She shatters on a broken cry, her body tightening and pulsing around my hand, and I’m already crawling up her, hungry, wrecked, desperate for more. I slide my cock through her wet lips, dragging the pierced head over her swollen clit. She thrusts up on instinct, chasing the friction. Her body already knows it’s mine.
I can’t stop watching my dick glide through her pussy lips over and over, the shine of her arousal coating me. Jesus, I’m going to come and I’m not even inside her yet. “Fuck. Oh fuck.” I spill between her pussy lips and she moans too, another orgasm tearing through her as my release coats her. I give myself a minute, kissing up her stomach, sucking on her pretty nipples, letting the heat settle just enough before bringing her mouth to me.
I roll onto my back and she straddles my waist, kissing me deep, her fingers sliding into my hair, holding on tight as she trails kisses down my chest and bites gently on one of my nipples. Fuck, I’m hard again already. That took no time at all.
She rocks against me, slow and needy, over and over until we’re both slick and messy and my cock slips right inside her. She moans loud and desperate, her body opening around me. I grip her hips and guide her rhythm, helping her ride my shaft. I know I’m a big motherfucker, and the piercings only add to it.
“I don’t know if I can take all of you, you’re so damn big,” she moans as I lift my hips, thrusting back into her. Her walls constrict around me, dragging me deeper, pulling me in like she needs every inch. Her body was fucking made to take me.
I roll us over and take control. Leaning down, I kiss her deep and slam into her. I drive in and out of her tight pussy, slow at first, then faster, over and over until tears slip from the corners of her eyes. I kiss them away as she gasps and moans beneath me.
This is the most intense fuck of my life. And it’s fucking Brooke. My princess. The only woman I’ve ever wanted and knew I couldn’t have. But now she’s mine. Fucking mine, and I’m never letting her go.
I’m so damn close to coming inside her, filling her womb with my cum. The thought of it taking root, of making her pregnant, floods my head until it’s the only thing that matters. I fuck her harder, driven by the need to seal myself into her, to leave no doubt that this woman is all fucking mine.
“Tell me you’re close, baby,” I murmur, my voice low and rough against her ear. “I need you to come for me one more time, andthen I’m going to come inside your perfect pussy. I want to feel you break around me. I want to hear you say my name when you do it. Don’t hold back. Don’t think. Just let go for me. Now come.”
She cries out, “Javier, I’m… oh my God…” Her voice breaks as she shatters around me, coming undone in my arms, and that’s all it takes. I lose it right with her, groaning as I come, my body locking tight as the wave tears through me.
SIXTEEN
BROOKE
My lungs are still draggingin air like I’ve just run a marathon. My body feels loose and shaky and too full all at once, nerves buzzing everywhere. I’m still catching my breath when Javier shifts and pulls out of me. Then he gets out of bed and panic spikes sharp and immediate, slicing straight through the hazy warmth.
Oh god. Does he want me to leave? What the fuck did we just do?
My chest tightens like a fist closing around my ribs. I stare at the empty space beside me, my heart starting to race again for all the wrong reasons. My brain spirals fast, grabbing at every ugly possibility. Too much. Too intense. Too messy. Maybe I crossed some invisible line. Maybe I scared him off. Maybe this was just heat and now reality is crashing back in. I was just a casual fuck for him and now he wants me out of his bed and for us to go back to where things were before. I curl my fingers into the sheets, trying not to let the panic show on my face even though I’m alone in the bed. My throat burns like I might cry, and that somehow scares me even more. A couple minutes pass. Ormaybe ten seconds. Time feels warped when fear gets its claws in you. Then the mattress dips.
I suck in a breath as he comes back, and before I can even look up, warmth presses gently between my thighs. A warm damp washcloth. My breath catches hard in my chest.
“I’m sorry, love,” he murmurs softly. “I didn’t mean to be so rough with you.”
His voice is low and sincere and threaded with something tender that punches straight through my fear. He slides the cloth slowly, soothingly, cleaning me with patient care that feels almost intimate in a different way than everything that came before.
My body reacts anyway, a small involuntary shiver chasing up my spine. I bite down hard on my bottom lip as my eyes sting. Tears flood fast and hot, blurring my vision. I refuse to let them fall. Not now, not when I finally feel safe again. I swallow hard, trying to get control of the messy knot in my chest. God, I’m such a mess.
He finishes, sets the cloth aside somewhere I can’t see, then climbs back into bed beside me. His arm comes around me immediately, pulling me into his chest like he’s anchoring me there. His hand rubs slowly up and down my back, steady pressure along my spine that makes my breathing start to even out without me meaning it to.
“Talk to me, Princess,” he says quietly. “You haven’t said anything and it’s freaking me the fuck out.”
My throat tightens again. I open my mouth and nothing comes out at first. Too many feelings stacked on top of each other.Relief. Vulnerability. Fear. Aftershock. “I…” My voice cracks and I have to pause, swallow, steady myself.
His arm tightens just a little. Protective. Present. “Do you regret it?” he asks carefully. “Want me to take you home?”
That hits harder than anything else. The idea of leaving his arms right now feels wrong in a way I can’t even explain. I still against him and tilt my head back to look up at his face. His eyes are searching mine, worried, raw in a way that makes my chest ache. “No,” I say immediately, the word tumbling out fast and honest. “Javier, I could never regret what we just shared. It was so intense. So… it was everything.” My voice softens on the last word. Emotion swells too big for my chest again and one stupid tear escapes anyway, sliding down my cheek before I can stop it.
He leans in and kisses it away gently, like it matters. Like I matter. And something inside me finally loosens, the fear bleeding out of my system as his arms tighten around me again and the world feels steady instead of sharp.
He doesn’t pull away far. Just enough to look at me. Then he kisses me again, slower this time. Softer. Reverent. His mouth lingers against mine like he’s imprinting the moment instead of consuming it. His hand cups the back of my head, thumb brushing my temple, grounding and gentle in a way that makes my chest ache.
When he pulls back, his forehead stays pressed to mine. The way he’s looking at me does something dangerous to my heart. His eyes aren’t dark with hunger now. They’re open. Warm. Steady. Focused on my face like I’m the only thing in the room that matters.
I search his expression, trying to read whatever just shifted between us, trying to find the words for the way my pulse still feels tangled up in his. “What did we just do?” I whisper.
It’s not an accusation. It’s awe mixed with uncertainty. Like I’m standing at the edge of something big and unnamed.
His mouth curves into a slow grin, that familiar flash of confidence breaking through the softness. “We finally stopped pretending,” he says easily.
