Chapter 35
Brody
Selena ran beside me in silence as we made our way through the early dawn streets.
The neighborhood was still, fog from the marine layer low on lawns, shrouding the imposing metal gates bordering every property.
We came to a split in the road and both turned toward Main Street, though it was another couple of miles away.
Our route took us downhill, so the run back was the hard part.
As we got closer to the center of town, there were a few more signs of life, but not as many as you’d see in a city. Hade Harbor was pretty sleepy, after all. Only one storefront was lit up among the parade of shops lining the end of Main Street.
I knew what it was by the smell in the air. A loud growl sounded, and I looked at Selena.
She tutted. “Hungry, are you?”
“That was you, heathen.”
“You can’t prove it,” she tossed at me, then put her head down and ran in the direction of the bakery.
I fucking loved how strong she was. Her endurance was something else, considering she hadn’t been training for over a year. It was impressive. She was impressive.
Last night, when that fucking loser, Nick, had hurled those shitty words at her, she had barely flinched.
She’d held her head high, her spine straight.
She had the bearing of a warrior queen, and it was magnetic.
As was her body. Running behind her had all kinds of benefits that I was dedicated to enjoying.
She reached the bakery before me, slapping a hand against the outside wall just to drive home who had won.
She wandered inside without waiting for me. I joined her at the pastry case once I’d caught up.
“I’m going to have a chocolate croissant and a salted caramel éclair,” she announced. “You?” She stuck her hand down the top of her zip-up layer, dug around in her sports bra, and pulled some cash out. “My treat.”
I attempted not to be jealous over a fucking piece of paper and looked at the case.
“All of this is ridiculously unhealthy,” I muttered, eyeing the buttery, sweet concoctions.
“Yeah, but it’s worth the calories. This is the best patisserie in town, and it’s French. Everyone knows French people never get fat.”
“Great logic there,” I muttered. “I’ll just have a black coffee.”
“Seriously? We just burned a million calories,” she said and turned to the girl behind the counter to order. “He’s British, he doesn’t know good food,” she apologized for me.
I snorted at that and sat to wait at a tiny metal table. The place was empty, apart from us, and the smell of caramel and sugar in the air had my stomach growling. Maybe I should have gotten something, after all.
Selena soon appeared with a tray and put it on the table. She watched me take a sip of my black coffee. It was damn good. Not good enough to take away the hunger, but good, nonetheless.
“You don’t have an eating disorder, do you?” She eyed me suspiciously.
“Because I don’t feel like eating cake for breakfast?”
“A pastry isn’t a cake. If anything, a French croissant is like a high-fat breakfast. It’s practically keto approved.”
I chuckled. “Nice try, but not even close.”
She bit into her chocolate croissant, and it immediately scattered a million flakes of pastry over her. She didn’t seem to notice, while I itched to tidy it.
“You could tell me if you did. I could help you. Well, I don’t know if I could help; I couldn’t help Cici, but I have learned a lot about the subject since then—”
“I don’t have an eating disorder,” I interrupted her.
She nodded, chewing quickly. There was a smear of chocolate by her mouth I longed to lick off.
“But that’s also what you’d say if you did, so… difficult to tell, really.” She looked me up and down. “I mean, I know you probably aren’t wanting compliments from me, but you don’t need to have two percent body fat to be hot, or to be a successful son and properly programmed CEO android.”
I nearly choked on my coffee at those words. I coughed and got it under control as Selena continued to eat, unbothered.
“Did you just call me hot? Did Hell freeze over?” I wondered, reaching out to wipe that smear of chocolate near her lips. I put my thumb to my mouth and sucked the mess off.
She watched intently, a pretty pink blush seeping into her cheeks.
“Very funny. We both know you’re hot. No point in denying it,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?” She tore a chunk off her croissant and held it out to me.
I hesitated. I really didn’t feel hungry at this time in the morning, but there was something endearing about her trying to feed me.
“Come on, live a little, Sinclair. Life’s short and all that.”
I grabbed her wrist, and instead of taking the food out of her hand, lowered my mouth around the bite she was holding. Letting her hand go, I pulled back and chewed.
It was absolutely delicious, she was right, and not as sweet as I’d expected it to be.
I chewed and watched her as she ate. There was something downright carnal about the way she bit into the éclair, white crème spilling out of the sides.
I stood.
