“I told you,” I gasped. “It’s been a really, really long time.”
His body shook as he held still, and then he thrust in until his hips were flush with mine, and I cried out, nearly overwhelmed by the burning feel of him. It was almost too much—the stretching and the fullness. I lingered somewhere between intense pleasure and pain, and it spun me around.
“I love that sound.” His lips moved over mine. “I’m going to make sure you’re hoarse and can barely talk by the time I’m done.”
And he did.
Brock started to move, and although it had been forever and it took a few moments to catch a rhythm, I pushed up with my hips as he pushed down. Our bodies moved in perfect sync. He caught my mouth as he planted one elbow beside my head. His hips swung and plunged, delving deeper and deeper, and the thrusts of his tongue matched his cock.
It started.
This deep tightening, a clenching of all the muscles in my body, and I was like a coil wound too tight. I whimpered as I lost the rhythm, my hips writhing against his and my nails digging into the taut skin of his back. I was close, so close I thought I’d die.
“Jillian,” he growled, his large and powerful body trembling.
I knew in that moment he was holding back and I said words I never thought I’d ever utter, and later, when everything was done, I would probably be mortified, but in that moment, I didn’t care.
“Fuck me,” I whispered against his lips.
It was like a cage was unlocked. Brock got an arm under my waist as he rose up, planting one hand on my belly, holding me in place as his hips slammed into me, lifting me up with each plunge. He went deeper and deeper, and I couldn’t move. He held me, and he . . . he fucked.
And I loved it.
My whole body shuddered as I wrapped an arm around his and fisted the blanket with the other. “Yes. Oh, my God . . .” I couldn’t breathe. The tension spun and spun, and I became someone else. I tossed my head back, eyes wide and unseeing as words tumbled out of my mouth. “Faster. Please. Brock, please—”
Brock cursed as he thrust hard and deep, and I shattered, coming so hard I screamed his name. Red-hot pleasure swept over me like a fire burning out of control. My back arched as he came down on me, pushing me into the bed. His hips ground into mine as he said my name over and over like a prayer and a curse. I felt him tremble as he stilled deep inside me, his body finally spasming and mingling with the aftershocks still rocking my body.
Neither of us moved for several long minutes.
I couldn’t.
My legs were jelly and my arms boneless.
Brock pressed a kiss to my shoulder and then my neck. I turned my head toward his and our lips met. The kiss was slow and heartbreakingly sweet.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I think I’m dead,” I told him, sliding my hand along his back. “Dead in a good way.”
Brock chuckled, but the laugh sounded shaky. He kissed my forehead and then eased out of me. There was a slight burn. “Be right back.”
I rolled onto my side as he walked away from the bed, toward the bathroom, and I had a very nice view. Once he disposed of the condom, he came back to the bed.
“Do you need anything?” he asked. “Water?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
He stood there for a moment, simply staring at me and then he got to tugging the blankets down, which was a feat since I was practically dead weight on them and not very helpful, but he managed. He climbed in, pulled them over us as he slipped one arm under me. He hugged me closer so I was resting against his side.
Several moments passed in silence and then he said, “This is going to sound corny as hell, but I have to say it.” He paused. “It’s never been like that for me. Usually it’s just about coming, you know? Getting off. I didn’t want to let go. Wanted it to last. Never wanted that before.”
Pleased and feeling so warm, I bit my lip and then admitted, “I never asked someone to fuck me before, so it’s a first for both of us.”
Brock’s entire body shook as he laughed. “Got to tell you, when you said that, I almost lost it right there. Fun would’ve been over before we got to the good part.”
“The whole thing was a good part.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, it was.”
We fell into silence again, and my eyelids drooped. Just as I was dozing off, Brock said to me, “I lied.”
“Lied about what?” I whispered, sliding my hand over the tight dips and planes of his stomach.
There was a pause and then he said, “The night I ruined your date with that guy wasn’t a coincidence.”
A small grin tugged at my lips and I turned my face into the side of his chest. “I figured that.”
“The first night—the first time I saw you at the restaurant wasn’t a coincidence either.” His fingers stilled along my upper arm. “Your mom had mentioned where you’d be. It was in passing. She probably doesn’t even remember. I went there knowing you would be there. I hadn’t planned on saying anything to you. I just wanted . . . I just wanted to see you, and I didn’t want to wait until Monday.”
I opened my eyes.
His chest rose with a deep breath. “And when I saw you, I had to talk to you. I was there because you were there.”
I should’ve probably been irritated at Mom and him for that, but I decided I didn’t care. “Creeper,” I murmured.
Brock’s arm tightened around me. “No regrets.”
In the flickering light of the candle, I smiled and closed my eyes.