Brock pressed into me, capturing my body between him and a wall of books as he nuzzled against my cheek, his breath hot near my ear. “Is this what you want, Firefly?”
The nickname coming from his lips sounded like a curse and a prayer. I arched my neck closer to his mouth. “Yes,” I breathed, lacing my fingers into his hair, desperate to feel his mouth on me.
“I won’t hold back,” he warned, his fingers moving to my chin and tipping my head back. The intensity in his eyes stole my breath. “Not this time.”
The implication that he had held back the first time caused my blood to race. What would it feel like to be completely at his mercy? It was both a thrilling and terrifying thought, and I wanted to find out just as much as I wanted him to surrender to me.
The pad of his thumb traced over my lips. “I’m giving you the chance to stop this now. To walk away, because once I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop.”
Slipping my fingers down his bare back to his ass, I tightened my hold, pressing him deeper against me. I felt the hardness of him through his sweats and grinned into his neck. “I don’t want you to stop,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to the column of his throat. “And before you ask…” One of my hands moved between our bodies, and he allowed just enough space between us for my fingers to wrap around him.
“Josie,” he groaned as I squeezed him, moving my hand down and then slowly back up.
He wanted me.
But it went both ways.
“…yes, I’m still on the pill.”
His chuckle was raspy, remembering how he had asked the question the first time we found ourselves in a similar position before I knew who the fuck he was. “I always use my own protection, but it’s a good thing no one is home, because I am going to make you scream, Firefly.”
Our lips finally collided, and my blood soared. A tremor wracked through me, and I was blinded by my need for him. His tongue coaxed my lips open, and I happily obliged. He nipped, slid, sampled, devoured, and basically consumed me.
My body responded and answered his every demand—relished in it. I was powerless to do anything else.
But he wasn’t the only making demands.
My fingers stroked every long inch of him, then flicked over the tip, and he shuddered against me. Realizing the power I had over him caused an addiction I couldn’t sate.
“Jesus,” he hissed, his lips tearing from mine. He grabbed my wrist again, this time pinning it to the bookshelf behind me. “If you keep doing that, this is going to end far too quickly for both of us.”
“Is that a problem?”
His eyes brimmed with hunger and grew darker as he stared at me. “Yeah, it is.” He bent and kissed my neck and murmured, “I have every intention of taking my time, unlike before.” He released his hold on my hand and moved his so they cupped my ass, lifting up. My legs instinctually wrapped around him.
Ah, yes. The wedding, when my mom walked in on us. That had been all wild and reckless emotions, built from anger and hurt.
His muscles shifted against me as he walked us to the couch, sitting down so I was straddling him. It gave me the control I sought, and I realized he was letting me lead. I leaned back slightly in his lap, my fingers fastening on the ends of my shirt as I lifted it over my head, leveling the playing field.
Those aqua eyes ran over my body in an appreciative glance that left me longing. A second later, the clasp on my bra flicked open and the white lace was discarded on the floor with my shirt. My head fell back as he cupped my breasts, and I gasped as his thumb brushed the hard tip. Pleasure rocketed through me.
“Look at me,” he commanded. “I want to see you.”
I did as he asked, dragging my eyes open and gazing into the depths of his. It was like drowning in the sea. He was beautiful, but more importantly, he mademefeel beautiful. There was something almost vulnerable about the way he stared at me, more exposed than being naked before him. I sealed our lips in another kiss, my fingers exploring over his shoulders, down his chest, reveling in each tremor.
He intoxicated me—with the feelings he enticed.
Brock’s head dipped, enclosing around a nipple. His tongue swirled over the little bud, flicking and teasing me. I squirmed in his lap, my hips grinding against his to find some kind of relief for the building pressure between my legs.
A guttural groan pulled from him, and he flipped me so I was on my back. His fingers made swift use of the buttons on my jeans, tugging them down my hips. After tossing my pants aside, he slipped off his sweatpants and moved to climb on top of me, but I shook my head. “Those too,” I said, indicating his boxer briefs. The impressive length of him strained against the material, begging to be set free.
He grinned slyly, dropping them to the floor before he came to kneel on the couch, spreading my legs apart. The lacy white thong was brushed aside with a skillful finger. He glided it inside me, and my muscles clenched around him, welcoming the invasion. He groaned as I tightened, enclosing his finger in my wet warmth. “This isn’t supposed to happen.”
My back arched off the couch. “What are you talking about?” I murmured, not really wanting to talk at all, my mind too cloudy with desire to think straight.
His finger moved, sliding in and out of me in lazy strokes. “This. You and me. No one takes me by surprise. Not until you.” His voice was gruff and needy.
“Brock,” I begged, biting down hard on my lip. “Stop talking and fuck me.”