13. Brody #2
“Maybe I’m greedy,” she whispers. “Maybe I want more.”
God, her voice. A little hoarse. Nothing fake about it. The fire in her nearly sets my skin on fire.
I sit up. “You can have more,” I say. I can barely make words. “Whatever you want. It’s yours.”
Her eyes go wide, then darker. She licks her lips, slowly. My cock is throbbing. “Show me,” she whispers.
She’s trembling. My veins are humming. I crush my mouth to hers. The kiss is brutal; she gasps when I bite her lip, just to see if I can make her flinch. Instead, she arches and moans for me.
Perfect.
My hand slides up her thigh, slow, torturous. I feel how hot she is, how the muscle jumps as I touch her. She’s so fucking responsive. She tries to bury her face in my shoulder. I nudge her chin up, making her look at me, so I can see her wrecked and needy.
My palm slips under her shirt. She’s not wearing a bra, just smooth skin and little shivers. I graze her ribs, then higher, until I cup her tit in my hand. It’s heavy and soft.
She shudders and makes a helpless sound. She tries to talk, but all that comes out is, “Brody—fuck. Oh, God.”
I roll her nipple between my fingers. She jerks, and her thighs open under me.
“You like that?” I say it low. “You want more?”
She nods, desperate. “Don’t stop. Please.”
There it is. The begging, the hunger. I breathe it in.
I dive back in. Mouth on her throat, biting, sucking, leaving blossom marks only I get to see. She tastes like vanilla. She writhes. I love it. She’s not even pretending not to want it.
My fingers drift down, fumble the button of her shorts. I don’t take them off. Not yet. I press down over the seam, right where she’s soaked.
She bucks. Moans. “Oh, my god…”
“I could make you cum so easily like this.” I’m barely breathing. “You want that?”
She nods, wild, eyes drowning. I keep a steady rhythm rubbing her through the denim, and she can’t keep quiet. Little noises. Too fucking good.
She’s going to cum for me, just like this. I stroke her clit with my thumb and pinch her nipple at the same time. She chokes out my name, jerking wildly as her back bows. She’s so soft. So needy. My Bambi, right where I want her.
“Bambi,” I murmur. My voice shreds the quiet. “You look so fucking pretty begging for me.”
Her lashes flutter. “I’ve never begged before,” she whispers, embarrassed but proud.
“Good,” I say. “I don’t want anybody else to ever make you feel this way. I want you ruined for anyone but me.”
It’s fucked up, but she doesn’t fight it. She squirms, thighs clamping around my leg, and moans again. Deep and reckless.
Lola arches under me, tits pushed up into my palm, hips grinding into my thigh. The heat from her cunt burns through the denim. If I tug her shorts off, she’ll let me. I know it. She wants me to be the first. She wants me to be her fucking everything.
But I’m holding back. For her. For us. My monster’s on a leash, for now. She deserves to be worshipped, not devoured. Not unless she begs for it.
“Tell me what you want,” I say, lips on her ear, “and I’ll never deny you.”
She can barely breathe. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop touching me.”
I keep working her over, thumb grinding slow circles, fingers tugging her nipple until she nearly sobs. Her hips jerk up, chasing more. My cock is leaking, straining against my jeans.
She claws at my wrist. I know she has no control left. I like that. I love it.
She whines, frantic. “Brody, Brody, please, please.”
I could die right there, with her voice begging. It shreds my fucking soul.
I lean down, mouth against her ear. I make it nasty, gentle, worshipping and cruel. “You gonna cum for me, Bambi? You want me to?”
She nods, helpless, wet eyelashes and glazed blue eyes.
God, holy fuck, I’d kill the world for her.
I work her harder, desperate, grinding my palm against her cunt through the shorts. It isn’t enough but it’s enough to make her shake.
I bite at her neck, just above her pulse. Not gentle. I want her marked, painted up so she thinks about me every time she showers. I suck, hard, tongue wet, enjoying the way she writhes.
Then I let go. I stop.
She whimpers, shudders, clutching at me, trying to clamp her thighs together. I don’t let her. I wedge a knee between her legs, and I kiss her. I kiss her until her lips bruise. She kisses back, shy at first, then desperate, all tongue and soft gasps.
Guiding her hand to my cock to make her feel the insane bulge there, she freezes. Eyes wide. A pretty panic.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “You do whatever you want.”
