Chapter 41
POPPY
“Oh, girl, that boy has it so bad…” Millie giggles from her place next to me at the table.
I follow her green eyes, finding Brookes standing over by the bonfire with Dallas, Logan, and Robbie as they talk to Happy’s dad, rock legend, Jonny Slater.
My cheeks flush from the look in Brookes’ eye, the flames of the fire emphasizing the devilish smirk that ghosts his lips as he lifts his bottle of non-alcoholic beer to his mouth and wraps his lips around it, causing my tummy to flutter.
We haven’t spoken much. After he gave me my best orgasm to date, he had a shower while I reapplied my makeup, which was a lot harder the second time around considering he was right there in the mirror, soaping himself up, his huge dick bobbing with every move he made.
We then had to quickly get ready for dinner on the beach.
And dinner was spent talking to everyone else, all while his hand teased my thigh beneath the table, fingers dancing over my skin through my dress.
But there’s an obvious tension lingering between the two of us.
One that is so thick it’s almost suffocating.
One I don’t like at all. One we both seem to be masking with kissing and touching and everything but talking.
I know we need to talk. But my core is still throbbing after what he did to me back in our villa, and anticipation swells in my belly knowing exactly what he has planned for when we get back. So... talking can wait.
“So, Brookes is thirty-two and you’re twenty-three,” Fran says, a look in her eye like she’s been thinking about the age difference between me and Brookes more than she should. “Do you call him Daddy?”
I blink at her.
“Fran!” Millie laughs, shaking her head.
“What?” Fran shrugs innocently. “Nine years is a decent age gap.”
Emily balks. “I’m nine years older than Dallas and he definitely does not call me Mommy.”
“Not that we know of.” Fran smirks, holding her tongue in her cheek.
“Okay, ew!” Millie, Dallas’ younger sister, holds her hand up, stopping Fran.
“I’m pregnant and horny; I can’t help it.” Fran harrumphs, holding a hand over her belly.
I chuckle, turning to Millie to hopefully change the topic of conversation. “So how did Logan propose?”
Millie smiles down at the beautiful diamond ring sitting on her finger. “It was actually so sweet. I got home from work one night to find him standing there, surrounded by candles and rose petals and he had Will you marry me written on his chest in Nutella.”
I open my mouth but stop myself when I process what she just said, my eyebrows pulling together. “N-Nutella?”
She nods, smiling secretly at me, and I decide then that I don’t actually need to know any more.
“That’s… sweet.” I take a sip of my water, looking back to Brookes and meeting his eyes.
Right at that moment, my phone vibrates on the table in front of me and I glance down at the screen to see his name right there. In the interest of not being rude, I conceal it as best I can, reading the text.
Brookes: Megalodon
I snap my head back up, my eyes searching for him again.
He’s still there, with the guys, and he doesn’t look panicked or uncomfortable, his blue gaze searing in a way that makes my stomach knot with nervous anticipation.
And I know it’s wrong. My feelings have already gone haywire, I know anything more is only going to cause problems. But I think the tropical air is getting to me.
The tropical air and the sex-positive queens I’ve spent the day with.
So, with a small smile, I tap out my reply.
Me: Truth or dare?
I look up in time to see Brookes read the words on his phone, and I see the dimples pull into his cheeks from the smirk he’s trying so hard to contain.
Brookes: Dare.
Me: I dare you to fuck me.
He looks up then, his eyes meeting mine. And, with one simple nod, I say my goodbyes to the girls and stand.
The walk from the party back to the villa has been silent and laced with a tension only amplified by the darkness of the night, the anticipation building until it’s at boiling point the second we make it inside.
In a flurry so fast it makes me dizzy, Brookes spins me, pinning me back against the wall, one big hand pressed above my head, the other gripping my waist almost to the point of pain, his eyes burning as they stare down into mine with a look in them that is unreadable yet makes my core thrum.
I’ve been needy, achy all night. God, I’m still wet from my earlier orgasm, and that, mixed with the feel of Brookes’ hands and eyes on me the entire time, along with thoughts of what might happen when we got back here… I’m a mess.
Brookes ducks his head, breathing me in, his lips grazing my cheek, my jaw, my neck before attaching to the spot at the base of my throat that makes my knees weak.
Licking and sucking and biting, he holds me upright the entire time, bringing me closer and closer to the edge with every pass of his lips, tongue, and teeth.
