Chapter 21
brODIE
Best. Handjob. Ever.
I’d fantasized about being with Van—a lot.
But the reality was so much better than even I could have imagined.
I used to scoff at people who claimed sex with someone you love was different. More intense.
I will admit—and only this time—that I was wrong. So fucking wrong.
Van’s kiss alone could sustain me.
I was shaking; he was shaking.
I glanced over my shoulder.
He slipped his hand out from under my kilt and raised it to his mouth, giving it an experimental lick. Then another. It was followed by the dirtiest groan I’d ever heard.
I was not prepared for that.
All the while, his denim blues were watching me, searing me with an intensity I’d never felt from anyone I’d been intimate with. Like he could see right inside me.
And fuck, just watching him taste my cum had more leaking from my half-hard dick.
I turned in his arms to face him, needing to see all of him.
“You taste delicious,” he murmured in a husky groan.
And I wasn’t prepared for that either.
He unzipped his jeans, delved his hand inside his black briefs, and moaned like a needy porn star. “I’m still hard even though I came in my jeans like a fucking twenty-year-old.”
Without hesitation, I dropped to my knees and reached for his briefs.
“Is this okay?” I asked as I looked up at him.
I was so fucked out after that orgasm that I forgot this was new to him. I needed to take things slow.
Instead of answering, he pushed his briefs and his jeans down to his thighs.
Okay, so maybe he was more than all right with moving on to another experience.
And, of course, Van had a gorgeous cock.
Thick, long, and with a perfect head covered in his slick cum.
Mine too.
He was rubbing his dick with our combined cum, and fuck, that was hot. He was still hard. I was getting hard again.
I wanted his load inside me. I wanted him to fill up my ass, but for now, I’d be satisfied with him filling my mouth.
Leaning forward, I gave his cockhead a teasing lick, and fuck, he tasted good. Salty, musky, absolutely intoxicating.
His answering groan had me reaching up to push his hand aside.
I gripped the base of his heavy dick and swallowed him down in one long, smooth glide.
Giving head was always a power rush. Even though I was on my knees, I fucking owned him in that moment.
“Jesus Christ, Brodie, that’s… you… so fucking good, I can’t…” Van gasped, and I hummed with pleasure.
I wanted Van to lose his fucking mind, and it seemed I was off to a pretty good start.
Van placed his hands on the door above me, leaning in, shoving his dick further down my throat.
I took it all.
I sucked his dick like my life depended on it.
Up and down, over and over, between my hand and my mouth, I didn’t let up. I got lost in a primal rhythm that was all about Van. I didn’t even care to touch myself. I had no thoughts of my own pleasure.
Only his. Only Van’s.
My muse.
My obsession.
And now, my lover.
“Always knew you had a talented mouth,” he panted.
I glanced up at him. Beads of sweat rolled down his face as he bit his lip. I sucked harder and watched the bliss wash over his face.
“If you don’t want my load, you better pull off right now.”
I kept working his cock, licking, sucking, tugging, until I felt him jerk, and suddenly, my aching throat was filled with his hot cum. His deep groan echoed in the room.
I swallowed as much as I could, but some of it spilled out of the sides of my mouth and dripped down my chin.
Then his softened cock slipped out of my mouth.
Van dropped his head back, his chest moving in and out with rapid breaths. I was the same, taking big gulps of air now that I could. I reached under my kilt and touched myself, replaying the sight and sound of Van coming down my throat.
“Stand up,” he demanded. “Show me.”
I fucking loved when he talked to me like that. Confident, bossy Van was my favorite.
Standing up on shaky legs, I leaned against the door, shoved my kilt and my underwear down my legs, and did as he ordered. I wiped my face and used his cum as lube, tugging my throbbing dick with urgent strokes.
It wouldn’t take much. Fuck, my control was non-existent.
“Look at you,” he moaned as he gazed into my eyes, never breaking contact. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
I nodded, my hand moving faster.
“Same thing you do to me, baby. You wreck me in the best way,” I panted as my balls drew up tight, and pleasure snaked like lightning up my spine.
One more tug, and I was done for. I unleashed another load all over Van’s dick and balls.
Both of us were a mess, covered in cum, half-naked, our clothes ruined.
I wanted so badly to lean up and kiss him, but I hesitated. Maybe he wouldn’t want to do that after coming in my mouth.
This is new to him; slow the fuck down.
That voice of reason had been silent until now.
