Chapter 19
Once we’d rung ourselves dry, Broderick used one deft finger to scoop his cum back inside me in some primal unspoken laying of claim. Perverse, filthy, and toe-curlingly delicious. I loved it. Loved knowing our bodies had melded entirely. Loved his sly smile as his insatiable eyes followed the lines of my body to my face. My bones went liquid. I was lying in a pool of my own sweat, acutely aware of the skin his fingers had just set alight before he eased off the bed to the bathroom. It was there that my spinning mind came to a very important conclusion: I’d never really lived until my lifelong flame had orgasmed fifteen years of pent-up angst and desire out of my body in one sitting. Like we were a bomb that needed to be defused before it detonated, and we’d watched that ticker count down to the last possible second. The most adoring praise always followed his filthy words. That approbation, combined with his skilled, oh-so-responsive fingers and a cock the gods would envy, reduced me to an incoherent puddle of languid limbs draped across sheets that smelled like us.
That smelled like him.
“Hey, baby,” he whispered huskily as he lowered his body around me and I inhaled deeply, soaking up the scent of lust and home and unadulterated bliss. Two simple words wielded so confidently, and he had me swooning even in my unresponsive pool of vibrating euphoria.
“Mmmm,” I practically purred as his warmth enveloped me. It was as close as I was getting to a word. Seriously, who attached anvils to my eyelids? Because they couldn’t remember how to open. I knew I loved the man—knew every poor fucker that tried to date me had been unfairly held against his flame—but this was fucking ridiculous. Who knew concealed under the ties and tweed, the recited Proust and Kant, lay a delicious lover just waiting to devastate me? To ruin me for anyone else.
But as his warm arm wrapped around my waist, his face gently nuzzling into my neck, and my ass wriggling into his dick, I hummed contentedly. Because yeah, Broderick could fuck better than a porn star, but I’d never felt so… cherished. He’d gotten me off, then cleaned me up. I returned the favor, and we laid there, just reminiscing. Slowly, tenderly, he shifted his body over mine, cradling my face as he peppered it in kisses before we made love. The sweetest, most intimate kind of love. The deep-in-my-core, only-in-movies kind of sex I’d never known. We cuddled, ordered room service, ate, laughed, and talked about dreams… and then he came back for more, like he could never get enough.
Which was a relief because I knew I could never get enough. He was right. Whatever this was, it would not stay in Las Vegas. How could that thrill me just as much as it terrified me?
“You hungry?” he whispered groggily against my dewy skin.
“Mmmmm,” I hummed. Maybe? I couldn’t locate my stomach to check in. That quiet laugh raked over my overloaded senses.
“Is that a yes, Pix?”
“Mmmph.”
“I’ll just go with yes to be safe.” He kissed my cheek, my neck, my shoulder, then bit into the sensitive skin where the two met. Smart man. How was he still so damn coherent? He’d emptied me of lust and brain cells in one go. When he leaned away, some desperate part of me wanted to protest. But even as he shifted on mattress springs that squeaked subtly, my body melded further into the sheets, breath a little deeper as I settled into this contentment.
It seemed like no time had passed before he was nudging me out of my stupor. My nose was the first part of my body to come online.
“Is that…bacon and brie?” I questioned, perplexed, as I peeled back heavy eyelids.
“Fanciest grilled cheese of your life, with marmalade on sourdough. Complete with a tomato bisque that smells amazing, if I say so myself.”
“Jesus,” I muttered, blinking and rubbing at my sleepy eyes as he chuckled.
“I also grabbed a basket of hot wings and a steak fajita quesadilla just to be safe.”
“I ever tell you that you’re too good for me, Mr. Allen?”
His smirk infected every syllable as he said, “Just fighting to be good enough, Pix.” The smorgasbord spread over the mussed sheets was enough for at least four people, and I’d never felt so much love for one person.
“Food is my love language,” I admitted as I stretched out grabby hands for the fancy brie and bacon grilled cheese. Because why the fuck not?
Broderick chuckled a simple, “I know,” and handed me the plate. The first bite sent me moaning, head lolling back against the headboard, my reaction making him laugh harder. “And here I thought I was the only one who could elicit that sound from your mouth.”
