Chapter 7
SEVEN
CARI
I’m a grown-ass woman, and I’ve done this before, but I’ve never done this. Never had it mean as much as he does.
Taking Brody by the hand, I lead him off the terrace and around the hotel to the elevator bank, bypassing the rest of the wedding party. He doesn’t protest when I hit the button for my floor, or when I lead him down the hall to my room, or even when I swipe open the door.
There’s a lot less protesting for what I’ve come to expect from him. Maybe we’ve finally turned a corner. Maybe he finally believes that I want this as much as he does.
Inside the hotel room, I waste no time in kicking off my heels and tossing my clutch aside. Although I want to give Brody the chance to undress me, I’m a little afraid if given the opportunity, he never will. In fact, I’m going to take all options out of his hands.
Turning to him, I pause with my hands on his hips.
“Tell me you want this.”
His throat works, his blue eyes darkening with desire. “I do.”
“Tell me you want me.”
“Fuck, Cari,” he breathes. He moves my hand down to his crotch, over the hardness tenting his pants. “I need you.”
Quickly, I reach for his tie, loosening the knot and slipping the silk free. I toss it to the side and then make quick work of his shirt, slipping first one button free, then the next, and the next, until the stiff, starched fabric cleaves away to reveal his pale skin.
Brody is fit. From a lifetime in gymnastics to his new powerlifting career, it’s clear he takes care of himself. Will he let me take care of him?
I drop to my knees, slipping his belt from the buckle and whipping the leather free. In short order, I have his pants undone. His black boxer briefs cling to his muscular thighs, molded obscenely to his hard, thick cock.
Tipping my head back, I find his eyes glued to my face. He reaches for me, cupping my cheek and running his thumb over my skin.
“I need you,” he whispers. “I’m tired of resisting. Of pretending I don’t. Whatever happens outside this room, we can figure it out later. For now, can we just… not?”
“Anything you want.”
“What I want is you.” He gives a throaty chuckle. “Exactly where you are.”
I bury my face in his groin, breathing in his musky scent. My head goes a little fuzzy from the intensity of it all.
Instead of dwelling on it, I pull his underwear down. His cock springs up and slaps against his abs, leaving a sticky trail of precum behind.
His cock is as thick as the rest of him, the mushroom tip swollen and begging to be licked. Well, don’t mind if I do. I wrap my fingers around his base and bring his tip to my mouth, dragging my tongue through the weeping slit.
“Fuck, Cari,” Brody says. “Do that again.”
His hands are curled into fists at his sides. Tired of waiting, I reach for his hand and place it at the back of my head. His eyes widen, but before he can say anything, I bring his cock to my mouth again.
The bitter, salty taste of his precum is heady, and as I suck him down, I want more. More. His touch is passive on the back of my head, and I press on his hand, trying to wordlessly tell him what I want. He seems to get it this time, threading his fingers through the wavy strands.
And then I go to work. Giving blowjobs isn’t my favorite thing to do, but the fact that it’s Brody—that he’s finally allowing us to progress—is enough to get me squirming and pressing my thighs together.
The soft noises he makes, throaty groans alternating with pleading whimpers, sends my pulse skyrocketing.
His cock twitches and jerks in my mouth, and I do my best to stroke the parts of him that won’t fit.
Spit slicks my chin, and even though I’m trying to do everything at once, I can’t help feeling like I’m failing.
One look up at his lust-wrecked face, though, tells me I might not be doing as badly as I think.
All of a sudden, I’m wrenched away.
“No. Nope,” he says, pulling my hand off his cock. “Not happening.”
Hurt hits me square in the chest, and I try not to flinch, but I don’t think I hide it in time.
He runs a thumb over my cheek, apology in his eyes. “I’m too close. That’s not the way I want this to end.”
I’m not a small woman, but Brody manhandles me like a ragdoll.
In short order, he’s pulled me to my feet and found the zipper on the side of my dress.
The chiffon falls to the floor, and I step out of the dress.
The cut of the dress didn’t allow me to wear a bra, and all that’s left is the tiny scrap of lace between my legs.
“Fuck, Cari,” he breathes. “You’re gorgeous.”
I can’t stop myself from preening under his praise.
“Come here.” He doesn’t wait for me to come closer, though—he steps forward, reaching for me. “Can I?” He tugs as the lace elastic, letting it snap against my hip.
When I nod, he slips two fingers beneath the waistband, then slowly edges it down, down, down until I can step free.
Bared to him, I settle my hands awkwardly as my sides. I have the irrational urge to cover myself up, which is ridiculous. He wants this as much as I do.
Brody bends and scoops me into his arms before tossing me onto the bed. I let out a squeal as I land on the mattress with a slight bounce. He crawls onto the bed after me, then covers my body with his.
He kisses me then. Hard, demanding, his teeth scraping my lower lip and tongue warring with mine. The heat of his body sears me from the inside out, and his weight baring down on me has my blood singing.
I take the opportunity to touch, to memorize the shape of his shoulders, the muscles of his back flexing beneath my palms. And he touches, too: my cheek, my neck, my breasts, my waist. Like he can’t decide where to start. Where to stop.
I’m positively aching, and he’s barely touched me. He kisses his way down my body, palming my breasts until I’m squirming beneath him. His tongue laves over my nipple until it buds into a tight peak, and then he does it again to the other side.
“Brody,” I gasp, threading my fingers through his hair. “Please.”
“What do you need?” he murmurs, his voice a rumble against my breast. “What can I give you?”
“Fucking touch me.”
He picks his head up, a devilish smirk on his face. “Oh really?”
“Yes, really, you asshole,” I grit out, lifting my hips against his. His hard cock slips between my legs, glancing over my clit, and I throw my head back. “Do that again.”
His hand slips between us, and he runs the head of his cock over me again. “Like this?”
A shaky sigh is all I can manage. My skin erupts into whole-body shivers, and I clutch at his strong shoulders.
“Please.”
Brody does it again, the tip of his cock sliding through the wetness at my slit. Unable to help myself, I tilt my hips, and the head of his dick slips inside.
Just an inch.
Just the tip.
We both freeze.
“We should stop,” he blurts.
I swallow hard. “Do you have a condom?”
He nods, rolling off of me and off the bed. He rummages in his pants for his wallet, coming up with a foil square. Thank goodness. I’m on birth control, but a condom is non-negotiable at this stage.
Brody rips open the condom with his teeth, then rolls the latex down his length. He gives himself a stroke, then another, before he crawls back onto the bed.
I spread my legs, reaching for him. His hips settle between my thighs, and he scoops me into his arms, his forearms beneath my shoulder blades. I’m cocooned by him, surrounded by him.
And it’s never felt so good.