14. Brody
Brody
“…like a tired dragon wandered south, yawned, and singed the welcome mat,” she says, chest rising and falling rapidly, the faintest spark of playfulness in her eyes.
I bite back a laugh. Where the hell does she come up with these things? “At least you didn’t feel like you needed an emergency flotation device,” I reply, swiping the back of my hand over my damp face, loving the hot wet mess she’s made of me. “I should have had a lifeguard on standby.”
She grins, a tender smile that makes my chest tighten, and places her palm lightly on my cheek, fingers toying with my hair.
“Come here,” she murmurs, tenderness replacing humor as she pulls me to her, and I like this quiet, intimate moment between us.
I climb onto her, groaning as my cock presses hard against my zipper, aching for her. Fuck, I need to be inside her. Her blue eyes are half-lidded, euphoria written across her face as I push her hair back, and she bends her knees, thighs pressing into my hips.
She blinks up at me, neither of us speaking for a moment, as we search each other’s faces.
I finally take her hands again, linking our fingers over her head, and find her mouth with mine.
Her lips are warm, pliant, and she moans into the kiss, freeing one hand to run along my back.
Her nails grazing my bare skin lightly, sending shivers down my spine.
I push against her, hips straining, and she moves with me, massaging me through my unforgiving jeans.
“Brody…” Her voice trembles, and I hesitate, worried I’m crushing her.
I’m about to move, but she gives me a little push. My instinct is to apologize, but she interrupts with a low, needy whisper: “I…I need you naked.”
The words barely leave her mouth before I’m on my feet.
I strip almost violently, tossing clothes aside, far too needy for finesse.
My cock stands proud, and she shifts, going onto her hands and knees before settling back, her butt on her feet, palms on her thighs.
Every nerve in my body ignites. Does she have any idea how sweet and innocent she looks, sitting there like that, eyes locked on me, waiting…
…waiting for my next command.
I grab a pillow and place it in front of me, crooking a finger. “Come here.”
I don’t miss the tiny intake of breath she makes. Her eagerness sends a pulse straight through me. She crawls forward, slow, deliberate, and I watch every curve, every shiver, every subtle movement, memorizing her.
Her hands slide along the pillow, fingers trembling slightly, and I can feel my control slipping. I want her, all of her, right now, but the slow build—the way she reacts, the way she waits for me—is just as intoxicating as taking her completely.
I reach out, brushing her hair back from her face. Her breathing is shallow, uneven, perfect.
“You’re mine,” I murmur, voice low, rough, and it’s all she needs to hear. She shivers at the words, and my cock twitches in response.
Every second stretches. Every glance, every gasp, every tiny movement between us is a spark, and I know the moment I act, everything will ignite.
She shimmies closer, knees pressing into the pillow, and looks up at me, eyes wide and shining. “Open your mouth, Jami.”
A soft, keening noise escapes her as her lips part. I take my cock in hand, stroking slowly, deliberately. Her eyes widen, cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink.
“Is there something you want?” I murmur, teasing.
She nods eagerly.
“Is it…my cock?”
“Uh huh,” she answers.
“You think it’s going to be awful?” I ask as she grins at my teasing.
“Probably like eating chalk,” she mutters, eyes glued to the pre-cum glistening at the tip.
I chuckle, my body humming with need. I tap the crown against the crook of her lips, and a bead of pre-cum drips onto her face. Fuck, that is sexy.
“Taste me,” I command, inching back slightly.
Her eyes flutter closed, ecstasy written across her face as her tongue swipes over her lips. Just watching her, I can feel myself tightening, dangerously close to losing control.
When she parts her mouth again, like she’s ready for me, I have to clench my jaw, bite my inner lip, and slow my racing pulse. God, she looks so eager, so perfect, so impossibly sweet.
I cup the back of her head, guiding her slowly, agonizingly inch by inch until she can take no more. Her lips close around me, warm and slick, and the sensation is almost too much.
“Give me your hand,” I murmur.
