8. Crave
Crave
The air in the gym crackles with unspoken tension.
I challenge him with a wicked smile and he drops his hands down my body. I take a slow step back, meeting his dark gaze—his dimpled grin still plastered across his lips.
I’m about to wipe that smirk right off his gorgeous face if he thinks he has the upper hand.
I tut, soft and seductive, “This isn’t about what you like.”
Broderick’s lip twitches.
“It’s about what I want.”
His eyes narrow, recalibrating. Focusing on me like an animal being cornered.
“And what exactly do you want?” he asks, voice dripping with challenge and curiosity.
I don’t answer. Not yet.
Instead, I step even closer, fingers grazing his broad chest, tracing over hard muscle, heat rolling off his skin. He doesn’t move.
I like that.
My hand slides over his shoulder, nails dragging down his bulging arm. His jaw tics.
“Since the moment I walked in here,” I whisper, my fingers moving lower, teasing the waistband of his gray sweatpants, the bulge in his pants growing. Just enough that I can make out the outline of his cock.
“All I’ve wanted…is to taste you.”
His breath catches and his eyes widen in surprise. I see his throat bobbing as he swallows.
I lean up, teasing him like I’m going in for a kiss, he leans down and I know I’ve got him.
I tut. “No kissing,” I say wagging a finger at him, pressing my fingertip to his lips.
I go in again, my breath dancing against his warm, wet skin, dragging my tongue slowly and deliberately up his chest—tasting the heat, the salt, the sweat—savoring the shudder that rips through him.
“El,” he groans through strained lips.
“Shh.” I brush my lips against his skin, just enough to make him shiver.
I trail my tongue down his abs, over each decadent ripple, drinking in every flicker of tension, every controlled breath. Peppering kisses along his torso.
Placing my hand on his chest softly. I look up at him directly.
Then I push. Hard.
He stumbles back onto the weight bench with a dull thud, startled, eyes a wild mixture of shock, and excitement. Broderick could easily resist me, overpower me with his sheer size, but he lets me take control. He wants this just as much as I do, and the thought makes me mad with lust.
“Hmm,” he hums.
But I’m already sinking to my knees, fingers hooked in his waistband, my gaze locked on his.
“Now obey.” I lick my lips, still tasting the saltiness of him, as I tug at his sweatpants down inch by inch.
I take in the V that frames his taut abs.
Fuck he’s perfect.
His body is strung tight, like the tent in his pants, though he looks as if he’s still deciding whether to turn the tables or surrender.
Finally, Broderick relaxes on the bench.
“Good boy,” I whisper, hoarse with hunger and need. I want to see him come undone.
I pause just long enough to meet his eyes. “I told you. This is about me.”
His chest rises and falls, fast now. He nods slowly.
“I need to hear you say it.”
“It’s…it’s about you, Baby.”
Baby?
The word knocks the air clean from my lungs, slipping from his lips like velvet, soaked in heat and something that feels dangerously close to reverence.
It caresses something deep inside me, a desperate need to be cherished.
I run my hands up his thighs, taking my sweet time before tugging his sweatpants and briefs lower. My breath stutters when I finally take him in—his cock snapping free, like the unveiling of a brand-new skyscraper.
Wow. Broderick. Is. BIG.
I expected something familiar. This wasn’t. Not by a long shot. What a delicious surprise.
Lucky me.
I can’t help but think about how my jaw is going to be aching after this, wondering how good it’d feel inside me. The thought of stretching myself to accommodate him makes me feral with desire.
“Something wrong?” he asks voice strained.
I shake my head. “Your body is spectacular. But this…is a work of art.” I smirk as my fingers graze the length of his shaft—just a tease.
Broderick’s head tips back, a curse slipping out, his whole body trembling.
I wrap my hand around him; my fingers don’t even touch, and squeeze firmly, testing his weight, his size. I bet it would hurt in the best way possible. My insides throb, wetness pooling in my panties just thinking about it.
Where Alex was clean shaven, Broderick was not, thick dark hair laid the base of his marvelous cock. I run my other hand through it, rugged and manly, before cupping his balls. Feeling every tender part of him.
