“Not good enough,” he stated. “I want to see you.”
He reached down and tugged at my panties.
I was too turned on, too primed to even think about being embarrassed when I spread my legs again.
“Oh yeah,” he murmured, his eyes glassy with desire. “I can see you. So fucking pretty. And that’s all for me, isn’t it?”
I nodded again.
He slid his hands beneath my behind and dragged me toward the edge of the bed. And then he got down onto his knees and placed my legs on his shoulders.
“I’m going to fuck you with my tongue,” he said. “I’m going to fuck you with my tongue and you’re going to make a fucking mess. Aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
With a wicked grin, he bent his head and feasted.
Brooks knew exactly what to do to make my vision blink in and out.
“Oh God,” I moaned.
My vocal cry only made him more eager. More determined. Like he had something to prove.
He learned my body and discovered the rhythm that made me mindless.
And when I felt the first tremors of my orgasm, I held on for dear life as pleasure was ripped from me.
I screamed, a primal cry of satisfaction.
There was no chance of keeping it inside.
I came harder than I’d ever come before. I didn’t know if it was Brooks’ skill or if it was because it was just Brooks, but for the first time in my existence, I was completely in my body and felt everything down to my toes.
My breaths came in labored pants as I stared up at the ceiling.
Tears gathered in my eyes. I closed them in an attempt to hide the emotion, but a hiccough escaped.
“Freckles?”
And then I burst into tears.
He slid his body up the bed and took me into his arms.
And held me while I cried.
He crooned nonsense against my temple, patiently waiting for the storm to pass.
I sniffled and wiped my wet cheeks, breathing in the clean scent of his skin at his throat.
“Wanna tell me what that was about?” he asked gently.
“No.”
His arms tightened in silent demand.
“It was just . . . overwhelming. And I wasn’t expecting that.”
“You’re a passionate woman.”
