16. Bridgette
Bridgette
I just don’t have what it takes to walk on the wild side. I’m a good girl. I play by the rules.
But all that was before I met Dutton Wagner. He must be scrambling my brain because there’s no other reason for me to be creeping up the stairs of the hockey house in the middle of the day like I’m a burglar with bad timing. And I’m still wearing my bikini.
I’m just not built for a life of crime. My already guilty conscience has me peeking over my shoulder every five seconds. When my phone buzzes in my hand, it’s all I can do to hold back a scream and keep myself from teetering off the edge of the steps and falling into a heap on the landing.
Dutton : Where the hell are you? Did Flo corner you and yap your ear off about conditioner? That guy’s more obsessed with his hair than Blue is, and I didn’t think that was possible.
Bridgette: No. Well, yes, but I promised to bring some samples from the salon the next time I visit. I’m on the steps, but I swear I heard something. It was a weird sound. Like a growl/moan.
Dutton: It was probably me telling my dick to settle the fuck down.
Bridgette : Haha. I’m outside your door. Please open up before someone sees me.
“So paranoid,” Dutton says, shaking his head as he opens the door and pulls me into his room. “We are the only people up here, I promise. This whole floor is just Blue and me, and he knows about us. Besides, he’s busy outside being the bane of Liza’s existence.”
“Okay. And for the record, I know I’m being dramatic. I just can’t help it. I’m not used to breaking the rules.” That’s the truth, but I also never realized how much fun breaking the rules could be. I just wish I could calm down and enjoy it.
“You better get used to breaking the rules if you insist on keeping me your dirty little secret,” he says, putting his hands on my waist. His body is warm from the sun, and I’m sure mine is, too, but the heat we’re generating has nothing to do with the temperature outside.
There’s a chemistry between us that’s undeniable.
My body is drawn to his just like his is drawn to mine.
I feel powerless to stop it, so I decide to surrender.
“Can you still see the stain?” I ask, arching my back enough so I’m basically shoving my tits in his face. For the record, he doesn’t seem to mind a bit.
His eyes go wide as his grip on me tightens. “Let me get a good look. Oh, shit,” he says. “It’s worse than I thought.”
While I’m laughing at his teasing, he unfastens the hook on the band of my bikini, letting my breasts fall free. I lift it up and off my neck so nothing is stopping him from looking his fill. Or tasting it.
My relationship with my body has certainly been a journey, but standing here in Dutton’s bedroom, his eyes blazing fire as he looks at me, his hands caressing the soft flesh of my stomach, his cock thick and hard as it presses against me.
Instinctively, I widen my stance, hungry for more of him.
Even the barest touch is better than the nothingness I’ve felt the past few days.
He trails one hand over the black fabric of my bikini bottoms, getting so close to my sweetest spot, but never staying there long.
He’s teasing me, and I love it. What I love even more is the way it feels when he lifts my breast and closes his lips around my nipple.
His kisses are hungry and sloppy, and they make me feel desirable.
“I’ve been hard all fucking day. Hell, all fucking week,” he mutters in between lavishing kisses to one breast and then the other. “I’m about to call a damn doctor and ask what to do about an erection lasting more than seventy-two hours.”
I bite back a smile as my hands drift into his hair. “It’s Sunday, so if you can’t get a hold of a medical professional, I might have some ideas for how to help.”
“Do they involve my throbbing dick and your sweet pussy?”
“As a matter of fact, they do.” I’ve never been the flirty sort, but Dutton makes me feel playful. That probably sounds absurd, considering his usually grumpy demeanor, but it’s true. I’m free to be myself with him, and there’s nothing sexier than that.
He takes a step back and slowly rakes his gaze over every inch of my body, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes and every dip and curve in between.
His eyes are heavy when they find mine. “I’ve been thinking about all the ways I want to take you, all the things I want to do, all the pleasure I can bring you.
Now you’re here in my arms, in my room, and I don’t know where the fuck to start.
” He kisses me soundly before stepping back again. “On second thought, yes, I fucking do.”
He drops to his knees so suddenly that it steals my breath. “You planning on swimming?” he asks.
“Uh, no,” I answer.