Her arm lifts obediently. I take it, wrapping her fingers around my shaft, then place my own over hers. Her gaze never leaves mine as I start to rock my hips—slowly, carefully. Our hands move together, sliding over my slick length, each motion perfectly in sync.
It’s… too good. Too overwhelming. If I don’t stop, I’m going to lose myself right here, and I desperately need to be inside her. I grit my teeth against the delicious sensations, sliding in and out just enough to build the tension without tipping over, our hands working together over my length.
Her soft moans ripple through me, mingling with the slick sounds of our movements. When she starts to squirm, backing up slightly, my cock slides out of her mouth.
“Brody,” she protests, reaching for me.
I hover above her, voice low and rough. “Jami…can I fuck you?”
She nods eagerly, eyes sparkling. “Yes, please.”
“Lie back for me, babe. Open your legs and show me how much you want this.”
I stroke my stiff cock as she settles onto the floor, tucking a pillow behind her head. Every movement she makes has me on fire—her eyes following me, that slight arch in her back, the playful tilt of her lips. I grab my pants and fish a lone condom from the pocket, tearing it open carefully.
“Were you hoping for this tonight?” she teases, fingertips brushing lightly along her stomach as she eyes the condom.
“Baby,” I murmur, leaning closer, “I’ve been hoping for this ever since I woke up without you in my bed.” My fingers rip the foil fully, and I can’t help but grin. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
Her eyes soften, a flicker of vulnerability there, like a shutter opening to a darker memory. “Are you…glad you did?”
I drop down next to her, hand cupping her cheek, thumb brushing lightly over her skin. “I wasn’t done with you, Jami.” She swallows, letting the words settle, and I add quickly, “For the record, I didn’t come to the social with you tonight looking for sex.”
“Then why did you come here?” Her voice is soft, curious, and just a little wary.
I pause, letting the honesty hang in the air. “I didn’t want you here…alone, at night. And I wanted to make sure you got home safely.”
Her brow quirks, softening, a little vulnerability flickering in her eyes. “You didn’t have work?”
“No.” I shake my head, running a finger lightly over her arm. “But…”
“But then…” she teases, voice catching. “You thought it would be a good idea to explore our kissing options, to finally prove…”
“That this chemistry…this charge between us…” I murmur.
“Static,” she corrects quickly, a grin tugging at her lips as she runs a hand up and down her arm. “Prickles.”
I mock shiver, brushing my fingers along her collarbone. “Shock therapy,” I joke, letting the tension dance between us.
My finger traces down her throat, brushing the swell of her chest, circling a nipple lightly, teasing before continuing lower, parting her damp nether lips.
“But this…this is…” I trail off.
“Necessary,” she whispers back, voice dropping an octave, thick with want.
I grin, leaning closer. “Yes. Necessary, because our kisses…”
“Terrible. And we need a definitive answer. Need to go all the way again to prove…” she murmurs, breathless.
“I mean that night at the hotel…” I start, but she interrupts.
“Neither of us were in our right minds.”
“Which made it seem like it was good, right?” I supply, voice low, rough, sliding a finger gently along her inner thigh. “But this…me inside you again…when we walk away…”
“It’ll prove I’d feel more satisfaction coming up one number short of winning millions in the Atlantic Lottery,” she says, a soft laugh escaping her lips, breathless and playful.
I chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead, letting my thumb trail over her temple. “Yeah. Exactly.”
I pause, scanning her face, letting the warmth and trust in her eyes settle over me. After everything she’s been through, seeing her open and soft like this does the craziest things to my insides.
I lean down, lips hovering near hers, breath mingling, and whisper, “Are you prepared to be horrifically underwhelmed?”
Her blue eyes meet mine, half-lidded with desire, glinting with mischief. “Yes,” she breathes, voice soft, eager.
Condom in place, I move over her, my mouth near hers, our lips a breath away as I position myself at her opening.
Her lids flutter as I offer her an inch.
Her tight muscles quiver around me, as I dip my head and run my mouth along her throat.
