God, maybe I was depraved, but I was willing to wear corrective lenses for the rest of my life if he could deliver on that promise.
I squeezed my legs together, felt the pulse. Then I closed my eyes, and leaped.
“I trust you, Brodie.”
He didn’t answer.
“I do. I don’t have the faintest idea how to prove that to you, but I do.”
The bed shifted as he rolled to face me. “I have an idea,” he said, and his voice was pure sin. “If you’re willing.”
His eyes gleamed in the tiny bit of illumination from the moon outside the windows, and I swallowed my instinctive reaction to flee. “I’m willing.”
Clamping a hand on my hip, he pulled me toward him. “All right, then.” Lowering his head, he kissed me, a fast, deep dive into sensation that sent my pulse racing. As he did so, he swept both hands down my body to the hem of my tee shirt and began to slide it up my torso. He broke his kiss to drag the tautly bunched fabric over my breasts, so it plucked my nipples to painful rigidity, and then further, up my neck and to my face. Here he stopped, positioning my arms beside my head so the fabric was stretched tightly from one wrist to the other directly over my eyes.“Stay just like this.”
I was blind.
All at once I understood. He would control me through my senses; in essence, ensure that I relinquished control in the most basic of ways. I would have no way of knowing what was coming next, no way of preparing for it.
All I could do was trust.
A finger touched my mouth, and I smiled. A question, an answer.
The bed shifted and a shiver ran through me as the air stirred. Then his fingers were at the waist of my panties, tugging them over my hips and down my legs. For what seemed like an eternity, there was nothing. No movement, no sound. I imagined him standing beside the bed, looking down at my nudity, maybe fisting himself. I wasn’t certain. He could just as easily have left the room.
My pussy throbbed. My nipples stood, turgid peaks pointed defiantly at the ceiling, begging for attention. They were so hard they hurt. I shifted on the bed, wanting desperately to touch myself if he wasn’t going to do it.
When two fingers clamped down on the nipple of one breast, I nearly came off the bed. My back arched, I moaned, and my hips twisted against the cool sheets. Brodie’s quiet laugh filled the silence.
His mouth replaced his fingers, sucking hard, and a hand landed between my legs, his fingers just barely brushing my sex. I wriggled furiously, trying to get closer to that elusive touch, but his other hand kept me firmly in place. “Shhh.” His breath whispered over my skin, raising goosebumps. “Be still.”
He switched to give my neglected breast a suckle and a nip that had me jerking in surprise, and then two calloused palms covered them, squeezing and teasing and plucking at my distended flesh until a garbled groan once again tore from my throat.
There was a whisper of skin against my stomach, the scrape of coarse stubble, and then his mouth closed over my clit, sucking firmly. I yelled, a hoarse cry that echoed from the corners of the room. His mouth curved against me and his tongue swiped from the bottom to the top of my slit. His hands moved from my breasts to my ass, where they lifted and spread me wide, and then he feasted at my table like it was his last meal.
He licked and lapped and loved every letter of the alphabet...shit, every letter in the Song of Solomon...into my skin, until my thighs shook and my pussy wept and my hands clenched against the fabric of my tee shirt.
My prized discipline of earlier was teetering on a wire, his touch unraveling my fragile balance. Earlier, I’d thought I needed to stay standing on that wire in order to keep from traveling to dark places and shadowy running trails.
Now, I knew. All I needed was the courage to lose myself completely.
Brodie dipped a finger deep within me, curling it against a spot heretofore undiscovered, and I shattered.He pressed the heel of his hand hard against my clit, moving it in tiny circles to draw every pulse of pleasure from me.
As the contractions faded to softer ripples, his hands moved, fabric rustled, and he was there, hard and blunt and hot against my entrance. I felt his hands at the cotton covering my eyes and an instant later it was gone, my vision filled with him instead of inky dark. He held me in his eyes as he splayed one hand across my ass and positioned me.
There were no words; none were needed. In a single smooth movement, he drove forward and into me. I keened at his thickness stretching me, filling me, and he held utterly still for a breath, until I wrapped my legs around his hips and tilted my pelvis up in offering.
He accepted my devotion. Eyes unflinching, he hitched one leg over his shoulder and thrust smooth and fast and solid within me, without, within...quickening the wet slap of our skin and the sound of our breath until the universe narrowed to nothing more than sound and sensation and his eyes on mine.
His other hand found and circled my clit until I writhed beneath him, a shaking, sweaty mess. He swelled within me, thickening and grinding hard against me as we chased the ineffable.
And when I toppled gracelessly from that wire, shouting hoarsely as I splintered in his arms a second time, he fell over the edge with me.
We rode the aftershocks together, cresting and trembling like leaves in the eddy of a car, until we were spent and still.
Brodie collapsed limp atop my body before rousing himself to lift his weight and withdraw from my body. An involuntary shudder ran through me at the drag of flesh and I reached to pull his face to mine and stare solemnly into his eyes. “Kidnapper.”
“Macushla.”
