38. Brooke
38
brOOKE
My back is pressed against the theater wall, my jeans lowered down to my ankles. My lips are bruised with Lucas’s hungry kisses.
My whole body is one sweet, hungry ache. The anticipation is killing me, but it’s also delicious.
I can feel the dewy arousal of my pussy. My breasts are swollen with desire, nipples hard and erect. For the last two months I’ve lain alone in bed at night. Touching myself barely satisfied my desire. It was like eating a snack when I’d become accustomed to the feast.
And now he’s strapped on the kneepads.
“Let’s test these bad boys,” he says, sinking down to his knees.
“Well? What do you think?” I smile down at him.
“Very comfortable,” he grins. “This may be a new tradition. Or not. Kind of kills the spontaneity.”
He lifts my T-shirt and kisses my stomach, gently and reverently. With every feathery kiss of his lips, arousal pulses through me. “You smell like heaven,” he murmurs. His tongue traces circles around my navel .
“I love you,” he murmurs.
“I know.”
He slides his hands between my legs and spreads them farther apart, as far as they can go with my jeans down around my ankles. I step out of my jeans and settle back comfortably against the wall.
“Say it back,” he orders me.
“I love you too.”
He moves lower, kissing the inside of my thigh. “What do you love about me?”
“So many things. I love your protectiveness, I love your sense of humor, your decency, underneath that rough growly act. You demand the best from everybody, but you reward them for it. I love how you still care for your father and I love how you make me feel.”
He spreads my pussy lips open and thrusts his tongue up inside. I let out a moan without words, tangling my fingers in his hair.
He fucks me with his tongue, his hands firmly planted on my thighs, forcing them wider apart. My breath comes in tortured pants.
He slides his tongue out and engulfs my clit in his hot, hungry mouth, sucking the swollen pearl and torturing it with his tongue and teeth until I’m ready to sob with the need for release.
Then his finger slides inside me and he plays a masterful duet, stroking my inner wall until he finds my g-spot. I’m lost in a daze of pleasure so intense that it’s painful, and my inner walls convulse and spasm as my orgasm sweeps over me. He laps up my juices as my thighs quiver and my knees threaten to give way.
“Fuck,” I gasp.
He stands up, quickly unbuckling the kneepads and then his pants, and lifts me as easily as if I were a feather, lowering me onto his thick cock.
I’m still spasming with arousal, still coming, as he fucks me, and the sensations are almost too much. I wrap my legs around his waist and he slams into me, groaning, and bites the sensitive flesh of my shoulder.
“Oh, God.” He explodes, filling me with his hot seed. “Too much. You feel too good. You’re killing me.”
He finally releases me, setting me back down. My knees are wobbly, and I bury my face in his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me, holding me up.
“I have you,” he murmurs into my hair. “Brooke Langley, I love you.”