16. Sixteen
Sixteen
brAX
T his fucking woman.
I was in trouble. Deep trouble.
And that kiss .
She tasted like heaven and hell, virtue and sin, like peace and pure chaos. It took all of my strength not to have her then and there. I wanted to rip her clothes off and fuck her senseless against the railing.
Somehow I didn’t.
Piling out of Town Hall with thousands of other people, we looked like a couple completely infatuated with each other; not two people engaged in an illicit affair.
I draped my arm around Dylan as she cuddled into me, neither one of us concerned that someone we knew might see us.
“I’m a sweaty mess,” Dylan declared as we reached the open air outside.
The night sky was stitched with stars, lit by a full moon.
I engulfed her into a big bear hug from behind. “Grinding your ass on someone will do that,” I said, kissing her on her neck. Her skin tasted salty and sweet. A fucking delicious combination that made my dick hard again.
After years of not seeing her, and days of restraint from not touching her, I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.
We crossed the road and settled against the wall of a building to wait for our rideshare. Dylan leaned against the wall, her hair catching the moonlight. A few strands had slipped free from her sleek bun. She was so breathtaking it made my thoughts evaporate.
Unable to resist, I tucked the stray strands behind her ear. She responded by wrapping her arms around my neck, rising on her toes to kiss me.
Her lips were soft, her tongue smooth. She tasted sweet; like a sugar coated almond. I pressed closer, grinding my hard cock into her, making sure she felt just how badly I wanted her.
“What are we doing?” she asked, breathlessly, in between kisses.
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully.
She hooked a leg around my waist and slid her arms around my neck, pulling me back in. My hands found her ass—firm, perfect, fucking incredible—and I gripped it, drawing her even tighter against me.
We were making out like a couple of lovestruck, horny teenagers when our car arrived.
We slid into the backseat, quickly telling the driver the hotel address. I didn't even have a chance to put my seatbelt on before Dylan’s lips were on mine again.
We were losing control, desperate to get back to the hotel.
I needed to be inside of her.
We’d already crossed a line; we may as well fuck.
Guilt struck me though—and it wasn't just because I was cheating on Ally. Somehow my conscience found a way to talk to me despite the tongue assault that was occurring.
Breathless, I broke away from the kiss.
“Dyl, there’s something you should know–”
“Sshh,” she said, biting my lip in the backseat. “No more talking.”
“It’s import–” I forgot what I was saying.
Dylan was rubbing my cock through my jeans and sucking on my earlobe.
Holy fuck, that felt good.
A pang of guilt hit me again, but it didn’t matter—it wouldn’t feel wrong for long.
The driver announced we'd arrived, cutting short our backseat spectacle. I handed him a twenty, a silent apology for the live soft porn performance.
With my hand on Dylan's waist, we hurried into the hotel lobby. I didn't want her to feel pressured, nor did I want her to feel like I was pushing her into doing something that she might regret.
But I would have been lying if I didn’t admit that I wanted every part of her.
Over and over again.
Right fucking then.
“Dylan!” a man’s drunken voice called out.
I quickly dropped my hand from her waist as she spun around to face the voice.
Steven.
That prick she worked with.
God, he looked like fucking shit, smelled even worse. A mix of whiskey, piss and peanuts.
“Dyllll,” he drunkenly crooned as he staggered over to us. “Where have you been?”
“Out.” She clearly hated this guy by the way she snapped at him. I could understand why.
He swayed and tilted his head, eyes scanning over Dylan’s body, hovering on her breasts. He let out a low whistle.
I wanted to slam my fist into his face.
I cleared my throat, shifted my stance, and tilted my head back.
That got Steven's attention.
“Heyyy, Brax,” Steven drawled, his words slurring. "Didn't see you there."
I gave a curt nod, staying silent. His bleary gaze shifted back to Dylan, dismissing me. “Wanna have a drink?” he slurred, stumbling again.
“No. I’m beat—I’m going up,” Dylan said, turning toward the elevators.
Before she took a step, Steven grabbed her arm and pulled her back by the waist.
“C’mon, Dyl, just one drink. Be a good girl,” he coaxed, his voice dripping with entitlement.
She slapped his hands away. “What the hell, Steven?!”
I’d punched guys for less and this asshole was about to be next. I wasn’t going to let him disrespect Dylan like that.
I stepped in front of Dylan and shoved Steven back.
He stumbled, stunned.
“She said no. Leave it,” I said firmly, towering over him in both size and presence. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
We locked eyes, tension crackling in the air, until reality caught up with him—he probably remembered I was the builder for his multi-millionaire client.
Hands raised in surrender, he staggered toward the lobby bar, but not before throwing a parting shot over his shoulder. “You know where to find me, Dyl.”
I ushered Dylan toward the elevators, eager to leave Steven behind, and jabbed the up arrow. “I fuckin' hate that guy.”
“He’s such a creep,” she muttered. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Why are you apologizing? He’s completely out of line. Does your boss know how inappropriate he is? The way he looks at you, touches you… how the fuck does he still have a job?”
The elevator doors pinged opened, and we stepped inside.
“He’s part of the old school boys' club. He’s untouchable, I guess. He's leaving soon anyway,” Dylan said. "Besides, I can handle jerks like Steven."
“You shouldn’t have to,” I said, trying to rein in my anger. The cunt had killed my erection and the mood.
Dylan's wary eyes tracked me as I pressed the button for the fourteenth floor—then hesitated and pressed twenty-two as well. “I hate seeing you disrespected like that.”
She nodded towards the elevator buttons. “You’re going back to your room?”
“As much as I don’t want to, and trust me, I really don’t—it’s for the best," I paused, struggling. "We’ve had a few drinks, and I don’t want you to do something you might regret tomorrow."
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I know this…whatever this is… is wrong, but I-”
“Stop," I closed the space between us, tilting her chin up. "I don’t regret kissing you. As much as I want to fuck your pretty brains out right this second… I also want it to feel right.”
I kissed her again, slow and gentle at first, her lips soft, parting slightly to let my tongue inside. The kiss deepened, our tongues tangling with growing urgency as I pressed her back against the elevator wall.
Each flick, each breath, each touch burned away the guilt until nothing remained.
The doors opened onto the fourteenth floor.
Dylan pulled away and stepped out. “Goodnight, Brax.”
As I watched her walk away in those tight leather pants, I immediately regretted my decision to do the right thing.
Fuck, I was an idiot.