“Well, how’d you like your first—”
I didn’t let him finish. I came right up to him, grabbed him by the jacket collar, and pulled him in for one of the most erotic kisses of my life. There was no buildup had here, no gentle, gradual uptick in kissing. I fucking needed him and craved him.
I almost pushed him onto the bike, but Brock gathered himself, grabbed my ass, and spun me around. He kissed my neck as he grabbed my breasts. Oh, I needed him. I fucking needed him.
I almost wanted us to have sex right here on this bike; if we were in a private garage, I probably would have. Out in the open, not so much.
“Come on,” I said. “Get inside and fuck me.”
Brock smacked my ass as we jogged up to his second-floor apartment. I squeezed his body as he fumbled in his pockets for his keys. His hands were shaking as he opened the door.
When he got it open, I shoved him inside and kicked it shut behind me. I leaped into his arms—and he caught me gracefully—as we again kissed, our tongues darting around each other. Somehow, in the whirlwind of movement, tongues, and hormones, we found our way to the bedroom, where we collapsed on our sides to each other.
Brock and I struggled to see who would wind up on top first. I wanted to go first so bad, but Brock had the strength advantage. He pushed me onto my back and began tugging my jeans off. I took off my shirt and bra for him—this was no time for slow foreplay. He already had his leather jacket off, and I got his white shirt off. I reached for his jeans, but Brock shoved me back down, spreading my legs and diving toward my sex.
“Ah!” I cried out as I arched my hips right into Brock’s face.
Fuck, for something that happened so quick, it felt so good. Brock had a cheat code to his advantage, too—even though the bike ride hadn’t made me orgasm, it had gotten me so far along the way that he really didn’t need to do that much work. I was already halfway on the verge of climax just from the anticipation, and now…
He cupped his hands under my ass, squeezed, and worked his tongue over me. I tried to writhe out of it, but Brock had a firm grip on me. Just staring down at those eyes of his, that determined, rugged look of his, I was helpless. I might have resisted the power of the chopper, but I could not resist the power of his tongue.
It all happened in a blur. It was obscene how fast the climax came. Yes, Brock had a built-in advantage; no, I did not care. I would make it mandatory that a bike ride take place before sex from here on out.
And when the climax hit, it didn’t feel like a gush of warmth so much as a tidal wave of it, like I was blind for seconds, just only gasping and groaning at the release. Brock never let up, never stopped, not until I reached down and all but yanked him by the hair.
“Oh my God…” I said. “Get a condom on and get inside of me now.”
“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Brock said.
The only problem with what he was doing was that he still fucking had his pants on! I reached over and yanked, and he got the hint. He shuffled them off as he grabbed a condom from his drawer. I gave a few good strokes to his cock when it sprung out, excited to have it inside of me.
“Yes, please,” I said.
Brock slid it on, hovered over me, and kissed me. He reached down, positioned himself just outside, and slid in.
It was actually fucking happening.
I was having sex with the man I’d wanted this whole time.
This whole fucking time!
“Oh, Brock,” I said.
“Tara, fuck, Tara…”
His words became gibberish, less comprehensible as English and better understood as the gasps and groans of a man in heat. I couldn’t get enough of this rugged man, of his perfect face, of his sharp jawline. He was everything I’d wanted and then some.
I curled my legs around him and grabbed his ass, trying to get him deeper and deeper. I could only close my eyes and go along for the ride, though I wanted to take control at some point. Some point, that was, after…
Yep, there it was. A second orgasm approaching.
Brock got me there again in just a matter of a minute. I didn’t know what the fuck he did, but good God, Brock could work some magic.
Brock had his way with me, even though I said I wanted to take control. It became apparent quickly that even when I was on top, he still had his way. It only seemed like I was in control.
Now I understood why Brock was such a stud. The looks mattered, yes, but it was that quiet certainty that he was in control of it all, doing everything as he so desired.
But by the time I had had my third orgasm, I’d had enough.
