Chapter 11 #2
A shiver ran down her spine, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she tilted her head, sliding her hands down his chest, feeling the heat radiating off his body. She didn’t know if she was scared or if she wanted it more.
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
In one smooth motion, he stood, towering over her still looking at her.
His eyes burned into hers, dark and unforgiving.
His control had snapped. It was almost getting painful to watch her body move and feel her soft skin under his hands.
He’d never take his hands for granted again. Not when they were made to touch her.
“Last chance to back out. Because if we leave right now...”
He didn’t finish. Didn’t have to.
Instead, she crashed her mouth against his, kissing him so deeply that her knees buckled, balance be damned. And like usual, Brooks was there, steady, strong.
The music thumped around them, but all she could hear was their heartbeats, pounding. All she could feel was him.
“I don’t want to go home,” she whispered.
That was all he needed to hear. Without another word, Brooks grabbed her hand and led her through the club, his grip firm, possessive, making it damn clear what was about to happen next.
When they made it outside the cool night air hit her skin, but it did nothing to calm the fire in her veins.
Before she knew it, Brooks had her pressed against his car, one hand in her hair, the other gripping her hip.
She prayed he didn’t ask her anything because she was liable to say yes to anything he asked of her.
She was gone and the liquor hadn’t helped.
After her fifth shot, she stopped counting.
“Taylor, you ain’t playing with me, are you?” He asked. “I’d really love to find out what that pussy tastes like.”
Her mind raced no one had ever spoken to her like that. He could talk like that to her all night for all she cared. She grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. “Well, you can’t do that here,now can you?”
She enjoyed herself tonight and didn’t want to overthink it, didn’t want to talk herself out of what her body had been craving.
She was done being cautious. The lying in bed at night wondering what his touch felt like hsd worn her out of.
They'd ended every evening with nothing but heated looks and lingering touches that left her wanting to call him to come over.
Brooks Bishop had been patient, treating her like something precious when she needed it needed it the most.
She didn’t want to be porcelain anymore. Didn’t want to be the good girl with boundaries.
Tonight, she wanted to belong to him.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he whispered against her lips.
After all this time of wanting her, watching her from a distance, dreaming about how she might feel in his arms, he still couldn’t believe that one phone call led to this.
“Tonight was amazing. Thank you, I had so much fun,” Taylor said, trying to steady her voice despite his fingers drawing lazy circles on her knee.
“I’m glad you had a good time. You deserve that. But the night ain’t over,” he grabbed her hand from her lap and kissed her knuckles, eyes on the road but his mind clearly elsewhere. Mind on all the things he planned to do to her. She was about to come out of her shell one way or another.
Brooks smirked as his house emerged from the darkness, modern and imposing with its clean lines and dark stone. Before she could change her mind, he was at her car door, pulling her close like distance offended him.
“You know you mean something to me, right?” He expressed softly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. He loved her thick, full hair. “This ain’t just, ya know.”
“I know,” she whispered, understanding exactly what he meant. This wasn’t just lust and sex between them it was something deeper, something that had been building since he’d shown up for her. She was aware and not denying it. At least not tonight. She’d worry about tomorrow, when it arrived.
The moment his front door closed behind them, the energy changed. Brooks had her pressed against the wall, one hand cupping her face while the other gripped her ass cheek possessively.
For a moment, he just looked at her. God didn’t make any mistakes on her. She was a rarity in many ways, and he appreciated that about her.
Brooks was clear about what this was for him, but he couldn’t say it.
Taylor was still a runner at the end of the day.
However, tonight, he didn’t want to miss the chance to be between her thighs.
If she ran so, be it. She’d be back, he could promise that.
He just hoped she didn’t. God, he hoped she didn’t.
The first brush of his lips against hers was gentle, testing. But when she exhaled into his mouth, Brooks snapped. His kiss deepened, hungry and demanding, still somehow tender. He wanted her in the worst way and he planned to take his time.
She melted into him, her fingers gripping his shirt, pulling him closer. Brooks kissed her again showing her just how bad he’d been starving for her. His teeth grazed her lip, and she responded with a low moan that startled them both. She hadn’t been kissed silly in ages, if ever.
Brooks pulled back just enough to look at her, his breathing ragged.
“Damn, love,” he whispered.
“I’ve been wanting to touch you like this since I picked you up,” he growled against her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot below her ear.
Her nails sank into his shoulders as his hand slid higher.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with yearning but still checking to ensure she was still with him. “We can slow-”
She cut him off with another kiss, this one desperate and demanding.
“No. I want this. I want you.”
He grabbed her legs, prompting her to wrap them around his waist. Brooks carried Taylor upstairs to his room, kicked the door open and he placed her on her feet.
She walked in slowly, taking in the space that was so him.
The massive bed. The black and gold comforter covering it.
Plush carpet. Floor-to-ceiling windows gleaming with slight light from the street lamps.
He moved around the room with ease, removing his jewelry and placing his watch and gun on the dresser.
Taylor sat on the edge of his bed, watching him, realizing how much trust they were placing in each other.
