Chapter 30: Olive
Brooks holds me in his lap while we finish dinner. I try to get up once, but he just growls and holds me tighter. I like it enough to try it three more times. The conversation turns lighter and we sit like that for ages talking about our favorite movies, bakery and construction disasters, and dream vacations.
Brooks has a hand on my thigh while we talk, his thumb running up and down the smooth slip of my dress. It started as a soothing touch but the longer he does it, the more it turns me on. There’s something possessive about the way he touches me, like he can’t stand to keep his hands to himself.
There’s a lull in the conversation as we both sip from our wine glasses and Brooks’ hand strays a little higher on my thigh. He looks lost in thought, but his lips are pulling up on one side in a half smile. It’s the smirk he wears when he’s feeling satisfied with himself or when he knows something is turning me on. It’s the look he wears when he’s just made me come. The thought has me pressing my thighs together a little harder.
“What are you thinking about right now?” I ask him. “You look like you’re thinking dirty thoughts,” I tease him.
He chuckles darkly. “I am.”
A curl of desire twists in my abdomen and I can’t help wiggling a little in his lap. “About me? I want to hear them.”
He takes a long slow sip of wine before setting the glass down and stroking his fingertips up and down my thigh. “I was thinking about the way your skin feels under this thin little dress. I was remembering how good these long legs of yours felt wrapped around me when I was deep in you last night.”
“Oh,” my breath catches and I can feel my cheeks heat as I mentally replay the same thing.
Brooks runs a finger over my parted lips and gently grips the back of my neck with the other hand. “You look scandalized but I know you like it when I talk dirty to you.”
“I do,” I whisper. I really, really like it. The more he talks and the more possessive he is, the wetter my panties get. I’m seriously in danger of leaving a wet spot on his lap at this point.
As if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, he slides a rough palm up my thigh, slowly. Painfully slowly. Brooks nuzzles my ear, speaking low. “I think you like it when I put you in my lap and take control. How wet does your pussy get when I talk dirty to you? If I slipped my hand up your dress and under your panties, what would I find?”
I try to bite back a moan, but I’m not very successful. His fingertips dance over my thigh, confident and teasing. “You're so soft here,” he murmurs. “I could touch you like this until you’re aching for more. I could make you beg for my cock. Make you wild and needy for it.”
His hand inches higher and his fingers graze the lace panel of my panties, barely touching me, teasing me, as I moan into the corded muscles of his neck. I rock on his lap, and he lets out a low groan. I hiss in a breath as I feel his hard length grind against me. I wiggle in his lap, loving the feel of his arousal. The physical evidence that he needs me as badly as I want him. Sitting in his lap like this I can tease him just as effectively as he can tease me, so I rock my hips against him again, gyrating shamelessly.
“Olive.” Brook’s plaintive groan cuts straight through me as he nips at my neck. The need in his voice sends a shiver down my spine. I’m overcome with the desire to do something I’ve never found exciting before. I slither down his lap, running my hands down his chest as I go.
Kneeling in front of Brooks, I go for his belt buckle but he puts his hands on top to mine. “You don’t have to do that, baby,” he says through gritted teeth but I slap his hands away playfully.
“I want to. Give me what I want,” I tell him as I work the zipper on his pants. Brooks growls and hauls me up, carrying me to the living room. I smack his chest ineffectively. “What are you doing? Put me down,” I demand.
Brooks sets me down on my feet in front of the couch. “Carpet,” he grunts. “Don’t want you kneeling on the hard floor.” A smirk slides across my lips as I slide back down to my knees. The plush white carpet is substantially more comfortable than the hard wood in the dining room. What a man, I think, as I slide my hands up his muscular thighs. He eyes me with dark hunger and shucks his pants and briefs in one go.
Brooks deftly unbuttons his shirt, letting it hang open. Sweet baby Jesus. He keeps doing things that I didn’t even know were a turn on for me. The sight of his ridged abs peeking out of a dress shirt makes my mouth go dry and my pussy soaked. Yes, please.
He sits back on the couch, muscular arms thrown over the back and legs spread in a shameless display of masculinity. Not that he has an ounce of anything to be ashamed of. He knows it, judging by the cocky grin pulling up the corners of his sexy lips.
“Jesus, do you have to look so good naked?” I ask, arching a brow at him. “It’s kind of unfair for the rest of us.”
Brooks crooks a finger at me, stormy blue eyes locked on mine. “I’d rather look at you naked any day,” he rumbles as I settle myself right between his legs. His cock looks achingly hard as it lays across his stomach. Now that I’m getting a good look at him I’m stunned he didn’t break me in half when he fucked me last night. I don’t know what deity he got on the good side of, but I need to figure it out and start making offerings.
Using just my fingertips, I trace a large vein up the side before gently circling the head. Brooks moans my name softly and drops his head to the back of the sofa as I wrap my hand around his hard length, giving him a slow stroke. A drop of moisture beads at the tip and I lean forward to lick it up, eliciting a shudder from Brooks.
I’ve only ever given head a couple of times and never enjoyed it before now. This makes me feel powerful and I want all of it. I’m dying to lick his turgid length, to take him deep in my mouth and taste him as I make him come down my throat. The more I imagine all the things I want to do to him, the wetter I get. I’m all in.
I swirl my tongue around the broad head of Brooks’ dick before feeding the tip farther into my mouth. I can’t take my eyes off his face. The tortured look of ecstasy is almost more than I can handle.
It’s certainly enough encouragement to pull him deeper, working his cock with my hand and my mouth until he’s trembling and I can feel him reaching the edge of his control. When he slides his hands through my hair, holding it away from my face in a gesture that’s as much a caress as it is dominating, I moan around him.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, baby. God, yes! I’m going to come,” he mutters, his breathing ragged. I hum happily and slow my pace, sucking harder, taking him deeper, deeper, until he’s sliding past the back of my throat. Brooks explodes with an animalistic growl, cumming so hard I’m afraid I might have killed him. His whole body goes limp as I gingerly wipe my mouth.
“You alive, big guy?” I tease him, running my hands up and down his thigh. He doesn’t move or respond at all except for the incoherent grunt that escapes his beautiful lips. Laughing, I lay my head on his bare thigh, stroking the hair covering his muscular calf. It’s so soft I almost wonder if he conditions his leg hair and the thought makes me giggle.