Chapter 13 Dirty Animals （Lena） #2
Holy hell, I’m wet. My panties have an annoying weight that makes me want them gone faster.
His gaze brands me from head to toe as he takes in his offering.
Then his hand slides between my legs, rough fingers pushing through drenched fabric, stroking my swollen pussy for the first time.
Stars.
My vision starts swimming with embers.
The shock makes my knees buckle.
“Yeah, baby girl. Just like that.” I don’t understand what he means until I realize he’s holding me up.
He’s supporting me, and I’m grinding on his hand.
His other hand goes to his erection, and he squeezes like it’s physically hurting him. “My turn. Are you ready for this cock, Sass?”
Oh, I like that.
“Say that again,” I whisper, stepping forward and kneeling between his legs. “And ask me really nicely.”
“Sass, I asked if you were fucking ready.” His breath skips as I undo his belt, then the top button of his jeans.
The zipper comes next, peeling his jeans open.
I slow down, deliberating, loving the hot need in his eyes.
When I eventually wrap my hand around the smooth velvet of his cock, we both groan.
Like I said, absolute monster.
Somehow, he’s even bigger than he felt under me before. Veiny and thick and magnificent, a bead of moisture at the tip, a human battering ram made for punishment.
But have I been bad enough?
Have I made Brady Pruitt want to destroy me?
Bending down, I run my tongue up his shaft, instantly drunk on his taste. Earthy salt and skin.
His hips buck sharply.
“Fuck, Lena!” he rasps. His hand tangles in my hair, taking a handful.
It’s intoxicating to have a man this big go boneless, unable to do anything but sit in front of me and take what I’m giving him.
His fingers pull my hair, guiding me down again, and I open my mouth, taking him in.
Or trying.
I’m lucky if I can get halfway down without choking.
My eyes burn from the way he occupies the back of my throat.
But the way he looks at me with feral restraint makes me feel beautiful. And so powerful, too, even if he’s the one who’s really in control.
I like having him in the palm of my hand.
“When I’m done,” I say, spitting and pumping him with my hand. “I want you to bend me over and fuck me into the sofa.”
“Careful, woman, or I will make you come so hard you forget your own name.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Shit.” He swears under his breath as I take him in my mouth again. “Solemn as a marriage vow.”
The ludicrous thought makes me laugh all over again, and he smooths a thumb over my cheek. A silent reassurance that even though this has devolved into pure power play, he’s still with me, willing to give and take.
“Whatever you need,” he rumbles, his hips rolling as I run my tongue over his tip. “As long as you let me touch you.”
It’s been too long since I’ve been with a man.
As fun as toys are, they just don’t hit the mark. But it’s been so hard finding a man I trust.
“I think you know what.” I rise, wiping my mouth as I go, and start to straddle him before I hesitate. “Have you been tested?”
“Regularly. All clear.” He grimaces, one hand coming to my waist. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I don’t get around as often as people think these days.”
“You used to.” It’s not a question.
“Yeah.” He groans as I rub his swollen cock over my clit. I love seeing him like this. “I’ve cleaned up my party ways.”
“Mm.” I take his hand and bring it between my legs. “See what you do to me?”
“Fuck, so goddamn wet.” With a quick glance to make sure I’m okay, he picks me up and turns me over, placing me down the way I asked.
Face down, ass up.
Waiting for nirvana.
I don’t know why this has me panting.
Maybe it’s the sensation of losing control to a wild animal.
Maybe I’m just that far gone, dying to quench a thirst I didn’t know I had.
Maybe it’s because there’s something a little degrading in the air, and I love it.
But when I wiggle my ass at him, he laughs and slaps it gently, just enough to sting.
“Patience,” he whispers.
“Brady, please. You know what I want.”
“But I like my fireworks to last.” His voice lowers as he sinks down, his breath hot against my pussy. “Let me watch you explode like a rocket, Lena. Let me hear you fucking come for me.”
How can I possibly argue with that?
Especially when his tongue does expert persuading.
I never had a prayer.
He takes his sweet time with me, driving me deeper into the frenzy. Kissing, sucking, all tongue and teeth and varying pressure until I’m a mess of sensation.
When he pushes a finger through my wetness, I whimper.
And when he pushes a second finger inside, I feel the way my back arches.
My loud moan echoes off the ceiling.
Good thing this is a penthouse and we’re alone, otherwise he’d have some very unhappy neighbors.
There’s no way I can keep quiet.
I hear him growling his approval a second later, feeling the way the noise quakes through me.
His scruff gives the perfect friction as he buries my clit in his beard.
