11. Tangled Lines
Chapter eleven
Tangled Lines
Chloe
We reach the common room, and the fire’s been lit, more for aesthetics than warmth. The scent of maple wood and old leather fills the air, and I breathe it in, loving every bit of it. It feels cozy, familiar. It feels like home.
“I used to jump around like crazy on these things.” Brody points to one of the sofas, a wistful smile on his lips.
“We all did.” I chuckle, moving toward the bookcase. A rush of memories hits me like a ton of bricks. I can’t count how many times I snuck into this room to daydream by the fire. A secret hideaway. Now here I am, with Brody Stirling—Mr. Suit-and-Tie.
Without needing to search, I walk up, reach out, and pull the book from the shelf. It feels heavy in my hands as I flip it open, the familiar scent of old pages rising up.
“I thought you said you wanted to show me something cool,” he teases. “You picked up a book. Should I be worried?”
Rolling my eyes, I give him a look. “Shut up and come over here.”
No surprise, he listens. And now, he’s right here. Close enough that I can feel the heat of his body. The spicy scent of his cologne curls into my senses. My heart races, but I try to stay focused and not think about it.
Flipping to the page I want him to see, I will my pulse to chill the hell out. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t think about how close he is, how his mouth would feel, or if you turned your head a few inches…
Oh, hell, how I wish our mouths could touch.
A spark surges between my thighs, spreading an aching heat. Turned on from merely sitting close to him.
My thoughts scatter as his voice cuts through the tension. “Is that you?” he asks, snorting at the yearbook photo.
“Took my mom an hour to get those curls just right,” I state proudly, puffing out my chest.
Brody turns, and somehow his fingers are in my hair, running through it. I freeze, unsure of how to react.
Every logical part of me screams to push him away, to take a step back, to keep things professional.
But my body’s already responding, and I can’t stop it.
His touch, gentle and slow, pulls me in like gravity, and damn if I don’t want to feel it more.
What’s worse is the way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
I should walk away, but I want him to keep going.
“ I love your hair ,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost hypnotic.
Nope! This is bad. Abort mission. You’re not that girl.
But I can't stop myself. His touch is electric, yet strangely soothing. I close my eyes and lean into it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world .
Chloe, you’re on thin ice. Snap out of it. You’re not that girl. Not the one who melts at a touch. This is a very bad idea. You have to…
My mind is a whirlwind of alarms, pleading to remember who he is, what he’s here to do. But his touch has a way of unraveling everything I thought I knew about control. The heat between us escalates, the way his fingers dig into my shoulders pulling me closer.
His lips crash into mine. The kiss is intense, consuming, hungry—like we’ve been deprived of this connection for far too long. It's a race to see who will succumb first to the overwhelming desire.
We make it halfway down the room before our hands are in a frantic dance, tugging at each other's clothes, urgency in every movement.
The pop of buttons echoes as my dress gives way, the fabric riding up around my waist. The metallic clatter of a belt buckle skittering across the floor hardly registers in my consciousness.
His chest is hard under my hands. Muscles ripple as I glide my palms over him to explore.
My rational mind screams that this is a colossal mistake, but an irresistible pull won’t let me stop.
We collapse onto the sofa, cushions giving way beneath us. He leans over me, his weight partially supported by one arm on the sofa, his other arm encircling me, keeping our bodies close.
His knee digs into the cushion as he leans into me, while my arm wraps around his waist, the other draping over the back of the sofa. My dress is bunched around my hips, the top half pulled down to expose my breasts. The cool air causes my skin to prickle .
“This is such a bad idea,” he mutters, and I nod in agreement, our shared acknowledgment hanging in the heavy air.
“Really bad,” I reply, breathless. But before I can finish the thought, my hand moves, sliding my panties down my legs. I need more.
I lift my hips, presenting him a better view of my glistening pussy. His gaze locks onto me, his eyes burning with hunger. He likes what he sees. And that makes the ache between my legs begging to be satisfied.
His jaw clenches, and a soft groan escapes him as his hands shake. He fumbles with his pants, pulling them down below his ass. His cock grows harder, straining against his boxers.
I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. My pussy throbs.
“No—” My hand shoots out to grab at his waistband. “Let me.”
I tug at the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down. My fingers wrap around his rigid cock as soon as it's freed. He stiffens instantly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I can feel his control slipping away, and it thrills me.
