I blink, my breathing matching his as I become aware of what’s happening to my heated body. I feel different, light, something close to nonexistent. My arms are weighed down like bricks, my scrambled thoughts trying to get past a hazy fog clogging my head. A freaky sensation’s coating my lips, but for some odd reason, I think I like it. My tongue feels thick like fur, or maybe heavy like lead. Everything’s taken on a new shape, taste, and texture. With all of these foreign sensations, the world feels as if it’s spread beneath me, airless, intoxicating.
“You’re drummed up,” Brock whispers, slowly sliding what remains of my blouse from my shoulders. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”
It does. It feels so fucking good. For the first time in a long time, I’m weightless, almost as though the sins of my parents aren’t holding me in their grip.
“Mm-hmm,” I hum, thirsty for more.
He tosses the silken clothing to the floor and unhooks my bra. “And I’m about to make you feel so much better.”
My bra joins the discarded blouse, the soft wisp of it hitting the carpet crashing the finality of the moment through the air as I suck in a breath. I’m handing myself over to this man. I shiver and stare into his eyes, my senses drowning in his touch.
“Christ, you’re fucking gorgeous.” Brock’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. “There’s not an inch of you I’m not gonna cover tonight.”
Left in nothing but my skirt and heels, another tremble rocks through me as Brock circles my body. His movements are calculated, a hunter stalking its prey.
He stops behind me and fastens his lips to my neck, his words a deep growl as he palms my breasts. “You want me to make you feel better, Ber?”
My breathing hitches as he twirls my nipples between his fingers. “Oh God.”
“That’s the answer I was looking for. I am your God for the next few hours.” Brock glides a hand down the flat of my stomach. I suck in another dizzying breath as he pushes his knee between my legs, spreading them open. My heart beats in anticipation as he hikes my skirt above my waist, his free hand finding my swollen clit. Rubbing it in slow, tantalizing circles, he groans into my neck, his breathing hot against my flesh. I gasp as he dips two urgent fingers inside my warmth. Greedy, I sheathe his fingers, my body hungry for his invasion.
“You like the way that feels?”
“Yes,” I pant, my arms flying up around the back of his head. I bury my hands in his hair, my fingers tugging the dampened strands. “Please, Brock, please keep going.”
“Can’t do that,” he whispers into my ear, abruptly stopping his delicious assault.
I moan in protest, my head dropping back against his chest as he unzips my skirt. It drops to the ground, pooling around my heels.
“I need to taste you. Tell me you want me to lick this pussy dry.” His carnal demand breaks down every molecule of my blood as he feathers his lips against my neck. “Say it.”
He could order me to commit armed robbery, and I’d do so without a second thought. Still, the push and pull’s not something I’m used to.
Mindless in my want, I face him, our gazes meeting with equal need. “I want you to lick my pussy dry. However, you’re not to stop until I say when. Not you. Me.” I touch my lips to his, sliding my hand down his rigid chest. “I want you to lick it until your tongue can’t stand the taste any longer. Bitter or sweet, I want you to lick it until it can’t function properly without your cock buried deep inside of it.” I smile coyly and nip his lip, not an ounce of me ashamed by my filthy words. “You’ve talked a lot of game, Cunningham. The stage is yours now. Let’s see if you can make me ache to the point where it . . . hurts. Good?”
“Yes. Fucking. Ma’am.” A slow grin creeps along his face. With one hand, he reaches behind his shoulder and pulls his T-shirt over his head.
My gaze falls to the hard ripples of his abs—trailing lower still to the perfectly defined V, anchoring everything together in delicious slabs of raw muscle. I bring my eyes back to Brock’s and, with steadfast determination, work the button of his jeans, my lips on his as he backs me toward his bed. I feel the king frame hit my thighs, my heart hitting the ground as Brock pulls his mouth from mine.
“Get on the bed and spread your gorgeous legs for me.” Though his command is whispered with coolness, the urgency on his face is hot, a branding iron to my flesh. “And, Ber,” he adds, his stare intent on mine as he slowly rubs the bulge beneath his jeans, “keep your heels on. I want to feel them cutting into my back while your legs go numb around my head.” He unbuckles his belt, the promise in his eyes flaring over my skin. “Also, I never talk game. Ever. I’m about to lick that pussy undone.”
Burn. I’m literally burning with desire, its glorious tongue spitting flames across my body. I sink onto the mattress, a nervous swallow bobbing my throat as I glide along what feels like cool satin sheets. I watch Brock in utter amazement, my breathing a mess as he undresses.
In nothing but black boxer briefs, he frees his cock and palms it, stroking the divine piece as he eye-fucks me with every pull. My heart kicks, every muscle clenching with longing. I lick my lips, aching to taste it.
On a shaky sigh, my eyes close of their own accord as the bed dips with the weight of Brock’s body. Grabbing the backs of my knees, and stare honed in on mine, his breathing is eerily relaxed as he pulls me down the mattress. With my ass cushioned against his muscled thighs, I struggle to swallow as he hovers above me.