19. Never Be the Same #2
“Relax,” he murmurs. His voice is commanding, wrapped in comfort. Slowly, he presses the plug deeper. The stretch is foreign, strange, but not unwelcome.
“How’s that?” His eyes stay locked on mine, watching every twitch, every tremble.
“Good—green,” I say, breathless, allowing myself to settle around it.
“More?”
“Yes,” I moan, desperate.
He pushes until the base nestles flush against me, and a groan tears from my chest. His answering chuckle is low, and far too smug.
Broderick plants a soft kiss to my mound before his lips close hard around my clit, sucking, tongue flicking. The combined sensations—the fullness of the plug, the relentless heat of his mouth—threaten to undo me entirely.
He looks up at me through his lashes, his head buried between my thighs.
“More,” I cry, tugging at the restraints.
“Greedy girl,” he growls against me before sliding two fingers inside.
I whimper—still tender from this morning’s session, stretched and sore, but the mixture of sharp pain and dizzying pleasure is intoxicating, impossible to chase on my own. He knows exactly how to work my body.
“More,” I beg shamelessly. “You. I want your cock, Broderick—please.”
I watch him as he hums against my flesh, the sound shooting through me so violently I almost unravel then and there. His fingers curl deep inside, hitting the spot that makes stars explode behind my eyes.
Then—click.
The plug comes alive, vibrating inside me, and I scream his name as the pulsing overwhelms my senses. The taste of my orgasm just within reach rises fast, uncontrollable.
“Broderick—I’m going to come!”
He stops. Pulling out the plug along with him. The crescendo crashes into nothingness, leaving me writhing, empty, clawing at the edge of bliss I can’t reach.
My fingers dig into the silk fabric ties.
“No—no, please,” I whine, the denial sharper than pain. “Come back, don’t stop…” My voice cracks, broken with frustration, tears of need stinging my eyes. “Broderick.”
“You’re so cute when you beg, baby.” His mouth drags over the inside of my thigh, leaving heat in its wake. Then he pushes up, rising to his knees, bracing his hands on either side of me, caging me in.
I ache to touch him—to wrap my arms around his broad back, to feel the heavy weight of his body pressing mine into the mattress.
“Do you know how you drive me insane?” he murmurs, lips brushing a soft kiss against my collarbone.
God, I know. Because right now, he’s driving me fucking insane.
“How you consume every thought in my head,” he continues, kissing the opposite shoulder, each word a caress, each kiss a brand.
His tenderness makes me squirm, makes me want to scream.
“How I want you to let me in.” The plea in his voice raw, edged with desperation.
I know exactly what he means. He wants more than my body. And I don’t know if I’m ready. Not again.
“How about I let you into my pussy and we call it even?” I shoot back, tugging hard against the restraints. They don’t give an inch.
His eyes flash. “You keep talking like that, and I’ll skullfuck the shit out of you.”
“So long as you’re fucking something,” I fire back, breathless.
Before I can say another word, his lips crash onto mine, swallowing every taunt, every plea—I taste him, taste myself, taste us.
The kiss is brutal, consuming, and when he presses the thick head of his cock against my soaked entrance, I cry into his mouth. My hips buck, desperate, chasing him, begging him to sink into me.
I want him inside. Need it—to feel the tether again, to know this thing between us, fragile as it is, still holds.
That he still wants it. That he still wants me.
Maybe he feels the same. Or maybe his restraint finally snaps. Either way, he thrusts forward, stretching me wide. The pressure is euphoric.
A ragged moan tears out of me. He grunts, forehead pressed to mine, both of us gasping as our bodies lock together like pieces of a puzzle too perfect to be anything but inevitable.
My body says everything my heart isn’t ready to admit.
He starts slow, long strokes that make me ache in places I didn’t know existed.
His lips soften, gentling into tender kisses—kisses that feel like he’s trying to reach my very soul.
Then his rhythm shifts, growing hungrier, harder.
My hips rise to meet his, desperate, reckless, pounding against him with everything I have.
And fuck—he wasn’t lying. He rearranges my insides just like he promised, and every thought fractures, every fear evaporates.
Broderick doesn’t stop kissing me. Doesn’t give me air, doesn’t give me an escape. His lips and tongue claim mine, devouring every gasp, every cry, every shattered moan he rips out of me.
There’s no world outside this. Just us. Just him.
After he finds his release, Broderick unties me, rubbing gently at my wrists as though checking for marks before pulling me into his chest.
“How was that for you?” he asks, tracing lazy circles along my thigh.
“Hmm,” is all I manage.
“El—words.”
I sigh, still breathless, “Glorious.”
I hear the smile in his voice and feel the quiet shake of his chest as he tries to stifle a laugh.