“What’s wrong?” She wiped the corner of her lip with her thumb.
“Come outside with me for a second. Finish your breakfast after.” I held my hand out to her.
“Come outside why?” she asked slowly.
I just stared at her, knowing the lust I felt coursing through my veins was plain as day in my eyes.
She swallowed, her delicate throat bobbing with the movement.
“Come on, cheer captain,” I leaned down and spoke in her ear. “Live a little.”
She pushed the chair back, the scrape loud against the quiet French music playing in the background.
I smiled victoriously and tugged her hand.
“We’ll be right back!” she called to the girl behind the counter, who was engrossed on her phone and ignoring us.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
I pulled her behind the bakery and down a long, dark alley.
“Somewhere we can be alone.” I rounded a corner and found another secluded spot. It was dirty, but not filthy, there were no trash cans, and it was sheltered by high walls on all sides. Perfect.
“And we need to be alone to…?”
“To do this,” I finished for her, bringing her to me and moving us toward the wall.
I pressed her against the brick and slid my thigh between hers, then captured her lips with mine. She tasted like caramel and cream, and I couldn’t get enough. I was suddenly so ravenous, I couldn’t think about anything else.
I slid my tongue over hers, and she gasped softly. I loved that fucking sound. The sound of a heathen’s surrender. The most rebellious woman I’d ever met, letting herself melt into my hands. It was a feeling like no other. I wished I could bottle it.
“Brody,” she murmured as I kissed down her neck, licking and sucking, biting at times.
She arched her breasts into my chest, and I took them in my hands and kneaded the supple, full flesh. I needed her nipples in my mouth, and I needed it now.
I tugged down the zipper of her top and delved into her sports bra to finger one of her nipples. It was already hard and needy for me. I forced the stretchy material down so her entire tit popped out, leaned in, and fastened my mouth around it.
Her fingers laced through my hair. I bit and sucked and worshipped her tits. They were so pretty, flushed in the early morning light.
“What are we doing?” she breathed. “This is crazy—you know we shouldn’t be doing it, right?”
“I don’t care,” I growled at her, working my hands down her stomach and pushing inside her tight sports leggings.
Her panties were soaked, and I smirked at her.
“It seems your cunt doesn’t care either, considering how wet you are.”
“Brody—I’m serious,” she panted and held on to my shoulders.
I moved my fingers inside her.
“Our parents, even people at school. If people find out… it’s dangerous.”
“Hmm, dangerous how?” I slipped another finger inside her while stroking her clit with my thumb.
“Well, not for me, because my reputation is already trash, but it’s dangerous for you—”
She cut off and gasped as I curled my finger inside her, finding her G-spot. It was right fucking there. Her body was perfectly designed. I pressed on it, and she cried out.
“I mean, like Nick said—I’m damaged goods—”
I stopped, her words cutting through the pleasure I got from having my hand sunk in her cunt.
“Never say another man’s name to me when I’m knuckle-deep inside you,” I told her firmly. “And never, ever call yourself that again. Don’t repeat it. Don’t give it space in your head. It’s beneath you,” I instructed her in no uncertain terms.
She swallowed hard, and I saw her strength waver for a second. I saw her unfailing confidence shake, and I saw underneath. It was only for a split second, but she let me see it. Then, it was gone. She nodded and pushed her hips down toward my hand.
“Okay, I won’t.”
“Good. You never have to listen to what anyone else has to say about you, or your body,” I said, my lips moving against her temple. “Except me.”
She laughed and then groaned; I wriggled my finger over her G-spot while hitting her clit with the palm of my hand. My wrist ached from the angle, and I was going to need to change things up.
“Oh, so I should still listen to you? How bossy,” she breathed and then protested when I pulled my hand from her and guided her around to face the wall, yanking her clothes out the way.
I slapped her bare ass lightly and snaked my hand around her front to press right back inside, and resume touching her in the same spot.
“Damn right, I’m bossy. I’m the boss, after all, so you can believe me when I tell you how beautiful this body is, and how perfect this cunt is. I have discerning taste.”
I worked her hard with my hand, and I could feel her rising. She writhed back into me, gripping my wrist, her groans urging me on, and then her pussy clamped around my fingers like a noose.
I finger-fucked her through her first orgasm as well as I could, considering how tightly she strangled my hand. Even her thighs cut off my blood supply.
But I wasn’t done. I needed more.