36. Chapter 36
36
Brody
“Isla, I can’t talk right now.” My phone is wedged between my ear and my shoulder while I search through footage. I’m not doing anything that Mel’s team hasn’t already done, not reviewing new footage. I’m fucking impotent.
“What are you doing? You sound like you’re working out.”
“I’m working,” I mutter. I’m going to have to pay more attention to my frustrated grunts.
“Since when did you become a wrestler?”
“What do you need, Isla?”
“Ok, ok, fine. Sheesh! Mom was asking me about your new girlfriend. I guess Raegan raved about her. Do you think you’ll still be together by Thanksgiving?”
I freeze. I hadn’t thought about holidays. If she’s still with us–with both of us–how is that going to work? Not to mention that Raegan had barely five minutes with Sophie. I don’t know what there was to rave about, other than her beauty.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
“No help, dude.”
“Thanksgiving is still two months away.”
“Fine, I’ll ask Miles.”
Oh, that’ll be a fun conversation . I hope I’m in the room for that .
She hangs up and I let my phone fall into my lap while my head drops backward against my chair. I need a break. Not from screens, but from this specific footage. It’s all the same, boring unmoving background with just the odd entrance or exit by Sophie or Natalie. On occasion, Miles or another performer pops in, but I’ve reviewed footage going back over a month now. Nothing has helped me to find Caleb and at this point, I’m sure Mel would act before telling me anything.
I’ve been lost to this woman from the moment she responded to my first message on KinkRink. I wish I could be with her all day, every day. I’ve never been a fighter, but I already know I’d die for Sophie Larson before I let Caleb get his hands on her. Watching over her from afar is agonizing. I need another distraction.
“Miles!” My voice echoes across the house while I stand in my office doorway.
“What?” His head pokes out from his studio, but when he sees his face, his whole body emerges. “Dude, you look like shit.”
I throw my arms up and leave the office, heading for the kitchen.
“I can’t do anything,” I mutter.
“Context.” Miles approaches as I stand behind the couch, placing my hands on the back and hanging my head. I feel his hand on my back, an attempt to comfort, and my muscles bunch beneath his touch.
“Can you imagine what Sophie is going through?” I choke out.
“Mel is working on it, though, right?” His hand rubs in circles on my back. It’s comforting, like I’m a kid again, beeding comfort for being the shy, quiet one in class. “She’ll find him.”
I turn and Miles’ hand drags across my back and over my side, resting on my hip.
“But I can’t help.” The pressure in my chest threatens to overwhelm me. “Sophie, she’s out there trying to live her life and this- this asshole -”
“We’ll work on your insults, buddy.”
“-is trying to ruin it all for her. This fuckface-”
“Better.”
“-is leaving these stupid notes.”
“He’s a fucking coward.”
“But what if he does something worse?” My eyes snap to his.
“What, like break down her door again?”
“No, what if-” I can’t breathe. “What if-?” Oh god, I really can’t breathe. The air rushes into my lungs too quickly and not quickly enough. My gaze falls to Miles’ hand on my waist before it moves to my shoulder. He grips my other arm tightly, trying to shake me out of my panic.
“Hey.” He shakes gently and then harder when I can’t focus on him. “Hey, hey, hey! Brody. Snap out of it. Brody!”
Suddenly, no more air is forcing itself into my lungs. Miles’ lips are on mine, his hands on my cheeks, holding me tightly to him. When my brain finally catches up and I start breathing through my nose, he pulls away. His hands are still on my cheeks, eyes full of concern as they study my face.
“Brody?”
I don’t want to speak. My hand flies up to the collar of Miles’ shirt and I pull him toward me again, this time with the express intent of thanking the man properly. He smiles against my lips, a grown rumbling from deep in his chest.
“Easy, tiger,” he chuckles against my lips. I let my mouth fall away, pressing my forehead to his.
“Sorry.” I inhale deeply, letting it out fast.
“I’m with you, Brody,” he breathes, the warm air hitting my chin and neck. “I’ve always been here. It’s ok.”
I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. Miles hasn’t just been there for me, he’s cared for me more than anyone else, protected me when kids in school made fun of me, assured me that nothing was wrong with me. Images flash in my mind of touches and glances and moments alone with him, even before we met Sophie. Before she allowed us to bridge the gap. My reservations crumble.