My hips writhe, wanting more, certain I’m close—I must be because my whole body pulses—and he eases back, not quite giving me enough.
“Brady.” My voice is hoarse, pleading.
“Beg for it,” he commands.
“If that’s what it takes . . .”
I can feel his smile.
“Please, Brady. Please. Make me come!” I strain out as his finger circles my clit in this slow, killing rhythm.
“Say my name. I want to hear it.”
“Brady,” I moan, feeling his need building along with mine. “Brady, please.”
His fingers grip my hips, my ass, as he licks me again, two fingers working, delving deep, stroking me so hard until I’m—
Coming!
It’s flipping blinding, white stars exploding behind my eyelids like new suns.
I muffle my moans in his sofa cushions, gasping needy little breaths, breaking so beautifully.
And I say his name through the rapture.
I whisper it like a prayer, like he’s the only thing that keeps me grounded.
My fingers unclench from the pillow as my orgasm fades. Brady presses kisses to every inch of bare skin he can find.
Ass, legs, up my back.
Famished, hot kisses that linger, even though I know he’s dying to be inside me.
And even though I’ve just come, I want it too.
I shift, looking behind me, reaching for him. His cock jerks in my hand.
“Brady.” One word. His name becomes a prayer.
There’s the harsh sound of fabric sliding as he kicks off his jeans and boxers, and then the hot velvet of his cock presses against my pussy. Just the tip.
Oh God.
Oh God!
“Next time, I’ll make you ride me to the damn moon and back,” he promises.
I shiver at the implication that this won’t be the only time. That he’s only just getting started with me.
But after a frantic heartbeat, he pushes inside me with one brute thrust, and I arch my back. I cry out as delirium takes hold.
Holy shit! The fullness is overwhelming.
The stretch burns my inner walls.
And he’s going deeper.
Deeper.
Undaunted, he groans, bending down to kiss my shoulders. His arm wraps around my waist, fusing me to him.
I relish the sensation so much I don’t care if I have to breathe through the harsh pressure of having him inside me, almost buried to the hilt.
“Easy, Sass,” he murmurs.
All it takes is a few seconds before the shock and discomfort turn to pleasure again.
“Do it,” I spit, arching my neck. “Be rough with me. Take my hair in your fist. Fuck me like it counts.”
The palm of his hand slides up my back, the softest feather caress before my hair finds his fist.
He makes a guttural noise as he pulls.
Yesss.
“More, more,” I plead.
He draws back, though, holding my head up, tugging on my scalp and adding another sensation that blurs the line between pain and pleasure.
Then he thrusts back inside me, not stopping until he bottoms out.
Another liquid moan floods out of me.
His dick is everything, and so is that attitude.
Nothing else matters.
I want everything Brady Pruitt has to give me with that pummeling cock.
Just like this, holding me still, obeying the command of my body.
I want to be his undoing.
Judging by his uneven breathing, I wonder if I already am.
“Just like that,” I urge as he picks up speed.
Sweat mists our skin.
Soon, the pleasure sweeps in, full and angry and too all-consuming to speak.
There’s no sense that isn’t dominated by him as he works deeper, faster, harder.
There’s no nerve untouched as he makes me feel his power, his lust, animalistic and so intense I come again shamefully fast.
I’m barely coming down, lost in sex, feeling him using me like his personal toy.
There’s just his hand in my hair, his cock pounding, and the loud, pained creak of the sofa as we almost break the thing.
No regrets.
As his hips punch faster, his free hand finds my clit. The movements are clumsy but still unspeakably good.
Another orgasm sweeps in, choking off my breath.
Because all it takes is that rough pressure to send me spiraling over the edge.
I spasm, convulse, and sputter.
And he holds me steady, never letting up his relentless rhythm, chasing my climax with more sensation. I hardly know where he begins and I end.
I just know I don’t want it any other way.
“Lena,” he gasps.
Then he stiffens, his thrusts turning wild, erratic, and I’m holding my breath.
I arch my back with a shuddering scream as he empties himself inside me.
I spend the night at Brady’s.
Good thing, too, or I would’ve passed out before I ever made it home.
That was always his plan, I suppose, but after our sex marathon on the couch and again in the shower before we finished in his bed, it didn’t feel right turning down warm sheets made like an Egyptian cotton cloud.
Also, if I went back to my house, I’d have to face Harry thoughts again, and who wants that?
Brady turned my insides into soup, and I was perfectly happy shutting out the world in favor of an escape.
Which he gave me.
Again and again and again.
By the time we finally emerge from his penthouse the next morning, I’m deliciously sore in a way I haven’t felt for ages.
He takes my hand like it’s a pure flex. And hell, after that, maybe it is.