Chapter 30
THIRTY
NAOMI
“ W hat the fuck wasn’t exactly what I was aiming for.” Brandon tilts his head.
“It’s beautiful.” So beautiful, I can’t stop staring at the room, at the candles, the rose petals, the champagne. It’s like something out of a romance novel, and I’m not sure how to process it.
Bed and silk sheets.
He promised and delivered.
Like always.
“We don’t have to do anything.” He moves towards the champagne, pouring us each a glass. “Your choice.”
He hands it to me, and I take a sip to steady myself. The bubbles dance on my tongue, crisp and effervescent.
“Brandon…”
“Yes, cupcake?” The black of his pupils almost swallows the blue of his eyes.
I set my glass down, my hands shaking slightly. “I want you.”
“You have me.”
“No, I…” I rest my hands on his chest, his heart pounding beneath my palm, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. “I want you. All of you. Right now.”
He sets his glass down, his hands coming to my waist. “Are you sure?”
I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.
I’ve never wanted a man more than I want Brandon right now. It’s a visceral need, a hunger that has nothing to do with food and everything to do with the way he looks at me, the way he touches me, the way he makes me feel.
“I not only want you. I need you,” I say.
“Mhmm.” His lips pause just shy of mine, tension crackling in the space he refuses to close. “Tell me exactly what you want, Naomi.”
My name on his lips sends a jolt to my core. “You know.”
“Do I? Pretty sure you’ve never told me.”
“I shouldn’t have to.”
“Maybe I like hearing you say it.” He shows off his dimples. “Maybe I need to hear it.”
“Your ego not big enough?”
“C’mon, cupcake.” His hand traces the edge of the dress on my upper thigh. “Tell me.”
“I want you to take control. I want you to make me feel good. I want…” I take a shuddering breath. “I want you to finally fuck me, Brandon. Happy?”
“Fuck…” His eyes flash. “A bit aggressive, but I’ll take it.”
“A bit aggressive? You’re the one who?—”
And then his mouth is on mine, hot and hard. He kisses me like he’s starving for it and wants to devour me whole. I melt into him, my body molding to his as he walks me backward toward the bed until my knees hit the edge.
“Who what?” Brandon murmurs against my neck, his breath hot on my skin. “Made you admit what you’ve been wanting since college?”
I tilt my head back. “Since college is a far stretch.”
“So you weren’t checking me out in Econ?” His teeth graze my skin.
“I was not.” We both know it’s a lie if my super needy voice is any indication. “You were always too busy flirting with that blonde in the front row to notice anything.”
His bare chest rumbles with laughter. “Jealous, cupcake?”
I was. God, I was. Every time she’d lean forward, twirling her hair around her finger, laughing at his jokes. Every time he’d flash that dimpled smile at her. But I’m not about to admit that.
“You wish,” I say instead.
“Maybe I do.” He strokes my jawline with his thumb, his gaze steady and unyielding. “Maybe I wish you’d wanted me then as much as I wanted you.”
The words knock the air from my lungs, and I can’t blame it on the dress anymore. I stare at him, searching his face for any sign of teasing, but find none.
“I was jealous,” I whisper.
A wicked glint appears in his eyes. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Shut up and take me.”
And he does.
His mouth crashes into mine, his tongue sweeping inside to claim me. I moan into the kiss, my fingers threading through his hair to pull him closer. He groans, low in his throat, the sound vibrating through me.
His hands are everywhere, skimming over my silk-covered curves, igniting fires beneath my skin. He finds the zipper of my dress and tugs, the fabric loosening and freeing my shoulders first.
“Brandon,” I gasp as his lips trail down my neck, his teeth nipping at my collarbone.
“I’ve got you.” His hands drag the dress down my body until it pools at my feet. “I’ve always got you.”
I step out of the puddle of silk, kicking it aside. My skin is flushed and tingling under his heated gaze as I stand before him in nothing but my black lace underwear.
“Fuck, Naomi.” His voice is reverent, awed. “You’re beautiful.”
I’ve never felt beautiful, not really. Not with the guilt and self-loathing that’s always churned in my gut. But I feel it now. Beautiful. Cherished. Worshipped.
Loved.
His hands skim up my sides, cupping my breasts through the lace. “Every single inch.”
My breath hitches as his thumbs brush over my nipples, my body silently begging for more.
“I’m going to take you apart piece by piece until you’re trembling and begging for release. And then, when you think you can’t take any more…” He pinches my nipple, the sensation shooting directly into my core. “That’s when the real fun begins.”
He pushes me back on the bed, the cool silk sheets a stark contrast to the heat of his body and lips on mine as he settles over me. His weight is comforting, grounding.
