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“Jesus!” I moaned, breaking away from his mouth, which he in turn used to bite my earlobe.
“Christ, Red,” he hissed in my ear as he slipped a third finger in with the other two while his thumb found my clit. “You’re fucking dripping down here, baby. You’ve wanted this as bad as me, don’t you?”
His proclamation only made me quake further and press my body against his hand. I was glad he was there to hold me up because as his fingers drove me further toward the edge of losing consciousness, I was also losing the ability to stand on my own.
“I got you, Skylar,” Brandon purred, pressing harder with his thumb. “Just let go, baby.”
It didn’t take much more than that before his talented fingers pushed a little harder, and I split into a million pieces. His mouth sealed over mine once more, his tongue silencing the moans that threatened to echo through the entire building.
Before I could come back down from where I was floating, he suddenly flipped me toward the wall with a quick, brutal motion, and yanked my pants the rest of the way down to my ankles. He took his hands away just long enough to unbuckle his jeans, and I heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper just before I felt him slipping between my legs. I arched back, but he didn’t enter. Not yet.
Brandon slipped one hand under my shirt and pinched my nipple through my bra. I bucked against him at the sensation, moaning slightly. His other hand skimmed down my hip, tugging me away from the cold, rough wall to receive him. His fingers went back to massaging my clit, causing the tension in my belly to start all over again.
“I’m going to fuck you, Skylar,” he rumbled into my ear. “Are you ready to take it?”
I couldn’t do anything but moan again, but I managed to nod as his fingers moved faster. Brandon spread my legs as far as they could go with the garments twisted around my ankles. Then, with one swift strike, he filled me completely. The hand on my breast dropped to my hip as he pulled out and slammed back in again. He picked up the pace, thrusting evenly to cause that strange feeling to build inside me I had only experienced once before—just a few weeks ago, just with him.
“Tell me,” he growled as he continued his unforgiving work. The fingers on my clit stroked with a rhythm that matched his hips, and I was finding it hard to think. “Tell me you want me.”
“Jesus!” I cried as he slammed into me again. “I do. God, Brandon, I want you so fucking bad.”
He hurtled in and out of me, skin slapping skin with every ferocious movement, the sounds of our bodies resonating up the walls. The tension in my belly spread through all my limbs, and I could feel another orgasm approaching with every single thrust, every single pinch.
“I want you to come, Skylar,” Brandon ordered. “I want to feel you come all around me.”
He pulled out one more time. And then, with his final, hardest thrust, I fell forward and groaned as I lost all control over my body and my mind. Brandon collapsed over my back, his entire body throbbing as we shuddered together.
When I finally started to return to reality, the rough surface of the concrete wall rubbed uncomfortably against my cheek. I was standing in a dark stairwell of MIT, where several faculty members of the most prestigious technical institute in the world could plausibly see me with my pants around my ankles.
Well, at least it wasn’t a Harvard building.
I shifted, and Brandon pulled out with a sigh. As gracefully as I could, I squatted down to tug my pants back up, wondering just what I had done. I had promised myself I’d take it slow with him. Considering it wasn’t like me to have sex with a man on our first date, it definitely wasn’t like me to have sex in a public stairwell. Not to mention lose control like that…again.
I was starting to rack up quite a few things on the list of out-of-character things I seemed to do when I was with Brandon.
When I turned around, Brandon was staring at me, chest still heaving although he had neatly closed his pants and somehow disposed of the condom. I noticed all sorts of small details about him I hadn’t seen before. He had a tiny scar notched just right of his left eyebrow, and a few worry lines crisscrossed over his eyes, currently the color of the Caribbean. A drop of sweat made its way from his hairline down the bridge of a nose that would be knife-straight were it not for an obviously once-broken bridge.
I reached up with a finger and wiped the drop away before it could fall to the floor. My touch broke our silent trance.
Brandon blinked, then stamped a brief but thorough kiss on my swollen lips. He looked appreciatively over me before he reached down to help me button my jeans.
“Don’t,” I said, batting his hands away. After what he had just done, I could handle redressing myself.
“I, ah…” he began, trailing off as he ran a sheepish hand through his mussed hair. I reached out and smoothed it around his ear, and was rewarded with a heart-melting smile as he grabbed my hand and kissed it.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” he said against my palm before releasing it.
“I wasn’t either,” I murmured, my face turning red.
But if he thought less of me, Brandon showed no signs of it as he pulled me to him and nuzzled into my neck. “You seem to bring things out in me…” he said gruffly. “I don’t know. This was very…out of the ordinary.”
I blew out a long, relieved breath. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
Brandon stood up and smiled.
“Come on, Red, let’s get out of this dungeon,” he said as he straightened his jacket. “I’m starving, and I’m thinking pizza and some decent beer is in order.”
Twenty-One
