Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Willow
It was hard to leave the hotel room earlier. And I do mean hard. After I curl my hair, Brock appears like he’s in pain.
His eyes scrunch together as he gazes at me. “I’m so fucking turned on,” he utters.
“My lipstick didn’t take too long to apply,” I say, moving closer toward him.
He raises a brow. “What?”
I slink to my knees, unzipping his pants. “Oh shit,” he says, stepping forward just a bit. “Willow, are you sure?”
I glance up at him and smile, my hands roaming over his thick thighs. “I need to do this, Brock. I want to make you happy.”
His hands land in my hair, fisting a few strands. “You already kind of do.”
My heart pitter patters in my chest, but I brush away the feeling of Brock saying things like this to me.
This is only temporary. I need to keep my heart out of it.
I gaze up at him, my heart betraying my mind.
I’m trying to keep feelings out of the equation, but the way Brock stares down at me like I’ve completely rocked his world, makes my chest tighten.
I pull out his dick, swiping my thumb over the bead of precum leaking out of the tip.
“You’re so big,” I tell him again, amazed by his size and girth.
“Willow, you say all the right things,” he says with a laugh.
I swipe my tongue over the spot my thumb was. “You do all the right things,” I tell him before opening my mouth wide to fit him into it.
“Ah, fuck,” he groans.
I suck him deeper down my throat, letting Brock keep a hold of my head.
He pushes me slightly, further down his dick and I nearly gag on it. Tears well at the corners of my eyes, but I quickly breathe through my nose as I keep sucking. “Fuck, Willow. I haven’t had my dick sucked this good…in well, ever. Keep sucking me. Deep down your throat.”
I love his dirty talk. It makes me feel all tingly inside knowing I’m making him react this way.
I keep going, hollowing out my cheeks as I suck him deeper.
I find a good rhythm, bobbing my head and using my hand at the base.
I keep jerking him with my hand, twisting my wrist to make sure he enjoys the pressure.
I keep sucking him, letting my tongue trace down the vein that runs along the full length of him.
I even use my tongue, digging it into the slit at the top of the head, milking all the precum he’s got.
I keep this circuit up, sucking, twisting, jerking, and licking at him until I feel his knees buckle and he leans forward, one hand braced against the wall for support.
“You suck dick like a pornstar, Willow. Fuck me.” He thrusts his hips, and I keep working him, sucking him, wanting to get my man—I mean, Brock—off.
“Almost there. Willow, your mouth is magical. Do you like the way I fuck your mouth? How my cock spreads your lips wide open?”
I nod, humming my answer against his dick, and he loses it.
His come is quick and fast as it explodes into my mouth.
I swallow him down instantly, milking the last of his come with my mouth.
“Fuck,” he moans out as he jerks slightly toward the end of his release, his hips giving one last final push.
“I wasn’t…I can’t…” he says, unable to complete his sentence. “I never expected that.”
I swallow the last of his release, smiling up at him as I swipe at my chin. He helps me stand, and I laugh lightly. “I’ll be expecting you to return the favor,” I tell him, not really meaning it. I’d never give oral pleasure in the hopes of receiving it back.
“Name the place. Anywhere. Anytime. I think…” he stops talking, momentarily stunned before he says anything.
“I have to reapply my lipstick.”
His hand wraps around the back of my neck as he pulls me forward, crashing his lips against mine. We’re kissing, and it feels like—more. Like something’s happening between us, but I quickly remind myself that it's clearly just me catching the feelings, not him.
I break the kiss. “We’re going to be late,” I tell him, rushing over to grab my clutch and fish out my lipstick. I lean into the mirror, swiping the red shade over my full lips.
Brock steps closer. “My new favorite shade,” he says, pointing to the stick of lipgloss in my hand. “I love having that color all over my cock.”
My face heats. “Brock,” I breathe out before he opens the door. “No talking dirty when we get to the restaurant.”
He peers over his shoulder. “I can’t make any promises. Not after a blow job that monumental. Get ready for your payback.”
I smile wide as I follow him out the door, heading to the rehearsal.
When we arrive Anya’s the first to greet us.
“You’re here,” Anya says, opening her arms wide and wrapping me into a hug. “I was starting to wonder how late you two were going to be.”
“Sorry, I had something to take care of first.” I give Brock a quick wink as he smiles at me.
He turns to greet his brothers, and we’re all gathered around the spot where Paxton and Hartford will say their ‘I-do’s’.
It’s so magical.
They’re getting married in a little chapel on the strip, specializing in Elvis impersonation weddings. Hartford and Paxton insisted on having Elvis marry them both.
