Chapter 11 Annie
ANNIE
The door is at my back. I can’t seem to make myself go down the stairs I climbed in the first place. My feet are just stuck. It feels wrong to go back inside, and it feels wrong to take another step. What the hell am I doing?
I haven’t known the answer to that since the night I texted the wrong man.
Or, is it the right man?
My head tips back against the door in frustration. This is stupid. Just take a step away from the trailer. And then another, and another, until you’re in your SUV and driving home. That’s the reasonable thing to do, and you always do the reasonable thing.
Well, that’s a lie.
I don’t come from money, so I had to take loans for school. Medical school. But I had to become a doctor. It’s where I felt called.
When my parents died, I used the inheritance to splurge on a vacation in Ireland for me and Mac, instead of paying off my student loans. Sure, I paid them down some, but I could have paid them off entirely.
After graduation, I could have stayed at the hospital on the east side of town, treating sunburns and Botox gone awry.
It was a cushy gig, with decent pay on the expensive side of town.
Instead of staying put and working my way through the ranks, I opened a low-cost clinic on the west side of town to help people who actually needed it.
I do not always do the reasonable thing, and right now, I want to be perfectly unreasonable.
Brick’s right about one thing—Reno and I are absolutely over.
I can’t believe he knew. I mean, I guess it makes sense that he knew. But we never really talked about any of that, so I didn’t realize he was aware of our connection. And he’s fine with it. My ex’s own father doesn’t see a problem with it, so why do I?
And why do I want him so bad?
That kiss. The one I had and instantly craved another. I’m not sure I can live without more of that. I don’t want to.
I won’t.
My hand is on the doorknob before I can even think. I fling the door open, and he stands there, wearing nothing but a surprised expression. His towel is draped on the chair, and I take in his entirely naked form.
The man doesn’t have an inappropriate ounce of fat on his body. Instead, he’s solid muscle, head to toe. Scars litter the tan skin, along with the bandage I placed myself. Small lines, a few gnarled keloids on his left upper thigh. His skin is a road map of a cowboy’s lifetime.
I want the story of every scar, after I run my tongue along them.
We silently clear the distance between us and crash in the middle of the room, bodies tight, lips parting. No words need to be said. We both know why we’re here.
His tongue glides over the seam of my lips, but I’m too busy to let him in. I take his bottom lip in my teeth, earning a growl from him. He pulls back, his steel-blue eyes scanning my face. Searching for hesitation, no doubt. “You’re sure about this, baby?”
“Stop talking.” I give him a gentle push toward the bed, and he laughs as he tumbles backward onto it.
He doesn’t stay still for long, reaching up to pull me onto him. He rolls me onto my back, and once on top, he takes full advantage of the power position. My shirt is the first thing to go, quickly followed by my shoes and jeans, flying in every direction.
It’s feverish, this thing between us. I can’t explain it. I’ve never experienced anything like it. But I’m not stopping. Never again. I need this man more than I need my next breath, and my blood sings in my veins, throbbing for something, anything he’ll give me.
When I’m naked, he pauses. His eyes scrape over every inch of exposed skin. I’ve never been shy. Not about being naked or being with someone new. But this moment, the moment he takes me in like he’s examining a prize horse, I can’t breathe. I can’t get a read on him either.
But then his voice is a rasp on gravel. “Better than I dreamed.” And then he’s on me, kissing down my chest, sucking on my tits, biting my ribs until I’m squirming.
His hand finds its way between my thighs, and I stop squirming. I stop doing anything but rocking toward those fingertips. Rough, calloused, but not unkind, and very, very talented. He kisses my navel and keeps heading down.
“What are you—”
“Let a man eat his dinner in peace.” He spreads my thighs wide as he kneels on the floor between my feet.
I blurt, “You don’t need to do that.” It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just that it’s not my favorite item to order off the menu.
From between my legs, he peeks up at me.
“You might be a doctor, baby, but right now, you clearly have no idea what I need.” Then those magic fingertips spread me wide, and the cool air on my wet skin sends a shiver through me.
It lasts only until his mouth is on my clit, sensation bursts through me, and my back arcs from the bed.
“Damn, baby.” He latches his muscular arms underneath my hips, and his hands hold me down. “You’re gonna have to hold still if I’m to enjoy my supper.”
