“Fuuuuck,” Brock hisses, fisting the crown of my head. “You don’t play games. You feel incredible.”
Not only wanting to taste his release, but needing to see it, I keep my eyes on his as I work him from glorious root to tip. Brock pulls his lip between his teeth, his gaze unwavering from mine as I bob my head up and down, moaning around his cock. Grunting in fast, clipped breaths, he fucks into my mouth like an animal, each measured thrust sinking deep into my throat. Rhythm never letting up, I grip his thighs, giving him free rein to do what he wants with me.
“Ber, I’m gonna come,” he warns in a deep rasp. “If you don’t want . . . Ah, Christ . . .”
On a fast thrust down, I slide my hands to his ass and squeeze, praying my eyes convey to him what my vocal cords can’t.
I want every single bit of him.
Eyes locked on mine and gripping my hair as though his life depends on it, Brock lets go, spurting his hot warmth down the back of my throat.
“Goddamn.” He moves his hands to my nape, keeping them there as he continues to pulse into my mouth. “That’s right, baby. Take it. Take it all.”
Thrust after thrust, I swallow and suck every last drop of him, my fingers tweaking his balls with each convulsing jerk.
Before I can rise from my hands-and-knees position, Brock hauls me up, moves my dampened hair from my face, and layers his lips over mine. Deep, long, and passionate, he kisses me, groaning into my mouth. He falls onto his back, dragging me on top of his sweaty chest.
As our breathing descends into an even rhythm, Brock reaches over to a nightstand, flips on a lamp, and slides open a drawer. I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness.
“I usually don’t blitz in my condo, but hell if I’m not gonna right now. You brought me there.” He pulls out a small metal container, produces a ready-made joint, and sparks it up, sucking the smoke into his lungs. After taking another hit, he holds it to my lips as he rubs his free hand up and down my spine. “Here. God knows you deserve it.”
I take a deep drag, coughing with a giggle as he slides his hand to my rib cage. “No, no, no!”
“Mm, but this is the mandatory spooning-and-tickling part.” He dives his hand between our stomachs, tickling the shit out of me.
“Stop!” I blurt, trying to catch a full breath, my face pinched in mock anger as I grip his chin and give it a stern shake. “Did you like having sex with me?”
He quirks a brow. “Is that a serious question?”
I nod, trying to contain a smile. “As serious as they come.”
Hunger surfaces in his glassy eyes, a slow smirk splicing his lips. “And come . . . you . . . did.” He chuckles, kissing my temple. “To answer your question: I didn’t like it, I loved it. I foresee having tons of it in the very near future.”
“Uh-uh-uh, not if you keep tickling me,” I warn with a coy smile. “You’ll never, ever tap this again.”
Joint hanging from his mouth, Brock flips me onto my back and hovers above me. He takes another pull, stubs it out on the box’s top, and shotguns the smoke into my lungs, his tongue languidly caressing mine. “Are you threatening me with . . . sex?” He cradles my head. “Is that what you’re doing?”
“Indeed I am.” I cough, nodding. “And if I were you, I’d heed the warning, buddy.”
In true rebel fashion, Brock ignores me. This time going full throttle, he pins my arms above my head and tickles my armpits, all the while dropping kisses onto my cheeks. A string of giggles fall from my mouth as I attempt to not only breathe but squirm out from beneath him. As though sent from the heavens above, an angel rings the doorbell, interrupting Brock from his attack on my body.
He slips off the bed, a smile on his face as he shoves into his jeans. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”
“Do you have any idea what a dick you are?” Matching his smile, I pull the sheets to my chest. “A dick who’s not getting any more of this.”
Ding-dong . . . Ding-dong . . .
“Mm, we’ll see about that.” Making his way into the hall, he adds, “I’d bank that you’re lying yet again, my Ber.”
“I’d bank that you’re one hundred percent correct,” I mumble, fully aware I have every intention of reenacting this evening’s events. As sexually sated as I’ve ever been and floating as high as a cloud, I steal myself away into the silence.
The temporary bliss doesn’t last long before, “Jesus Christ! What the fuck took you so long to answer, bro?” cuts through the air.
I whip my head toward the bedroom door, the movement sending my chocolate curtain of hair swinging over my shoulder. The familiar voice seduces my senses, draping my skin like warm silk as oxygen dissolves from my lungs.
Hazed out or not, I know that voice. I’m pretty sure I’d recognize it in a crowded stadium.
Ryder . . .
CHAPTER 7
Amber
I’M CONVINCED THE powers above get off on shit like this. Sitting on their golden thrones—goblet of aged wine in hand—it’s their daily dose of laughter. A proper fuck you to humanity. And in this very moment, the bigwigs in the clouds are enjoying my little situation.
I take a deep, steadying breath and climb from the bed, my heart kicking furiously as I slip into my skirt and bra. I snag my blouse from the floor, fully aware I can’t sport it in its current state of shred. I sigh and glance around the room, my eyes landing on Brock’s football jersey draped over a leather ottoman at the foot of the bed.