Chapter Twenty-Three
Emily
I’d never been given such power.
Not when I ran my own business. Not when I danced center stage. Not when I gave the art cue for my first tattoo and felt the buzz of the needle against my skin.
I had Braden Lock wrapped around me, promising me he was mine to do with what I pleased.
And he was waiting for direction.
“Fuck, I don’t know where to start,” I said, the giddiness rolling off me even as my brain short circuited at the feeling of him kissing up and down my neck. His body had me pinned to the wall, his cock hard as stone against my core, his body shaking with restraint.
I wanted him to unleash it.
I didn’t want foreplay and slow, sexy teases tonight. I was rubbed raw from the week, my emotions so tangled I couldn’t see through the knots.
All I wanted was to escape, to let go, to not feel the weight of my injury for even a second longer.
That had my mind made up.
“Rip my clothes off and fuck me,” I breathed. “Quickie. Both of us have to come fast.”
“This is on the list?”
“Specifically, the clothes thing, yes.”
Braden smirked against my panting mouth, reversing the role I’d been playing as he teased me with an almost kiss. “You realize this is going to be a bit difficult, considering you’re wearing a sling.”
“Aww, and here I thought I was about to be fucked by an athlete.” I pouted, tapping his nose. “Not up to the challenge, Boss?”
His smirk grew wicked, and he shook his head before nipping at my lip. “That’s enough out of that smart mouth of yours.”
“Just wait until you see what else this mouth can do.”
“Won’t have to wait long.” He smacked my ass before carefully lowering me to the ground. “Get on your knees.”
My mouth popped open. “Who said this is on the list?”
“It’s on mine. Drop. Now.”
Fuck, I loved it — the possessive gleam in his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell rapidly, the thinly veiled restraint as he started untying the strings of his joggers.
He wasn’t taking no for an answer, and I felt that power humming through my body again at the fact that I was the one who’d driven him to the point of no control.
“Yes, sir,” I teased, lowering down. The wall was still behind me, and I balanced on the balls of my toes, looking up at Braden with a devilish grin.
He was beautiful chaos — his brown hair swooping into his eyes, broad chest heaving, gorgeous pouty mouth parted as he reached into his pants and freed himself. He groaned the second his cock was out, and my eyes dropped, taking in every beautiful inch.
Braden was a spectacular specimen — I knew this already.
I’d let my eyes devour him in every setting from field to plane.
I knew he could turn heads in a football uniform, the pants hugging his thick, muscular thighs, the sleeves of his jersey tight around his massive biceps.
And I knew he was lethal in a game day suit, perfectly tailored, his jaw freshly shaven.
But this was my favorite view of him — raw and animalistic, veins popping under the stress of restraint, golden eyes heated and locked on me, cock out and wrapped in his fist.
“Goddamn,” I breathed, reaching out to touch him with my good hand. I palmed his balls first, earning me a deep moan before I rolled my fist up and over his thick shaft, coating my palm with the precum at his tip before I covered him with it.
“Open your mouth,” he said.
I’d no sooner done as he’d commanded before his hands were in my hair holding me in place, and he wedged his thick tip between my lips, hissing at the first swipe of my tongue against him.
I hummed, swirling, opening just enough to let him in another inch.
“That’s it,” he praised, withdrawing before he flexed in a little deeper. “Can’t mouth me now, can you? Not when you have my cock in your throat.”
He pushed in, putting his cock right where he’d said, and I gagged a little before tilting my head up. I could take him better at this angle, and I could also witness the warping of his face when I let him in more, when he felt me opening for him and saw my eyes locked on his.
It was so hot, the noises he made, the way his hands were careful not to mess up the braids he’d just done, but still firm enough to hold me right where he wanted me. He inched himself in a few more times slowly, pulling up his hoodie and tucking the edge of it under his chin as he worked.
He wanted to see everything.
And in the process, it gave me the most glorious view.
His abs rippled with every pulse, his breath labored, arms straining as he fucked my mouth.
“Waited for this for so long,” he murmured, picking up his pace. “To see you on your knees for me. To feel this hot mouth right where I wanted it.”
He fucked me three more times, each pump harder than the last, and when he pulled out, it was with a little gag from me and a long string of saliva connecting us.
I grinned wickedly, wiping at the corner of my mouth as he stared down at me, his cock jumping like it was pissed he’d pulled back.
“Come here,” he said gruffly, and I was heaved up to my feet.