“To be fair,” I said, covering said mouth as I reached for a water bottle. “You are still responsible. It’s just not your dick I’m swallowing this time.”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, but I saw the smile as he dropped his face and palmed the back of his neck. “Your mouth, Pix.”
“Seemed like you were a pretty big fan of it about an hour ago.”
“Woman, you will be the death of me.” That sent me laughing, fighting not to choke on my mouthful of decadent sandwich, which only seemed to amuse him more. “Only Sin City delivers five-star room service in the middle of the night.”
It was as he popped the clear lid off the Styrofoam quart, the scent of tomato and cheese wafting my way as he held it out to me that I breathed, “Viva Las Vegas.”
Once we fully satisfied ourappetites, Broderick cleared the leftovers into the fridge. This will make for the weirdest breakfast spread on record.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “If you think this is the first time I’ll eat hot wings for breakfast, you’re sadly mistaken.”
“Medical marvel,” he grumbled, eyeing me up and down. It was the first time I saw his eyes on me without a trace of embarrassment…only…appreciation in his gaze. And damn, if that didn’t feel exquisite.
“They’re having me studied,” I teased as he sat back down beside me. “For science, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“Metabolic wonder woman.”
“Sure it’s not a psych ward for illusions of grandeur?”
“You’re a psych ward,” I retorted, scowling and sending him chuckling into his palm. “Honestly, though, some women work out to look good. I work out so I can eat,” I groaned.
“You’ve always looked good to me.”
I bit my lip, shaking my head as he eyed me up and down like I didn’t just stuff my face like I was about to be put to death. “Ready to pass out?”
Broderick grinned but stood abruptly. “Hang on. One last bucket list item.”
“Are we dying?”
“Slowly but surely,” he said with a smirk before vanishing... into the bathroom? The crash of water confirmed my suspicion, but I still furrowed my brows skeptically as his head popped back around the corner. “Coming, Pix?”
“To take a bath?”
“Humor me,” he called back. Shaking my head, I rounded the corner to a very-naked Broderick, thoroughly appreciating that perky backside as he stepped into the immense tub. When he caught me ogling, his brows winged up.
“Appreciating the view?” he asked, throwing my previous words back at me.
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
If I wasn’t braced for it, his smile could have knocked me on my ass. “Come on, baby. Let me take care of you.”
Well, how was a woman supposed to say no to that? Smiling to myself, I accepted his outstretched hand and gingerly stepped into the hot water. When we were both safely seated, I leaned back into his chest, his legs settling to either side of my hips as those broad hands wrapped around me, giving my breasts a little squeeze before dunking a washcloth and running it across my decolletage. Heaven. I’d survived the week of hell and ended it in heaven. Once he’d painstakingly washed me down, my hair included, Broderick relaxed into the bubbles, pulling me against him and weaving our fingers together. My light tan was in stark contrast to his rich, warm brown. He sighed blissfully, bringing our threaded fingers to my chest. Chills coasted over my skin when he leaned in to whisper in my ear.
“Pierce may have won the grant, but I promise you, I’m the one walking away with the greatest prize, baby. You’re all I ever wanted, and never dared to ask for.”
“So… we’ll talk?”
“Yeah,” I agreed cheerily the following morning, even though nothing in my body was remotely cheery. Our sex-a-thon gave way to the brutal reality that we were flying to two very different cities today. I was standing outside the gate for Seattle, staring at the man I always wanted, and only finally tasted, wishing his flight had room for me. It didn’t. He’d checked first thing this morning and again when we checked in for our respective departures. Broderick had classes on Monday, and I had a meeting with the team tomorrow after Chris wrapped up church. So, there was no delaying the inevitable. He had his duffle thrown over his shoulder, fingers hooked in mine, his other hand cradling the back of my neck.
Seeing right through my facade, Broderick hooked his finger beneath my chin, lifting it and bringing his mouth to mine in a caress that felt way too much like goodbye for my liking.
Everythingached. And it wasn’t just the fact that I was walking like an old west cowboy who’d ridden their steed for too long. I’d never understood why women talked about holding a cold soda can between their legs until Broderick eviscerated me wholeheartedly. Sounded like it might soothe at this point. It was this soul-deep fracture through my chest. Because I didn’t want to let go of his wrists, where I’d wrapped my fingers around them, trapping his broad hands cradling my face.