He gasps at my touch. A mess of incoherent curses toppling out of his mouth.
“Oh, Brody,” I murmur, stroking him slowly, my grip tightening around the thickest part of his shaft, making him groan. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
His fists clenching the edge of the bench, knuckles bone-white.
I lean in, tongue flicking his tip, then dragging a slow, wet line down his length.
The sound that escapes him is deep, guttural—it cuts through me like a jolt.
When I take him in my mouth—slow, deep—his hips jerk, like I’ve just electrocuted him, a sharp inhale hissing through his teeth.
“Fuuuuccccck.” One hand twists in my hair as if it’s the only thing keeping him tethered.
I take my time, settling into a leisurely, torturous rhythm. My hands stroking what my mouth can’t take, tongue swirling.
His muscles trembling, eyes locked on mine—while I’m tearing him apart piece by piece.
I push down with my other hand to steady him.
My insides throbbing with satisfaction and need. But this is what I want right now. I want him to want me, so badly, it hurts.
“Shit, El—where…where the fuck did this come from?” he groans, breathless, his eyes rolling back as he fights to keep them on me, watching me swallow his sizeable cock, my jaw straining at his girth.
I hum around him in answer, feeling him twitch in my mouth.
When I pull off him, a slick line of spit trails between us, I glance up, breathless, lips fat and swollen.
“I told you I’ve been thinking about this since I walked in here,” I purr, stroking him slow, thumb circling the head of his dick.
His chest heaves as he writhes under my touch.
“I—fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” he mutters. But he’s done fighting.
He’s mine. We both know it.
“Well…” I lick him again, slow and teasing as my hands pump his shaft. “It was nice knowing you.”
I kiss the tip gently.
He moans hard, head falling back—when I take him deeper. Harder. My throat closes around him. I gag. He throbs.
He likes it.
I gag again, twisting my hands opposite ways as I work him, my spit running slick down his length. He tastes fucking incredible.
“Oh, fuck, El…”
I take my time—watching him spiral, feeling every taut muscle, every ounce of restraint snapping beneath my touch.
His cries of pleasure turn ragged, desperate, as he climbs toward the edge. I know he’s close—pulsing hard in my mouth.
It feels so good, watching something so simple bring someone like him to heel. All that smugness, that cocky bravado—gone.
“I’m gonna—fuck, baby I’m gonna come,” he gasps, squirming under me, his voice wrecked.
I hum around him again, cupping his balls, tugging on them ever so gently, swallowing him down as he spills into the back of my throat—his whole body seizing and jerking as he rides out his climax.
He grabs my hair, breath hitching as I suck him dry, indulging in every last drop, until he’s twitching, and breathless.
I finally pull off, wiping the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Good.”
He collapses in a heap of muscle on the bench, arms slack, chest rising and falling hard.
The sight of it—him—destroyed like that, subdued and spent—it’s wickedly satisfying.
I lean against his thigh as I trace his skin.
For a moment, the only sound is our breathing. Then—
Softly.
The TV drones in the background.
“Broderick?” I say, breaking the silence.
“Hmm?”
I blink, staring at the screen behind him.
“You…watch the news when you work out?”
He glances over his shoulder, then back at me.
And we both burst out laughing—loud, breathless, like we hadn’t just done something completely unholy.
Reality crashes down in an instant—post-nut clarity.
Broderick’s still sprawled on the bench.
I jump to my feet, grabbing one of the neatly folded towels from the counter.
“Anyway, that was…um, fun. I’ll, uh, talk to you later,” I blurt, heat creeping up my face.
“El—wait. Where are you going?”
“I’ve got…laundry to do.”
He props himself up on his elbows, brow furrowing. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, voice a pitch too high.
“You sure you don’t want to stay? I mean…” His gaze dips low, his tone lazy, suggestive, as I see his cock starting to stiffen—and my knees almost give out.
“Okay, um, bye.”