“I’d like to propose an amendment to what’s left of our rules.”
The realization isn’t lost on me that we’re lying in his bed—something we’d explicitly agreed not to do.
“And what would that be, Mr. Schwartz?”
“If we’re going to do kinky things,” he says carefully, “I’m proposing aftercare—not as a suggestion, but as a necessity. For both of us.”
“What does that entail?”
“It could be anything,” he replies, pulling me a little closer. “Cuddling. Getting you cleaned up. A snack—water. You’ll have to tell me what you need. It might be different every time, depending on the scene.”
His thumb continues its slow path over my skin. “Is there anything you need from me right now?”
I think about it for a moment, but the truth settles quietly in my chest.
I already have what I need.
Right here. With him.
“I like this,” I whisper. “Maybe a shower later. But we can spoon for a little while longer.”
“You got it,” he chuckles softly. “So, you’re okay with aftercare?”
“You said it’s a necessity,” I murmur. “I wouldn’t want to deprive my star employee of his needs.”
So long as he continues giving me what I need—him.
After my shower, I stand in Broderick’s luxurious ensuite, wrapped in nothing but a towel, and realize—I have no clean clothes.
Fuck.
A soft knock at the door startles me. My cheeks heat, absurdly shy even though he had me bound and fucked within an inch of my sanity not long ago.
“Hey, I figured you might need these,” Broderick says, cracking the door open.
“Come in,” I call, tightening the towel at my chest.
He steps in, holding a sleek Nordstrom bag, along with two bottles of water.
“What’s this?”
“You need to hydrate and I figured I owed you reparations.” He shrugs, offering it to me with a half-grin. “For destruction of property.”
He places the water bottles on the counter.
I peek inside. Nestled neatly are a pair of dark green sweatpants, a matching jumper, other items of clothing and several pairs of new underwear.
“You went shopping?”
“I did. After this morning.” His smile grows cocky, dimples deepening. “I was going to drop them by tomorrow, but since you delivered yourself to me…”
I roll my eyes, fighting a smile.
“Okay, I’ll leave you to get dressed. Hungry?” he asks, lingering in the doorway.
“I could eat.”
He nods once before disappearing down the hall.
I crack open the water bottle and chug half before putting on the soft sweatpants and jumper, the fabric still crisp and smells faintly of new cotton and cologne.
Using Broderick’s brush, I work through my damp hair.
I rummage through his drawers, searching for a blow dryer, and come up empty.
It’s strange—almost sterile. As if no one really lives here.
Then again, with him constantly traveling, maybe he doesn’t bother.
Maybe he’s learned to live out of a suitcase.
Throwing the towel over my shoulders, I leave his bedroom and call out, “Brody?”
“In the kitchen, sweetheart,” he answers, voice warm, steady—though when I join him, I notice he’s dressed in matching dark green sweats and jumper too.
“You look nice—what is this, our new fuck-buddy uniform?” I tease, arching a brow.
Broderick lets out a short laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His jaw tightens.
“Everything okay?” I ask, watching the way he rummages through the cabinets.
He exhales, almost sheepish. “Well, looks like we’re ordering in. I don’t really have anything—unless you want a protein shake?”
I scrunch my nose. “You have no food in your house?”
“I’m never home long enough. And I hate the thought of food going to waste when so many people are starving.”
I shake my head, amused despite myself. “Alright, fine. Let’s order in.” I swat his arm lightly.
The tension eases from his face as he steps closer, fingers sliding beneath my chin, tilting it up.
“Your wish is—”
The sound of a door clicking open cuts him off.
I freeze. “Are you expecting anyone?”
His brow furrows. “No.”
“Brody?” Andrew’s voice carries down the hall.
“Fuck,” I hiss, panic sparking in my chest. Broderick’s eyes fly wide, and he immediately drops his hand from my chin.
The sharp staccato of heels follows. My stomach lurches. Philippa.
“We brought you some food, thought you might be—” Philippa rounds the corner and stops dead when she sees me. Her gaze snaps from my face to Broderick’s. “Elena. We didn’t know you’d be back—and here with Brody?”
Andrew’s right behind her. “Oh shit,” he mutters, grinning, shocked and amused. “Did we just interrupt something?”
My heart pounds so hard it’s deafening. Every instinct screams run. My brain spins, grasping for an escape route, for words—anything—as the four of us stand frozen like deer in headlights.
I force a brittle laugh. “Well, thanks for the workout, Broderick. Talk later.”
His head jerks toward me, hurt etched across his features. “You’re leaving?” His voice breaks on it, quieter, raw.
“I don’t want to intrude.” I edge away from him, every nerve taut.