Conflicting emotions swam within me. Should I be kissing Brock? I was pissed at him. Wasn’t I? But for one minute, I wanted to forget all the crap, all the hurt and pain. I just wanted to bask in this intense high only Brock could induce.
Living with my bio family was wonderful. But being in Brock’s arms, that felt like coming home.
The taste of him was goddamn cosmic..
I moaned again as his tongue slid over mine, enticing and teasing me.
Someone cleared his throat. A someone that wasn’t Brock.
Brock tore his lips from mine with a growl, an icy scowl marring his lips. “Get out of here,” he told Jason, one of his football teammates, his gaze never leaving my face. Heat flared in his eyes, his voice harsh, breathing uneven. “And you say nothing. You saw nothing. Understand?”
“Got it, man,” Jason replied, holding up his hands. He quickly dashed to the door, flipped the lock, and rushed out.
Brock’s gaze flicked to my lips. I could still taste him, and need throbbed between my legs. He leaned forward to reclaim my lips and finish what he’d started, but despite just how much I wanted him, I needed to know what the fuck was going on. I pressed my hands to Brock’s chest, applying enough pressure to keep him a bay. “Don’t. We’re done here,” I said in my best stern voice.
His hands encircled my wrists, not hard but firm enough to grab my attention. “No, we’re not. We’re just getting started.” As if to prove his point, he switched direction of his lips, grazing my jawline with them instead before moving to my ear.
Damn him!
“I can’t keep doing this, Brock.” He knew what I was referring to, this shit with Ava, avoiding me, and pretending he didn’t give a shit about me.
I think the only person he fooled was the bitch herself, but maybe that was the point.
“Just a little longer,” he murmured, taking the lobe of my ear into his mouth. His teeth pressed down, tugging. My back hit the wall, Brock lining up his body into mine.
We fit so fucking perfectly. It was like God had crafted him just for me.
My head dropped back onto the wall. “Then what?” I demanded, his assurance not pacifying the growing frustration within me, but it no longer was about this scheme he was carrying out, and quickly became about how much I wanted him.
He dropped his forehead to mine and whispered, “I need you, Firefly.”
Well, shit. Why did he have to go and say that? Brock and I had this unspoken agreement when it came to sex, and I knew what he was asking. He had been there for me every time I had needed him in the same fashion. How could I refuse him?
Moreover, did I really want to?
Because the truth of it was, I missed him, more than I wanted to admit.
“Then what are you waiting for? Fuck me, Taylor.”
“God, I missed you,” he said as lips descended over mine in a kiss that shattered any last bit of shield I had around my heart. His fingers dug into my hair, angling my head to the side for deeper access as he claimed me.
Desperate to show him what he made me feel, I ran my fingers under his shirt and over the plane of his stomach, reveling in the power I had over him as the muscles bunched and quivered under my greedy hands.
Then there was just his mouth and the unbelievable things he could do with his tongue and teeth. He kissed me thoroughly, and I wondered if he planned to spend the entire class period torturing me before giving us both the release we so wildly hungered for.
He cupped my breasts through my cotton Academy gym shirt, and tingles radiated from that part of my body. As his lips devoured mine, his fingers teased and kneaded.
Oh, God.
“Brock,” I groaned. My breasts ached in his hands and I lifted them further into his touch, seeking more. He didn’t disappoint. The pad of his thumb flicked over a budding nipple, and it instantly went rock-hard. I groaned, my head falling back, exposing the column of my neck.
He traced a line of kisses on my throat, dragging his tongue over my pulsing vein. I felt his teeth and shuddered.
It should have occurred to me that we were still in school, where anyone could walk in at any time, including a teacher.
I was past the point of caring about anything other than Brock’s hands, his lips, and the pleasure his body could give me.
I didn’t just need him.