Chapter 14
14
JORDAN
B ronson sets me down on the front table, his body pressed hard between my knees. I sit as close to the edge as possible, the hint of his erection teasing me, tempting me, making me kiss him even deeper. Our tongues touch as our hands move, both of us carelessly tugging on the other’s clothing.
With a laugh, we peel off our shirts. For a moment, I look around, quietly realizing where we are. The windows are tinted, so no one can just walk up and see this, but I’m not the only person in this hotel who can unlock the doors.
“Bronson,” I say, the name coming out as more of a moan than I intend it to as he kisses my neck. Before I can vocalize the rest of that thought, it dissolves on my tongue, and I release another soft moan that renders me silent.
Yeah.
Let’s not talk.
As I unzip my jeans, Bronson grabs hold of them and quickly pulls them down, taking my panties, too. Dropping them to the floor with our shirts, he returns to the space between my thighs, his cotton slacks the final barrier between us.
“Bronson,” I whisper, at least one smart thought shining through. “Condom.”
He pauses. “Shit.”
“What?”
“I don’t have one.”
“What?”
“I left all my stuff upstairs.”
“Shit,” I say, biting my bottom lip, ready to carry on regardless. “How’s your pullout game?”
Bronson smiles.
“Good answer,” I say before crushing my mouth on his again.
He kisses me, touches me, his hands teasing my breasts as I push his pants down. His cock stands hard, pointing upward toward my navel. I palm it carefully, giving him a few strokes that make him release a shudder of pleasure as he hooks my thighs and positions me closer to him.
Obeying the aching need between us, I guide the tip of his cock between my slit and he thrusts home.
All the way in.
An instant moan escapes my throat. He slides in easily, every inch stretching me in the best of ways. I lock my knees against his body, bracing my hands on the table as he pulls out and pushes in again.
My entire body melts, the passion of the moment blending with the taboo of it. My drummer is fucking me bareback on the table where I work, in the space we all share as a band. But that just cranks the thrill, the delicious rebellion.
Christ, who am I right now?
I’m not this girl. The one who balks at the rules and does what she wants — or who she wants. I’m not one to take risks, especially not when it comes to my job or my friends. And yet, here I am.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
These thoughts and more weigh heavy on my mind as sinful pleasures radiate through my core. I lie back in response, unable to do anything but moan. My back tingles against the cold surface as Bronson leans over me, his pelvic bones rubbing delightfully against mine with each thrust.
“Fuck,” he whispers, the words full of heat. “You’re so fucking tight, you know that?”
I tremble on the table, my back arching off of it.
“Say it, Jordan,” he growls as he feels up my body, his hand cupping my breast. “Say you’ve got a tight little pussy for me.”
Holy hell.
“Yes,” I moan. “I’m tight.”
“How does it feel?”
I don’t reply. At least, not with words. My body revolts, a near-violent shudder rolling through my abs.
“Good girl,” he says, pinching my nipple so hard my toes curl. “You’re such a good girl, Jordan.”
I laugh, gasping for air as his words cut deep. “Don’t stop,” I whisper so low I wonder if he even hears it at all.
But Bronson chuckles.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
“I won’t stop,” he says as I moan again. “Not until you come on my cock.”
Another rush of throbbing heat and I purr silently.
“Jordan...” Bronson tilts down, his body towering over me, his thrusts so fucking deep. “Does that feel good?”
“Mm-hmm!”
He steals a hard kiss, his dirty mouth sucking on my bottom lip. “Then, you’ll love this.”
He stands upward, dragging his hand down my body to rest his thumb against my clit and?—
I nearly scream.
“Shh.” Bronson chuckles as he teases me, the pad of his thumb rolling along the bud. “You look so fucking good right now.”
I smile. I can’t help it.
He makes me feel so good.
“You like that?” he says. “Tell me you like it.”
“I like it,” I say, the words disjointed, my entire body twitching with tension.
“Should I stop?”
“No!”
Another cruel laugh and he pushes harder against my clit. The partnership of his rolling thumb and thrusting cock act as a wonderful drug to my system, filling me with waves of aching pleasure that dance along every nerve.
I slap a hand over my mouth, feeling another scream coming.
“No.” Bronson uses his free hand to pull mine back. “Don’t cover your mouth. Those moans are mine.”
A spark ignites, and I come with an aching quiver that spreads from my sex all the way to my fingers and toes. I don’t cover my mouth, allowing for my sounds of pleasing torment to fill the air around us as Bronson’s seemingly unending stamina continues.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
As the last wave of my orgasm passes, Bronson pulls out with a deep grunt. He strokes his cock, the tip nearly reaching my navel, and I watch as he comes, the sight sending a pleasing shiver down my spine.
