I skim one hand up and cup her tit. Plush and full, heavy enough to make my palm ache. Her nipple’s already hard, begging for my touch. I roll it slowly between my fingers. Then tug, rougher than I should, like I’m teasing out a scream she’s too proud to give me.
‘I hate how good this feels. I hate you for knowing it.’ She lets her head drop back, offering her throat to me.
‘Hate me all you want, baby. Your body loves it.’
I bite her. Can’t help it. Sink my teeth into the nape of her neck, feel her pulse jump against my lips. I suck, let my tongue graze over the mark before pulling away.
Her hips buck, begging for more.
And who the fuck am I to deny her that?
I slide one hand to her jaw, pull her mouth to mine, and swallow the ragged, starving sound that slips free when my tongue brushes against hers.
She tastes so fucking good.
I roll my hips up, shoving my quad against her pussy hard, and she chokes on a moan.
I need to hear her say it.
Need to fucking hear it.
I break the kiss, press my forehead against her temple, still gripping her jaw tightly in one hand.
‘Say it, Charlie. Tell me you want it.’
She’s shaking. Her body is pleading for me. ‘Brodie…’
‘Say it, baby.’
She exhales sharply. ‘I-I want… I want you.’
The growl that tears from me is pure fucking ruin. I crash my mouth to hers. Branding her, owning her, telling her without words that she’s mine.
She fumbles behind her, grabs my cock through the cotton.
And…fuck.
Her breath catches – stunned – like she just clocked what she’s holding. She squeezes, and my vision fractures. Her grip shifts, tentative at first, then firmer. Exploring. Mapping me. Trying to figure out what she’s dealing with. A shaky breath spills from her, half awe, half hunger, and I bite down on a curse, because… Fuck, she likes what she’s holding.
Then she moves. A twist of her body, a press of small hands against my chest, and suddenly, I’m on my back, sinking into the mattress, breath fucking gone. She’s on top of me, knees bracketing my hips.
She strips my shirt off with a growl, flinging it to the floor like it’s burning her skin. And suddenly she’s bare to me. Glorious. Her tits are fucking art. Round and heavy with that pretty slope. Nipples set low but tipped up, waiting for my mouth. They sway when she moves, and all I can think about is how I want one in my mouth and the other in my hand while I fuck her slow enough to make her cry.
Her throat bobs. Something shadows across her face. But before I can name it, she sinks lower, grazing the trail where my pulse hammers.
She wants to take control? Wants to take me apart? She can have every goddamn inch. I won’t even pretend I haven’t imagined those lips stretched around me. I have. Her mouth. Her spit. Her throat. All mine.
She hooks her fingers into my waistband. I lift my hips, let her peel my briefs down. She goes quiet when she sees what she’s dealing with. Heavy. Flushed. Leaking. Desperate for her.
‘Christ, Brodie. Think you could’ve warned me?’
I let out a hoarse laugh. ‘What, so you could run?’
She bites her lip, eyes sparking. ‘So, I could brace myself.’
‘Too late for that.’ My voice is all gravel now. Hunger spilling over. Need eating me alive.
She wraps her fingers around me, strokes once, twice – too light, too teasing. I push up on one elbow, grab her jaw and trace my knuckle along her lower lip until her teeth let go. ‘Think you can take it, or is it too much for you?’