Eyes stinging, I decided closing them was safest as I leaned into his hand, kissing his palm. “Maybe forcing ourselves to be out of arms’ reach will be good on the communication front? Force us to talk,” I suggested, working to keep my tone light when I just wanted to crumble. Because even if I couldn’t define it, something had changed irrevocably last night.
“I still say we found better uses for our mouths.”
I snickered despite myself, a flush creeping up in my cheeks. Judging by the smug little smile he gave me as he ran a thumb over one side, he saw it. Enjoyed the effect he was having on me. “Obviously,” was my choked reply.
“Come on, Pix. You can’t cry. You know I won’t get on the plane if you cry.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“The university would say it’s a terrible thing.”
“Yeah,” I grumbled, hanging my head forlornly.
“We’ll talk,” he repeated. “I’ll come see you in Chicago after Thanksgiving.” When I just nodded, he added, “We can go see Pax play a game. Eat some deep-dish pepperoni pizza—the genuine stuff.” I nodded again. But he lifted my chin for the second time, those dark eyes boring into mine. “Tell me we’ll be okay, Pix. Tell me you’re in this.”
“I’m in this,” I repeated, lifting my chin, feigning a strength I certainly didn’t feel. “We’ll talk.”
“Okay,” he said, sighing as the attendant made the final call for his flight. My chest physically ached as he kissed me one last time, and I palmed at my heart. ‘I love you’ sprinted down my mouth but got trapped on the tip of my tongue. Too soon. No use in being the crazy overbearing girlfriend, even if I’d always known it.
Letting him walk down that ramp was one of the hardest things I’d done in my life.
Broderick
The week leadingup to Thanksgiving break was one of the longest of my life. Catching up on grading papers, teaching lectures, and my morning and evening calls with Elora were the highlights. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to wake up with her in my arms, kiss her breathless before she went out the door in the morning, pleasure her into that euphoric comatosed sleep at night.
Between those bright spots was mostly… a lot of gray and mist, and I hit the gym with James in the mornings and their cousin Charlie in the evenings just for something to keep my hands busy. I even put the finishing touches on my kitchen the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. Good thing, too, because the oven at the big Rhodes house ‘took a colossal shit’—Jameson’s words, not mine. One downside to island life was how long it took to freight appliances in, and the very limited selection on our oversized rock.
My parents were hitting Cabo this year for their anniversary, which left me celebrating with the Rhodes, in my new kitchen. I wasn’t complaining. I always landed at their place after dinner, anyway. It was just… my favorite Rhodes was missing.
Couldn’t exactly vocalize that as we all piled into my townhouse Wednesday night, and Noel put us all to work. There were few things the Rhodes loved as much as pie, which made the annual pie baking marathon as much of a tradition as the dead bird and mashed potatoes. Noel was hovering around the boys’ shoulders, eyeballing their handiwork as I came into the room, eyes flicking between my companions and El’s text thread.
Broderick
Miss you, beautiful. Sleep well.
Elora
Miss you, handsome. Happy pie night. Say hi to everyone for me?
Broderick
A bit of a giveaway, don’t you think?
Elora
Maybe. *winking emoji*
To be fair, if they take one look at my face when I think about your magic dick, that will be the end of this charade.
Broderick
Thinking about me in your mouth again, baby?
Elora
Every damn day.
In particular, that growly thing you did when I licked up your balls and sucked one side into my mouth while I jerked you off.
I choked on a laugh,nearly inhaling my mouthful of whiskey. I’d buried my fingers in her pussy, peppering her body in kisses while she deep throated me. The memory of her coming down my hand as I painted her skin in cum had me getting hard in an instant. Hacking, I waved away a disapproving glance from light brown eyes in a freckled, scowling face. When she saw I was stifling laughter, Noel couldn’t quite keep her frown in place, shaking her head instead as her mouth tipped up. I waved her off and watched her go back to micromanaging the pie making process before trying to subtly adjust myself.
Broderick
Christ, woman. Your mouth.
Elora
Didn’t seem to mind it so much between your legs.
Broderick
Certainly my highlight of the week.
Elora
Don’t you forget it.
Broderick
Never. But baby, you can’t get me hard when I’m five feet away from your brothers.
Elora
Just tell them you’re watching porn.
Broderick
In the kitchen on pie night?
