Chapter 22 Drew
Drew
All innuendo aside, I've never downed a banana so fast in my life.
I almost didn't even mention it—Brooke standing there asking me what I wanted is just about the only thing that could derail my recovery routine.
But considering I knew the foam roller and ice bath were out of the question with her here, I had to at least keep myself from cramping while inside of her.
Nothing says ruin the mood like a charlie horse mid-fucking-thrust.
Luckily, Brooke excused herself to go to the bathroom and take a look around, which gave me the three minutes I needed to at least push off any spasms. Maybe I am losing my touch a little bit with all these dates Jane's been making for me.
Nah.
Heading out of the kitchen, I search for Brooke.
My penthouse is definitely more than I need, but it's not so big that she should have gotten lost on her way back out.
Not to mention, the last time she was here, she spent most of the time washing smoothie out of her clothes in the very spot she should be now.
It's been a few minutes though—I even had time to chug another water—and she hasn't come back from her little self-guided tour.
Taking the few steps it takes to get to the bathroom, I peek my head in—no signs of Brooke. I push off the doorframe, moving further down the hallway, and almost walk right past her sitting on my bed, the comforter tossed over her lap.
"I've always wanted to fuck on sheets with a thread count this high," she says coolly, her palm stroking the fabric beneath it.
"Oh, yeah?" I ask, slinking over to her. "That can be arranged." I throw the blanket to the side, revealing Brooke's naked lower half, and my hand immediately flies to my mouth before it drags down my chin.
"You ready to tell me what you really want, Twelve?"
My whole body reacts to her, my chest and pants both equally tight, and I blow out a breath as I hover over her, straddling my arms on either side of her body. "You, Brooke. I want you."
She bites her lower lip, and I can't stop myself. I take it between my teeth and do the same. "Good answer," she says when I pull away.
My eyes trail down the length of her again, my hoodie still on and pulled down just low enough to cover what I want that she's hiding underneath. "God, I could get used to seeing you in my clothes."
She takes the strings around her neck into her hand and trails her fingers down them. "And I could get used to wearing them."
I shake my head, ripping the cords from her grasp and tugging her toward me, so close that I can feel her quick breath on my lips. "Fuck that. Take it off."
Brooke pulls her knees up and wiggles her hips below me, hiking the hoodie up over her waist, proving me right. Fucking flawless.
She crosses her arms, yanking the fabric up and over her head. The shirt she has on underneath goes with it, and she tosses both to the other side of the bed where I could guess her jeans and underwear are hiding too.
Standing back up, I place both hands between her thighs and rip them open. "You already wet for me, baby?"
Brooke shrugs, not even remotely shy being on full display. My girl. I reach for the top button of my shirt, wishing I had already taken it off with my jacket, and nod toward her hand sitting next to her ass. "Check."
Brooke once again drags her teeth along her bottom lip, but this time, I stop myself from doing the same. Instead, I let my shirt slide off my arms and down to the floor as she walks her fingers up the inside of her thigh.
I unbutton my pants, freeing myself, rock hard for her, and at the same time, she dips her fingertip inside her pussy. Brooke gasps, either from her touch or the view of my throbbing cock, and holds her pointer up to me. "Soaked."
I snatch a hold of it with one hand, grabbing myself with the other. Taking it in my mouth, I taste just how wet she really is. My dick twitches against my palm in response, and a growl creeps out around her finger.
She smiles and reaches for me. "I think I know what you want."
"Jesus," I groan as she strokes the length of me.
It's funny how my dad can try to dictate my life, Jane can tell me who to date, but here, I call the shots. With Brooke though, I don't have to take the reins. It's like she already knows what I need. Like she already knows me.
And fuck if that doesn't turn me on more.
"Why don't you take a break and let me perform for you for a change," she suggests. I roll my tongue past my lips and inhale with anticipation. "That okay?"
I answer with a kiss, bending down and smashing my mouth to hers.
I try to tell her with my tongue how okay that is—how refreshing it feels just to be with her.
She whimpers her acceptance as she stands, still holding me tightly.
My dick aches against her touch as she uses her free hand to push against my shoulder.
I turn with her movement until my calves are backed against the mattress. Suddenly, she pulls away from our kiss and shoves her hand into my chest. "Sit," she commands.
My lips curl at the change of pace, but I oblige without hesitation.
Following my movement, Brooke drops to her knees between my legs and locks eyes with me.
She holds my stare, my begging body growing more and more impatient for her, then parts her lips.
I wait for her words, but she doesn't speak.
Instead, she spits on my cock like a goddamn angel, then takes all of me into her mouth at once.
"Fuck, baby," I shudder, bracing my weight on my hands behind me, my head lolling backward.
Brooke hums with her lips wrapped tightly around my base, and I feel the vibration everywhere.
She works her mouth up and down, her tongue swirling against my tip, her cheeks hollowing as she slides back and forth.
Her hand lands at the sensitive spot below my belly button as she glides it up my abs already tight in reaction to her fucking mouth.
My hips flex beneath her as she drags her fingernails back down the length of my torso, and I come dangerously close to finishing before I even get to be inside her. Reluctantly, I slip my hand past her ear and tug at the hair at the nape of her neck.
