Chapter 21 #2
Before I could answer, the gondola shuddered violently. A loud metallic groan came from outside, and the car jerked to a stop, swaying in place.
“Please tell me it’s supposed to do that,” I said.
I leaned forward and wiped a circle in the condensation on the glass. A faint siren drifted up from the ground far below.
“Did the power go out?”
“Probably the storm,” Brock said, completely unbothered. “We could be up here a while.”
I let out a long breath. “Great.”
“I’m not complaining.”
I looked at him. He was leaning back against the seat, long legs spread, eyes on me.
The soft mood from a minute ago was still there, but something hotter was creeping in, the way his gaze kept dropping to my thighs, the way his chest rose a little faster now.
“Come here,” he said.
He caught me by the hips and pulled me across the bench until I was sitting between his knees. My denim skirt had ridden up my thighs, and his eyes followed the movement.
“That skirt,” he said, rough and quiet over the rain, “has been driving me out of my damn mind all day.”
I chuckled. “I noticed you staring.”
His thumbs brushed just under the hem. "I’d like it a lot more pushed up around your waist."
He tugged the denim higher, baring my upper thighs. The cool air washed over my legs. His thumbs traced the lace edge of my panties.
He let go of my hips and leaned back against the seat. His blue eyes met mine, completely serious. "Take off your underwear."
“Brock, we’re on a Ferris wheel.”
“We’re stuck on a Ferris wheel.” A teasing smile tugged at his mouth. “Might as well use the time. Take ’em off, Starlin’.”
A warm, fluttery feeling stirred low in my belly. I’d spent my whole life keeping everything under control, but the way he looked at me, so sure, so hungry, made me want to be reckless for once.
I reached under my skirt, hooked my fingers into the fabric, and shimmied it down my legs.
I stepped out of them and picked them up. Before I could do anything else, he took them from my fingers. He folded the lace and slipped it into the pocket of his shorts.
“Come here,” he said quietly. “Straddle my leg.”
I moved into his space, hiked my denim skirt up around my waist, and swung a leg over him. When I straddled his thigh, a soft gasp slipped out the moment I felt him.
The muscle locked like a carved statue, thick and burning hot. The contrast of his rough skin right against my most sensitive spot made my pulse jump. I braced my hands on his chest.
“Just relax,” he murmured, his big hand settling heavy on my hip.
“I’ve never done anything like this,” I said, glancing at the blurry glass. “We’re in public.”
A teasing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Good thing I’m the only one who can see you. You’re safe.”
He flexed his thigh, lifting it just a little. The sudden upward pressure pushed him right against my clit, the coarse hair on his leg creating a sharp spark of friction.
I let out a shaky breath, fingers curling tight into his gray T-shirt. I couldn’t stop my hips from rolling down on their own.
“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Ride my thigh, baby. Let me feel how wet you are.”
I dragged myself forward in a slow, aching slide. A quiet moan slipped from my throat.
The heat between my legs was building fast. I got so wet that each roll of my hips left a slick, smooth glide over his skin.
Brock sucked in a sharp breath. “Fuck… you’re soaking my thigh.”
“I can’t help it,” I moaned, pressing down harder. “It feels too good.”
His hands reached around to grip the back of my thigh. “Go ahead. Take what you need.”
I found a steady rhythm, rocking against the thick muscle. The rain hammered the roof, masking the quiet, wet sounds of my hips moving against him.
“Atta girl. Keep ridin’ me just like that.”
God, his drawl. I buried my face in his neck, fingers twisted in his shirt. The tension coiled tighter between my legs. I rocked faster, desperate, chasing the friction. My thighs started to shake.
“Brock, I’m getting close,” I gasped. “I’m right there—”
Clunk. The gondola suddenly jerked hard. The machinery groaned, and we started descending again.
I gasped and tried to lift off his lap. “It’s moving—we have to stop.”
“Don’t stop.” His voice was rough, breathless. “You were so close. Finish for me. I wanna feel you tremble on my thigh.”
“But they’ll see—”
“No one can see a damn thing.”
He hooked the plunging neck of my tight ribbed tank and yanked. The stretchy cotton dragged my bra down, breasts spilling into cool air. I arched my back with a sharp gasp as he leaned in, sucking my nipple into his hot mouth.
His tongue flicked fast over the tip, and that wet pull sent a hot jolt down between my legs. I ground down harder on his thigh, chasing the pressure.
“That’s it,” he rasped. “Tell me how good it feels.”
“I love it.” I moaned. “Can’t get enough of it.”
The wet pull of his tongue on my nipple combined with the hard, steady rub of his thigh pushed me right over the edge.
I came hard. A loud, broken cry tore out of me. I buried my face in his neck to muffle it. My thighs clamped tight around his leg, shaking. Wave after wave of pulsing pleasure ripped through me.
“Good fuckin’ girl,” he groaned, holding me tight against him. “Making a mess all over my thigh.”
I couldn’t speak. I just panted against his skin as the aftershocks rolled through me. My heart hammered against his chest.
He held me through it, one hand stroking slow and steady up and down my back.
After a long moment, I sucked in a shaky breath. “That was…” I trailed off, unable to find the words.
Rain streaked down the glass behind him, turning the neon lights into soft, blurry glows. His blue eyes were locked on my flushed face, dark and intense.
“I’ve never come like that before,” I said.
His eyes dropped to my mouth, voice rough. “You almost made me lose it too. Had me fighting not to come in my shorts.”
The Ferris wheel car kept descending, neon lights from the midway growing brighter and bleeding through the fogged glass. We were getting close to the ground.
I disentangled myself, smoothing my skirt and tugging my top back into place. Brock leaned his head back against the glass. His jaw was tight, and the thick outline of his cock strained hard against his shorts.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my face burning.
He let out a chuckle. “Don’t be. That was worth every goddamn second.”
He pulled the lace from his pocket and held them out between us, dangling from his fingers.
I bit my lip. “Keep them.”
He groaned. “Jesus, Sienna… you’re killing me. I’m gonna be walking out of here with a fucking bulge.”
He shoved them back into his pocket anyway, then reached out with his right arm, wrapped it tight around me, and pulled me flush against his side.
I tucked my head under his chin and rested against his chest as the gondola slowly rotated the rest of the way down. It bumped to a halt.
The operator pulled the glass door open, and cool air rushed in, smelling of wet asphalt and sweet corn. The teenage kid running the ride looked drenched and miserable in his yellow poncho.
“Sorry about the delay, folks. Power surge tripped the brakes.”
Brock stepped out first. He reached back to help me down, then pulled a twenty from his pocket and pressed it into the kid’s hand.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Stay dry.”
Then he turned to me and slipped his fingers between mine. I looked down at our joined hands, my heart giving a hard thud. For a second, I almost pulled away.
But I didn't. When I looked up, his blue eyes were steady. There was no pretending anymore.
We walked out into the pouring rain together, soaking our clothes, his hand warm as I squeezed it.