My legs feel weak and trembly. Every nerve feels raw.
When Brody is satisfied that I’m cleaned well enough, he tucks the napkin away and reaches for my underwear. He slides them up my thighs, careful not to jostle me, then my pants. Button by button, he fastens me back into myself.
The intimacy of it makes me dizzy.
He stands in front of me, and despite being shorter than me by a few inches, it feels like he towers above me. He looks into my eyes as he smooths the fabric of my waistband.
I swallow hard.
He grips my waist, his warm hands firm, and nudges me backwards until I sit on the liftgate. The trunk frame cradles me, and he steps between my knees like he belongs there.
He doesn’t say anything, just rests his hands on my hips before lifting one to stroke my hair.
I flinch at first, but his touch is calming. Grounding. It settles the wobbly, aching wildness deep inside that makes me want to bolt.
His praise still echoes in my head. The filthy, tender, overwhelming praise he’d whispered against my skin. My chest feels warm, like someone poured a shot of whiskey straight into my bloodstream.
He keeps stroking my hair, and after a minute I melt, slumping sideways against the interior wall of the liftgate. Brody fits himself closer, between my knees, thighs brushing mine. The smell of cold air, sweat, and sex clings to us like a cloud.
Finally, he murmurs, “Do you need me to keep talking dirty, or can we move to real talk?”
My heart seizes.
Real talk?
I’m not ready for that. Not even close.
My mouth opens and closes, pondering what to say. Something dumb falls out.
“You came on my ass.”
He chuckles, low and warm. “Hell yeah, I did.” He squeezes my hip. “I couldn’t help it. You’re so fucking sexy, baby.”
I wince, but heat floods my cheeks traitorously. God, why do I like that? Why does it feel so damn good to hear him say shit like that?
Whether I’ve said it out loud to anyone other than Caty before, I’ve always known I like guys. Or at least had a strong suspicion before the day I came face to face with Brody Miller. There was no denying it after.
I’ve never considered being anything but the top. Letting someone take me like that? Hell no. I’ve never imagined it. Never dared. Never even entertained the idea. It’s bad enough that my father might find out that I’m gay. I’ve always known there was a high chance he wouldn’t accept me. But I can only imagine what kind of hell he’d shame me with if he knew I was the one taking it.
There was a second, a single breath in time, when I really, truly thought Brody was going to put it in me.
And I wouldn’t have stopped him.
I might have wanted it. And I know that he knows.
He leans in, nose running up the side of my throat, and whispers, “Your hole was gaping open, winking at me to take it. Then it was all shiny with cum, and all I could think about was seeing it shiny withmycum, too. Marking you. Fucking you. Making you mine in all the ways that count.”
My eyes cross.Holy shit.
He says it like it’s dirty, but underneath there’s something almost reverent in his voice. Something real. Something soft that scares me more than anything he could do with his hands.
“Make me yours?” I huff out a laugh.
His face shifts, playful but serious underneath. “You got a problem with that?”
He pulls back enough to look me dead in the eyes, and I swear it feels like he sees every version of me at once.
I panic.
