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So did I, despite everything. Guess I was still wiped from a long-ass day. I also felt a little less panicky after taking the Plan B.
Being in Brooks’s bed doesn’t hurt either. The mattress is heavenly. The sheets smell like detergent and feel like silk. I nuzzle into my down feather pillow and sigh. My alarm, set for five o’clock, hasn’t gone off yet. But I can tell from the grey-blue light peeking through the drapes that I’ll need to get up soon.
Blinking, I take stock of my body. Nothing feels different. Both the pharmacist and Brooks’s ER doctor friend said the medicine was highly effective when taken this early, but that I could get some cramping or nausea. Some breast tenderness too.
So far, so good.
Brooks’s chest presses into my back on a deep inhale. He makes this deliciously rumbly sound, his arm tightening around my waist.
“Hi,” I whisper.
He kisses the back of my neck. “Hey.” His voice is deep, gravelly. Scraped bare.
So sexy I have to bite my lip at the wave of erotic sensation that ripples through my skin at the sound of it.
“How are you feeling?” He’s kissing my shoulder now. I feel his dick pressing against the back of my thigh.
“I feel good.”
He reaches between my legs. “How good?”
“Very good. You sleep okay?”
“Like a fucking rock. But you’re here, so that’s a given. You?”
My heart skips a beat. I like knowing I’m a comfort to him. That he feels safe with me.
I like it too much.
“Same.”
His fingers find me. He makes that sound again. “I like how wet you are for me.”
I smile harder, rolling my hips into his touch. “Can’t help it.”
His hand moves to cup my breast. He gently gives it a squeeze, plucking my nipple. My breath catches.
He goes still.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Just a little tender.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t—”
“No, we should. Get a condom.”
Laughter rumbles in his chest. “Yes ma’am.”
He puts on the condom and then gently rolls me onto my belly. “Let’s try something new. Let me know if it’s too much, okay?”
“Okay.”
My clit swells when he gets on his knees behind me and grabs my hips, hiking them up so I’m face down, ass up. He thumbs my slit, drawing moisture from my center over my clit. I yelp, my legs starting to shake. Not one minute in, and I’m about to come.
He notches himself at my entrance with one hand. He wraps the other around my neck, pinning me to the bed. I turn my head on the pillow to look at him. My stomach flips at the look in his eyes. They’re hot and soft and . . . a little sad?
Why?
“It’s going to feel very full at first.” He pushes a little bit inside me. “Talk to me.”
The pressure is immediate. “Full. But not bad. Keep going.”
He pushes a little farther, his face a mask of concentration. A little blip of pain. I must tense, because Brooks reaches around and circles the pads of his first two fingers over my clit. I feel myself pulse around his length inside me.
“Fuck,” he sputters, brows curving upward. “You feel good, sweetheart.”
“More. Please.”
He pushes again, this time sinking all the way inside me. The pressure—the swirling, spiraling beat of my impending orgasm—
Together, they are everything.
“Come, sweetheart,” he says through gritted teeth. “I know you want to.”
I do. I come, hard, crying out his name. He starts to thrust as I’m still coming, the friction prolonging my orgasm for one heartbeat, then another. Another.
His grip on my neck is fierce but his thrusts are luxuriously slow and deep. But he’s still got that look on his face—the focus, the pain.
Something’s up.
But then he’s flipping me onto my back and pulling out of me.
“Brooks, please don’t—”
“Only me.” He rears over me and pulls the condom off. I’m confused, brain still muddled from the intensity of my orgasm. He starts stroking himself, his eyes locked on mine. “Say you only get wet for me.”
I blink, my throat instinctively tightening. “Only you. I mean that.”
His hips jerk and he hangs his head, his hand working harder now, faster. “You only come for me.”
“I do.”
“You only—Christ.” He thumbs his head and a rope of white, hot cum spills onto my stomach. It’s lewd, but also arousing as hell. The fading heat between my legs flares to new life as he lifts his hips and empties what’s left onto my breasts. I gasp.
He looks up. His blue eyes are feral, shining with a possessiveness that turns my insides to mush. He thumbs the pearlescent liquid on my breast, smearing it over my nipple.
Then he brings that thumb to my mouth. “Open.”
I do.
“Suck.”
I do.
“Swallow.”
I do.
His eyes flash. “You only taste me. You only swallow me. No one else comes fucking near you, understood?”
My eyes sting. I swirl my tongue around his thumb, licking the last of his saltiness from his skin. This possessiveness isn’t new, but the intensity of it is. It’s arousing, yes, but frightening too.