“Studio?” I don’t know how else to ask. I don’t know how to do this with him. I want him, but I need help.
“Brody, are you sure?”
“Ask me that again,” I growl, gently grabbing his throat and noting that his eyes flash, “and I won’t show you how good boys get rewarded.”
“Jesus, fuck.” Miles begins backing toward the hallway. “I’m taking that as a resounding yes.”
I run my hand through my hair and follow Miles to his studio, thankful that the pause doesn’t give me second thoughts. Once he crosses the threshold, he turns toward me and I walk him backward to the edge of the bed. Again, I find myself uncertain of the next step, but Miles pulls me in gently with his hand on my side .
My lips find his and they part to allow my tongue to take over, conjuring up the memory of how his mouth felt around my cock. My aching erection is dying to escape. Miles seems to read my mind, dropping his hands to the button of my jeans. I snake my hand up to grab his hair, pulling his head back. He smiles with an open mouth, eyes on me while his fingers work to free me.
“What do you want, Brody?” he asks, his voice husky and low. “You want me to suck your cock? Want to taste mine?” He winks. “Or do you just want me to ride you?”
I let go of his hair and back away, my pants undone but still hanging at my hips. Not wanting to waste time, I strip my shirt and hurry to kick off my pants, while Miles does the same. As his shirt lands near mine, my fingers find the waistband of his boxer briefs and I slip my hand beneath the fabric to palm him. It’s the first time I’ve touched him like this and the need for more drives me forward.
Miles’ hand lands on my wrist, to beg me to keep going or to make me stop, I’m not sure. I search his face for an indication either way, my eyes falling to the movement of his inked throat when he swallows whatever he’s about to say.
“Where’s your lube?” I ask, glancing around the room. He’d be a poor porn star if he didn’t keep some on hand.
“Bedside table.”
“Grab it.”
I’ve never seen him move so quickly, pulling open a drawer and taking out a half-empty bottle of clear lubricant. His hand extends halfway to me, unsure what my plan is.
“Sit,” I order. Miles hurries to comply and I smirk. “Good boy.” I like the way he responds to my praise.
I take a step back and bite my lip while I study him. Miles squirms beneath my gaze and I have half a mind to make him sit there longer, but we’ll toy with that idea later.
“Pull out your cock.” That sounds absolutely filthy. Miles shudders and complies, the waistband slapping his legs once he’s free. “Now, I want you to use the lube and stroke yourself. Show me what you like. Keep your eyes on me.”
Taking a ragged breath, but remaining otherwise silent, Miles flips open the lube and squeezes some into his palm. He inhales sharply as the cold gel hits his hand and dribbles through his fingers onto his waiting shaft. Tossing the lube back onto the bed, he drops his hand and covers himself, stroking with a groan.
My chest rises and falls a little faster, in time with his movements until he speeds up. He focuses on the head, squeezing as he reaches the end of each stroke .
“What else can I do?” he asks, desperation in his voice.
“Keep going,” I urge, taking a step closer. I still can’t reach him, so I watch.
“Brody.” He sounds pained, eyes closing.
“Look at me.”
Those golden orbs snap open and I grin. His hips roll into his hand, his breathing fast and uneven.
“Stop,” I order and, though he whimpers, Miles stops, gently holding the base of his cock. “Good boy.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“What, you think you deserve to come already?” I shake my head and take the last few steps to reach him. “You’ve wanted this for a long time.” He doesn’t have to respond, the desire obvious as I lean down until our noses almost touch. “Let’s see how long we can draw this out.”
A curse escapes Miles’ lips just before I cover them with mine again. His hands fly to my boxers while my tongue plunders his mouth and I groan when he takes me into his hands, still slick with lube. I shake my head, sucking his bottom lip as I pull my head away. Miles likes doing what he’s told. I’m not going to allow myself to feel embarrassed or nervous anymore around this man. He wants me and the feeling is mutual.
“I want your mouth on my cock. It felt so good last time,” I add with a grin, standing up straight.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Before Miles leans forward, I grab his neck and force him to meet my gaze.