“Good. Then you don’t need these.” Hooking his fingers into the band of my bikini bottoms, he peels them down over my ass, belly, and thighs until they’re in a pool on the plush carpet of his bedroom floor.
Without hesitation, he dips his face so that it’s an inch away from my sex.
I can feel the warmth of his breath against the bare flesh of my mound.
When he grips the back of my thighs, I’m waiting for him to bury his nose, lips, and mouth in my hot center, but he never does.
He just breathes me in and licks his lips, causing heat to course through my body.
“Are you wet for me, Bridgette?” he asks, and I can feel the fucking vibrations of his voice against my tender skin.
“Because I’m hard as fuck for you. Did you see me jump in the pool earlier?
It was all your damn fault.” He leans back on his heels for a second, focusing those clear blue eyes on me.
“It was my fault? I’m sorry, when did I become the sun?”
Dutton licks his lips, and even though no part of him has actually touched my pussy yet, my whole body shudders as though he just licked me like an ice cream cone.
“I wasn’t hot. I was hard. And that was fine because all the guys were in the pool and nobody could tell.
But then you started walking around, and I can’t fucking handle the way these hips sway,” he says, pressing kisses to my flesh.
“And the way this ass moves," he adds, cupping my cheeks. “And all this bare, smooth, perfect skin,” he continues, his fingers wandering over my belly like he can’t see the faint stretch marks there, or that he doesn’t care.
“But it's these tits,” he says, rising up but staying on his knees. “They tipped me right over the edge. Your bikini top doesn’t fucking fit, Bridgette, and I think you need to buy that same one in every color they make because the way your tits spill out over the cups makes me want to hold them in my hands and squeeze,” he says, doing just that.
“And then I want to kiss them. Sweet at first, then fucking messy. And then, I want to fuck them. I want to hold them in place while I drive my dick through this perfect valley,” he says, his hand going where his cock wants to.
I’m breathing hard and so is he, but that doesn’t stop him. We don’t have unlimited time here, but he’s not in a hurry yet.
“That’s why I had to jump in the water,” he says, like that explains everything.
“Because you like my tits?” I ask.
“Because I like your body so damn much, my dick was fucking leaking. There was a wet spot on my shorts that was very noticeable, and I’d have looked like a weirdo for nearly coming in my pants at a pool party.
And since I couldn’t very well explain that you’re the reason my cock needs its own goddamn room and some privacy, I had to get the rest of my shorts wet so no one would notice. ”
Dutton trails kisses up my abdomen, over my breasts, and against my neck as he stands up and threads his fingers through mine.
Wordlessly, I follow him over to his neatly made bed, the navy and white comforter pulled taut until he reaches out and shoves the covers back.
His lips find mine, and our hands are all over each other, our bodies nearly fused together.
My arousal is dripping down my thighs, and I’m rubbing them together as if that’s going to help. It definitely doesn’t.
Just as I’m about to reach for his shorts to free his cock and get down to the good stuff, he pulls away. Again. For a man who loves to get me hot and bothered, he sure does like to tease.
I’m not complaining, though, as soon as I see that he’s untying his shorts, letting them drop to the floor, and then kicking them away.
I get a glimpse of his erection, thick and needy as it bobs against his lower abdomen.
He turns away for a moment, giving me a view of his backside.
I hear another moan, and this time I know it’s coming from me.
Dutton shakes his ass just enough to show he heard the effect he has on me, but then he lies down in the center of the bed and props his head on a single pillow.
I’m still standing, naked and needy, but I take a moment to ogle his body.
After all, fair’s fair, right? There’s not an inch on him that isn’t hard and chiseled.
Even his damn nose is angular. I could fucking drink out of the cleft in his chin, and his thighs have muscles I’ve never seen on another human before.
His dark hair is contrasted by the stark white color of his pillowcase.
His eyes are so damn intense. I can already tell he doesn’t do anything in half measures.
But neither do I.
I’m about to lean forward and swirl the tip of his cock with my tongue, but he stops me by putting his hand on my arm.
“If you put those pouty lips on me right now, I’ll be coming down your throat in five seconds, guaranteed.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I respond, putting my knee on the mattress.
Again, he stops my movement with his hand. “As much as I hate to say it, they’ll be back with food soon.”