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Lindy’s voice calls out for me before she tells her friends I must not be home.
Brandon’s mouth skims my ear. “I saw Lindy on the monitor in the kitchen, walking up to the front door with Gracie and Evie,” he whispers and leans his forehead against mine.
There’s something so incredibly hot about the tight strain in his jaw.
I love knowing I do that to him.
His cock jumps between my thighs, and I grind down, my eyes locked on his.
“Think you can be quiet, Brandon?” His eyes flare with red hot need before I hear the girls in the kitchen.
Brandon’s eyes grow heavier and heavier as he slowly, silently leans me against the back wall. and I grind down again and angle my hips as his cock brushes my entrance.
The girl’s laughter fades away until all I hear is our shallow breathing.
Tuning everything else out.
Brandon’s hands mold to my body.
His lips press to mine. “Quiet, baby.” Then he slides back inside, hitting an entirely new angle, andoh my fucking God.
My head lolls back against the wall as Brandon fucks me achingly slow, and I cling to him, my nails digging into his massive shoulders.
He sucks the sweet spot where my neck and shoulder meet, and I open my mouth on a silent scream.
“Shh...”
“Don’t stop,” I whisper, pleading but practically silent against his lips, then tightening my legs around his waist.
“So fucking pretty,” he growls in my ear. “So fucking mine.”
He cradles my face in his hand, worshipping my mouth and pushing me higher and higher until there’s nowhere to go and nothing to do but shatter into a million pieces. My orgasm rips through me in a violent, crashing wave.
Brandon swallows my silent screams as he fucks me through my orgasm. Never making a sound. Never missing a beat. Pounding into me. Filling me over and over until I can’t move or speak or fucking think, and he finally comes.
I have no idea how much time goes by before he lowers me to the floor, then helps me dress while a dopey smile spreads across my face.
For a hot second, I feel like a teenager trying not to get caught. But then I remember I have a teenager who I hope and pray is nowhere near ready to have sex yet, and push that thought aside.
We listen for voices or signs of life. “Do you think it’s safe?”
Brandon presses his ear up against the door and waits. “I don’t hear them, and those girls aren’t usually quiet.”
“Okay.” I kiss his lips and smile deviously. “I’ll go first.”
“You always go first. That’s the rule, baby.” His hand snakes out and smacks my ass, and I gasp and giggle.
“Such a gentleman.” I quietly open the door and step into the kitchen, followed by Brandon, who quite literally plows me over as I stop on a dime. His hand reaches out and steadies me before I can face-plant, and I stare in horror at Everly Sinclair, who’s sitting at my counter, her phone in her hand. Her pretty blue eyes are huge orbs of shock.
She looks down at our two phones on the counter, then picks one up and offers it to us. “Pretty sure this is yours, Dixon. It’s been blowing up for a few minutes.”
He takes it from her with horror-filled eyes.
This is bad.
We just got caught.
Like teenagers.
