance to act on my fantasy, though, because he's helping me into my leggings seconds after jumping off of me. After using the bathroom, we're out the door.
He's quiet. Too quiet. Inside his own head if the blank stare is any indication. We ride down the elevator in uncomfortable silence. My insecurities are screaming at me.
That I just made a mistake.
I ruined our friendship.
