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“Brooke,” I say with a shaking laugh.
“Sorry, sorry. Just thinking aloud. Please proceed.”
I know the rambling is a direct result of nerves and an inability to concentrate on anything else. I work hastily to give her something else to think of, spreading her thighs with the palms of my hands and licking a long, slow line right up the center of her.
She’s warm and wet and so fucking tasty. I groan.
Excited, my dick swings like he’s next at bat, fighting to escape the confines of my pants and the pressure of the bed. I deny him entirely. For now, this is all about Brooke.
I make soft, smooth movements with my tongue, savoring the taste of Brooke’s skin and excitement. She dances in her spot, grasping at the comforter and my hair and my shoulders and pretty much everything she can get ahold of.
I love it so much that I almost don’t realize at first…I’ve taken some of my moves directly from Clive without even meaning to.
The way he holds his hands on River’s pelvic bone to answer her hip thrusts. The way he positions River’s legs over his shoulders. The way he escalates the motion of his tongue to match the pace of her breathing.
I’ve done all of that tonight—and the results are outstanding.
Brooke’s back hasn’t un-arched since the curve started, and the sound of her moans is getting louder and louder with every lick.
It reminds me of when I heard her touching herself in the shower, and I feel like the luckiest son of a bitch that I’m about to be the one to make her come.
And I know from the feel of her on my tongue that she has to be getting close. Slow and easy, I add two fingers to the mix, working them inside her until they’re seated to the hilt.
She freezes for a long moment at the intrusion, and so do I, other than working my tongue at the sensitive clit above them.
“Chase,” Brooke whispers, her voice thick with need and rushed by want.
“I know,” I say softly against her, letting the warm air and vibrations from my mouth add to her sensations. “I know, baby. Just let it go.”
Back and forth, her head shakes against the comforter, and her hand latches into my hair, pulling several of the strands at the root. The demanding sensation is all I need to get me to push.
I lick and swirl and suck and pulse with my fingers until she’s mewling so loudly, the thin walls feel like they’ll shake down.
Her pussy is tight around my fingers, grasping and gulping until it finally releases into an earth-shattering quiver that fills my mouth with her release.
She tastes almost exactly like she smells, like a citrusy, warm summer night, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from coming right inside my still-fastened pants.
I’d be a harsher critic of that high school level of hormonal control, but Brooke is the kind of woman who tests a man’s willpower, no matter how tough he is.
Long, lithe limbs, sultry eyes, plump, pouty lips, and a body that could be on the cover of magazines are just the tip of the iceberg. Physically, she’s perfect. But she also makes it impossible to forget the rest of her—the humor, the heart, the passion.
She’s got so much packed into one relatively small human body, and to be the one experiencing a connection with her feels like the highest of privileges.
I push up on the bed and stand, shucking my clothes in what feels like slow motion. Brooke’s gaze is set, fixed on my every movement while she’s splayed on the bed recovering.
Pants, underwear, shirt, and bow tie removed, I climb back onto the mattress and sit, scooping up Brooke’s body and setting her astride me. Her eyes widen, but I don’t pause before scrunching the silk of her dress until most of it is contained in my hands and pulling it up and over her head.
“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” I say quietly, running the tip of my finger along the delicate lace covering her breasts.
She reaches behind herself to unclasp her bra, which pushes her chest toward me. I don’t miss the opportunity to catch one of her perfect nipples in my mouth.
She gasps, and I move from her breast to her mouth to catch it in a kiss. The feeling of her surprise against my lips might just be the second-best thing I’ve ever tasted. And it’s only topped by the other thing I’ve had tonight.
I kiss at her cheeks and her collarbone and her shoulder and along the length of her arm and then move back to her neck while pulling her close to me.
Her head falls back on a whimper, and I whisper against the most delicate of skin. “You’re so fucking perfect, Brooke.”