I slide my hands under his shirt, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath my touch as I push the fabric up his torso. He breaks away long enough to yank the shirt over his head, tossing it aside.
I’ve seen him shirtless before, but this is different. This time, I can touch, trace the lines of his abs with my fingers, and feel the way his breath hitches when I scrape my nails lightly down his chest.
“Like what you see?” His mouth curves into that devastating smirk.
I pull him in. “Shut up.”
He chuckles against my lips, his hands unclasping my bra, leaving nothing between us but air and pure want. I gasp as his lips close around my nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive peak, while his hands trail down my stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of my underwear.
He looks up at me, waiting for permission, and I lift my hips in response.
His touch is electric as he rids me of the lace down my legs. I tremble, exposed and vulnerable, but Brandon’s eyes hold nothing but reverence.
“Cold?” He kisses my inner thigh.
“No.” My voice catches as his breath ghosts over my center. “Just… nervous.”
“Don’t be.” His fingers trace patterns on my skin. “I’ve got you.”
Those words again. Simple but powerful. They sink into my bones, melting away years of walls and defenses.
“Look at me.”
I meet his intense gaze. His pupils are blown wide with desire, but there’s something else there too. Something that makes my heart stutter.
“You’re so fucking wet.” His thumb brushes over my clit. “Is this all for me?”
I can only nod, my hips seeking more of his touch.
When his tongue makes contact, my back arches off the bed and his hands grip my legs, holding me steady.
“Every Thursday dinner, watching you pick at your salad.” His tongue flicks out, teasing. “And all I could think about was having you spread out like this. Picking at you.”
My fingers twist in the sheets, stupid silk sheets, as he licks a long stripe up my center. A moan tears from my throat.
“You taste just as I remember.” One of his hands slides up my body to my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers. “The sweetest sin.”
All I can do is feel his mouth on me, his hand on my breast, the other keeping me spread open for him, and the pleasure that builds and builds like a tidal wave threatening to crash over me.
“Brandon…”
“What do you need?” He hums against me. “My fingers?” A single digit sinks into me, curling just right, and stars erupt behind my eyelids. “My mouth?” He sucks on my clit, and I keen, high and fervent. “My cock?”
Yes, god yes, all of it, any of it, just please…
But I can’t form the words, can’t do anything but writhe beneath him.
“Beg for it,” he says.
“Fuck you.”
He tsks, his thumb circling my clit in maddeningly slow strokes. “That’s not very nice. I thought you wanted to come.”
“Brandon.” I try to make my voice stern, but it comes out breathy. “Stop teasing.”
“But you’re so pretty when you’re desperate.” He punctuates his words with a particularly deep thrust of his fingers. “All flushed and panting and begging for my cock.”
The dirty talk shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does. But I can feel myself getting wetter, my walls fluttering around. And he can, too.
“Come on, cupcake.” His fingers hit a spot that makes my vision blur. “One word.”
“Please,” I gasp. “I want you inside me.”
“Inside you?” He withdraws his fingers, standing up. “Mhm. Will you beg a bit more for me?”
I can’t help but stare as Brandon’s hands move to his belt, the leather sliding free with a soft hiss. My heart pounds against my ribs, breath catching as he unbuttons his jeans.
They hit the floor, and holy fuck. The sight of him in just black boxer briefs, the obvious bulge straining against the fabric, makes my mouth go dry.
“Like what you see?” He hooks his thumbs in the waistband, teasing.
My voice comes out hoarse. “You already asked that.”
“And you still haven’t answered.” He slowly pushes the fabric down, revealing inch by glorious inch. “Maybe I need the ego boost.”
“Your ego’s big enough.” My eyes are glued to him as he kicks off the last of his clothing.
He stalks toward me. “Might be too big for you to handle.”
I roll my eyes even as heat floods my core. “That was awful.”
“Made you smile though.” He settles between my legs, his hardness pressing against my thigh. “I love your smile.”
The tenderness in his voice catches me off guard. This is… more. So much more.
His lips find mine again, softer, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into the kiss. I wrap my legs around his waist, needing to feel more of him.
“Naomi.” He breaks away, his forehead resting against mine. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I rock my hips against him. “Please.”
He reaches between us, positioning himself at my entrance, the head of his cock probing and teasing.
“If you don’t fuck me right now, I swear?—”
His cock pushes in a fraction deeper, making me tense up. “You’ll what?”
“I’ll finish without you.” My fingers start to drift lower, but his hand locks around my wrist, his restraint speaking louder than words ever could.