“Don’t…think I can.”
Pure male pride spreads his smile wide before he resumes his meal.
That tongue—up, down, left, right, center—until he finds the spot that makes my breath stick in my throat.
I grip the sheets, balling them in my fists.
It’s not enough, so I grab his hair, silver silk spilling between my fingers.
His growls get rougher when I pull him where I want him.
A finger joins the party, entering me. Another works in, and I’m bucking up to his face and down to his fingers.
He’s right on my G-spot, my clit, and I’m making sounds that should embarrass me, but I don’t fucking care.
Just as I start to unravel, a sneaky finger enters my ass, and the world explodes as I come, howling his name.
He doesn’t wait for me to come down. I’m still throbbing when he crawls up me, up the bed, up to my face.
We’re eye to eye now, him lying on his side to face me.
He leans on one hand while the other draws lines on my tits, plucking at my nipples.
Brick is so pleased when he makes me flinch with that.
His erection is hot against my thigh, and when he’s done tormenting my tits, he turns me onto my side to face him. “Put your legs together tight.”
I manage by locking my ankles together, and he presses his cock between my thighs, against my pussy, fucking that Y-shaped crevice instead of me. But every stroke means that inches of him rub against my clit, and I can hardly hold still.
His breath falls on my face. “I want to be inside you so damn bad—”
“Now,” I gasp as I throw my leg over his hip.
His forehead presses to mine. “I have to know you won’t hate me after.”
We both fall still. This is the point of no return, and we both know it.
I cup his handsome face with my palm. “I could never hate you, Brick. And I want this more than I’ve wanted anything.”
He reaches beneath my ass and rolls onto his back, taking me with him until I’m straddling him.
His hard cock lies between us, pressed along the length of my pussy.
His hands are on my ass, and as he pulls me down, I aim him for my entrance, and again, we meet in the middle of our own chaos as he fills me up.
The stretch steals my breath. “Oh, fuck!”
His sounds border on animalistic. He rolls himself up deeper inside. “That’s it, baby, you feel so fucking good. Ride me like a good girl.”
I don’t have a choice. Between his vise grip and my body’s own need, I’m on autopilot, rolling myself up and down his considerable length, craving every stroke, every motion. It’s never felt this good.
When I’m finally down to the hilt, he sits up, his chest against mine.
He pulls me in for another kiss as we rock together.
I can’t get enough of his mouth—that devil tongue tastes like me.
And then he scoots to the edge of the bed, every awkward movement shoving him deeper inside.
As we get to the edge, he breaks our kiss. “Hang on tight, cowgirl.”
“What—”
He grips my ass and stands, still inside of me.
I whoop, and he laughs as he carries me to the nearest wall.
It’s cold against my back, but he’s hot everywhere else, and that makes up for it.
When he thrusts this time, our angles are different.
His pubic bone nudges against my clit, and he’s deep enough to bottom out.
My back scrapes against the wall, tinging every pleasure with a little pain.
The combination lights me up until I’m on fire again.
“Brick, I’m—”
“Come for me,” he mutters, so low it sounds like a threat.
My body heeds the danger, climaxing as he thrusts deep again and again and again. One orgasm tumbles into two and falls into three and more, until I lose count. Breathing becomes optional as I drift on a sea of orgasms. He bites my throat, driving me into another one, and I can’t see straight.
I’m barely in my body until I notice the bed at my back again.
But it’s only for a moment before he flips me onto my stomach and thrusts in from behind.
We’re flat—me against the bed, him on my back.
His arms have hooked beneath my shoulders to keep me pinned to him.
Again, inches of him massage my G-spot on each thrust, and I have no words.
No thoughts. He leans close and quietly murmurs, “I’m dying to fuck your ass right now. ”
I’m half-alive, half-orgasming, half out of my mind, so I mutter, “Yeah.”
“Hell no.” He shoves deep and holds still, lips at my earlobe.
“When I fuck your ass, I want you here for it. Not spun off the earth the way you are now. I want to look in your eyes and watch the faces you make when I stick my cock in you there, because I’m going to jerk off to the memory for the rest of my life. ”
Then he reaches beneath my hip and finds my clit once more. He doesn’t thrust—he’s still in me all the way. Instead, he plays with my clit and makes me throb around his cock. “This time when you come, I want to feel every pulse of it.”