“I wasn’t asking,” I growl.
“Oh boy,” he breathes, just barely audible, and I have to fight a smile.
Miles returns to the big, hard task in front of him, licking his lips while he scoots forward on the bed. He pulls my boxers all the way down, allowing me to kick them off. One hand slides down to cup my balls while his other hand holds my cock steady so that he can give me the attention I need. My fingers tangle into his hair without pulling. When I slip inside Miles’ wet and waiting mouth, it’s almost too much. I hadn’t realized how excited I was, but this ache that’s been building forces my head back and my eyes closed. Miles works me, swallowing me, taking me to the back of his throat and gagging. Each convulsion around my tip sends a matching jolt through me. His hand below fondles and I feel his finger sliding backward .
Apprehensive, but excited, I let him continue the exploration while he lazily bobs his head on my cock. When his finger finds my asshole, I hiss and clench. Miles pulls his mouth from me and my head snaps down.
“Stop.”
“I’m so-” Miles stammers, but I shake my head.
“Just not this time.” I try to catch my breath. “I can’t- I need-” I press my lips together, glancing at the mattress behind him.
Rather than speak, Miles grabs my hips to pull me down on top of him. Straddling his waist, I have to admit my cock looks good against the ink on his torso. When I chuckle, Miles raises an eyebrow.
“Something funny?”
“It’s too bad you don’t have tits.”
He snorts.
“We can always call Sophie.” He continues when I don’t respond to that. “What are you gonna do from up there?”
“Getting impatient already?” I grin. I walk my knees up his sides until my dick is pressing against his jaw. “Open.” When he complies, I murmur, “Such a good listener.”
I lean forward, placing my hands on the bed above him and slide into his mouth with a groan. Rolling my hips makes him gag, so I do it again. And again. And again. Miles’ hands trail up my thighs, but he takes everything I give him. He takes every fucking inch. When he squeezes my ass cheeks, I thrust hard to the back of his throat.
I pull out, allowing Miles to catch his breath.
“Ride my cock.” It’s a caveman-like order, but I don’t care. His mouth, while skilled, just isn’t enough. I roll off of Miles and he hesitates, glancing down at my glistening shaft. Was that too far? Those golden pools find my face again and my doubts dissipate.
“As you wish,” he says with a wink, grabbing the lube.
I groan when it dribbles onto the tip of my cock, but Miles’ hands are there in the next instant, warming me. His erection is staring me in the face while he positions me against his asshole. I want to buck, to thrust upward, but I resist, not wanting to hurry him.
Suddenly, Miles’ gaze turns wicked, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin.
“I think,” he presses down, but not enough for me to squeeze through the ring of muscle, “you should be the one begging, Brody.” I groan and throw my head back, trying to grab for his hips. He bats my hands away.
“Miles,” I growl .
“Beg,” he repeats. “Beg me to ride your thick cock.”
I rise up on my elbows, my eyes dropping to where we’re making contact before I look at him again.
“If you don’t sit your fine ass down- Fuck,” I moan as he does exactly what I want.
My head falls back as he swallows me and he matches my sounds of pleasure. He’s stretching to accommodate me, letting me mold him, fill him. It’s intoxicating.
“So tight,” I groan. “Fuck, Miles, slow down, I can’t-”
“Shouldn’t-” he grunts, “shouldn’t I be the one asking you to slow down?”
I can’t open my eyes to glare at him. He’s still sliding his ass down to squeeze my dick, enveloping it with far more ease than I would have expected. I can’t focus on anything other than not coming right this second. In an attempt to gain control, I reach out to grasp his length and he stills. The brief pause allows me to lift my head so I can take stock of what I see before me.
My fingers gently grip Miles, his ass millimeters from my hips, eyes closed like he’s struggling just as much as I am. I stroke him, getting his attention and he stares at me, his eyes hooded.
Miles leans down, his muscles around me clenching and forcing a grunt from my throat. His lips meet mine and he lifts up before slamming down my cock. Stars explode across the backs of my eyelids and I move my hand faster, fingers meeting as they encircle his tip. My other hand grips his throat, holding his face to mine while he bounces against me.
