6. AUTUMN
CHAPTER SIX
AUTUMN
Sweat drips down my back and between my breasts. My heavy-duty bra is soaked with underboob sweat, and if my mother saw me now—dancing in a crowded street with sticky clothes and reddened, gleaming skin—she'd have a conniption fit, but I don't care.
I'm tired of being my parents' perfect little doll.
Never a hair out of place.
Never a word out of line.
I want to be free.
Free to be messy. Imperfect. Maybe a little bit bad.
My mom called earlier tonight to berate me for not giving Jason another chance. Your father is very disappointed, and so am I.
Like I’m not building a successful life for myself in High Ridge.
My practice is thriving, and so are my friendships. People know my name around here.
I’m happy.
Mostly.
My gaze snags on the hulking man leaning against the brick of Fancy's Diner. Shadows flash over Briggs like a gothic lightshow, highlighting the glint of boredom in his dark eyes.
My movements slow, and the music shifts to something… Sultry. Hot.
As if he can feel my speculative stare, Briggs straightens. His shoulders seem to grow broader as an aura of tension radiates from him.
There's a man who knows how to be bad.
A man who doesn’t give a fuck what people think about him.
He must have tagged along with Davie, Cormac, Deacon, and Connor. That's the only explanation for the man’s brooding presence, since this is definitely not his scene.
Wholesome fun. Small town celebrations.
According to Davie, who had invited me to join them weeks ago, Suitor’s Crossing is always celebrating something—a marked contrast from High Ridge. I don’t know what exactly this street dance is celebrating, but I’m here for it. Living for the freedom of dancing however I want in a crowd of people.
Spying Cormac and Davie five feet away, dancing in their own little world, I decide to approach the scowling grump who I can’t get out of my head. We haven’t seen each other since that night at the salvage yard, but with Davie and my gossiping patients, he’s never far from my mind.
Adrenaline pumps in my veins, hyping up my courage, as I cross the crowded street.
“Surprised to see you here,” I tease once we’re within hearing range over the loud music emanating from speakers neatly hidden in planters on the sidewalk.
He harrumphs and crosses his arms, causing the muscles in his forearms to bulge beneath the rolled sleeves of his button down.
Jeez, what is it about a man's forearms that's so fucking hot?
You think everything about this man is hot, my inner schoolmarm reprimands.
Despite his non-response, I push on, “You don't seem happy, though.”
“And what? You’re offering to do something about that?” Briggs taunts.
My eyes narrow. Once again, lust swirls with annoyance.
He thinks he knows me. Thinks I'm the goody-two-shoes my parents created me to be. Thinks I'm too stuck up to let go and be spontaneous.
“What if I am?”
His brows furrow as he studies my belligerent stance. His dark gaze lingers on my chest—still heaving with exertion from all the dancing and the wet heat of summer—then the exposed skin of my thighs beneath my shorts.
“Careful, valkyrie, you don't know what game you're playing.”
My jaw clenches at his lofty tone.
“Oh, really?” I grab his thick wrist, ignoring the strong thrum of his pulse beneath my fingertips, and drag him down the sidewalk, until we can dip into a shadowed alley away from an audience.
I may want to be bad, but I’m not fucking stupid.
Exhibitionism is hot in theory but detrimental to my reputation in reality.
Shoving Briggs against a brick wall, my hands flex on his broad chest. “Maybe it's you who doesn't know what you're getting into.”
My fingers trail lower over his firm abdomen and stop on the button of his jeans. So far, he's gone along with my bold ploy, letting me tug and push like I'm strong enough to move a mountain like him if he chose not to budge.
“By all means, explain it to me.” His arms lift in the air in a careless shrug. Doubt rings through the night—smug doubt—and it tips me over the edge.
“Why don’t I show you, instead?” Sinking to my knees, I undo his jeans with purposeful snaps and the careful draw of his zipper. “Actions speak louder than words, right?”
And, apparently, my actions dictate that I suck his dick in a public space where anyone can walk by and see me on my knees for the town’s bad boy.
Good girl, who?
Briggs stiffens beneath my touch. First, his tree-trunk thighs, then his rapidly growing erection.
Holy fuck! I keep my widened eyes focused away from his, so he can’t see my shock.
My ex-husband never looked like that.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?” he rasps. One huge hand lands on the top of my head, but he doesn’t guide me either forward or back. It just rests there. Like I’ve stunned him into submission.
