31. Truth Be Told
Chapter thirty-one
Truth Be Told
Chloe
I slam the car into park and jump out, adrenaline drowning out every rational thought.
The private terminal lot is mostly deserted, there’s only a few cars near the building, Brody’s car is parked off to the side, his bags stacked beside it. His driver, Harry, leaning on the hood, scrolling on his phone. But no Brody.
This is it. This is where the story ends. I’m too late.
When I think all hope is gone, I spot him. He's out by the perimeter gate, arguing with an airport staffer, his back turned.
Thank God.
I take off running. Legs burn. Heart pounds. Every step feels like it might be too late.
Halfway there, a security guard steps into my path, arm out like he thinks that’s going to stop me.
"Ma’am, you can’t be back here," the security guard says, arm out, blocking my path.
“Don’t have time for this,” I mutter, trying to dart around him, but he shifts, blocking me again.
“It’s restricted—”
“I’m not leaving without him,” my voice cracks, but my eyes don’t leave Brody. He’s still too far to hear me, but close enough that I can’t stop now .
The guard reaches for his radio. “I’m calling this in.”
“Call whoever you want,” I snap, cutting wide around him. “I’m going.”
Feet pounding against the pavement, every step gets me closer. Brody turns, his eyes finding mine. For a second, his expression shifts, guarded, then vulnerable.
I don’t stop. I can’t.
Every breath’s a fight, chest burning, I sprint the last few steps and launch straight into what I should’ve said days ago.
“You can’t leave. I love you .” My voice shakes, but I don’t look away. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you sooner. I want you here . In Bluepeak. Not in Japan. Not on some plane. Not anywhere else. Here, with me.”
His jaw ticks, eyes scanning my face like he’s trying to make sense of the wreckage. Then comes the smile.
He pulls out his phone and taps on the screen without saying a word.
Unfuckingbelievable.
“What are yo—”
He holds up a finger.
Did he shush me?
I pour my soul out and he shushes me?
His voice is calm. “Hey, it’s me. Cancel the flight. I’m not going anywhere.”
Everything inside me seizes.
He’s not going.
Brody slides the phone back into his jacket and steps forward, wrapping me up without hesitation.
“I love you too, Chloe. ”
He loves me.
A kiss follows. No more almosts. Just him, finally choosing me.
We break apart, breathless, and Harry stands by the car, a knowing grin tugging at his lips. He’s already hauling Brody’s bags into the trunk, looking like this was exactly how he expected it to play out.
“I take it I’m still on the clock?”
Brody laughs. So do I. Relieved.
“Let’s go to the lake house,” Brody tells him, his hand sliding into mine. “We have some catching up to do.”
Lake house? My brain stumbles for a second, but his fingers tighten around mine, and for once I don’t overthink it.
“There’s a whole thing happening at HQ,” he adds, amusement dripping from his voice. “Everyone’s there. They all think I left.”
The glint in his eyes is pure mischief. “So… no one will look for us?”
“Exactly.”
We’re ghosts. Off the grid.
We make a few quick stops on the way, for me to grab a few things from my place and for Brody to pick up some snacks and essentials.
The drive is quiet, the world outside fading as we make our way to the cabin. When the car finally stops, Brody gets out, then opens the door for me. He grabs my hand again, like he's making damn sure I don’t slip away.
“Are we good?” he asks, glancing down at our still-laced fingers.
I haven’t stopped smiling since I nearly got tackled by airport security. My nerves are fried, my hearts in overdrive, but this moment? It feels right.
“Absolutely perfect,” I say, squeezing his had.
He kisses my cheek before flicking the lights on. The place hums to life with a soft, low glow. Warm, but a little forgotten.
I take it in. Weathered floorboards. Covered furniture. Dust hanging in the quiet. The air’s heavy, untouched. Everything feels still.
Curiosity pulls me to the window overlooking the lake. “I didn’t know this place was yours.”
“My parents bought it for when they came to visit,” he says, stepping beside me. His voice drops lower, rough around the edges. “It’s been sitting empty a long time.”
“And now?”
His gaze pins mine, steady. “For tonight, it’s ours.”
“I wanted to be away with you,” he adds. “This was the first place that came to mind.”
I melt into him, letting the weight of everything slip off my shoulders. “It’s exactly what I need.”
“What you need,” he murmurs, “is to be worshipped properly.”
