Chapter 39: Olive
I hate being patient.
Brooks holds my thighs apart, watching me with his piercing blue eyes as he tortures me, slowly licking my folds. Each gentle graze of his tongue over my clit sends jolts of pleasure spiraling through my core.
I don’t know how long he keeps me on the edge. It feels like hours and I’m desperate to come, needing just a little more, but he won’t give it to me. I’m a whimpering wet mess as he holds me in place, pinning my hips to the mattress until I start begging.
“Please, please, please, Brooks, please!” I cry out, throwing my head back.
“You keep those beautiful eyes on me and tell me whose pussy this is when you come,” he growls, his beard rubbing my thigh.
Nodding frantically, I lock eyes with him as he pulls my clit between his lips, pulling and suckling as his fingers work inside me. The tight ache and desperation gives way as my world swirls with pleasure and overwhelming relief.
Brooks doesn’t stop when I come. He barely even slows down before demanding, “More.”
God help me, I don’t think I could stop coming if I tried. Not with his mouth on my clit, warm and insistent and his fingers working inside me like they’re made of pure magic. One peak rolls into another until I’ve lost count and nearly screamed myself hoarse.
Brooks finally lets up, but there’s a fire burning in his eyes as he flips me over onto my stomach. I hear him unbuckle his belt. His pants hit the floor and I look back, watching hungrily as he dons a condom. He gives my ass a quick smack before yanking my hips back up to meet his.
I’m still so sensitive that I cry out as he rubs the length of his cock against my pussy, slipping it between my folds. He’s using me to lube himself up, and it’s so fucking dirty. I. Love. It.
Using his knee, Brooks pushes my legs farther apart, spreading me wide with a growl of satisfaction. He wraps my hair around his fist with one hand, using the other to press the fat head of his cock against my slit, letting me feel just how big he is. The pulsing in my clit becomes a thumping, fervent drumbeat. A reminder that Brooks is the only man who can make me feel this way.
“Are you going to take all of me in that tight little pussy?” he asks with a groan, slipping just an inch inside of me before pulling back out.
“Oh my god,” I moan. “Yes, all of it! I want it, please!”
He thrusts into me so deep and so hard my world spins. Brooks’ unending control seems to snap as he grips my hips with bruising force and pistons into me, shaking and gritting his teeth as he tells me every filthy thing he’s thinking.
“Jesus Christ, that’s fucking sexy. Look at that ass bounce while I fuck you. God, I love that tight little pussy. Nothing in the world feels as good as your sweet little cunt wrapped around my dick. Taking every fucking inch. God damn, baby.”
I don’t know if he even realizes he’s saying everything out loud. I lose myself in the rhythm and the pleasure coursing through me. So lost that I’m on the verge of coming again without realizing until my thighs start to tremble and my stomach tightens
“Ah! God, that’s it,” Brooks moans. “Come on my dick. Get it all slippery for me so I can fuck you harder.” He pulls my hair back making my spine arch and I come on a breathless scream.
“Fuck, that’s so good.” His pace becomes frantic and chaotic as he teeters on the edge. The clenching of my sex as I come is too much for Brooks’ control. “Fuck-fuck-fu--” Brooks comes deep inside me with a roaring groan before collapsing sideways on the bed, pulling me into him.
I don’t even remember falling asleep but I must have because the next thing I know, I wake up to the feeling of someone moving me. Brooks lays me carefully on the pillow before pulling the blanket up over us and tucking me in.
***
I wake up on Christmas morning with the barest hint of a hangover, a painfully dry mouth, and the complete certainty that I’ve got a raging case of smudged mascara.
The other half of the king-size bed is empty but I can hear the shower running and Brooks singing a charmingly off-key version of “White Christmas.” The man is as adorable as he is potent.
Sitting up and yawning, I pat my hair and let out a small, “Oh no.” Leaning over just a little, I can see my reflection in the mirror hanging over the desk and… yikes.
My hair mostly escaped its bobby pin hell from last night. That would be bad enough but the lethal combination of all the hair product the stylist used, Brooks’ roaming hands, and a hard night’s sleep have left me with a crazy nest of hair that is somehow both sticking out and horribly flat. It is a decidedly bad look for me.
The water shuts off in the bathroom and I frantically look for a way to clean myself up. It’s only been a couple weeks since I started seeing Brooks and it’s still way too soon to drop this kind of scary on him.
Shockingly, there’s no magic spray within arms reach that will cure my sad panda face, rat’s nest hair, and offensive morning breath. What kind of world do we live in? Why has no one made this yet?!
The bathroom door creaks a little as it opens and I panic, throwing the sheet over my head without planning an exit strategy. Cool. This is my life now. I’ll just lay here under a sheet like a stinky ghost until I can convince Brooks to look the other way while I slink off to the bathroom.
I hear his chuckle, so warm and smooth he sounds like good chocolate. “What are you doing under there?” His weight settles on the bed next to me and he tries to tug the sheet down but I keep a good grip on it.
“Don’t look at me!”