“Jesus, Chloe, that feels good,” he rasps, straining to hold back.
I stroke him slowly at first, savoring the tremble in his body as I move along his length, finding a steady rhythm. Meanwhile, my other hand is between my legs, circling my clit, matching the pace.
His eyes darken, a dangerous flicker in them. His jaw flexes, the muscles in his neck flexing beneath his skin. His lips part, his breath quickens. Each shallow breath betrays how badly he wants this.
I keep my rhythm steady and slow, stroking my clit in sync with my movements on his cock. The need inside me is almost unbearable, but it feels so fucking good.
A fresh surge of wetness drips from me, and I’m vaguely aware of the antique leather sofa under me, but I don’t care. I would ruin everything, myself, if it means I get to have Brody inside of me.
“You like that?” My voice wavers, sounding strange, even to me. “Does it feel good?”
He doesn’t answer with words. His body speaks what his mouth won’t, nodding as his eyes darken, pupils blown wide with desire
“How about this?” I replace my fingers on my clit with the tip of his cock, sliding it up and down, teasing.
“Oh, God.” His eyes close in ecstasy. A deep, resonant groan escapes him as he bends over me, his cock teasing my most sensitive spot.
He moves his cock up, then down again, dipping the tip against my pussy before quickly pulling away. The tease feels incredible. I’m driving him wild, and it’s intoxicating.
Every time his cock brushes my clit, a shockwave runs through me, pulsing with heat, overtaking my senses.
He brings a warm hand to my breast, kneading it tenderly while his thumb traces slow, deliberate circles around my stiff nipple.
Meanwhile, as I continue to glide his rigid cock between the slickness of my arousal, he lifts my other hand from where it rests on my thigh and draws my fingers into his mouth.
His tongue swirls over them, then sucking them clean.
A low moan escapes from deep within my throat, stretching out into the air until it steals the last of my breath.
For days, fantasies of being with him have haunted my mind, vivid images of what fucking him would be like.
After that stolen kiss, it has been impossible not to think about it.
And now… I’m on the brink of discovering the reality.
His cock twitches in my grasp, impossibly hard. I feel his desperation echo mine. I take him down again, easing his tip inside me. Then, I let him go, sliding lower to align our bodies, grabbing his bare hip.
“I’m ready for you now.” I say, gazing up at him.
He gently lifts my leg from the back of the sofa and drapes it over his shoulder, ensuring his position remains unchanged.
His hand grasps my breast, pinching my nipple between his fingers.
He rolls it with enough pressure to send a wave of pleasurable pain from my chest down to my belly, reaching my throbbing clit.
“What do you want me to do, Chloe?” he asks, his voice heavy with desire. “Is it this?”
He slowly inches his cock deeper inside, pausing as I shiver.
My body clenches, desperate to take him in. A soft whimper escapes my lips, and I squirm under him, trying to gain some semblance of control over the overwhelming sensations.
But he has the power now, and that’s clear. He pulls out again, leaving only the tip of his cock at my dripping pussy.
I feel him against me.
“Tell me. Is this what you want?” he persists.
He brushes his thumb over my clit, light strokes making the faintest contact. The sensation is electric, sending ripples of anticipation through my body. My pussy pulses with a deep, insistent throb, aching for the release that hovers out of reach.
“Harder,” I breathe. “Harder…”
My body arches, hips lifting as I chase the release I crave
Biting my lip, I stifle the cry threatening to escape. My body arches, hips lifting eagerly as the release I crave builds. Every move drives me closer to the edge, my need almost unbearable, but I hold back, desperate for more.
The tease continues. His self-restraint is impressive, almost beyond human. He inches a little deeper, his hardness stretching me. It’s been some time, but if anyone's going to fill me completely, I want it to be him.
“Tell me, Chloe.” His voice cracks, and I know he’s close to breaking. Oh, God, I want him to let go inside me.
“Please, Brody,” I plead, my vulnerability exposed. I don't mind if he sees it. "Please... I want you to…"
He thrusts into me with such intensity that it leaves me breathless, my stifled cry echoing in the sweaty air surrounding us.
“Shhh.” His lips brush mine. “Do that again, and we’ll have to stop.”
He bucks his hips, thrusting into me with a deep, satisfying pressure that fills every inch, and then he pauses. “Do you want me to stop?”