When he removed his shirt, revealing his tattoos and flexing muscles, she found herself holding her breath and staring at how nice his body was.
“Do you work out?” She asked, barely audible.
Brooks laughed.
“Yeah, twice a day if I can. Got a little gym downstairs. Why?”
“Oh, nothing...” She glanced away, her tone shy. “You just have a nice body.”
She was nervous, and he could tell.
“Come here,” he said softly, reaching for her hand.
Taylor hesitated, but stepped forward, letting her fingers curl around his. He pulled her gently toward him, guiding her to stand in front of the full-length mirror in the corner.
Brooks leaned in, his lips brushing the side of her neck. Soft kisses. Slow. Intentional. His hand cradled her jaw, gently guiding her face back toward the mirror.
“You can’t look at yourself?” He asked, his breath warm against her skin. “You scared you might enjoy what you see?”
“Brooks...” she started, voice shaky. Her knowledge of words was so minimal it was sad.
His hands slipped between the waist beads he loved, grounding her, steadying her feeling the timidity rising in her chest.
She’d come here thinking it would be quick.
Passionate, sure but straight to the point.
They’ been flirting for weeks, the tension had been stressing them out for just as long.
But Brooks wasn’t rushing. He was taking his time, teasing her with patience, stretching the pressure until her body was consumed with it.
“You’re nervous,” he murmured, pressing a slow kiss to her shoulder. His hands glided up from her stomach, sliding over the curves of her breasts. A gentle squeeze to her nipple made her body jerk in response. “Ain’t no way it’s been that long.”
He stepped back just enough to grab the hem of her shirt, lifting it with ease. She raised her arms, letting him strip it away. The moment cool air met her lace-covered nipples, they tightened, exposing just how ready she was.
His fingers toyed with her, tugging, rolling, flicking the peaks through the flimsy fabric until her hips jolted forward, her hands landing on the dresser beside her, her grip tightening as he continued.
With his free hand, he unzipped her shorts. Slowly pushing them down over her curves. They dropped to the floor and she stepped out of them. He trailed a finger down her ribs until he landed on her thong.
Taylor went still as his warm fingers dipped beneath it.
The second he grazed her clit, she shuttered. Goosebumps covered her arms; her thighs clenched together like vice grips. Brooks let out a deep, rough sigh, his head dropping to her shoulder.
“Shit.” His fingers slid lower, finding her drenched. Too soft. Too warm. Too fucking ready. He had to breathe and regain his composure.
She didn’t fight it. Just let him lead .
Brooks never looked away as he ripped through the thin webbing of her fishnet stockings, exposing her. She stood there, lace bra and thigh-high boots, staring at herself in the mirror. Between her legs, she glistened.
“A goddamn masterpiece.”
She held her breath as his finger slid in, slick and effortless. He growled against her ear and shook his head.
Jackpot.
Brooks circled her clit with expert precision. “Your pleasure is my only concern. Do you trust me to give you everything you need?”
Taylor barely found her voice, her head nodding weakly. “Yes,” she breathed.
Brooks kissed her temple, then turned her around, lifting her onto the dresser with ease. She was facing him. He spread her thighs, taking in the sight of her wet, exposed, and waiting. His dick throbbed.
“Good.”
Before she could process what was happening, his head was between her legs and mouth on her pussy. Hot. Hungry. Possessive. She slammed her thighs shut, the pleasure to much to handle.
Brooks tsked, prying them back open. “Nah, girl. You wanted this.”
The next stroke of his tongue had her clawing at the dresser, no escape, no mercy. “BB…” she stammered, but he was lost in her, tasting, savoring, devouring. He wasn’t tryna hear it, there would be no copping pleas tonight.
His hands traveled up, fingers rolling her nipples between his fingertips. The sharp pleasure made her cry out, her breath coming in loud, desperate pants .
“Mmm,” he groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her core. “Just like that, baby. Breathe.”
She wasn’t even sure she was still in her body. She was too high, too far gone. His arms locked around her hips, keeping her exactly where he wanted.
“Hmmh,” she hummed. Her pussy gushed, her juices coated the two fingers he’d slid inside her. The filthy, wet sound made his head spin.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Look at you, already trembling. And we’re just getting started,” he said, working her through, kissing, licking, flicking until she came apart. Her orgasm ripped through her. She collapsed against the wall, legs trembling around his shoulders.
Brooks lowered her legs and pressed slow kisses against her stomach.
When he finally reached her neck his hands gripping the back, bringing her mouth straight to his.
Her lips were still parted, her body still quivering, and when he kissed her, she let him take whatever he wanted. He could have it all.
“Tell me something,” he muttered against her mouth, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin of her thighs.
“I don’t even know my name right,” she panted. He was giving her a minute to catch her breath. But he fully intended to be between her legs and in her head all night. He needed to pace himself.
“Mine, that’s your name. Say it,” he commanded.
Taylor’s heart was beating out of her chest, her mind spinning. She nodded. If Brooks said she was his than that’s what it was. She couldn’t muzzle her feelings. She was surrendering for the night .
She didn’t have the willpower to fight it.
“Mine,” she repeated.