19. Never Be the Same
Never Be the Same
Ispot a few paparazzi camped out across the road, and my pulse spikes, feverish beneath the hoodie and baseball cap.
They might not recognize me, but I can’t risk giving them the chance by standing around waiting for Tony.
Salvation comes in the form of a cab pulling up—someone hops out, and I slide in before the cameras catch me.
It feels like the universe just handed me my escape chariot. I rattle off his address, then lie flat against the backseat as we roll past the small cluster of lenses. My lungs burn with shallow breaths, the cab’s stale air filling me until we’re finally gone.
By the time I reach his building, adrenaline has dulled into a low buzz. I take the elevator up and punch in his code without hesitation, silently praying he’s home.
“Broderick?” I call out. Angry rock music crashes from down the hall—confirmation enough. My chest loosens with relief.
Rounding the corner, I find him in the gym, drenched in sweat and hammering the heavy bag.
He doesn’t see me right away. I’ve never seen him box before, the sight knocks the air from me.
The way he moves—controlled, brutal—sends heat straight through me.
Sweat beads down his body, and all I can think of is how that taste lingered on my tongue this morning during our ‘workout’.
He notices me in the mirror and stills, chest heaving.
“El—” His voice is rough. He yanks off the gloves, digs a remote out of his pocket, and kills the music.
I step forward, grab his water bottle, and hand it to him in silence.
“Thanks,” he mutters, swallowing deep before taking another drink.
“I’ve never seen you use this before,” I say, teasing lightly as I nudge the swaying bag, eyes locked on him—sweaty, sexy, mine.
He sets the bottle down and grabs a towel, dragging it across his face. “Yeah, well.” His jaw ticks, his voice clipped. “Needed to hit something.”
It dawns on me—the blaring music, the ferocity in every swing. He’s not just working out. He’s angry.
This is new.
“Why?” I tilt my head, though I already know. The reason I came rushing here is probably the same reason he’s seething.
Alex.
He shakes his head, rolling his eyes.
“You saw it?”
“Yeah, well—Andrew did. Sent it to me, and the next thing I know I’m scrolling through all this shit about you and him and…”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? Having a past?” He sighs, bitter and tired. Resigned. “We all have one.”
I reach for him. He doesn’t stop me. My arms snake around his body, pulling me flush against him. He smells like clean laundry, something woodsy and fresh sweat. I rest my head against his chest, his heart still hammering but slowing with each breath he takes of me.
We both needed this. Needed each other. To anchor ourselves in the chaos.
“Are you here to terminate our agreement?”
What?
I step back, searching his face. Hurt flickers there, sharp and fleeting.
“Broderick, that’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why are you here?”
I tug at his shirt. “Fuck me.”
His jaw tightens. “I know you’re only using me to forget him—I…” He falters, eyes catching the hurt on my face. His expression softens, torn.
“I need you, Broderick. Please.” My voice cracks. Please don’t end this. Not now. Not yet.
“Baby, then why won’t you let me in?”
Because if I let you in, maybe you’ll leave me like Alex did.
“Please…Elena,” he murmurs again, searching my eyes.
The words choke me. They won’t come. “Broderick,” is all I manage.
I can see the war in him—doubt, desire, restraint shredding by the second.
I strip off my hoodie, then my top. His eyes widen, then darken as the fabric hits the floor.
“If you don’t want this…if you don’t want me, then just tell me and I’ll—”
He’s on me in an instant, tension snapping as our bodies collide. His hands claw me everywhere, rough, frantic, desperate to hold on to whatever this is between us.
“You want to forget him?” he growls against my mouth. “Then I’ll rearrange your insides—you won’t remember him when I’m done.”
I can’t breathe. Can’t think.
My body begs where words fail me. Pulling him closer, I dig my fingers into his skin.
He lifts me clean off the floor and strides down the hall with me clinging to him, deeper into his apartment—through double doors I’ve never seen before—into his bedroom.
Before I can even take in my surroundings, he throws me onto the bed.
He’s on me again, feral, like an animal devouring prey. His hands rip at the rest of my clothes while I tear at his, a tangle of greedy fingers and shredded fabric.
“You are mine,” he growls, sealing it with a kiss that steals every breath from my lungs until all I know, all I taste, is him.
Everything blurs.
Broderick’s cock presses hot against my thigh, his abs ridged beneath my hand as I wrap my fingers around his length, pumping slow and deliberate. He groans into my mouth, then pulls back with a tut.
And just like that, he’s gone—standing, leaving me aching, my skin cooling without his heat.