Elora
I was replaying you coming all over me in my mind during my meeting this morning. Same thing, right?
Broderick
Um. Real memories trump porn.
Elora
Damn straight. I intend to erase every image of another woman in that brilliant mind of yours.
Broderick
So, maybe the porn was a bad suggestion after all.
Elora
I didn’t say to *actually* watch it. I said that was a viable excuse for little Broderick standing at attention.
Broderick
Sure. I always fill my spank bank while my best friend and his girl bake in my kitchen. That’s healthy.
Elora
*Spitting out water laughing gif*
Broderick
And need I remind you there’s nothing little about ‘little Broderick’.
Elora
Oh, I know. I just started walking normally.
Dammit, I can’t talk to you when I’m going commando.
Broderick
Killing me here, Pix.
Elora
Talk to you before bed?
Broderick
Yeah. I’ll text first so I don’t wake you up.
Elora
By all means, wake me up. But be naked when you do it.
Alright, sexy, I gotta catch a ride. Make good pie.
Broderick
Take care of my girl. Counting down to Chicago. Booked a place not far from Pax. Easy to sneak off to.
Elora
See you soon, handsome.
“Not so thin, not so thin,” Noel reprimanded, snaking her way under Jameson’s bulky arm to grab the rolling pin. More than a little amused, I went to set my phone on the counter before thinking better of it and sliding it in my back pocket. Last thing I needed was her brothers seeing her name pop up with a list of the filthy things we did together. Fuck, I loved that woman. Who would’ve thought the illustrious Elora Rhodes would have such a dirty mouth.
“Don’t crush it, Hulk hands. Sweet baby cheeses. Roll it gently.” Noel rushed to set down her Hot Toddy and take over to salvage it. She’d just poured two mugs, which felt a little ambitious for seven pm on pie night.
I snickered as he scowled at the top of her red curls, not dumb enough to argue with her. “Where the hell is Max? He’s always good at this shit,” Jameson groused.
“He’ll be here in a bit. Don’t be such a baby.”
Side-eyeing the thickness Noel expected for the crust, I did my best to mimic it before holding my hands out like a kid presenting their clay turtle to their teacher.
“Yes! Perfect, Brod, just transfer it over to the pie pan and stab the bottom a few times with a fork.”
Running my tongue over a molar, I arched my brows as I glanced at a still-scowling James, feeling a bit smug.
“Oh, fuck off,” he grumbled as Noel re-rolled his piece of dough.
“You’re just jealous.”
“I did not crush it.”
“Totally did,” Noel said lightly, shooting him a glance as a stray red curl fell in her face. I snickered, grabbing my whiskey and clinking it to his before raising my own in salute. James smirked and was still shaking his head when he picked his glass up and brought it to his lips. Much to my relief, my best friend had never been the one to chatter or gossip, and beyond learning I hadn’t won, had asked no pressing questions about me or El. Which meant I’d yet to have to outright lie. Honestly, that was a tremendous relief. One I thanked the universe for as I set down my glass.
Axel raised on his tiptoes to peer over at my approved pie dough, mouth pinched as he studied. “About a quarter inch?”
“That measurement should be real familiar to you, little brother,” James said, a wry, crude grin on his face. I shook my head.
“Fuck off,” Axel said, rolling his eyes. The fifth of the dozen, Axel was essentially a younger, more mountainous version of Rhyett. His long blonde hair gave him an unhinged, baby Brad Pitt circa Troy vibe, a fact his siblings weren’t shy about reminding him of. Stubborn fucker still wouldn’t cut it. This was the quietest a Rhodes gathering had ever been. Their parents were happily roasting in their Florida retirement escape. Rhyett and Brex, Jeanne, El, Hadlee, and Finn were all in their respective homes. Pax had a home game on Thanksgiving Day, so he was stuck in Chicago. The twins were visiting Alice in Emerald Bay, and Maverick was deep in his first semester at school—although I suspected he’d crash at El’s for Thanksgiving.
We’d have the cousins and their kids for the actual day, but tonight was…small. Freakishly intimate, having grown up around this enormous tribe of weirdos. Despite years of being overwhelmed by the noise and chaos, and barrage of physical affection, I kinda missed them all.
“That’s twice in as many minutes, Wolverine,” Noel chided, smirking over her hot toddy. “That might be a record, even for you.”