“Now, Hartford will walk down the aisle like this,” Hartford’s mother says.
Hartford follows behind her. “Let’s get everything set up and ready to go.”
We all fall into position, and for the next hour we practice how the whole wedding will go down. I have to say it almost makes me emotional at the thought by this time tomorrow my friend will be getting married.
“Hey,” Lake says, stepping closer. “How’s everything going?”
“Fine.” I wish he’d go away. I’m not even sure why he’s bugging me right now.
“Where’s Brock?” he asks, raising a thick brow.
“Right here,” Brock says, moving closer, wrapping an arm around me. “We’re all heading to the restaurant now.”
I nod. “Let’s go.”
Together we walk away from Lake, and I seriously wonder what I ever saw in him. Brock is so much better in all the ways.
We arrive at the restaurant, and we’re seated next to each other. Brock’s got his arm along the back of my chair, and he pulls me in close.
“You hungry?” he asks me.
I nod. “Yeah. I’m thinking about ordering the filet,” I tell him.
He gives me one of those smiles. A pity smile. As if to say, ‘oh honey’, and laughs lightly against my ear. “I didn’t ask if you were hungry for food.”
I turn slightly to face him. “You fed me pretty well, earlier,” I say back, reminding him of the blow job.
He nips his lips at my ear. “I know. You swallowed everything I had to give. Now it’s time for me to return the favor.”
“Here?” I ask him, looking around.
Everyone’s here. And I do mean, everyone. Out of town guests have arrived. Even Hartford’s Aunt Nora is here along with her date, Mr. Charleston, Hartford’s boss.
Hartford’s mother. Brock’s parents. All of our friends. Even August, a baby. What is Brock even thinking about?
“Yes, here. Nobody’s paying attention to us way back here.” His hand runs along the outside of my thigh, inching closer to the hem of my dress.
He’s sort of right. The room is dark, with dim, ambient lighting casting a warm glow over the space.
Many round tables, draped in elegant white linen cloths and adorned with flickering candles and fresh flower centerpieces, are clustered around the large area.
The air hums with the low murmur of conversations and the occasional burst of laughter.
Waitstaff in crisp black uniforms weave gracefully between tables, balancing trays of delicate hors d'oeuvres and sparkling drinks.
At the back of the room, away from the lively clusters of guests, Brock and I sit at a table all alone.
Our table, though equally well-dressed with linens and flowers, feels isolated as if it exists in a different realm from the bustling banquet.
The soft clinking of glasses and the gentle rustling of elegant attire seem distant, almost muted from our secluded vantage point.
Brock traces circles along my heated skin, and then inches higher up my thigh.
“Brock,” I whisper, a silent plea. I’m not sure if I want him to stop or keep going. I lean into him, bringing my hand up to trace his face. “Don’t stop,” I say, making my final decision.
The air shifts as Brock gazes into my eyes. “Willow, I never expected you.” He pushes his hand past the hem of my dress and it races up my thigh.
I spread my legs. “I never expected you either.” And I didn’t. This man. With all his naughty words, and gentle kisses. I can’t get enough of it.
I feel like I’m starting to crave him. I close my eyes, letting my head fall into the crook of his neck as he pushes my panties to the side.
“I want to hear you moan out my name,” he whispers.
“What if somebody hears me?” My body tenses slightly at the thought.
I can feel his face shift like he’s smiling at the thought. “Then let them hear.” He runs his fingers through my wetness, shifting in his chair slightly to get a better angle. He presses the heel of his hand against my clit, pushing two fingers deep inside me. “I love how tight you are.”
I moan, thrusting my hips slightly under the table.
“What are you two doing over here?” Tripp asks as he plops into a chair across from us.
I stiffen, trying to close my legs. “Nothing,” I say at a high-pitched tone.
Brock doesn’t stop. He keeps playing with me, pushing his fingers deeper inside me, crooking one finger to reach a spot nobody ever has before. “Leave,” Brock nearly growls out.
I bite my lip, and I’m pretty sure it might bleed with the pressure I’m applying, but it’s the only thing I can do to keep from calling out.
“What?” Tripp asks with a wary laugh. “Did I interrupt…”
Before he can finish his sentence, Brock says low and demanding, “I will kick your ass if you don’t get up and walk away from this table right now.”
It’s like a light bulb goes off in Tripp’s brain, and he slides out of his chair. “Oh, right. Sorry.” He rushes away and I’m mortified.
“Maybe we should stop,” I say, meeting Brock’s eyes.
“Not a chance in hell, Willow. I’m not stopping until you soak my hand with your orgasm.”