“Miles,” I whimper. Being in charge doesn’t matter right now. I don’t want this to stop. “Please. Fuck-” He speeds up.
“Brody Torrence, I want you to fucking fill me.”
His words are the final push I need and I gasp, twitching as my release explodes deep inside him. Miles sits fully on my cock while I come, my hand halting its movements on him. When I finally still, he tries to lift, but I grab one hip and keep him in place.
“Oh no,” I pant. “You’re going to stay right there.”
I grab the lube that has rolled next to his foot, needing a refresh, and smirk when it hits his skin, cold and jarring. My hand finds his shaft again and I watch Miles’ eyes flutter closed with a whispered curse.
“Brody, please.”
“Please what?” I speed up.
“Fuck, I need- ”
“You need ?” I speed up a little more.
“God, Brody, I- Fuck, please.”
“I said,” my hand freezes, “please what?”
“Please, I need to come,” Miles whimpers, still unable to open his eyes. I grin.
“Look at me when you paint my chest,” I order and his eyes snap open.
I use both hands this time, the better to grip his full length. He struggles but keeps his eyes on me. His breathing becomes ragged, whimpers escaping his throat. I catch the odd curse here and there and lick my lips.
“Come for me,” I urge. “Be a good boy and come for me, Miles.”
He grunts, another curse dying on his tongue and I feel the jets of warmth hitting my chest. My hands pull everything from him, not even stopping when he’s spent. His body convulses, overstimulated.
“Stop,” he begs, curling down and trying to lift his hips, but I have a grip on his cock that he doesn’t want to test. I continue the torture. “Please, B-Brody, p-p-please.”
With a dark chuckle, I let go of him. Miles sits there for a moment, my soft cock still inside him, before rolling off. My release pours from him onto my hip as he falls and I let my eyes close. I’ve gotten my breathing under control for the most part and heave a sigh.
“Brody Motherfucking Torrence,” Miles laughs. “When did you become so depraved?” I’m too tired to open my eyes to look at him.
“I’ve been living with you long enough,” I shoot back. “You just rubbed off on me.”
“That’s not all I did.” There’s movement beside me and when I open one eye to see what he’s doing, Miles is propped up on his elbow, staring at me. “When did things change?”
“Kinda deep to ask while my brain is still half-melted,” I mutter.
“That’s your own fault.” He trails a finger through the white mess on my chest. I catch his hand and bring his fingertips to my lips. “Jesus, seriously, when did things change?”
He moans when I pull his finger into my mouth. It won’t be the last time I taste him, that much I know. I drop his hand and meet his gaze.
“I don’t know. I really don’t. Maybe it was a few weeks ago with Sophie, maybe it was a long time ago and I just didn’t realize.”
“I guess I really shouldn’t care when ,” Miles sighs, leaning forward to kiss my shoulder. The gesture is sweet and intimate in a way unlike anything we just did. “I’m just glad you saw the light.”
Miles squeezes my shoulder as he rounds the kitchen island on Saturday morning. My oatmeal lies forgotten in front of me, having gone cold while I scroll my phone.
“Whatcha doin'?”
“I’m, er, looking at something.” I haven’t broached the subject with him yet because I don’t even know if finding a house the right size is possible.
“Got that,” he snorts, turning on the coffee maker. “Is it secret spy stuff?”
“I’m not a spy.” I don’t have the energy to roll my eyes. I’m still not sure how I made it to the shower last night without my legs giving out.
“Is it secret, black market stuff?”
I’m looking at houses,” I mumble.
“Come again?” He spins.
“Don’t have the time for that,” I reply with a smirk. “I’m looking for a house.”
“One hot love-making session and you’re leaving me?” The false hurt in his voice forces my smile to spread.
“I’m just looking. Don’t you want more space?”
Miles takes a moment to look down his hallway, then down mine. His eyes roam the living room behind me and then he makes a show of inspecting the kitchen.
“More space?” he repeats with raised eyebrows.
“I just meant it might be nice for Sophie to-”
“You think she’d leave her comfy little townhouse for us?” He shakes his head. “Not likely.”
“Like I said, I’m just looking.”
“Never let anyone say you’re not prepared for every eventuality.”