by Karen Renee
His warm hand gently squeezed my thigh. “Talk to me, gorgeous,” he demanded, his voice husky.
This could be a make-or-break-it moment. “Listen, Brock, I’m not your typical chick at the club.”
He turned his face to me briefly, his grin was downright devilish. “Know that, baby.”
While he looked back to the road, I turned to the window and muttered, “God.”
His hand squeezed my thigh, harder this time. “What, baby?”
My head swiveled to him. “I’m trying to be serious here, and you’re flirting at every possible moment.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Guilty as charged. But you want to be serious, have at it. I’m all ears.”
Here went nothing.
“I’m twenty-seven, well, soon to be twenty-eight,” I started.
He interrupted me by chuckling. “Not what I was expecting, but good to know. I turn thirty in a couple months, for what it’s worth.”
Arrgh!! What was I going to do with this guy?
My frustration went by the wayside as I realized his birthday was probably close to mine. I wanted to tell him the truth, but something held me back. It was like a mental roadblock prevented my brain from sending the right orders to my mouth.
“I’m wrong for you, Brock,” I forced out.
He looked at me as if I was crazy, and he did it for so long I worried about him not looking at the road.
“And please don’t cause an accident on I-4, that shit is annoying as hell but I’d be especially ticked off to know I caused one just from talking.”
“Wow,” he muttered, looking back to the interstate.
“Wow, what?” I asked.
“You’re serious about that shit?” he asked, guiding the car off I-4 and onto Colonial Drive.
Looking to his profile, I noticed his expression was neutral. Deceptively neutral. “Well, yeah,” I said in a small voice, and continued, “It’s true. I understand if you want to take me back to the—”
“Honey, you didn’t scare me off when you told me you have a drug counselor. I don’t know why you think you’re so wrong for me, but I was serious earlier. We hit it off on the dance floor, and you can’t tell me you’ve had a better kiss than the two we’ve shared.”
“Well, that’s beside the point. It doesn’t make me the right woman for you. At all.”
“Bullshit. First time I laid eyes on you, I felt a pull, and not just in my dick, either.”
I gave him a sideways glance. “Stop it.”
He glanced at me and arched his brow. “No. The second time, you pulled your cat-and-mouse shit, and tonight’s the third time. So, hell if I’m gonna let you get away now.”
“This is the sixth time, just so you know.”
“Sorry, babe, but it’s the third time I’ve been on the floor... wait. Were you there on ladies’ night the last three weeks?”
“Yes.”
He did a slow nod. “I worked those nights. Surprised I didn’t see you, but GILT is always packed.”
“What are you talking about? The DJ wasn’t named Sully any of the other times we’ve been at GILT. I would remember that because it’s the name of a Disney character.”
He grinned. “Yeah, I don’t go by Sully in the booth, babe. I DJ as Van. Gabe’s DJ name is G-Rock. He tried to get me to go with B-Rock, but that shit’s not right.”
“How come? I think that would be a great DJ name.”
“Yeah, but B-Rock is way too close to my actual name. Take out the damn hyphen and you got my name.”
“Mmm,” I said, looking out the window.
Brock grabbed my hand, and I turned to him. “You’re wrong, Cecilia. You’re not wrong for me. My guess is you’re just right.”
I shook my head, trying to yank back my hand, but Brock held firm. “No, really, we should probably go back to the—”
“The moment I saw you in that slip of a dress you’re wearing, I was half-hard.” He moved my hand to his groin, and I fought a bad feeling of déjà vu, because I was accustomed to this type of experience with a man in a vehicle. “Kissed you twice, and I’ve been dealing with this in my pants ever since. So, you are not the wrong woman for me. Not at all.”
I pulled my hand back. “Just to let you know, that is not what I expected.”
His eyes cut to me and if I wasn’t mistaken, his lips tipped up. “Think it’s safe to say, nothing about you and me is what’s expected.”
I swung my gaze to him and his head swiveled to me briefly. “You aren’t scaring me off, Cecilia. But you said you have a drug counselor. Does that have something to do with this crazy idea you have?”
He stopped the vehicle for a red light. I looked out the window, but his fingers at my chin pulled my gaze back to his.
“Not exactly. I shouldn’t have said counselor. That’s a habit from months of rehab. She’s really a therapist. Our focus is on keeping me clean, and sadly, I can’t say I’ve been sober around a man who’s interested in me in years.”
He dropped his hand to mine and gave it a squeeze. “All right. We’ll talk more when we get to my place. It isn’t too far from here. Three more traffic lights and we’ll be there.”
I stared hard at his profile. “Did you hear what I had to say?”
He nodded to the windshield and said, “Yeah. And we’ll talk at my place, honey.”
As he parked his car, I looked at the apartment buildings. It was a seriously swank complex.
I glanced at him. “For some reason, I thought you were a college student. You work full-time or something?”
He put the car in park, draped an arm behind my seat and leaned toward me. “Finishing my last semester of classes now, babe. My brother and I are roommates. Money’s tight, but livin’ here is well worth it.”
My brows rose in agreement because I figured living here would be the shit. The sound of his door opening pulled me from that thought.