And then, silence.
Bronson steps back from the table, catching his breath. He sits down on the bench across the aisle as I sit up, allowing for my now aching legs to rest. We stay this way for several minutes; his cock slick with me, my stomach covered in him.
We sit and breathe.
Naked and quiet.
Surprisingly, he breaks the silence first.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I laugh for far too long, my entire body still numb, so tired and spent. Bronson laughs, too, thankfully finding the same humor in the moment as I do.
“You’ve asked me that a lot lately,” I say.
He shrugs. “You’re my friend.”
“And you’re my friend. Though... I rarely let my friends do what we just did.”
I nearly stand up, then stop myself. Before I can ask for a towel or something, Bronson scoops his shirt off the floor and tosses it at me.
“You sure?” I ask after catching it.
He shrugs. “Old shirt.”
I clean myself off with it the best I can, then fold it up onto my lap. “Bronson?”
“Hm?”
“Are you okay?”
He chuckles. “Oh, I’m doing just fine.”
I smile at his smugness, at the almost proud way he sits back, his flaccid cock still on display. “This isn’t weird for you?”
“No,” he answers. “Is it weird for you?”
I consider it for a moment, searching my feelings through a haze of sex and satisfaction. “No,” I realize. “Not really.”
Bronson shrugs, his eyes drawing a gentle line down my body before landing on my face again.
Hell, I check him out, too. The memory of his flesh, his scent and all the other scents still present on my skin.
And then another silence.
Quiet and comfortable. Just two friends hanging out. Relaxing. Taking care of each other. The lines between us... blurred into oblivion.
“Hey, Bronson.”
“Hm?”
“Have we totally screwed up our friendship?” I ask.
He thinks it over, tilting forward to set his elbows on his thighs. “No,” he answers.
“No?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Jordan, we’ve known each other for a really long time.”
I nod in agreement, hanging on every word.
“There’s nothing you can do that could make me stop being your friend,” he says. “Hypothetically, for example, if you took Monroe’s offer?—”
“I’d never do that, Bronson.”
“Hypothetically,” he repeats, “if you took Monroe’s offer, I’d congratulate you.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what friends do. And I know you. I know you’d never do that, but if you did, you wouldn’t do it just to hurt any of us. Right?”
“Of course not.”
“So, when you ask me if I think a little bit of casual sex just screwed up a lifelong friendship, of course, the answer is no.”
I smile, the question itself now seeming ridiculous.
“And,” he adds, sitting back again, “if you wanted to keep doing it, that’d be cool with me, too.”
To that, I blush all over again. “It would?”
He nods as he looks me over again, slowly. “You’re a beautiful woman, Jordan,” he says. “You do a lot for us — for me. If I can make your life easier, then I will.”
I laugh. “So altruistic.”
“I’m a giver,” he says, smiling.
I let myself look him over again, my laughter fading as my gaze slides down his toned body, ending on his cock. He’s grown semi-hard again, his shaft stiff and hovering against his thigh. I catch him eying my breasts, but somehow, I don’t mind.
I don’t care.
“Do you want to keep doing it?” I ask him.
His eyes answer long before he says it. “Sure. If you want to.”
My skin tingles with a warm thrill. “I think I do, but…”
He stares, waiting for me to finish.
I breathe a laugh. “How do these things usually work?”
“What things?”
“You know, what do they call it? Friends with benefits?”
“I prefer fuck buddies, but sure.”
“Fuck buddies. I’ve never done that before. Have you?” I shake my head. “What am I saying? Of course you have. You have a girl in every city.”
Bronson shrugs.
“Okay,” I say. “Well… are there rules or something I should know?”
He chuckles.
“What?” I ask.
“You and your rules,” he jokes.
I sigh. “Yeah.”
“If you want rules, there can be rules,” he says, breaking his smile. “I’m an all bets off kinda guy, but you might not be.”
“Yeah, I… don’t think I’m that guy.”
“No, you are not.”
“Right, so…” I clear my throat. “What rules could there be?”
“Uh…” Bronson looks up, thinking. “Boundaries?”
“Boundaries?”
“What do you enjoy?” he asks. “What don’t you enjoy? What turns you on? What crosses the line? That sort of thing.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. That’s smart. Okay. What boundaries do you have?”
“None.”
I scoff. “Well, that’s not fair.”
He laughs. “It’s true!”
“So, I could whip out a dildo and shove it up your ass, and you’d be fine with that?”
Bronson thinks it over, but only for a second. “Yeah.”
“Bullshit!”