"Come here," I say, pulling her to me, both of us now standing. Brooke digs her grip into my sides as she presses her hips against me. "Tell me what you want, Mystery Girl." I kiss her once, then drop next to her collarbone and nip up her neck.
"I want to get on top," she answers, clearly breathless.
I scoop her up as she instinctively wraps herself around my waist. "Say fucking less."
Sitting back on the bed, I throw one arm around her lower back and shuffle both of us toward the headboard. "Your show, baby," I say, settling us both into the mattress.
Brooke untangles her legs from underneath me and pushes up on her knees. I grab her hips, expecting to help guide her onto me, but instead, she shifts forward. "Think I'm still wet for you, Twelve?"
My cock flexes at that name falling from her lips. "You better be," I say, following her movement.
"Check," she says cockily, her pussy now hovering just above my chin.
When I realize what she's doing, I shake my head in disbelief, then lick my lips. "God," I draw out. "I knew you were bad."
I force her to sit, my mouth diving into her slick middle.
She tastes exactly like I remember—sweet and like a fucking escape.
I slide my tongue up the length of her slit, massaging her ass with my hands as I do it.
Brooke leans forward, grabbing a hold of the headboard, moaning and riding my face like my goddamn Ducati.
My cock protests behind her, my own body jealous of itself, my breathing quickening as Brooke's rhythm increases.
"Holy shit," she cries.
Just when I think I can't take it anymore—that I can't wait one more minute for her to slide so easily on top of me—my name falls from her lips, her legs quivering beside my head.
I decide right there that I'd stay here forever, but as if they heard my thought, her muscles tense around me as she slows her movement.
I keep my lips in place, sucking up every bit of her as she soaks in every second of her high.
As her body relaxes, I turn my head, kissing the inside of her thigh, then gently biting the other.
"Soaked," she says suddenly, sitting back on my chest.
"Best recovery ever."
She tries to hide a smile and arches a brow. "Better than a banana?"
With that, I sit up, wrapping my arm around her waist and lifting her upward. With my free hand, I line my cock up with her drenched entrance and settle her weight back down. "So much better," I groan, falling back to the mattress.
Brooke whimpers as her legs clutch around me, her knees digging deliciously into my ribs. She leans forward, placing her palms on my chest, sliding them over my shoulders and down my arms.
"I didn't even know you had sleeves that night at the gala," she says softly, beginning to rock gently up and down.
I grab her hips and quicken her pace as she claws at my inked biceps, flexing underneath my hold on her. "You should have let me take my shirt off," I quip.
She pants. "No time, remember?"
I buck my hips into her, our bodies meeting at the perfect tempo like they always do—like they were made for each other. "How about now? You got time for me now?"
Her head rolls backward as she grinds even faster.
"Don't play with me, Brooke," I growl, stopping our movement, holding her body in place against me. "Answer me." I finish my thought while fighting my need. "Do you. Have time. For me. Now?"
She snaps her eyes back to mine, reading them like I intend for her to—bold and honest. I want to know if she's in this for real. If this is still happening. If she's still giving us a chance.
"Yeah, Twelve," she answers, shifting forward and placing her forearms on either side of my neck. She leans down and kisses me hard, our damp chests pressing against each other. When she breaks our kiss, she keeps her face just inches from mine. "Yeah, I have time for you."
My lungs fill with air I didn't realize I was missing.
Air I probably haven't had since the gala, when she breathed life into me with just her words.
I know we just met again a few weeks ago, and I know today is just the first of us, but it feels like my body's been missing her for more than ten months now.
It doesn't seem like the beginning. It seems like the end—the end of my life without her and the start of, hopefully, so much more.
Brooke drops her lips to the side of my neck, her lower half swirling in slow circles as she nips at the sensitive skin by my collarbone.
Once again, I can't stop myself from telling her exactly what I'm thinking—exactly how I feel.
"Something tells me you're going to change everything, Mystery Girl. "
Her teeth graze my throat as she smiles against it, but when she pulls back, she tempers her reaction. "Is that what you want?"
I consider her question, my body naturally meeting her steady movement, and search for an alternative answer.
One that doesn't sound selfish or ungrateful.
One that isn't full of grief or angst and doesn't wish away this life that so many people would kill for.
But I come up short of anything other than the truth once more.
"More than fucking anything."
Brooke kisses the corner of my lips gently before sitting back up and taking her throne as the queen of every inch of me. "Good," she says confidently, riding me again. My cock responds to her words, and her movement, growing even harder inside her.
"Yeah?" I ask, bouncing her higher.
Brooke turns her lips in as she hums through her building pleasure, her voice almost a whisper. "Yeah."
With that, I fill beneath her, the sight of her at the edge, her promise—the whole thing—making it too hard to hold on. "Fuck, baby," I groan, a guttural sound following behind it.
She brings one hand to the base of my throat and squeezes gently, using me as her anchor as she falls apart.
And the image is everything.
The majority of my life, it's felt like I'm floating.
Like I'm surrounded by a universe full of shit I don't belong to.
My dad always told me I was meant for this, but I've learned that I'm the type of person who needs something to ground me.
A form of gravity to anchor me to… anything meaningful. And maybe now I've found it in her.
And maybe she'll find that too.
In me.