Chapter 13 Dirty Animals （Lena）
XIII
Dirty Animals
(Lena)
Fourth time’s the charm.
Pretty sure that’s the saying.
Brady’s mouth claims mine with a hunger that speaks louder than any soft words and flowery kisses can. The emotion, the roughness—it’s like a lightning strike reverberating through my nerves.
How angry he is for me.
How much he shares my pain.
How deeply he wants to soothe it like the tide wearing down pure stone.
I’ve never felt anything like it before—this honest fanaticism from a man who wants to defend me. It’s so far beyond my comprehension in a brain that’s been kicked and bruised.
Mom was perfectly kind when I grew up, but she didn’t do much to warn me about men. Aside from Dad, I guess she never had much experience with romance, and with him she got lucky.
That’s why Harry Jay was my teacher. He scarred me. He made me grow a cyst around my heart.
When Harry hurt me, I told myself I’d never give anyone else the chance.
It was too dangerous that way. Too easy to get hurt.
Your heart only shatters once before you’re scrambling to save what’s left, chasing the shredded pieces like loose marbles, trying to prevent them from pulverizing and blowing away.
But Brady doesn’t try to tie me down with pretty words.
He doesn’t undo the damage, because he knows he can’t.
He knows I’m not someone you buy with cheap talk and big promises. Maybe once, in another life, but not anymore.
It’s just his thick, dark hand in my hair, his mouth on mine, his tongue delving against mine with that savage tenderness he’s so good at.
It’s him holding me like I’m more precious than anything he’ll ever own. And Brady Pruitt owns more than I can fathom.
He has an easy claim to high-value women, goddesses who make me look like a dumpster raccoon—bright-eyed, superhuman freaks of nature who could make his life paradise.
But his kiss tells me he isn’t choosing the cakewalk.
He’s choosing me.
If we ever had restraint, it’s obliterated now.
I tug at his clothes desperately, wanting them off. He’s working at my T-shirt, snarling to get it over my head without breaking the kiss.
It’s a little hilarious, but I’m not laughing when I feel his teeth pulling my bottom lip.
One of us will win, sooner or later.
Eventually, there’s no choice but to laugh with giddy delight. All the crazy emotion spills over into a haze of pure desire.
Weirdly, after telling him my life story, I feel lighter.
Like he’s taken my burdens and locked them away in a dark cellar. Somewhere they can’t escape and continue stripping me to the bone.
When he saw Harry, he didn’t hesitate. He just charged in.
Then he kept demanding every rotten detail from me, and I gave them up like splinters torn from my skin.
That realization overwhelms me as I win the race to undress, yanking his shirt off over his head. My fingers land on a small fresh bruise blooming on his shoulder.
“Oh no. Don’t tell me he—”
“Barely a bump. He elbowed me when I whipped him around. Forget about it, Sass,” he insists, kissing me so hard I obey.
I try.
But the visible proof of how he cares makes me a special kind of crazy.
I’m not elegant, and I’m definitely not graceful right now—actually, I feel a little like an elephant playing Twister—but when he looks at me with his hair gloriously mussed, he’s laughing.
“Come the hell here,” he rasps, pulling me closer.
Skin.
So. Much. Skin.
Obviously, I’ve seen a naked man before. Not since Harry, admittedly, but I never intended for him to be my last. The few dates I’ve been on were so meh I couldn’t bring myself to go to bed with mediocre men who might hurt me.
That trust thing really got me good.
But there’s no nagging voice in the back of my head whispering a warning, telling me to stop right now.
Instead, that heat pooling between my legs becomes magma.
I grind against him like an animal in heat.
He groans into my mouth.
Hearing his desire deepens mine. My pussy throbs so much it hurts.
“Need these clothes off, woman. Now. Don’t make me shred them with my hands,” he mutters against my lips.
Holy hell, the great Brady Pruitt is impatient.
I guess I’m doing something right.
Honestly, it feels so good I wonder if just grinding alone will get me there. That’s not supposed to happen.
I’m normally the kind of girl who needs a lot of focused attention to come. Or maybe I’m just a girl who’s never been with a real man until now.
My hand falls between his legs, skimming over his jeans. What he’s hiding makes me bite my lip.
Oh yes, he’s huge.
We’re talking tree-branch thick. I’ve never been a big size queen, but when I have such a small sample size to compare him to, I’m terribly curious.
Brady finally gets a good hold on my shirt and pulls it off over my head. He leans forward, sliding it off my arms.
Then he leans back and stares in awe.
“Fucking beautiful.”
Oh my God.
I hate how red he paints me, even as I take the perfect opportunity to check him out.
I’m only human, and this man is fine.
