‘I always…look good…on top.’
His laugh melts into a growl as I fuck him faster, greedy for the full stroke of him, my calves cramping, and I can’t care. I keep going just the way I need it.
‘That’s it, baby. Use me. Fuck yourself on me. Make a fucking mess.’
Oh god. This man.
I’m so close I can taste it, heat snaking up my spine. Pressure pulsing in my core.
‘Please,’ I gasp on a sob. ‘Please, Brodie. Make me come… Make me…’
He drives the heel of his hand right where I’m throbbing for it, and I cry out.
‘That what you need? Need me to rub that clit?’
‘Yes – fuck – yes!’ I claw at his chest. ‘Please, Brodie. Need it so bad. Oh GOD!’
He circles me fast and relentlessly, and the pressure lights me up from the inside. I can’t hold back… Can’t stop how I’m shaking, thrusting down harder, using him the way he told me to.
And I crest with a scream.
Savage heat barrels through me. I writhe against his palm, soaking him, clutching around him. He keeps working his hand on me until I’m nothing but sobs and pleasure, begging for mercy I don’t want.
A hoarse sound tears from his throat. Now both hands seize my hips, dragging me down, deeper, holding me there.
‘AH! Yes. Yes! Fuck. Cha—’ He chokes on my name, and I feel it.
His body jolts under mine, hips lifting enough to drive up. He groans, loud and ragged, as he comes. Hot, helpless, spilling in thick spurts. His breath fractures. His grip bruises. He goes still, letting it crash through him.
I feel his heart jumping against his ribs. He slides his hands up my sides and pulls me down, crushing me against him as he groans out the last of it.
One last pulse hits, snug inside me, and I feel every twitch.
‘Oh god. Charlie. Can’t…fuck…can’t even breathe.’
There’s something stunned in his expression, like I broke him and he doesn’t know how to put himself back together.
I know the feeling.
He wraps his arms around me, holding me so tight it hurts. I lick my tongue over his neck, tasting sweat and salt and something achingly real. My body’s still pulsing, and I’m caught between bliss and disbelief. I can’t help it that my heart trips over itself at the way he’s holding me, like he’s never letting go.
Good. Cause I’m here to stay.
‘You’re mine,’ he murmurs against my hair. ‘But god help me, Charlie, I’m so fucking yours.’
Chapter17
Brodie
If there’s one thing better than my girl in my rugby shirt, it’s my girl in my rugby shirt in my bed, eating my beans on toast after I fucked her six ways from Sunday.
She’s perched cross-legged on the bed, hair wild and sticking up in places, my shirt drowning her. Bare legs peek out from underneath, and her cheeks are all pink. Sex suits her. Being worshipped suits her. The empty plate’s balanced on her knees, and she’s licking tomato sauce off her thumb with a little furrow between her brows.
It’s a masterpiece, that sight. I could stare at her for hours. Would, if she didn’t catch me and shoot me that look that says, ‘stop being a creepy bastard’.
I shift on the mattress, half-expecting my back to seize up, but it doesn’t. Feels good, actually. Loose. Like she fucked the tension right out of me. Guess that’s one way to sort out a muscle problem. Flat on my back while she rode me like a cowgirl. Better than physio, honestly.
She looks up, catches me staring again, and raises a brow. ‘You good?’
