27 - Brock
Brock
I was losing my goddamn mind.
It started building the second I saw her walk out in that dress, that hunger that scared me.
But then came the ride to Wrigley, the game itself and the Navy Pier walk and I was gone.
I didn’t just want Lauren, I needed her like I needed oxygen.
And the closest place I could think of where I could have her was none other than Cornerstone’s HQ, a blessed ten minute drive from where we were currently trying not to get arrested.
I grabbed her hand the second the Ferris wheel car jolted to a halt. The cabin door clicked open, signifying the end of the ride.
“Watch your step,” the attendant droned as we found our footing and dashed like we stole something.
Lauren’s hand was hot in mine as we tore across the tourist-trodden concrete of the pier and found our way back to the Chevy, but not before I pinned her against the passenger door.
She was caught between pulling me closer and shoving me away, but when a group of incoming Pier goers started making their way towards us, we broke apart quickly.
I jumped into the driver's seat and started the engine. We were both quiet but the atmosphere between us was not.
I kept my eyes fixed to the road, ignoring the teasing hand that settled in the inside of my thigh.
“You're playing with fire, you know that?” I said, my knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“How far out are we from HQ?” she asked.
“Too far,” I muttered.
I caught her smiling in the corner of my eye, the little brat.
I swerved out of the way of a pothole, my truck lurching to the side. Lauren laughed and the sound was like liquid lead filling up my veins.
We finally made it to the industrial backstreets and gravel of the Cornerstone lot.
I headed straight for the warehouse, muscle-memory pulling out the key fob I carried with me at all times “just in case,” and thank God I did.
I tapped it against a wall-mounted reader, waited for the mechanical thunk of the heavy magnetic lock releasing and then shouldered the steel door open in one continuous motion.
Inside was a cavernous space filled with the smell of sawdust, cold steel and lumber. In the dark, the silhouettes of excavators and stacks of drywall looked almost ominous. There were no CCTV cameras in here, which wasn’t just a detail anymore. It was a permission slip.
There’d be no one around to see me actually go mad. I was the guy who measured twice and cut once, the same man who had a place for everything and never went anywhere without a plan.
But I was still just a man, and in that dress, Lauren looked like a goddess.
We grabbed each other again, no safety bar or neon light-soaked crowd below to get in the way this time. She made a sound in the back of her throat, her hands dropping down again to my belt as she yanked me toward her.
My body moved on autopilot and I followed, our joint stumble sending a pile of empty boxes flying. We both sputtered and laughed at the silliness of the situation.
“Very, very professional,” Lauren whispered, tightening her arms around my neck. She kissed my throat and I felt the blood rush from my head.
“Very professional,” I repeated, backing us up until she was braced against a shelf. I buried my face in her neck, reveling in the scent of her. Her shower gel smelled like coconut and there was a hint of fresh sweat after the day we spent in the sun. It was like goddamn catnip to me.
I dragged my tongue down her neck, moaning when I reached her cleavage. I mouthed at her tits through the fabric of her dress and was delighted to discover that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Perfect.
Lauren held me tightly, sighing in pleasure as I indulged myself.
My fingers tugged at her dress, my palms flat and demanding on the smooth skin of her thighs.
Her hands slipped under my shirt, exploring the planes of my back and I froze, just soaking in the feeling of touching her and being touched by her.
I shrugged off my jacket and her hands moved from my back to the front of my jeans where I was already sporting a hell of a tent. She ran her hands down the front before unclipping my belt.
“You first,” I whispered in her ear, my fingers curling under the hemline of her dress. But she didn't stop and I realized what she was trying to do. Her deep blue eyes twinkled in the filtered light coming through the high windows of the warehouse. Mischief, that's what was buried in them.
“Oh?” I asked, stepping up to the challenge. “So that's what you wanna do, Wolfhaardt?”
I pressed a hand between her legs and let the heel of my palm rub against her clothed pussy.
I had just enough wherewithal to know not to put my fingers inside of her but this would do.
Her body pulled taut in response, her chest thrust up and one shoulder string slipped off, exposing her left breast. I licked it, so greedy to taste her that it was almost embarrassing.
“You like the way this feels, don’t you?” I said, my voice strangled with desire as thoughts of Lauren riding my leg clouded my mind.
She closed her eyes against the pleasure, then opened them and reached her hand back into my jeans.
My dick twitched in her hand, and she spat on it before slowly working her hand up and down the shaft.
Her thumb rolled over the sensitive glans on every third upstroke and I grit my teeth against the sounds she was drawing out of me.
“I can’t…believe you…just did that,” I said between heavy breaths.
She looked at me with a lazy, entitled smile that made my cock harder, if it was possible. “Why? It’s mine, isn’t it?”
Dear God, yes, please.
“You’re very greedy,” I said quietly, wrapping her leg around me and bunching her dress up around her waist. Our hands were still toying with each other and trying to make the other break first and, fuck, she was truly giving me a run for my money.
But then I bowed my head and licked her chest again, moaning as I sucked on one of her nipples and she came undone with a shout of protest that didn’t sound all that regretful. I grinned.
“You cheated,” she rebuked, slamming a hand on my chest. But her eyes were still half-lidded and hazy and she was wet enough for me to feel through the fabric of her panties.
I increased the friction, cursing under my breath at how amazing she felt against my hand and how much more amazing I knew she’d feel around my cock.
“Just using the tools I have in my belt, sweetheart,” I murmured against her lips.
She gripped the back of my neck and then I couldn’t control it anymore. She opened those pretty legs for me and I sank inside, my entire body thrumming with relief.
Lauren wrapped her limbs around me and I just stood like that for a moment, enjoying the way that felt. It reminded me of our conversation in her kitchen the other day, that unspoken desire to find home.
And this was home, the feeling of her body wrapped around mine, drawing me in, her soft breaths on my neck and the little sounds in her throat. Everything outside of this warehouse melted into a big pool of nothingness. There was just Lauren.
I kissed her temple softly, a silent apology for what I was about to do next.
I began to move, driving my hips as deep as they could take me, seeking more and more of her out.
The shelf shook behind us and I quickly put a hand behind Lauren’s head, afraid she would bang her head against its metal bones.
“Brock, you feel so good inside of me,” she whimpered, holding onto my shoulder. “More, please, give me more.”
Hearing that made me feral. I don’t know what came over me but the intense desire to please her, to claim her, to feel her was overwhelming. A deep groan rumbled in my chest as I increased the pace of my thrusts, slamming into her so hard that the shelf very nearly toppled over but I didn’t care.
All that mattered was that Lauren kept making those sounds and that she kept calling my name. All that mattered was the way her body gripped mine, her welcoming, intoxicating heat burning up every single remnant of common sense I had left.
Her orgasm triggered mine and I pulled out before I could come, having to catch myself on the brackets.
We were both panting hard, our bodies sweaty against each other as we climbed slowly down from the high.
Lauren’s face was flushed, her hair messy and a look of awe on her face that steadied my heartbeat, held it captive.
“Brock, I—” Lauren sighed, her hands tangling in my hair. But she didn’t finish what wanted to say.
“What is it, sweetheart?” I asked, moving a strand of sweat-slick hair off her forehead.
Before she could answer, the click of the interior door made us spring apart, and I instinctively moved to cover Lauren’s body as she struggled to adjust herself.
“Who’s there?” I demanded, my eyes searching the dark entrance to catch a glimpse of the intruder. It could only have been an employee, but who the hell would…
“Fancy running into the two of you here,” Merrick’s voice rang out and eventually he walked into a spot where we could see him. I scowled, tucking myself back into my jeans. “Room for one more?”