“Step one,” he says, voice low and commanding. “I’m going to fuck you how I want.”
Hunger twists deep in me. Broderick’s body is carved perfection, muscles flexing and slick from his workout. My mouth waters as I watch him cross the room to a sleek dresser. He pulls something out and returns, laying items on the bedside table.
Silk. A bottle. A gleam of silver shaped suspiciously like the Chicago Bean.
Oh, fuck. My pulse spikes.
He wants to fuck my ass.
“Do you trust me?”
“In theory.”
“Don’t make me fuck that smart mouth—yes or no, baby?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to stretch that sweet little ass, get you ready to take me one day. But tonight…” His eyes are almost black, voice rough. “Tonight I’m going to tie you up and tease you until you’re begging for me.”
My mouth goes dry. Heat licks through me.
“Do you want to play?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.”
He pushes me higher on the bed, guiding my arm out and fastening it to a bedpost with deliberate care. That’s when I notice—Broderick’s bed isn’t just four posts. Each one has a hidden compartment. From it, he pulls a metal ring, eyes locked on mine.
Holy shit. He’s got a fucking Transformers bed.
Broderick takes the silk scarf from the bedside table and drags it along my skin in a slow, teasing path. The light touch makes my nipples pebble instantly, every nerve sparking alive. My breath catches as he wraps the scarf tight around my wrist, the restraint sending a shiver straight through me.
“Now,” he says, his voice steady, commanding but gentle. “If at any moment you want to slow down—yellow. If you’re okay to proceed—green. Understood?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“And if you want me to stop—red.” He threads the end of the scarf through the hidden ring on the bedpost, tugging once to test the knot. My arm is immobile, pinned above my head.
I nod automatically, but his hand cups my chin, thumb brushing over my lips. “Words, baby. This only works if we communicate.”
“Yes, green,” I breathe, impatience bleeding into my tone. The buildup is killing me. My body aches for him.
A low, dark chuckle rumbles from his chest. He picks up the second scarf and repeats the ritual with my other wrist. My pulse pounds louder with every tug and knot, until I’m strung open beneath him, helpless, waiting.
He takes a small bottle from the nightstand and pours liquid into his hands. I hear the slick sound of his palms rubbing together, and curiosity claws through my haze.
“What is that?” My voice comes out hoarse.
“Oil.” His lips curve into the barest smirk before he lowers his hands to me.
The first touch steals a gasp from my throat.
His large hands glide over my decolletage sliding down over my breasts, slick and warm, massaging with purposeful pressure.
Broderick wraps his lips around each nipple, coaxing them until they’re stiff, his breath skittering over my skin as he works each one.
“These were made for me,” he breathes, jiggling them playfully before nibbling on each peak again—his stubble tickles my skin making every nerve ending come to life.
My back arches in pleasure. I desperately want to run my hands through his hair, kiss him, but I’m helpless as I writhe against the restraints.
The oil coats my skin in a slippery sheen, carrying the soothing scent of sweet almond and vanilla.
The heat of his hands softens every thought—blurring every line.
“Oh, God—Broderick…I,” I whimper.
“Relax,” he murmurs, voice husky, reverent. “I want to explore every inch of your body.”
“Green,” I groan, my eyes rolling back.
His hands travel lower, firm strokes mapping me, calming me, unraveling me. My body melts under him, every muscle pliant, boneless, even as the ache between my thighs sharpens into an unbearable need.
I glance down at him. He’s watching me closely, his expression a mix of hunger and patience, as though winding me up tighter is half the fun.
His thumbs press into my thighs, kneading, dragging back and forth.
Each pass makes me tremble harder, my body begging him to touch me where I’m burning for him.
He trails his oiled hands back up toward my breasts, kneading once before leaning over the side of the bed. From the drawer, he pulls another bottle and the gleam of silver.
My breath stalls. “What’s that?”
His grin is wicked, almost unrecognizable—darker, dangerous. “A butt plug.”
Oh fuck—who knew he had this kinky side to him?
“Do you want me to put this in your ass, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing but heavy with intent.
Desire and apprehension war in my veins, but when his hand cups my jaw, steady and grounding. Broderick’s green eyes search mine, and I know I’m safe—safe enough to leap into the unknown, with him.
“Green.”
His grin deepens as he shifts lower, spreading my thighs delicately.
The back of his hand drags up the tender inside of my leg, tracing higher until it brushes my center.
I shudder. Then he presses the cool toy against my clit, gliding it up and down before circling lower, nudging at the tight entrance of my ass.
A gasp rips from my throat.