Chapter 29 #2
His palms skated slowly down my stomach, and Brodan dug his thumbs into the waistband of my jeans, expression determined and hot as our eyes stayed connected.
Slowly, he unbuttoned and unzipped me, then tugged the denim down over my hips.
They were my best skinny jeans and they clung tightly to me, so he had to guide them down, lowering to his haunches to do so.
I felt his hot breath on my cotton underwear, and I shuddered with need.
Bracing a hand on his strong shoulder, I lifted one foot after the other so he could pull off the jeans.
When he curled his large hands around my calves, looked up into my eyes, I felt a tug deep in my womb.
It caused another rush of wet to dampen the material between my legs, and Brodan’s gaze lowered there.
His hands climbed higher and then he glided his thumbs toward my inner thighs and demanded, “Open your legs.”
Another wave of arousal pulsed through me, and I moaned as I complied. Gently, he pushed beneath my underwear, and I gasped as two thick fingers slid easily inside me.
“Fuck, aye, fuck,” he muttered excitedly and then groaned as he rested his forehead against my stomach. “I forgot how amazing you feel.”
“I’d like to be reminded of how amazing you feel,” I said a little breathlessly.
Brodan looked up at me and grinned. “Soon, my love.” Then he eased his fingers from me, only to tug my underwear down my legs.
I stepped out of them, my body trembling with need.
Brodan surprised me by lifting my left leg over his shoulder.
I gasped, grabbing onto his other shoulder for balance.
He flashed me another wicked grin. “I think my Sunset needs a good licking before the main course, don’t you? ”
I didn’t even know what noise I made, just that it was one of guttural agreement. My fingernails bit into his shoulder as I was held open to him, vulnerable and yet totally uninhibited. I wanted his mouth on me. It was imperative that it happened immediately.
“Is that a yes, my love?” He teased my clit with his thumb.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I murmured, undulating toward him.
His eyes flashed with triumph and then he bent his head between my thighs and licked me from entrance to clit.
“Uhhh,” I groaned, one hand sliding into his hair, my fingers curling into the soft strands as his tongue relished me. Need slammed through me, and I tried to move against his mouth. His fingers dug into my thigh, and I felt his groan in every nerve ending.
“Brodan,” I gasped.
He suckled my clit, pulling on it hard, and I panted as beautiful tension built deep inside. His tongue circled my clit and then slid down in a dirty, voracious lick before pushing inside me.
“Yes,” I cried, desperately thrusting against his mouth as I climbed higher and higher toward breaking apart completely.
Feeling my desperation, Brodan returned to my clit and gently pushed two fingers inside me. He fucked me slowly as he sucked on the bundle of nerves at my apex, and I was done for.
My orgasm was like a fiery explosion that filled my vision with light, the release quaking deliciously through me as I shuddered against Brodan’s mouth.
He gently lowered my trembling leg, and I swayed against him, my inner muscles throbbing. Brodan stood, and I leaned into him. I was stunned, not just by the majesty of my release, but that my body still felt strung taut despite it.
I wanted more.
Brodan’s grip on my waist tightened as he stared at me like a starving man. All that lust, that desire, that savage need in his expression, was for me. He’d thought of me when he was with other women. That broke my heart, but it also made me triumphantly territorial. Like he was mine.
At that moment, I didn’t care if he possessed every inch of me in return.
My chest heaved with my labored, excited breaths as he brought his hands to my shoulders.
His eyes followed his fingertips as they trailed with excruciating slowness across my collarbone and down toward the rise of my breasts.
I wanted my bra off. I wanted his mouth on me again.
My nipples peaked against my bra with anticipation.
“Stop tormenting me,” I whispered plaintively.
In answer to my needy plea, Brodan gripped my hips and pulled me to him so I could feel the steel of his erection against my bare stomach.
Gently, he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me so deeply, I could taste myself.
I marveled at his control. If I was setting the pace, our kiss would be hungry, wet, wicked.
But Brodan’s kiss was languid, sexy, and so tender I could almost cry again.
My hands curled around his biceps, feeling his strength, and I didn’t know what I wanted to do more: take him inside me or let him hold me while we both cried a lifetime of tears.
