Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
But Brooks takes his time, slowly gliding his tongue up and down my slit, stopping to circle my clit. Blow on it. He even nicks it with his teeth.
When he sucks on it? I scream, my legs starting to tremble as I reach down to grab his hair.
“I’m close,” I breathe.
He arcs his thumb over my belly and meets my gaze. “Take your time, sweetheart.”
The stuff in my chest goes soft. I have to close my eyes. Why is he so freaking good to me? Because it’s making me feel . . . all the things.
Most of all, I feel like smiling. I’m in bed with a gorgeous man on a Saturday morning. I’m not working. I’m not stressed; I don’t feel like I should be somewhere else. I’m where I should be, with the person I should be with. Doing what I should be doing.
Or not. I really shouldn’t be having sex with my brother’s best friend. Then again, maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe the fact that George loves Brooks like a brother means he won’t mind me being with Brooks like this. George wouldn’t love him if he wasn’t a good guy with a good heart.
What about my heart, though? That’s what George is concerned about, me getting my heart broken. But I can’t imagine this guy—the one with his head between my legs, telling me to take my time—would ever intentionally hurt me. He said he’s single.
So I let myself smile.
I let myself get playful with Brooks, giving his hair a hard pull when he neglects my clit to slip his tongue inside me. I don’t worry about how I look, or what I taste like. I just trust myself and I trust Brooks. I pull my hips back, sucking in a breath at the loss of his mouth on me. I roll them forward and pull his hair again to settle his lips on my clit. I do this again and again, edging closer and closer to my orgasm. Taking my time, just like Brooks told me to.
He moves his hand up my stomach to cup one breast, then the other. When he thumbs my nipple at the same time he sucks on my clit, the trembling in my legs becomes violent.
My pussy throbs. Body bows, my back arching. My smile wobbles. Brooks plucks my nipple between his thumb and forefinger and swipes his tongue over my clit in one quick, savage stroke.
I come.
My hand in his hair, his hand on my nipple, my stomach. He’s still eating me out, soothing me as the rush reaches a crescendo. I say his name. His grip on me tightens, and I like it—I like being held by him.
I like it so, so much.
Oh, God, I think wildly. This is supposed to be casual.
But.
The pounding wave recedes, and heaven help me, I cannot. Stop. Smiling.
Brooks is smiling too. He climbs over me, presses his lips to mine. He tastes like me. The tips of my breasts touch his bare chest. It might be the best feeling ever.
“So that’s one way,” he says against my mouth.
I laugh, my stomach flipping at the thought that we’re just getting started. “I want more.”
“Greedy.”
“Hard not to be with you.” I pull back a little to meet his eyes and touch my fingertips to his chest. “Can I? Touch you here?”
Something moves across his gaze. A flash of hunger or hurt, I can’t tell. Whatever the case, he flexes his arms to lift himself off me just enough to allow me to explore. “All yours.”
If only.
I fully flatten my palm against his chest. He’s hard here, strong. His heart beats a solid rhythm against his breastbone. I run my fingers through the hair there, marveling at his musculature, his warmth. I touch his skin. Trail my fingertips over the toned slope of his shoulder and arm. I move my hand to his stomach and his muscles tense.
The erection in his pants is epic.
I gently reach down to stroke it. He growls, dropping his forehead onto mine. My stomach does a backflip. I love this feeling of closeness, of safety. I’ve never felt less self-conscious with a guy. Like I can do no wrong.
Like I really can trust myself to know what to do next. What’s right.
Brooks moves his hips, pressing into my touch.
“Off,” I breathe, nudging his nose with mine before kissing his mouth. “Everything off.”
He deepens the kiss. Opens me with his tongue. Then he stands and I watch, chest heaving, as he reaches into his back pocket.
He goes still.
“What?”
His eyes meet mine. “I don’t have a condom. Shit.”
“I do.” He lifts a brow. My pulse pounds. “It’s yours, actually.”
“What? How?”
“I found it in your coat pocket.” And never in a million years did I think you’d end up using it with me.