“I’m good. You’re good. Promise.” I kiss him again between breathless pants, soothing the worry. Brighton’s about as ready for another kid as I am for my first. His terror is palpable.Birth control is quite possibly a girl's best friend.
His eyes darken with a new hunger as he understands what I’m saying and exhales the breath he’s holding. He nods, his movement becoming erratic as he chases his release and drags me to the edge with him. He throbs inside of me, and it sends delicious shockwaves through me and into my stomach and toes.
“Mmm,” I moan, grabbing his jaw and rubbing my thumb over his bottom lip.
Brighton shivers hard, and his orgasm hits like a tidal wave. He buries himself deep inside of me and comes with a deep groan that bubbles up from the base of his throat. His hands dig into my skin hard enough to mark me with his fingertips for days to come, and he kisses me messily, swallowing my moans that follow. We tangle together as we both rock through the rest of the pleasure. Sloppy kisses are left against my throat, jaw, and sweaty temple as he rolls his hips up against me, slowly drawing out every single drop he can get from me until I’m nothing but a panting, boneless mess in his arms.
I pull on his hair again, harder this time, as his cock twitches inside of me, and he lets go of the most beautiful whimper.
“What was that for?” he growls and digs his fingers into my ass roughly.
“I needed to make sure you were real,” I whisper in a shallow breath.
Brighton chuckles, “You hair-pulling, aggressive little monster.” His fingers tickle my ribcage, and I start to laugh. Just when I think he’s going to tell me that he doesn’t like it, his chin tilts up, and he pulls me against his chest tightly, “do it again,” he purrs in a tone that I didn’t even know he could make.
“We’re going to have to test out your boundaries,” I say, brushing my nose against his with a smile as he gives me another tiny thrust, his cock already hardening for more.
“Oh yeah?” His eyes flutter closed. “Why’s that, MissI’m-not-very-good-at-bossy?” he asks with a small laugh,crackling an eye open as I kiss him.
I pull back just enough to speak, our lips brushing together as I do. “Because that was the hottest thing a man could ever do.”
Brighton’s eyes light up, and he nods eagerly, like I mean right this second, his hips rolling up against mine slowly. He flips me over in the bed, warranting a tiny yelp as he hovers over me and kisses me gently. “That was just the practice, Hellcat,” he warns, and crashes down on top of me. “You should see me come game time.”
“Please.” I laugh at how serious he is and tug him back for more kissing.
“I told you I’d be good to you,” he whispers against my mouth, and I think I might die.
What a damn good way to go.
“Where are we going?” Rhea asks as I open the passenger door for her.
“Do you understand the definition of a surprise, Hellcat?” I help her out onto the concrete and exhale a breath at the sight of her.
“Eight-hour drives are not surprises, they’re road trips. If we’re camping again, I’m going to kill you,” she warns, and I scoff.
“In that outfit?” I look at her in disbelief. I told her to dress up, and what I had in mind wasn’t even in competition with how she looked. Her strong thighs in the tiniest leather skirt, that barely covered her ass, and those boots she was wearing the night she hurt her hand—the ones that hug her perfect calves. “I’m going to jail tonight,” I grumble under my breath, and she laughs.
“What, you don’t like my skirt?” she asks, fluffing the pleats with her ring-laden hands and showing off the red underwear she has on beneath it.
“Cut it out, or we won’t even make it inside,” I demand, and she gives me a tiny shrug.
“Killjoy,” she grumbles, and I tap her ass as she wanders in front of me. “There better be a good reason you dragged me all the way out here.”
“Read.” I point to the sign about the stadium.
Her eyes scan the big letters that say WWE in bright white, and then her head snaps to me as I hold out two passes in my hand. She grabs one, reads it over, and looks up at me with glassy eyes.
I laugh, caught off guard by her reaction. “Why are you crying?” I step forward, using my thumb to catch the tear that falls and threatens to ruin her pretty, dark makeup.
“This is really nice,” her voice shakes.
“It’s just SmackDown, Hellcat.” I inspect her face to make sure there are no more tears before stepping back and helping her put the access badge over her head.
“It’sringsideSmackDown,” she says, staring up at me with her brows pinched tight. “These must have cost a fortune, Brighton!”
And every bit is worth that look on your face.
“Nope,” I say. “Come on, before we're late.”
