Chapter 20
Justice
Iwas freezing moments ago, teeth on the verge of clanging together. But a surfeit of emotions wages war in my body.
Anarchy.
Uprising.
My brain and heart clash over the delicious danger between my thighs. Brody squeezed my nipples. I stifled a scream as the dam broke, and my sex cried. Now, his teeth are biting thick hunks of my flesh down my breasts.
Throat swollen at the titillating affliction, I tug on his hair. Tug and pull, yanking him up to my nipples and dragging him down again.
“I’m gonna demolish ye.” Brody’s teeth sink into my inner thigh. “Demolish, break, annihilate yer pussy.”
“Oh,” I pant, creaming my lace thong. This is bad. He’s saying bad, bad things. “Oh, oh, oh, Brody.”
He goes to his knees, depositing my thighs over his shoulders. My calves dangle over his back.
His tongue trails over the material of my panties. I work my hips, nervous that loneliness has been my company for so long this could be a dream. He has no flaws. Brody’s magnificent tongue slithers over my clit and along my slit in rhythmic motions.
“Panties,” I gasp on the salt air, clasping his dark blond hair in my fingers. “Please. Move panties.”
Brody laughs deep in his abdomen. The smug flair sends puffs of air to my quivering sex.
“I’ve never been a patient lad.” Brody glances up at me, the wet sugar at his lips reflecting in the subtle deck lights.
“Don’t be patient,” I groan, landing in his snare—right where the hunter wants.
He licks his lips, trailing a finger across my panties then sliding beneath the thin barrier. “Ya taught me restraint. I’m gonna take my fecking time.”
His finger stops its leisurely trail and slams into my pussy. I arch into his salacious penetration.
“I’m gonna feck ye crazy, Justice. Feck then devour and feck ye again. Screw ye until ya break.” He stands up, rocketing his finger in and out. My abandoned pussy squeezes around him.
I’m quick to call out my climax. Brody removes his fingers, placing my wet panties back over my soaking treasure. While he squeezes my leg with his other hand, I grip his mouth, taste him. I never did this when Lance gave me head in the past. He never offered to kiss me afterward, and it seemed respectable not to.
The taste of me on his mouth creates another delirious state of chaos. My brain is in a vegetative state concerning Brody MacKenzie.
He’ll make all the mistakes after. Step on my heart. Level it like a condemned building in the projects for a more attractive shopping center.
Who cares?
Nobody else does. It’s my heart, belonging solely to me. I gave it away once, but it wasn’t attended to, nurtured, nor loved. It’s little comfort that this encounter will result in the same.
Brody’s mouth trails over my breasts. He pushes them together, fondling them in his hands.
“Yesss,” I pant.
He’s unzipping his pants. My legs encircle his waist, drawing him nearer.
“Condom?” My cognition gives a last hurrah. I’ve dug my grave with the intention of lying down in it later; I should at least get something right. In a hoarse voice, I mutter again, “Do you have a condom?”
“Yeah.” He kisses me while searching his pockets.
“Feck,” he groans. “Not in these pants. I never wear ‘em. Ye?”
My shoulders lift in defeat.