I bolt. Leaving him there, gorgeous and disheveled, the image burned into my mind as my chest tightens with a dizzy mix of anxiety and disbelief.
Did I really just do that?
I’m out of his apartment and into a cab faster than lightning, wound up and giddy. A laugh slips out as the look on his face is tattooed into the back of my mind.
God, he must think I’m insane.
It’s the wildest thing I’ve ever done—bold, reckless—and I loved it. The rush of taking control, of owning that moment, thrums through me like electricity.
By the time I reach my apartment, I’m still buzzing. I kick off my sneakers just as Riley emerges from her room, rubbing her eyes.
“Hey—you’re up early. Thought you’d still be sleeping off last night.”
“Yeah, couldn’t sleep.”
She squints. “You heading out?”
“No,” I say too quickly. “I just got back.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “From?”
“I…” My stomach twists. I can’t tell her, I don’t normally keep things from her, but Broderick and I agreed. “Went for a run.”
“Run? You?” She barks out a laugh. “Did Andrew’s fitness sermon finally get to you?”
“I’m just…trying new things.”
Like Broderick’s self-control.
The corner of my mouth twitches before I can stop it.
Riley narrows her eyes. “You’re being weird, Montgomery. What are you up to?”
“Nothing.”
She studies me for a moment before rolling her eyes. “Do you want some coffee?”
“Straight into my veins please,” I murmur, grateful for the change of topic.
She chuckles moving around the kitchen with sleepy efficiency, switching on the machine. The scent of coffee blooms through the air, rich and warm. My phone buzzes in my hand.
“Cream or black?” she asks.
Though I much prefer Broderick’s…
“Cream please.”
Riley slides a mug toward me.
“Thank you,” I say, taking it just as I glance down at the screen.
Broderick
El, WTF was that?
The message makes me squirm. I sip the coffee to mask my grin, the heat doing nothing to cool me down.
“Pancakes?” Riley asks, reaching for a mixing bowl.
“Yes, please,” I say, too brightly. As she hums and cracks eggs, I thumb a reply.
Elena
Whatever do you mean?
Still grinning, I switch over to my Notes app and type out what I now dub The Rules of the Arrangement, take a screenshot, and send it to him.
Broderick
Boo. Buzzkill.
Elena
I’ve got something buzzing between my legs right now.
Broderick
If you’d stayed, I’d be between them right now.
Elena
Tempting, but better to leave you wanting.
“So, what happened with you and Broderick?”
I nearly choke on my coffee. It sputters down the wrong pipe as my eyes go wide.
Her jaw drops. “Oh, my God!” she shrieks, stopping mid-whisk.
“No—no, relax!” I cough, waving my hands. “Nothing happened last night.”
Which, technically, isn’t a lie.
My phone buzzes again.
Broderick
You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.
Riley squints. “Did you guys talk at all?”
“Um…yeah,” I say, fumbling for casual. “He just wanted to tell me how good the show was.” Again—not a lie.
“Oh.” She sounds disappointed. “Better luck next time, Bradley.” Riley goes back to whisking, humming under her breath.
Elena
Sweetheart? There’s nothing sweet about me.
Broderick
I’ll have to taste for myself.
A shiver runs through me at the memory of him devouring those burgers, his mouth, his hands—maybe I shouldn’t have left so fast.
Riley plates up pancakes, sliding one toward me with a grin. “You’re acting really strange this morning, babe.”
“I’m just tired,” I mumble, stabbing a piece and trying not to smirk at my phone.
We eat together, discussing what to do before my second show tonight—Madison Square Garden, round two before Boston.
When I finish the dishes, my phone buzzes again. My pulse skips; I expect Broderick.
But when I glance down, the name on the screen knocks the breath out of me.
Alex
I’m sorry about last night.
Fuck.
I didn’t expect the guilt to hit me like a punch to the ribs.
I ran to Broderick to drown out Alex’s cruel words—to scrub him from my skin, my mind, my memory.
And for a blissful moment, it worked.
But now, with one little text, I’m reeled back into his orbit, feeling the sting of something I can’t name.
Did I make a mistake?