She glides her palm over me through my jeans. I almost lose it. I jerk in her grip. She likes the effect, I can tell, because she bites her lip and does it again, this time harder.
Fuck. My vision whites out.
“You want to see it?”
“You’d probably break me.”
I smirk. “Not unless you beg, Bambi.”
Her cheeks are so red, I could burn my hands on them. She’s brave, though. She unzips me, just a little. Her fingertips graze my cock, cautious, tentative. I flex under her touch, desperate not to snarl.
God, those tiny hands. The way she shivers but won’t stop.
I watch her. Every micro-expression. Hunger flickers in her eyes, blue gone black at the center. She bites her lip. She’s thinking about it. My cock under her palm, heavy, dangerous. She strokes again. Knuckles pale and trembling.
My pulse thunders. I grab her wrist. Not hard, but enough. I want her to know I’m in control, always. She gives this tiny gasp, skin burning under my thumb.
“You’re playing with fire,” I whisper. I want to bury my mouth in her neck. “You know that, right?”
“Maybe I like the danger.”
She’s fucking perfect. Soft, shy, but not scared. Not of me.
I pull her closer. Bodies flush. I cup her cheek, force her to look up. Her mouth is cherry red, spit-glossed, open in anticipation.
She whispers, “What are you gonna do if I push you too far?”
Predator and prey. We both know which I am.
“I’ll ruin you,” I say. Honest. Dark. “But I’ll do it slowly.”
She melts at that. I kiss her, full force this time.
Her mouth gives way, tongue tangling with mine, greedy, messier than before.
My hand slides up her ribcage, feeling every stutter of breath.
I want all of her. My palm skates over her tit, slow, gentle at first. Her nipple is hard already, perfect under my fingers.
I roll it, pinching. She moans into my mouth. The sound makes my cock lurch, desperate to be buried inside her, but I hold back. I want her to remember this after I leave. Every touch. Every bite.
She wraps her arms around my neck, legs spreading a little, welcoming. My thigh slots between hers. I grind, slowly, making her feel the size of me, the weight. Her hips arch, chasing more.
“You’re so wet.” My lips ghost her jaw, voice barely there. “It’s fucking unreal.”
She claws at my shirt, dragging me closer, greedy. She’s not pretending anymore. The way she moves is wild. I palm both her tits, hands covering her completely. Squeeze and knead until she whimpers. Collarbone to sternum, I map every inch of her.
Her hands are under my shirt now. Exploring. She traces the lines of my abs, nails biting into flesh, scratching her name into me. She kisses my neck, awkward at first, but learning. She leaves a wet, desperate mark just below my jaw.
I groan. The control slips. I grip her ass and flip us, hauling her up into my lap, forcing our bodies closer.
She laughs, helpless, then kisses me again.
“I want you to rub yourself on me, Bambi. I want you to cum on my cock.”
She looks at me, flushed and trembling, lips parted. “You’re…you’re insane,” she whispers, like she doesn’t mean it at all.
I tilt my head, force her eyes to mine. “Yeah?” My palms find her hips. Warm, perfect. She fits in my grip like she was made for me. “You like that about me.”
She tries to laugh, but it breaks on a gasp when I buck my hips up, grinding my cock against her pussy through the thin shorts.
She’s dripping. My head spins. I clamp her hips tight and pull her closer.
Her thighs straddle mine, open and helpless, shorts riding up so high I almost see everything. I want to rip them off.
She squirms, trying to get comfortable, but I make her move. I jerk her hips, slow, make her rock forward, then back. The friction is brutal. She shivers and clings to my shoulders.
“You feel that?” My voice is wrecked.
She whimpers. “Yeah.”
I flex under her, harder. She rides my cock, grinding through both our clothes. Hungry little noises bubble up out of her. She’s watching my face, desperate to see if she’s doing good.
She is. Fuck, she is.
I grab a fistful of her ass, and make her move faster.
“Don’t slow down.” I spit the words out.
She moans and nods, never tearing her eyes off mine.
She grinds her pussy over the length of my dick.
Every motion makes her tits bounce. They’re amazing, barely covered by her shirt.
I push the fabric up, exposing her hard nipples.
I mouth at one, sucking until she claws my hair and almost sobs.
“More,” she breathes. The word is barely there.
I lock her wrists in one hand. The other slips down, peels her shorts off, dragging them down her thighs. She doesn’t fight it. She lifts her hips, helps me strip her, panties drenched.