His mouth covered mine as he swooped me up again, a groan rumbling low in his throat when he tasted himself on me. He blindly carried me down the hallway, swinging us into the first door he found.
Which was a bathroom, and apparently not what he was looking for.
We were off again, and this time, he nearly broke through Darcy’s door.
“Wrong room,” I managed against his mouth, giggling when he growled and carried me more swiftly down to the next door.
This one was my room, and when I didn’t tell him otherwise, he kicked the door shut behind us like we weren’t already alone, and then tossed me onto the bed.
It was a feat to be marveled, honestly, how this man could fling me around while also being conscious of my arm and not hurting me. It was a little achy, if I was being honest, but the pain meds were holding on enough to make it where I didn’t feel enough pain to want to stop.
Honestly, even if I was in pain, I wouldn’t stop. Not now. Not with this beast of a football player towering over me with his cock half out of his pants and his chest heaving like a caveman.
Braden moved to top me, balancing his weight on one elbow while he roughly shoved his other hand up under my hoodie.
“I knew you weren’t wearing a bra,” he said like a curse, palming my breast. I arched into the touch, moaning when he rolled my nipple between his fingers and plucked. “Let’s see if my other theory is true, too.”
His hand traveled down, fingertips sliding under my pants as I widened my legs to let him investigate. I kept my eyes locked on his, my smile wide as he slid one finger between my thighs.
“Fuck,” he groaned, gliding through the wetness there. When he rubbed that slick finger over my clit, I moaned, chasing the friction even though he was already pulling away. “I knew it. Filthy girl. Soaking wet for me already.”
“Time’s ticking,” I breathed on a tease, and Braden kissed me with a passionate, bruising touch before he flew up onto his knees.
His hands braced on my sweater, right under my chin at the neckline, and then he paused, that soft side of him I’d come to know peeking through. “Are you sure?”
“If you don’t rip my clothes off in the next ten seconds—”
Braden answered before I could finish the threat.
Or at least, he tried.
His left hand yanked one way as his right yanked the other… but nothing happened, save for him grunting and turning red from the force.
“Fuck. We need scissors,” he said.
“Do we?”
Braden looked at me, at my top that had affronted him, and then back. “Fuck it,” he said, and then he lowered down like he was about to bite me like a vampire.
Instead, he tore through the fabric of my sweater with his teeth, just enough to get purchase with his hands.
And this time when he leaned back on his knees and tore at my clothes, they gave way.
My sweater split down the middle with a satisfying riiiip, all the way to my belly button.
I leaned up to see the damage with my jaw unhinged, and a laugh rippled out of me when I laid back in the comforter. “Fuck yeah, Boss.”
Braden was smiling, too, like he couldn’t believe he’d done it, but then his eyes roamed, that gaze heating, smile sliding right off again. He groaned when he took my breast in his hand again, this time devouring it with his touch and his gaze both.
“These fucking tits,” he said roughly, squeezing before he lowered his mouth.
One swirl of his tongue, one nip of his teeth, and I was arching into him, reaching for his pants with my good hand, silently pleading.
“These tattoos,” he said next, eyes and hands roving over the ink on my skin.
“They’re so fucking pretty, Em. You are so goddamn gorgeous. ”
“And you are so fucking bad at quickies,” I panted, tugging at his pants. “Get inside me.”
“Greedy thing.”
“My list, my rules.”
He smiled against my mouth with another hard kiss, and I felt him working his pants down as he did. Then, he was on his knees again, ripping my sweats down and tugging them off one leg and then the other.
“Em,” he husked when I was bare, shaking his head as he took in the sight of me. I tried not to get self-conscious of the fact that I was bare in other ways, too — injured, vulnerable, no makeup, no glam hair.
But he didn’t seem to clock any of that.
His gaze was focused between my thighs, his hands spreading me wider like he was taking in the fucking Mona Lisa.
“I have to taste you.”
He didn’t wait for my permission or acknowledge that he was woefully failing the first checkmark on my list. He just dove down, arms sliding under my thighs as he pulled my pussy to his mouth.
I moaned when he swept his tongue over me, my good hand sliding into his hair and holding on for dear life.
He wasn’t gentle or easy, not now that he knew my arm was supported and fine.
He devoured me — tongue swirling, teeth nipping, mouth working in a tantalizing sucking rhythm as the most pornographic slurping sounds left him.
“Braden,” I breathed, not sure what I was asking of him. Keep going? Don’t stop? Fuck me?