“The only one making you come tonight…” He pins my wrists above my head with one hand, his other gripping my leg around his waist. “…is me.”
My core clenches around nothing, yearning for him to follow through on that promise.
I clear my throat, aiming for casual even as my heart threatens to burst from my chest. “Um, protection?”
“I’m clean, and my boys are on a mandated break. Unless you want to change that.”
“No need.” I meet his eyes, drowning in the intensity I find there. At least not yet. Did I just—”I’m on the pill. And clean.”
“You sure about this, cupcake?”
“I’m not made of glass.”
“I don’t want to rush this.”
Something in his tone makes me pause. He’s being careful, gentle in a way I’ve never seen before. Like…
Oh god. He knows.
Panic seizes my throat. I try to sit up, to push him away, but his hold is too strong.
“Naomi.” Just my name, but the way he says it, like a prayer, like something precious, stops me cold. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay!” I try to twist free. “You know, don’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters!” Humiliation burns my cheeks. “I-I’m not?—”
“Shh.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, achingly tender. “We’ll go slow.”
Tears well in my eyes, threatening to spill. “I don’t want you to go slow.” The fight drains out of me. “I want that other side of you.”
“That other side, huh?” His grip tightens on my wrists. “You sure about that?”
“Yes.” I arch up against him, craving more contact. “I don’t want gentle.”
“Tough.” He nips at my collarbone. “Because that’s what you’re getting.”
“Brandon.”
“You’re overthinking again.” His hand on my leg traces up my side, a shiver running through me. “Let me do this my way.”
I want to argue, to demand he gives me what I want, but his touch blocks my brain.
He kisses me while slowly pressing forward, stretching me in a way his fingers could never prepare me for. It’s delicious, bordering on too much, but perfect all the same.
“Fuck. You feel amazing.” His muscles tremble with the effort of holding back. “You okay?”
I shift, pushing into the friction, and the sound we make is nothing short of desperate.
“Move,” I command.
He does, pushing in and out with agonizing slowness, reaching deeper each time. “Even now, you’re trying to control everything.”
My retort dies as he does a sharp thrust, drawing another moan from my lips.
Slowly, incrementally, the pain starts to recede, replaced by a growing sense of fullness, of completion.
“More.” My hands strain against his grip, wanting to touch, to explore, but he keeps them pinned above my head.
“You’re not the one in control here.” And I love it. His mouth finds my neck, sucking and biting marks into my skin. “Trust me.”
My body relaxes, surrendering to his pace, his control. Trust. Such a simple word, yet it carries the weight of everything between us.
“That’s it,” he whispers. “You’re doing so well.”
“It feels so good.” My body aches for release. “Please.”
“I love how you beg.”
There’s something intoxicating about giving in, about feeling weightless in the hands of someone else. And as much as I should hate it, I’m starving for it.
How did I survive without this until now?
“You.” Each word of his is followed by deep thrust. “Are. Mine.”
I cry out, my spine curving as pleasure takes over. He takes advantage, ducking his head to capture my oversensitive nipple between his teeth, almost sending me tumbling over.
“That’s it.” He releases my wrists and hooks an arm under my knee, lifting my legs higher.
The new angle lets him sink impossibly deeper, and I’m reduced to broken moans.
“No more running, cupcake.” He slows down. “Say it.”
“I—”
“Say it, or you’re not allowed to come.”
“No more running!”
“That’s my good girl.” His rhythm changes, still controlled but with an edge of roughness. “Show me what I’ve been missing all these years.”
Tremors rack my body, my legs threatening to give out. I’ve spent so long holding myself together, I’ve forgotten how to fall apart.
Because I was scared.
But I’m not anymore.
Brandon will catch every piece.
“Let go.” His thumb circles my clit. “I’m right here.”
I shatter, my vision whitening out as the pleasure breaks me apart, breaks me free.
Bit by bit.
I’m distantly aware of him following, my name a groan on his lips, his arms embracing me, and his weight pressing me further into the mattress. I cling to him. To this moment.
All that exists is here, this intimacy that goes far beyond physical. It’s raw, intense, and utterly consuming. And it feels so damn good.
My heartbeat slows, the panting transforming into breathing, and my body burrowing into the soft sheets.
Maybe Dr. Patel was right. Maybe safety isn’t about control at all.
The candles have burned lower, casting long shadows across the walls, making this moment feel suspended in time.
Maybe it’s about trust. About letting someone see all your broken pieces and trusting them to love you anyway.
Brandon’s eyes find mine.
Maybe, just maybe, I’m ready.
To my horror, hot tears streak down my cheeks.
This isn’t supposed to happen, is it?