His hand is rough as it skates down my thigh, bunching up my dress and sliding between my legs. When he palms me, his fingers rubbing me through my panties, an animalistic growl rumbles from the back of his throat as he buries his face into the crook of my neck.
“Fuuuck,” he breathes out against my heated skin. “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already soaked.”
“I have been all night,” I confess on a whimper.
Brookes pulls back, his gaze heady when it meets mine. “You mean to tell me your pussy has been this goddamn wet all fuckin’ night?”
I nod, biting down on my bottom lip to stop myself from saying something embarrassing.
“Oh, poor baby,” he grits out, his finger tracing the seam of my slit, only teasing me through my panties. “Are you aching?”
I nod again, swallowing a pathetic moan while shifting my hips, searching for more. The way he’s being so purposely light, barely even touching me, is enough to drive me crazy.
“Tell me what you need, Pops.”
“More,” I whine. “I need… more.”
“More what, baby?” he asks as if he genuinely doesn’t know, dragging his finger over my panties even lighter so it’s almost non-existent.
“Everything,” I practically sob.
“Do you want my mouth or my fingers?”
I gasp for a breath I can’t quite catch, my mind reeling as it tries to keep up. “Both. All of it.”
“That’s my greedy girl.” Brookes chuckles, the sound low and devious as it vibrates through his chest and into mine.
He slips one skinny strap off my shoulder and then the other, pushing my dress down all way and over my hips until it’s pooling at my feet, his eyes lighting up at the sight of my bare breasts.
“Fuck, Pops.” He stifles a groan. “These fucking tits.” Grabbing them roughly, he pushes my breasts together and just stares at them for a moment before his gaze flits to mine and then, shocking me like he did earlier, he spits on one and then the other, using his thumbs to massage his saliva into my aching nipples.
“You like that, huh?” He smirks, dragging circles around my hard nipples. “You like when I spit on your tits. And your pussy.”
I nod quickly.
With another menacing smirk, he moves his hand, cupping it at my mouth. “Spit.”
Confused, I search his eyes.
“Spit, Poppy.”
Uncertainty rolls through me, but I do as he says, spitting into his palm.
“Good girl,” he rasps, and then he moves his hand down and slides it into my panties, rubbing my own saliva all over my center.
“Holy shit,” I pant out, my head falling back against the wall when he slides a thick finger between my folds, stars exploding behind my eyes.
“You are so fucking beautiful, Poppy,” Brookes whispers, his breath hot as it fans against my ear. He teases my clit with his thumb, sliding two fingers inside of me. “So perfect.”
I hold onto his arm, my hips bucking shamelessly when I feel him hit that spot deep inside me, the familiar ball of tension in the pit of my belly so close to unravelling it’s almost unbearable.
“You gonna come for me, baby?” Brookes utters.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” I chant, breathless, desperate.
“You gonna come all over my fingers like my good fucking girl?”
“Yes, please, please, please,” I whimper.
“That’s it,” Brookes gruffs. “Beg for it, baby.”
“Please, Brookes!” I cry out, my nails digging into his skin.
“Come, Poppy,” he whispers against my ear. “Come right fuckin’ now.”
The pressure deep inside of me erupts again like it did earlier, and I explode on a scream that Brookes greedily swallows, his lips on mine, tongue thrusting into my mouth and lapping up every last whimper as I come so hard.
“Fuck yeah, baby.” Brookes pulls away, looking down between us as he removes his hand from my panties.
“Did I—” I suck in a racking breath, looking down, scared of what I might find. I wasn’t completely sure earlier, but this time I’m almost positive. “Did I… did I pee?”
With a chuckle, Brookes wraps his hand around my throat, holding me right where I am and shaking his head. “No, baby,” he reassures me before sliding his tongue into my mouth again, his kiss searing and filthy and delicious.
“Now,” he says, pulling back, “let me clean up this pretty pussy.”
I’m still trapped in a boneless haze as Brookes drops to his knees. When I feel his fingers tuck into the waist of my thong and peel it over my hips, I look down, meeting his eyes before they drop to my center.
“Fuck,” he murmurs. “Look at this pretty fucking cunt.”
I barely have time to register what is even happening before I feel his mouth close over me, his tongue lapping at my still sensitive core.
“Ah, shit!” I cry out, my hands gripping his shoulders for something to hold onto. It’s too much. I can’t. It almost hurts. But then, the pain subsides and the need is back with a vengeance, another orgasm brewing low in my belly.