But I’d told him no more. Tonight we would stop looking back and just be in the moment.
I returned his kiss, channeling all those years of longing into it, and, as if he felt it, Brodan squeezed my waist, his fingers almost biting into my skin with his need.
Then he seemed to regain control of himself.
His breathing slowed, his tension eased.
His hands moved over my body with light strokes.
He learned every inch of me—my ribs, my waist, my stomach.
His palms glided around to my ass to squeeze my cheeks in his hands, and that control he’d just gained snapped.
Brodan’s kiss deepened, grew hungrier, and he drew me against his cock. I kissed him back with the same hunger, and our tongues caressed in deep, wet strokes. Throbbing between my legs, I grasped harder onto his biceps, pushing my hips against his erection, wanting him inside me.
I stroked my hands down his arms, learning the hard, muscular shape of him through his sweater.
He was so much bigger than me. That night in the caravan, I’d been so aware of that.
I loved it. I loved how delicate and feminine he made me feel.
My exploration calmed him, and Brodan’s kiss grew gentler.
He nipped at my lower lip and then he eased away, only to stare into my eyes as he glided his hands up my back to my bra.
With an ease that spoke of his experience, he unfastened it and then nudged the straps down my arms until it fell to the floor.
His gaze slowly disconnected from mine, and I shivered as his expression grew hooded. His hands tightened around my biceps while he feasted on the sight of my naked breasts. My nipples peaked under his perusal, tight, needy buds that begged for his mouth.
“Sunset,” he murmured as he cupped me.
I moaned and arched into his touch. Ripples of desire undulated low in my belly as he played with my breasts, sculpting and kneading them, stroking and pinching my nipples. All the time, his attention vacillated between my face and my breasts. I thrust into his touch. “Brodan, Brodan …”
His name had barely broken past my lips a second time when his mouth found mine.
This kiss was rough, hard, desperate, and his groan filled me as he pinched both my nipples between his forefingers and thumbs.
I gasped, and his growl of satisfaction made me flush with pleasure.
I was beyond ready. Feeling the fabric of his sweater beneath my hands, I curled my fists into it and jerked my lips from his.
I tugged on the material, wanting to see him bared.
Of course, I’d seen him in the movies, but that was a stranger on film.
This was Brodan. My Brodan. Hopefully. Finally?
Brodan released me, stepped back, and yanked his sweater up and off.
As he threw it behind him and then worked on his boots and jeans, I gaped at him.
I’d known that he was made beautifully, carved like a sculpture of male perfection through rigorous training.
But I wasn’t quite prepared. He seemed larger naked.
His shoulders were so broad, he almost didn’t seem real.
Smooth, olive skin rippled over defined pecs, a six-pack, and the tapered waist of a swimmer.
His thick thighs and muscular calves caused another hard flip in my lower belly, and I longed to see his ass.
I moaned when he had to peel his boxer briefs over his erection, and when freed, his cock was so hard it strained toward his abs.
He was … beautiful. So beautiful, I was in awe.
And yet, I knew if Brodan Adair stood before me, an ordinary man with no abs or flexing muscles in his thighs and biceps … he would still be extraordinary.
He held my gaze, affection and lust mingling in his. Every part of my body swelled toward him as I watched him take a condom out of his wallet and roll it down his erection.
He reached for me, taking my hand as he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. Then he guided me to straddle him, his arousal hot against my stomach. My breath stuttered at the vulnerability of being spread over him.
My fingers curled into his big shoulders as I took in Brodan’s expression. Need, fierce need, battled with gentleness. I loved him for it. As soon as that word crossed my mind, I threw it from my head. I wasn’t quite ready to give myself to him in every way.
For a second, doubt crept in.
But Brodan easily distracted me by sliding his hand along the nape of my neck, tangling in my hair to grab a handful. Then he gently tugged my head back, arched my chest, and covered my right nipple with his mouth.
I gasped as sensation slammed through me, my hips automatically undulating against him as he sucked, laved, and nipped. Tension coiled between my legs, tightening and tightening as he moved between my breasts, his hot mouth, his tongue—
“Brodan,” I groaned.