Ha! Not so confident, now, huh?
The slow glide of my breath along the thick ridge of his cock beneath black boxer briefs is the only way I answer his question. The flushed head peeks out the top of the band, allowing me one quick lick before I pull the thin fabric down to reveal his hard length.
Damn!
Maybe I bit off more than I could chew—or, er… swallow—but I'm no quitter.
Do you think you’re taking this being bad nonsense a little too far?
Nope, I argue with myself. This may not fit with my good girl image, but it’s about more than that. It’s about freedom.
To do what I want with who I want.
And for some unexplainable reason, I really want Briggs.
He’s infiltrated my dreams—from bickering at his salvage yard to ending up in my bed. Frustrating dreams. Sexy dreams. Briggs has been in them all.
Maybe if I finally do something, I’ll exorcise him from my mind.
Or become more addicted.
Staring at Briggs’s dick, I gulp past the ball of nerves in my throat and get to work swallowing something else. Something much larger and a hell of a lot more pleasurable.
Briggs growls in appreciation as I suck the bulbous head between my lips. His grip in my curls tightens, but otherwise, he lets me set the pace.
Guess he’s not a complete asshole.
My lashes flutter closed while I suck him deeper. Music drifts down the alley from the party happening mere feet from us, but I’m content floating in this little bubble.
It’s just me and Briggs. No expectations. No judgments.
Just a man and a woman in a tale as old as time.
His tip bumps the back of my throat, triggering a coughing fit, and I retreat for a second in embarrassment.
Shit, it’s been awhile if I’m gagging like a fucking amateur.
I expect some snarky comment from Briggs, but there’s only a soft caress down my cheek from his other hand. The backs of his rough knuckles scrape over my skin with a gentleness I wouldn’t have expected from a guy like him.
“Sorry,” I murmur before diving back in to redeem myself.
This is my game. I can’t lose in the final seconds.
Putting every ounce of energy into giving Briggs the best damn blowjob of his life, I lick and suck and squeeze with my mouth and hands until Briggs taps my shoulder in warning.
Jason never did that.
Maybe it’s the reminder of my ex-husband’s inconsideration juxtaposed against Briggs’s thoughtfulness, but a primal instinct takes over, and instead of retreating, I go harder. Swallow him deeper.
Until a hot rush of cum fills my mouth as Briggs hunches over me with a muted groan.
“Fuck. Shit. Autumn… Fuck.”
Nice to know I’ve reduced him to one word exclamations. I mentally buff my nails in satisfaction.
Wobbling to my feet, I brace myself on the opposite brick wall.
“What… the hell… was that?” His narrowed gaze pins me to the building at my back. Ah, and the grumpy caveman is back. That afterglow sure didn’t last long.
“That was me doing what I wanted for once.”
“I see,” he says, straightening his posture with a sniff. “You’re one of those women. The kind that gets off slumming it with the bad boy.” He rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck staring at his pea-sized brain.
“Excuse me?” Sure, I figured he’d go for my half-baked plan to be bad because of his reputation, but it’s not like I think I’m better than him.
“It’s fine; whatever. We’re not friends, but we can fuck,” he says nonchalantly. “You want to be bad, and I need a way to blow off steam before ruining one of my longest friendships. It’s a win-win.”
Suddenly, my one-off moment of being spontaneous has turned into a plan to be… fuck buddies? Somehow, it doesn’t put me off as much as it probably should.
And lord knows Briggs needs to work out whatever shit is going on in his head before Cormac lays him flat with a swift punch.
So, maybe this would be good for me.
He’s not a stranger.
He’s the best friend of one of my friends.
Despite his brusque demeanor, I can trust him. Enough to know he won’t go around town decimating my reputation with gossip.
Maybe I’ll let this bad girl streak run wild a little longer…
Briggs presses, “You like being touched by the dirty, white trash…”
“Whoa, wait!” That gives me pause, and I stop him with a push at his shoulders. “Dirty is hot, but you’re not white trash. I’m not slumming it or whatever because I think you’re beneath me. That’s not why this could work. It’s because I find you damn sexy despite the bad attitude.”
And low self-esteem.
Does he really think he’s white trash?
“Whatever you say, babe. So, are we doing this? Sex with no strings?”
A summer fling?
“Sure.” I offer my hand to him for a shake because why the hell not? “What are you doing the rest of the evening?”