I take my time, draw this out, because I have no doubt this won’t—can’t—be happening again.
Will we both get our fill, one and done?
Christ, I can only hope so.
She moves her body, tries to lift but I hold her down. She moans when I tip my hips forward, giving her inch after inch, until my crown hits her cervix.
“Brody,” she whispers, her voice needy, breathless.
I pull almost all the way out and slide in again, her slickness covering my cock, as the world disappears around me.
“Jesus,” I mutter, and begin to pump faster. Her legs wrap around me, her fingers racing through my hair as her body heats.
Pleasure gathers, my body tightens and I change the pace and the rhythm needing to feel her release before I give into my own. She gasps, pants and when I angle my body, slide my hand between us, and lightly touch her clit. It tips her over the edge.
“God, Brody,” she cries out and I watch pleasure spread across her face as she lets go. I love that look, love knowing I’m the one who put it there. Goddammit, I want to put it there every day. Why again, can’t I?
Her muscles tighten around me, and all thoughts evaporate. Moisture breaks out on my skin as I pound into her, wringing out her pleasure. Soon enough her pulses slow, and I pick up the pace again.
“Yes,” she encourages, knowing each thrust, each deep pump is for me now. “That’s it, Brody.”
I piston into her, angle my body for deeper thrusts.
Her nails scratch down my back, and while I want this to last all night, I can’t hold on any longer.
I let go inside her body, my release spilling from me.
White hot pleasure grips me as I go still, her muscles quivering around me as I deplete myself.
I breathe heavily and press my forehead to hers.
As she too gasps, her soft breath falls over me, sending a quiver through my body.
Sex with Jami is…off the fucking charts.
I stay over her for a long moment, her muscles clenching, milking every last drop. After a long moment, I shift to the side and find a blanket, pulling it over us. We stay close, and she turns to me, a satisfied smile on her face. I grab her leg, pulling it over me.
As night closes around us, a laugh fills the room. I turn to her, brush her hair from her face.
“Something funny?” I ask,
“I was just thinking.” She looks around the dimly lit room and I do the same. “You do know I’m never going to look at this room the same ever again.”
“Same.” I sigh. “Nothing but bad memories.” I pull her closer, nuzzle her neck and I breathe her in, the scent of me now on her skin and I like that too damn much.
“Horrible ones. Nightmares, actually.” She glances around at the piles of clothes, broken lamp and strewn blankets. “It’s like a circus went on a rampage in here.”
“Circus?
“Maybe I have circus on the brain because of the soundtrack you picked. It was like a bunch of screaming goats.”
“I mean goat yoga is a thing, isn’t it?”
She grins. “What we did…not yoga. It was…”
“Underwhelming?”
“I mean, dude, aren’t you an iron man? A pickleball champion? I’ve seen better coordination from a couch potato trying to fork a slippery pickle from a jar.”
I bite back a laugh. “I kind of equate it to anchovies on a birthday cake.”
She pokes my chest. “More like a pickle that’s been sitting in the brine too long.”
“Pickle…” I blink. “Are you saying my—”
She makes a face like she’s just bitten into something aggressively sour and points down.
“Uh, yeah.”
“And it’s been in the brine too long, like it’s…soft?”
With exaggerated innocence, she lifts her hands, palms out. “Your words, not mine.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. God, I love being around her. “You know, all this talk about dragons and pickles… Do you think there’s something here Freud would’ve loved to unpack?”
She lifts her chin an inch. “Fine. I may have a thing for dragons. And while I might not like pickleball, I may have discovered a pickle game I enjoy playing.”
“So… not underwhelmed? No lasting trauma?”
“Oh, there’s that,” she says sweetly. “Plenty of that.”
“Well,” I murmur, rolling closer. “All I know is this trauma is going to haunt me for… about five minutes.”
Her brows shoot up. “Five minutes?”
I grin and roll over her. “Yeah, I’m going to file this under ‘epic disaster, 10/10, would do again’.”