His lips brush my temple, then trail lower, deliberate and slow, skimming down my jaw. The warmth of his breath against my neck promises more.
“That spot?” he asks, voice low and rough.
My breath catches.
“Say yes,” he whispers.
“Yes.”
Every thought I had before this moment vanishes.
He kisses me, hard and hungry. Not an I missed you kiss. The kind that says I’m claiming you.
Mouth still on mine, he backs me toward the window, step by step until the cold glass kisses my spine.
His hands roam, finding the hem of my shirt, tugging it over my head.
My bra’s next, unfastened with a single flick of his fingers.
When he leans in again, his stubble drags along my skin—not soft, not gentle, but deliciously rough. It tickles and burns in the best way.
“You know what would drive me fucking insane?” his finger trails a slow line down my neck. “Seeing you from outside. Pressed up against this glass. Tits out. Face flushed. Legs shaking from how hard I made you come. Knowing you’re mine.”
“Brody…” I choke out.
He groans, biting my shoulder, making me twitch.
A half gasp, half fucccckkk tumbles out of me.
He spins me to face the window, positioning my arms raised, palms flat against the glass. Cold stings as my warm nipples brush the pane, the contrast electric, the world outside and the fire he’s building inside me.
Behind me I hear the snap of his belt. Fabric rustling to the floor. I don’t need to turn. Bare skin meets mine, cock pressing thick and hard against my ass. The ache in his body matches mine.
His arm wraps around my waist, anchoring me. He shifts, urging my legs apart, fingers slipping between, cupping my pussy. My knees go weak.
“I don’t want to waste any more time,” he rasps behind me. “The bedroom’s too far away.”
His hips align with mine, hard length grinding slow and deliberate between my cheeks. One hand keeps me steady, the other yanking my pants and panties down in one steady pull.
A palm finds my breast, rolling my nipple while the other trails between my legs, teasing my pussy with a featherlight touch. When a finger pushes in, I moan. The second joins it, and when he curls them, my body trembles.
“Goddamn, you’re this wet for me already?”
His words rumble in my ear, and I nod, too breathless to respond. Fingers shifting inside me, stretching with delicious intent. Stubble scrapes my throat, his mouth trailing open kisses, soft bites that brand me as his.
“Look at you,” he says, rough with lust, mouth nipping my neck. “If I had it my way, I’d be out there in the dark. Watching that greedy little pussy take my fingers. Tits on the glass. Face flushed. Eyes rolling while you come for me.”
My hips jerk toward his hand. I whimper, a broken sound.
“You like that? The thought of me watching you like a dirty fucking secret?”
His fingers work harder, faster. His free hand slides up, gently wrapping around the front of my throat, not tight—enough to make my legs wobble.
“Fuck, I love how you sound when I do this,” he says, curling his fingers again. “I want you to come for me.”
My mouth falls open, but nothing comes out but a raw, desperate moan.
“ My dirty girl ,” he rasps. “Hands on the glass. Let the whole fucking lake see how good I make you feel.”
Nerves stretched thin, everything building sharp and fast.
“You want them to see what this pussy does for me? How fucking beautiful you look when you’re dripping and begging?”
Another thrust, a twist that hits just right, and I break. My cry shatters against the glass, body shaking as I spill all over his hand.
“Look at you, so fucking sexy,” he breathes, catching me as I start to sink.
My legs feel like they might collapse. I’m panting, dazed, drunk on the sensation.
He scoops me up, holding me close as he turns. “We’re not done.”
I cling to his shoulders as he carries me across the room, clearing the table with a sweep of his arm. A stack of linens hits the floor with a soft thump.
Setting me down gently, he spreads my knees apart, gaze locked with mine. Dark. Starved. His body follows, dragging down mine in a slow, hungry slide until his mouth is right where I want it, between my thighs.
He licks my pussy like he’s savoring the aftermath of what he did to me, then zeroes in on my clit with slow, deliberate strokes.
I brace as his grip tightens at my hips, holding me in place. Tongue relentless as he licks and flicks until my legs tremble again. That mouth is fucking wicked.
“ Shit. Brody. Fuck —”
Begging doesn’t slow him down. If anything, it spurs him on. My back arches. He keeps feasting as though it’s keeping him alive, and when the second orgasm hits, it crashes through me, leaving my body a quivering mess beneath him .
