Chapter 31
POPPY
By the time we get back to the hotel, there’s a swarm of people waiting, lined up outside.
“Fuck’s sake,” Brookes mutters under his breath.
“Fans?”
He glances at me from across the backseat, a wry smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah. I was starting to think they’d ditched me for good.”
I smile.
“But talk about shitty timing…” he murmurs, shifting awkwardly, and it’s only then that I notice the massive bulge in his pants. “I’ve been painfully hard since you told me about your panty situation,” he whispers.
I cringe because I cannot believe I told him that. Who am I?
“Don’t go all shy on me now, Pops,” Brookes says lowly, leaning in and grazing my heated cheek with his lips.
As we hop out of the car, Brookes is swallowed by the mob, and I stand off to the side, out of the way, watching on as he smiles for photos, signs ball caps and t-shirts and magazines, working the crowd like a pro before security swoops in and manages to move everyone on before escorting us inside the safety of the hotel.
When we finally make it to the suite, I don’t even have a chance to compose myself before Brookes is on me, pinning me back against the door, his lips claiming mine in the sort of kiss that steals my breath.
I wrap my arms around his neck, holding on tight, a moan slipping out of me which he swallows greedily.
His hand falls from my cheek, trailing down over the swell of my breast, following the curve of my waist and hips before finding my thigh and wrapping around it.
He lifts my leg and nestles in even closer, and when he thrusts his hips, I suck in a gasp at the feel of his erection grinding against my core.
“Feel that?” Brookes grits against my mouth.
Clamping my bottom lip between my teeth, I stifle my moan. “Mmmhmm.”
With the pad of his thumb, he traces the curve of my mouth, forcing my lip free. “You ready for me to fuck this pretty little mouth with it?”
My eyes flare at his filthy words, and despite the momentary panic that beats in my chest, my core aches. “Yes.”
Brookes’ smirk is menacing as he pulls back, staring down at me with fire in his eyes. But suddenly, the moment is interrupted by a vibrating coming from his pants pocket, and with a muttered string of expletives, he closes his eyes and pulls his phone out, the screen lit up with a call.
“It’s just Cam and Blake,” he huffs. Cupping my cheek, he grazes my lips with his as he mutters, “I’ll call ’em back.”
I smile against his mouth, and when he slides his tongue between my lips in a way that reminds me exactly of how he was licking me last night, I feel it between my legs, and I practically pant into the kiss.
But then the phone starts to vibrate again.
“Motherfucker.” Brookes tears away from me, glaring down at his phone.
“Just answer it,” I manage between my racking breaths, pushing my hair back from my flushed face.
His eyes meet mine, and they’re clouded with anger and frustration and maybe something else I can’t quite pin point, but I’m not sure.
Finally, he relents, and with a chaste kiss to my cheek, he turns and answers the call with a gruff, “Yeah?” and I’m left standing here gasping for a breath I can’t quite seem to catch, my knees trembling like they’re about to give out on me at any second.
I wake with a start. Sitting up, I search the space, taking a moment to remember where I am. Rubbing my gritty eyes, I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s after ten. Jesus. I really was wiped.
Brookes took longer on his call than I expected, so I snuck in and took a shower.
When I finished and found him still on the phone looking none too happy about the situation, I decided to lie down in bed and work on some sketches.
But if my sketch book lying on the floor is any indication, I must have passed out from sheer exhaustion, and now it’s ten p.m.
The door to the bathroom is slightly ajar, and I can hear the shower running, the light from inside seeping out just enough for me to see through the darkness.
Hopping out of bed, I pick up my sketch book and place in onto my nightstand, then smooth down my oversized t-shirt and pad out of the bedroom in search of water.
But, as I pass the bathroom door, I make the totally intentional mistake of peering in.
When I catch a glimpse of Brookes in the reflection of the steamed mirror, I almost trip over nothing at all.
Rooted to the floor, it’s as if I’m locked in a trance, watching as he stands there under the steady flow of water, rivulets streaming down his strong back, and that ass.
Oh my God, that ass. So firm and round and tight, I’m forced to grip onto something to stop myself from buckling, but as I reach for the door jam, I accidentally knock the door and the damn thing swings open, and suddenly I’m standing here like a goddamn pervert right as Brookes turns around.
But instead of alarm at seeing me frozen, like a deer caught in headlights, Brookes simply lifts his chin, his eyes trailing down my body, lips twitching with the hint of a smirk. And it’s only then that I see it. Right there gripped in his fist. Holy shit.
My eyes blow out and my throat is suddenly drier than the Mojave.
Rodrigo was right.
It’s so long and hard and thick. And I can’t stop staring directly at it.
Brookes strokes himself, slow yet determined, every pass causing his stacked abs to tighten.
I swallow hard, tearing my eyes from his monster cock.
Glancing up, I catch his cocky grin combined with the look of lust in his eyes, and I’m suddenly forced to cross my legs at the ankles, squeezing my thighs in some pathetic attempt to quell the sudden ache blooming in my core.
“Like what you see, Pops?” Brookes’ low, gravelly voice cuts through the sound of the water falling.
Biting down on his bottom lip, he breaks eye contact, looking down at himself.
And, of course, I follow suit, watching as he pumps himself hard a few times, the muscles in his strong thighs clenching with the movement.