Then I didn’t have to reach up. Or hesitate.
Van bent down and took my mouth, tangling his tongue around mine.
But he didn’t just kiss me.
He full-on fucked my mouth. It was deep and dirty and delicious.
My brain melted, my heart ached, and my oversensitive dick twitched.
I whimpered. I fucking keened as he pulled me into his bigger body and nearly crushed me in a passionate embrace.
Next thing I knew, my eyes welled up, and tears threatened. Fucking hell, he’d wrecked me all right.
Permanently.
I finally eased back and smiled at him, blinking away the tears as quickly as they came.
Too late. Van noticed, and his expression fell.
“Brodie, are you—”
Then his phone rang, shattering our intimacy.
The real world was calling. We couldn’t stay down in this dressing room forever. Even though that sounded amazing.
Van yanked up his jeans and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. I pulled my kilt back up.
“Shit, it’s Colm.” He tapped the screen. “Hey, Colm, we’re still in the dressing room. We’ll be up in ten minutes, okay?”
Van didn’t wait for a reply. He tapped the screen again, and shoved his phone back in his pocket.
I motioned to the washroom with a shaky hand. “Let’s get cleaned up. I should have a pair of jeans down here you can borrow. Or you can wear one of my kilts,” I teased Van.
“I don’t think I can pull it off. My legs aren’t anywhere near as sexy as yours.”
“Are you… okay with everything that happened?”
It wasn’t like me to sound unsure.
Van leaned in and gave me a soft kiss. “Very okay.”
I smiled against his lips.
“I don’t want to go out. Can’t we tell Colm I’m sick and go back to the hotel?”
Van shook his head. “We’ve got obligations.”
“Fine,” I replied with a sigh. “But after?”
Van nodded. “After.”
I took his hand and led him to the bathroom. We washed up as well as we could. A shower would’ve been better, but we made do.
Van stood behind me, and I glanced at our reflections in the mirror.
It was obvious that we both looked fucked out. I had beard burn, and my lips were red and swollen. Van’s hair was mussed, his mouth was puffy like mine, and his permanent grin was a dead giveaway.
He slipped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his big, warm body.
“I don’t want to stop touching you,” he confessed against the skin of my neck. “The next few hours are going to be torture.”
I gripped his arms and squeezed them tight. “I promise to make it worth your while.”
“You’ve already done that.”
After more kisses, we finally pulled ourselves apart.
I found a pair of bootcut jeans that were loose on me and passed them over to Van.
He was able to get them on, but they were skintight on him, showing off his powerful thighs and the outline of his hefty cock. Then he turned and fuck me; his round ass was just as luscious as the rest of him, framed perfectly in my denim.
Next time, I wanted us to ditch all the clothing.
“You look too fucking hot in my jeans,” I remarked as I grabbed a sequin kilt and slipped it on. Commando this time.
Van smiled at me. “No underwear for either of us tonight. We’re living dangerously.”
“I’m willing to walk that edge if you are.”
I held out my hand, and he took it, interlocking our fingers.
With his other hand, he yanked on the dressing room door, but it wouldn’t budge.
He pulled on the door handle again.
“Oh no. No, no, no,” Van muttered as he jiggled the handle again.
A cold draft drifted over me, and I swear something touched my back. I shivered and turned around, but there was nothing there.
Just my ridiculous imagination working overtime.
Fucking Holls and that goddamn ghost story.
Bang.
All the lights went out, and the room was plunged into darkness.
Okay, now I was starting to freak out.
“This better not be one of the guys playing a Halloween prank because it’s not funny.”
“The door’s stuck, that’s all,” Van assured me. “I’ll call Regan and she can open it from the other side.”
Van tapped his phone. “Crap. I’ve got no cell service.”
“Let me try mine.”
I glanced at my phone, but it was the same. No signal.
“What do we do now?”
“Ace and Regan know we’re down here. I’m sure they’ll be along any minute now,” Van reassured me. “I’ll send them a text anyway. Hopefully, it will go through at some point. We’ll have to wait for now and save our phone batteries.”
He tapped away on his phone and then shoved it back into his pocket.
I could barely make out his form in the darkness, but I reached for him, and he pulled me into his arms.
“This is not how I expected to spend this evening,” I confessed as I rested my head on his shoulder. “Not that I’m complaining. I’d rather be locked in a cold, dark room with you than anywhere else.”
His husky laugh warmed me. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”