His abs are model grade—though I’m half sure he’s tensing, just to give me a better view.
They’re weapons of mass destruction designed to ruin a woman’s sense.
In the wrong hands, this human wall could stop armies. Or maybe inspire a legion of war-crazed women to fight. Think Helen of Troy in reverse.
My eyes follow that delectable trail of pure sculpted flesh leading to that chiseled V plunging down his pants.
“Is that all from the army? Or do you just work out four hours a day?”
He raises a brow. “You think I’d blow that much time in a gym?”
“I think that’s the only way anyone could be this built.”
He chuckles, and the sound vibrates through me, straight to my core.
But his eyes linger on my breasts. There’s a dazed look to his gaze, like he’s just woken up from a dream.
I know what’s coming before he reaches out and swipes his finger over my bra, where my nipple peaks through the material.
“Glorious,” he whispers.
“Underwhelming. If I knew this was happening, I’d have worn lingerie.”
“A man always appreciates that, but don’t get too stuck on the packaging. It’s what’s underneath that counts.”
“Flattery. You’re so terrible.”
“It’s the truth, Lena.” He says it with such a serious look, I can’t help but believe him.
Any other time, this is where I’d start having second thoughts. Maybe panicking a little.
But not with Brady.
His thumb glides over my hip, and even though the glazed look in his eyes hasn’t fully disappeared, he says, “We can go slow, if you want.”
Slow? After he’s got me this worked up?
Biting my lip, I shake my head.
“Are you trying to kill me? We can do slow later.” I roll my hips, watching as his eyes heat with pure blue sorcery.
“Deal.”
This time when he kisses me, I feel my leash snap.
Our lips collide with frenzied determination, permission to be uncivilized.
I think he’s burning, ready to claw his way out of his own skin just to ravage me.
I know I sure as hell am.
He reaches behind me to unclip my bra. His hands are greedy yet gentle against my skin.
I reach for his cock, loving how he curses, feeling how hard and thick he is. It’s enough to make me smile against his mouth.
Then he cups my breast in his hand, and my smile fades.
“Fuck me, Brady,” I whisper. I’m worried that I sound a little violent.
“Demolition, Sass. That’s the plan, unless you’ve changed your mind.” He gives me a wicked smile. “Last fucking chance.”
I squeeze his cock again, and man—oh man—he is going to rearrange me from the inside out. I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same, and I kinda don’t care.
His free hand tracks a hot trail down my side to the waistband of my jeans.
“Lena,” he rasps against my lips. “Tell me now.”
“No. Absolutely not,” I gasp.
“Then show me how soaked you are for my cock.”
“Brady Pruitt, I thought you wanted slow?” I laugh against his mouth as I shift onto his lap, rocking my hips again. Just so I get the pleasure of hearing him groan with hellfire flashing in his eyes.
He groans again, and his hands land on my ass, squeezing so hard.
I giggle from the high.
God help me, I giggle.
It should be ridiculous and a little embarrassing, but really, it tells me how different this is. With Harry, sex was always this dark chore anchored in his satisfaction. I was an afterthought.
Sometimes before the breakup, he’d get up right after it was over and leave the room, telling me he had work to do with his internship.
This sweet teasing feels nothing like that.
This is pure revelry.
No man has ever made me laugh so much. Even when I’m so horny I might combust, Brady still has a direct line to my funny bone.
He leans back and meets my gaze, his eyes hot and heavy and dark.
He doesn’t ask with words—not when his glance is so demanding.
Holding his gaze, I slide off his lap and stand in front of him. The blinds are down over his enormous windows for evening, but part of me wishes they were open.
Let the whole world see.
Let Seattle know that Brady Pruitt only has eyes for me.
I hook my thumbs under my pants, and his hand covers mine.
“Off,” he orders.
My lips quirk up in a smile, slow and sensual.
A challenge?
I never could resist.
This man is about to find out exactly what kind of girl I want to be.
I bite my lip as I turn, wiggling my ass as I slowly ease my pants down with his big hand guiding mine. It would be better if I were wearing something genuinely sexy instead of slumming it in old jeans and a faded T-shirt, but from the way he inhales raggedly, I’d say it does the job.
My pussy aches.
I think if we stopped right now, I’d be deranged, tormented by the female equivalent of blue balls.
His eyes are fixed and hungry when I turn around to look at him, still sitting there with a bulge tenting his jeans.
Knowing how big that cock is, there’s something even more powerful about the way I see his fingers twitch.
“Touch me?” I circle my nipples.
He licks his lips like a tiger.
Fingers shaking, I slide a finger between my legs, skimming over my mound, just enough to destroy him.