He still doesn’t stop.
Two fingers push back inside my pussy, thrusting slow and deep while his mouth works my clit with ruthless precision. He groans into me, tongue stroking, sucking, lapping like he’s trying to memorize every inch. The kind of focused, filthy devotion that makes my toes curl.
When his fingers slip free, I think he’s finally going to fuck me. But instead, he straightens, eyes looking over me showing me he isn’t done.
He turns, crouching beside the half-open duffle bag on the floor. After rummaging for only a second, he pulls out a small bottle.
“The essentials?” I rasp, breath still wrecked.
“I wasn’t risking not getting to touch you everywhere. Lube is a must.”
He flips the cap and drips the lube onto me, the slick warmth sliding down my pussy. He tosses the bottle aside and runs his fingers through the slickness, coating me slowly, dragging the wetness across my skin, teasing as I shudder.
One hand slides beneath my ass, angling me how he wants. The other trails lower, fingers pressing into me with slow, deliberate pressure.
“ Brody .”
A slow tease over my tightest spot. He waits, eyes on mine, giving me the choice.
“Yes,” I whisper. “ Please.”
That’s all he needs. He works in carefully, watching my face, licking across my clit.
“God, yes,” I groan, writhing under him. “Fuck, that feels—”
“You can take it,” he whispers, voice thick. “You’re so goddamn perfect like this.”
His mouth suckles at my clit, tongue flicking sharp, while that finger sinks deeper, moving in time with every roll of my hips.
“Look at you,” he murmurs between strokes. “My girl. Open everywhere for me.”
I can’t speak. Can’t think. Every nerve’s on fire. His mouth and his hands have turned me into nothing but need.
His tongue works slow and steady, locked on my clit like it’s the only thing in the world worth tasting. One finger keeps working me open with patient pressure.
A strangled moan tears from my throat when both move—his fingers rubbing in tandem through that thin wall, one inside my pussy and the other pressing into my ass.
“ Fuck, ” I groan, arching up into his mouth. “Oh my god, yes.”
He hums against my clit, the vibration searing through me, his tongue moving in slow circles while his fingers slip inside, coaxing and pushing in all the right ways.
My thighs start to close around his head, overwhelmed, wrung out, but he keeps me spread.
“ Good girl , look how sweet this ass is for me.”
I dig my nails into the edge of the table, so fucking close.
He stops.
Mouth lifts. Fingers ease out.
Why is he stopping?
“Not yet, I want the next one on my cock.”
He rises over me, dragging his mouth along my stomach, then up between my breasts. Kisses one. Bites the other. Hands everywhere, touching like he can’t get enough. By the time his mouth reaches my throat, I’m soaked all over again, wrecked and waiting.
“Ready for me?” he asks, breath ragged.
“Yes.”
He sinks in, slow and deep, filling me with every hard inch. Nails scrape down his back as he buries himself inside me.
“Christ, you feel like heaven,” he groans against my neck.
He starts to move, hips rocking into me with steady, deep thrust.
Each thrust rougher than the last. He fucks me like he has something to prove and no one to prove it to but me. The table creaks beneath us, hands everywhere, gripping, worshipping, his cock hitting deep.
“I can slow down,” he grits out. “Make it last.”
“No,” I gasp, wrapping my arms around him tight. “Don’t hold back. I want all of it. I want to feel you come.”
He stills for half a second. “You sure?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I want you to come inside me.”
A strained sound rumbles from his chest as he thrusts harder, pace frantic now.
I shatter first, pussy clenching around him, crying out as my orgasm tears through me.
“Fuck, Chloe,” he growls, hips grinding down once, twice more before he breaks too, his release flooding into me, his body shuddering with each deep pulse.
We stay like that, tangled and shaking, his weight grounding me, his breath rushing against my shoulder.
Eventually, he pulls out slow, careful. Grabs a towel from the nearby stack and wipes between my thighs, with a gentle touch.
He helps me sit up, wraps me in a soft blanket, then lifts me again, carrying me to the couch like I’m something precious.
Settled in his lap, warm and safe, I press my cheek against his chest.
“Are you okay?” His words are soft, a hint of vulnerability beneath the hardness.
I smile. “Yeah. Better than okay.”
He kisses the top of my head, fingers tracing soft circles on my thigh.
“I love you, Chloe.”
And this time, I don’t have to chase him to know it.