“Hey, you bring the lube. I’ll bring the booze. We’ll have a good time. Easy.”
I chuckle, shaking my head.
He looks at me, amused. “What boundaries do you have, Jordan?” he asks.
I pause, exhaling hard. “Hell, what boundaries don’t I have?” I say, only half-joking.
“Start small. Can I kiss you?”
My chest quivers. “Can you kiss me?”
“I know a girl that’s strictly below the waist,” he says. “No kissing.”
“But you have sex?” I ask.
“Yup. We just don’t kiss.”
I try to picture that, but it seems so strange. “I like the kissing part.”
“Me, too.”
“I can’t even imagine having sex without kissing.”
“It’s doable. Not nearly as fun, in my opinion, but doable.”
“You can kiss me,” I decide.
Bronson nods. “Noted. What else?”
“You’re really gonna make me list it all out?” I ask, my cheeks burning.
“How about…” he says playfully. “We kiss. We have the most vanilla of stress-killing sex. We figure out the rest as we go. Does that sound okay?”
I look him over, my gaze falling on his cock once again. His shaft is even harder now, as if this entire conversation is foreplay all by itself.
“Okay,” I answer. “But we’re still just friends.”
“Just friends,” he repeats with a nod.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re great, Bronson! But I don’t think we should…”
“Date?”
“God, no!”
He exhales, relieved. “Neither do I.”
“Really?”
“I mean, you’re awesome,” he explains. “But you and I are not?—”
“Compatible,” I say with him. “Yes! I agree.”
“But we can fuck,” he adds. “I like fucking.”
“I like fucking , too.”
“So...” Bronson sits back on the bench, his erection long and prominent now. “Come here.”
There’s a moment’s hesitation before my curiosity piques enough for me to hop off the table and cross the bus toward him. Bronson extends one hand to me and I take it, allowing for him to move me where he pleases.
He turns me forward. “Sit,” he says behind me.
I try to take a half-step to the left, but he forces me back to where I was.
“No,” he says, amused. “Not on the bench.”
I look down. “Oh.”
He tugs my hand, his lips curling into a sinister smile. “Trust me,” he says.
And I do.
I really do.
I lower myself onto his lap, carefully. As I do, he guides me to spread my knees and place my feet on either side of his on the floor. I feel his cock press along my slit; the tip nudging against my throbbing clit. He sits forward, his chest flush with my back, and wraps his arms around me, one hand sliding down my belly to rest on my pussy.
“Put me inside of you,” he whispers in my ear, daring me to take control.
I shudder as I reach down. Angling my body against his, I guide him inside. His thick tip pushes in and I gasp, enjoying the delicious stretch all over again.
“Shh,” Bronson whispers in my ear, his arm still latched around me, his fingers drawing circles around my clit. “Rock back and forth. Slowly.”
I move backward, then forward, his cock pushing deeper inside. Careful not to let him fall out, I repeat the motion, riding him slowly as he rubs my clit at the same pace.
“Good girl,” he whispers in my ear. He kisses the back of my shoulder. “Does that feel good?”
I hum a yes. I tilt back, my body begging for even more of his touch. With closed eyes, I ride the motion, the pleasure in me threatening to spill out already.
Bronson continues to whisper coolly in my ear, telling me how beautiful I am. How sexy I look. Telling me I earned this, that I deserve it. That he wants me to come over and over again. Make him feel it. Make his lap as wet as I am.
And I do.
I come on him, my pussy clenching possessively around his cock. The lazy, slow movement keeps me on the edge, and I lose count of how many times I come.
Bronson Isaacs.
Oh, we definitely screwed up this friendship now.
“Stop,” I gasp, weak and trembling, barely able to hold myself up at all. “Bronson, it’s too...”
He whispers softly, both arms still keeping me safe and steady. “It’s all right,” he says. “I’ve got you.”
I lay my head back on his shoulder, deliciously spent, my eyes full of tears. Bronson kisses my neck and I dissolve even further into his embrace.
My body full of jelly, Bronson shifts me sideways. “Hold on to me,” he says.
I wrap my weak arms around his neck, and he rises off the bench. He carries me as if I were weightless, careful not to knock me against anything as he takes me to the bunks in the back.
“Bronson?” I mutter as he sets me down.
“Go to sleep,” he says, his voice so far away, his touch so close.
A warm blanket falls over me. “No...”
“No?”
“Bunk,” I say, my eyelids so heavy. “Not comfy...”
Bronson’s chuckle echoes. “Sleep, Jordan,” he says.
“O... K...”
I feel a kiss touch my forehead.
And then I don’t feel anything else at all.