“Not my fault Axel’s worried about his quarter incher.”
“Personally, I think thicker is better,” Noel said, somehow keeping a straight face like Jameson wasn’t insinuating his brother had a micro penis.
“Oh, I know,” James said, failing to do the same as he grabbed another dough ball from the bowl and dusted the counter.
“Gross, guys, seriously? Don’t ruin pie for me.”
My head snapped up when that familiar voice cut through the groans and laughter. Standing in the doorway, looking equally smug and anticipatory, was my girl. Elora’s face was pink with cold, her nose red like a little upturned cherry. My fingers ached to brush away the windswept hair falling free from the messy bun piled on top of her head. I tightened my grip on my glass instead.
“Heyyyyy!!” Axel threw his arms up in victory, sending flour flying everywhere.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” James barked, sloshing the whiskey as he slammed his glass down and made an open-armed beeline for the front door. El laughed, tossing her purse onto my couch like she belonged here. Was at home here. Maybe it had been Sarah that made her so uncomfortable the whole damn time.
“That’s how you greet your baby sister these days?!” she scolded, rolling her eyes, but she threw her arms open to wrap herself around his torso as he crushed her against his flannel-clad chest. Max came in my front door behind her, shaking off a black umbrella before doing the same thing to his hair. Like he was neatly planting all the loose droplets on my floor mat.
“Max, did you do this?” James barked, not hiding his grin. A twinge of guilt battled the elation in my chest as Max shook his head, hands raised in surrender. He could act as grouchy as he wanted to, but Jameson was the world’s biggest teddy bear for his family. To his sisters, especially. Not much longer, I promised myself, grinding my teeth in restraint, keeping my distance. Axel was next to wrap her up in a bear hug, lifting her feet off the ground in a fit of giggles. He gave her a good spin, and I eyed the exposed skin between her deep red sweater dress and furry knee-high boots. I can’t talk to you when I’m going commando. She’d been catching a ride here when she dismissed our conversation. And knew full well exactly what I’d be thinking of with those strong legs on display. The promise at their apex. The image of yanking her into my bedroom and bending her over my desk to see that pretty pink pussy had me clearing my throat and studying the last of my drink.
“Miss her, Allen?” Noel nudged my elbow, watching the reunion with a satisfied smile on her face, and two mugs in her hands. That little shit. I couldn’t help but assess her, wondering if her best friend had relayed our conversations during my time at the conference.
“I miss them all when they’re off island.” Not a lie. I’d be thrilled to hug Alice or Pax or Finn. But not this thrilled. Not itching to close the distance. To slip my fingers under that too-short-for-Mistyvale dress and revel in her sweet heat beneath.
“Sure,” she chirped, flicking her eyes up to me in a way that said, ‘how dumb do you think I am?’ and I wondered if Brex was right. Were we so terribly obvious that everyone noticed except for the two that needed to? “That why her eyes are locked on you like a homing beacon?”
I snapped my face toward the Rhodes siblings, wincing when Noel snickered.
“Gotcha!” she muttered. But she wasn’t wrong. El had eyes only for me, and I wondered how Jameson was still oblivious to how intently she kept looking back at me, making eye contact with Max and her brothers as they talked, only long enough to avoid being rude. Noel nudged my elbow and said, “Happy Thanksgiving, Brod.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I muttered back a beat before Noel closed the distance, launching herself into El’s arms right as they opened, drinks held out to either side like precarious little wings.
“Welcome home, Elly!”
Elora’s laugh was better than the rare peek of winter sunlight. “Hey, Skittles!”
“No, none of that,” Jameson growled firmly, shaking his head as the girls both burst out laughing. “You don’t get to call her that. That’s my thing. Exclusive. Not sharing. She’s my Skittles. You get Noelie-Bear or Bean or whatever shit you two concocted,” he said, pointing between El and Max and then pulling Noel back to him possessively. “Hey, man,” he added to Max as an afterthought.
Max gave him a cheerful salute, but his eyes locked on me with way too much understanding on his face, and my stomach bottomed out as he made a beeline in my direction.
“Professor! Good to see you. You got any more of that?” Max nodded to the whiskey in my hand before slinging an arm around my shoulders and rotating us toward the kitchen. “Have a feeling we’ll both need it.”