I didn’t have it in me to argue with him. Could barely manage single syllables at this point. All I could do was hold on while he fucked me like a man possessed. Like he wanted to burrow so deep inside me, he’d never come out. Like he never wanted it to end.
“Once with you wasn’t enough,” he said, his hands still braced low on the backs of my thighs, thumbs running up and down my pussy lips as he thrust into me. “You think two’ll be the magic number? Or am I still gonna be craving your pussy when I wake up in the morning and can still taste you on my tongue?”
Before I could respond—with what, I had no idea—he pinched my clit, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, and I jerked my legs closed, the stimulation too much after coming twice in a row. “I don’t— I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “Spread those legs for me, lawbreaker, and hold on. You’re gonna be a good girl and give me another one. I want to feel your pussy squeezing me one more time.”
“No, I can’t.” I shook my head even while doing as he said. I gripped behind my knees, holding my legs tight to my chest as Brady fucked me with a single-minded focus. It didn’t matter, though. I’d never, ever come more than twice from sex. And twice was a stretch. Okay, once was a stretch, but that was what B.O.B. was for, right? “You won’t be able to make me come again.”
He stared down at me, shoulders tight and jaw clenched, looking like an angry avenging angel—or a demon sent straight from hell to tempt me. “Watch me.”
Still rolling my clit between his fingers and pumping his cock into me with slow, shallow thrusts, he palmed my lower stomach, his fingers stretching hip to hip. Then he pressed down on his next thrust, and I swore the entire fucking world could’ve exploded around me and I wouldn’t have cared.
My eyes widened, mouth dropping open on a gasp when he stroked the spot inside me. And then kept stroking it, over and over again, never losing his rhythm. This man I’d fought with for weeks and had fucked only twice had found—and exploited—what I’d only ever been able to reach with a specially designed vibrator.
“Oh shit,” I breathed, lips parted as I held my legs to my chest, spread open and waiting for him to send me where I needed to be. I split my gaze between his face, drawn in concentration, and where his cock disappeared inside me, its girth stretching me to a beautiful, pain-laced pleasure.
He let out a self-satisfied hum as my body responded to him, and he continued the slow, exquisite torture, playing my body like it was an instrument he’d studied for years. Never speeding his thrusts or increasing the pressure, even though I begged. And I did. I begged and pleaded, babbled incoherently as my orgasm built slowly inside until I could do nothing but wait for the wave to pull me under.
“Christ, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight. You’re gonna soak my cock, aren’t you, pretty girl? Gonna come all over me and prove I’m the one in charge of this pussy.”
Light burst behind my closed lids as a riptide swept me away, and I came on a choked sob, my heartbeat snuffing out every other sound in the room. The pleasure was blinding, exploding through me as my pussy pulsed with every wave that crashed over my body until I was a sated, boneless heap on the bed.
“That’s my good girl.” Brady’s groans filled my ears as soon as my heartbeat receded, and he dropped down, covering my body with his. He slipped his arm beneath me, sliding his hand up to grip my nape as he drove into me with slow, deep thrusts, his lips resting against mine. “You look so fucking beautiful coming all over my cock.”
God help me, but when he said things like that, it made me forget that we didn’t work. Didn’t make sense. That what we had was pure, carnal lust, plain and simple.
But when he held me tight and covered my mouth with his, filling me so slow and sweet, it was hard to remember all the reasons we weren’t a match. Hard to remember why we wouldn’t work. When he captured my lower lip between his, brushed his tongue against mine even as he settled deep and spilled himself inside me, he made it so easy to forget.
Through panting breaths, he kissed the corner of my mouth, my jaw, behind my ear, before pressing his face into the crook of my neck to catch his breath. And there, so soft I wasn’t sure I was supposed to hear, he mumbled, “Twice isn’t going to be nearly enough.”
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
LUNA
The faint soundof a ringing phone woke me, my body curled around a pillow that smelled an awful lot like Brady as if it were a raft in the middle of the ocean. I buried my face in the cotton cloud and inhaled deeply as images of last night—both times—crashed through me. My body heated all over, recalling exactly what Brady had been able to evoke in me and shuddering at the thought. After less than twenty-four hours, he already knew how to turn my brain into mush and turn my body into a live wire, so I’d hate to see what would happen if we spent any more naked playtime together.
Okay, that was a lie.
I wouldn’t hate to see it. In fact, I was damn curious. Would it only get better the more we learned, growing hotter and hotter until I burned from it, or would it fizzle out and fade away to nothing when he’d uncovered every bit of me and decided he didn’t like the raw, undiluted version of me, like every other relationship I’d ever had?
Though, truth be told, none of my other relationships had ever started like this. With a pull so deep, it felt like an actual tug under my skin. A connection so undeniable, I ached to be near him, even if just to bicker.
I reached around blindly, hoping to come in contact with a very warm, very hard body and see if he was up for round three, but ultimately came up empty. Lifting my head from the pillow, I glanced around the space I hadn’t gotten a good look at last night to find I was alone.
Sunlight streamed through the partially closed curtains, brightening Brady’s bedroom. It was clean and fairly barren—just this gigantic, ridiculously comfortable bed, a dresser, and a nightstand made of dark wood…none of which held any personal effects, though the faint scent of Brady still hung in the air. How long ago had he left, and why hadn’t he woken me up to kick me out when he’d gone?
The quiet of the space was interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing from down the hall, and I realized that was what had woken me in the first place. I shoved the fluffy dark-blue duvet off myself, catapulted off the bed to the floor, and picked up Brady’s discarded T-shirt before slipping it on. I padded down the hall to the guest room and picked up my phone, wincing as I found an incoming FaceTime call from my mom. I hadn’t stopped to glance at myself in a mirror, but I probably looked like a woman who’d been fucked within an inch of her life last night. But, well, it wasn’t like she thought I was a virgin.
I smoothed my hair back and accepted the call, holding the phone out in front of me as I plopped down on the guest bed.
Before I could say a word, Mom said, “Well…” with far too much excitement, her eyes pinging all over the screen as she no doubt catalogued every hair that was out of place and whatever the state of my face was. “I’m glad to see thestormdidn’t ravish you last night.”
I breathed out a laugh and rolled my eyes. “Morning, Mom.”
“Mhmm…morning, indeed.” She smirked as she propped her elbow on the table, the ever-present stack of bracelets jangling on her wrist as she rested her chin in her hand. Her eyes, the same blue-hazel as mine, stared back at me with interest. “I saw a replay of Mabel’s Live this morning and the damage the storm had already done last night, so I figured I’d give you a call. Where are you, anyway? That doesn’t look like the inside of your van.”
Well, this was going to be fun.