Like a moth ready to sacrifice itself to a pretty flame, I practically float into the bathroom, my gaze set firmly on Brookes’ dick, watching, enamored as he continues jerking himself off, nothing but the slightly fogged pane of glass separating us.
“Truth or dare,” he rasps, sucking in a breath between his teeth.
“Truth,” I answer, my voice wavering nervously.
“What are you thinking right now?”
I swallow hard again, watching his every move. “I’m thinking how that thing will never fit inside of me.”
Brookes chuckles low, the sound hitting me right in the vagina.
“Oh, don’t you worry, baby,” he coos. “We’ll make sure it fits.”
My heart races, my stomach in knots, but in the best possible way.
I’m nervous and anxious and a little scared.
But I’m also excited. More excited than I ever have been.
Sex has always been terrifying for me. And anything sex-related that could potentially escalate to the deed itself has only ever felt like an arduous task, something I’ve always done everything I can to try to avoid.
Even kissing raises alarm bells in my central nervous system because I know what kissing can lead to.
But between last night and today, something happened.
I can’t explain it. But now, it doesn’t seem so scary…
“Take off your panties.”
Snapping out of my thoughts, I look up, meeting his eyes, seeing something playful yet contradictingly demanding in his gaze.
And, as if I’m no longer in control of my own inhibitions, I do as he says.
Sliding up the hem of my t-shirt, I link my fingers into the waist of my cotton panties and slide them down all the way before kicking them off to the side.
A slow grin curls Brookes’ lips. “Good girl.”
My heart jolts at the praise.
“Now, I want you to go over there and sit up on the counter.”
Confused, but not willing to question him, I turn to the counter and pull myself up to sit on it, watching him and waiting for what, I don’t know.
“Spread those pretty thighs.” Brookes juts his chin, eyeing my legs.
Nerves flare low in my belly, but I do as he asks, parting my knees just enough.
“That’s a good girl,” Brookes utters, his gaze fixed on my core, eyes darkening. He places a hand flat on the glass, his own legs spreading just a touch as he anchors himself. “Now I want you to touch that pretty pussy,” he demands. “Watch me while I watch you.”
Heat creeps up from my chest, up my throat, flaming my face, and humiliation starts to singe the edges, causing my heart to thunder.
“Come on, baby,” Brookes taunts, smirking at me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Be a good girl for me and touch yourself.”
Releasing a stammering breath, I place a hand on my thigh, dragging my fingers up and down the soft skin, inching closer and closer to the apex with every pass.
Brookes watches so intently, it’s almost as if I can feel his gaze burning through my skin. The way he works himself over with long, slow, lazy strokes only encourages me, giving me this newfound sense of confidence to help satisfy the painful need that throbs deep inside of me.
When I finally touch myself, when I feel just how wet I am, I suck in a shuddering breath, surprised by just how badly I actually want this.
“That’s it,” Brookes gruffs, nodding slowly. “Tease your clit, baby.”
I graze the sensitive bud, my legs twitching, and I’m unable to stifle my own moan, gripping the edge of the counter to stop from falling off and onto the hard tile.
“Yes, just like that,” Brookes encourages. “Draw little circles around it.”
I follow his direction, my head falling back and hitting the mirror as a groan tumbles out of me. My back arches, and I can already feel the blood rushing to my core, every inch of my body thrumming with anticipation and need.
“Fuck, Pops.” Brookes groans, and I snap my head back up, noticing his own movements grow faster, less controlled. “Slide a finger into your pussy,” he commands. “Fuck that needy little cunt and show me exactly what I’m missing, baby.”
My mouth falls open from his words and just how much I’m obviously affecting him.
And I do it. In fact, I think right now, with the way Brookes’ gaze is watching me, I’d do just about anything.
Slowly, I slide my middle finger inside of me as far as it will go before removing it and doing it again and again.
“Oh my God.” I whimper, using the heel of my palm to rub my clit.
“Fuck!” Brookes tips his head back on another low, rumbling groan, every sculpted muscle pulling and tensing beneath his skin. “I’m gonna come, baby.”
My head falls against the mirror again, my eyes rolling back as the base of my spine starts to tingle. I continue pumping into myself, warmth flooding through me, every muscle in my body tensing as the wave deep in my belly builds.
“Look at me, Poppy!” Brookes growls.
I look at him, our eyes meeting through the steam swirling in air between us.
“I want you to look me in my eyes when you make yourself come for the first time,” he demands. “I want to know it’s because of me.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes…” I pant out, breathless, spots dotting the edges of my vision.
“Come, Poppy,” Brookes grits out. “Come right fucking now.”
And I do. With a scream that doesn’t even sound like me, stars explode all around me as wave after wave of bliss rolls through, my entire body quaking and contorting as I prolong the feeling until it’s too much and I have to force myself to stop, collapsing back against the mirror.
“So goddamn pretty when you come,” Brookes says with a soft smile, and then with a few more pumps of his fist, I watch as his muscles tense, his body going rigid before a low, deep groan vibrates through his chest and his cock releases, shooting thick ropes of seemingly never-ending cum all over the shower glass and up onto his stomach and chest.
And as I sit here, my mouth hanging open, gaping at him as he comes down from his high, the remnants of his release washing off his body, I’m still vibrating as I realize something: I think I might finally be ready.