“Let’s get upstairs, honey. I got some questions for you, but I don’t want to ask them in a cramped Civic.”
My body went taut, and he saw it. He wrapped a gentle hand around my neck. “It’s all fine, Cecilia. Relax.”
“Yeah, easy for you to say,” I muttered.
His hand squeezed my neck. “It’s easy because that’s what it is, easy questions, just not meant for a car. Let’s go, honey.”
WALKING INSIDE HIS apartment, I found I was right. His place was seriously swank. The kitchen was right off the entryway, and the gleaming gold, platinum, and bronze backsplash could not be missed. Paired with the stainless steel appliances, I knew it would make my sister and mother weak in the knees. I wasn’t a kitchen savant like they were, but even I felt a tingle in my knees from this bright and modern kitchen as I placed my purse on the breakfast bar.
Brock’s arm wrapped around my waist, guiding me into the open-plan living room. He lowered himself onto a chocolate-brown leather sofa, but did it with his legs spread wide, settling me between his legs so I was reclining against his chest.
“How long you been off the drugs?” He launched right in.
Brock either felt my body tighten or sensed my shifting mood, because his arm wrapped firm around me and he used his other hand to move my hair to one side so he could kiss my neck.
I wanted to fight it, but couldn’t. He was good and my body relaxed with his kisses. “Little over nine months.”
I felt Brock nodding against my shoulder. “How long you been out of rehab?”
My body sagged with my sigh. “Two months.”
“You’re clean?”
That question could be construed another way, and I turned my head a bit toward him. “Clean as in drugs, or clean as in dis—”
“As in every way you can be clean, Cecilia,” he clarified.
My chest expanded with my deep breath. “Yeah. I’m clean every way I can be. Rehab don’t play around with their testing, Brock.”
His arms settled lower on my abdomen. “I bet they don’t, honey.”
; Something told me I had passed an unknown test with Brock at this juncture and that made me happy, but I still thought I should go home.
“So, that’s out of the way, would you like me to get an Uber?”
Brock’s tense body and the irritated attitude he projected into the room communicated his reaction. Either one was bad, but both together was downright oppressive. He shifted quickly, and I found myself with my back to the sofa and Brock’s beautiful face in mine.
“No. I don’t want you to fuckin’ get an Uber, Cecilia. Wanna get some tunes goin’, both of us undressed, and determine whether our dance floor activities translate to even better fuckin’ bedroom activities.”
Chapter Three
Patience, Honey
Brock’s thick, muscular arm darted to the coffee table, grabbed a slim remote, and the television screen lit the dim room. The Amazon Fire Stick home screen came up, and with three clicks Brock cued up music. Walk the Moon’s “Lose You Again” filled the room, and he tossed the remote to the table with a clatter. Then he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me to him, and his lips were on mine; and sure as hell, his kissing capabilities were as strong as ever.
In a horizontal position, his body crushing mine to the couch, everything felt better. My hands roved his back, one going up, encountering the delicious contours of his shoulder blade, while the other moved along the back side of his arm and across his extremely broad shoulders. He had mentioned getting a bachelor’s degree, and it would not have surprised me at all to find out he played college football, such were the shoulders he had.
While my hands were eating up the real estate of his shoulders and back, his hands gravitated to my breast and south to my pussy. My hips bucked forcefully at his touch.
“This okay?” he asked, his voice husky and his eyes shining with concern.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “Just, it’s been a long, long time.”
His lips tipped up at the corners. “Kiss me,” he demanded.
I raised my lips to his and he took control. He broke the kiss and the hint of stubble around his lips grazed my cheeks and chin before he meandered to my chest. As he moved, my hands slipped from his bulky shoulders. I wanted his lips on my breasts, so I reached down to pull the tie of my wrap dress, but even with his face at my chest he knew what I was trying to do. His hand shot out to mine, stilling my movements.
Against the curve where my neck and shoulder met, he murmured, “That’s all me, honey.”
He continued kissing and sucking at my skin, and I squirmed physically while my mind reeled. I didn’t know what to do because I had never had a man tell me taking my dress off was ‘all him’. This was foreign territory, yet familiar territory too. We were both dressed, but I wanted to be undressed. He shoved my hand from the tie of my dress to the arm of the couch above my head. With my other hand, I reached as far down his back as I could and yanked at his shirt, but it was a dress shirt so I didn’t pull too hard.
My focus shifted when I realized he was looking up at me. There was something shimmering in his eyes I couldn’t put my finger on. I shifted a touch, but he moved with me.
“Patience, honey.”
I pressed my lips together and did a slow blink. “Brock, I don’t think—”
His torso pressed into me getting my attention. “Don’t think, baby.”
“We should be naked,” I blurted.
Oh God! I shouldn’t have said that, not just because it was the wrong thing to say, but because my tone was whiny. To my surprise, with captivating slowness a hungry smile spread across his face.
“What did I say, Cecilia?”
He was still looking up at me, and those expectant eyes demanded an answer. I would have answered him, but seeing him resting atop my torso was a sight to behold. His arms nudged me, and I asked my response, “Uh, patience?”
“Yes. Trust me, honey. It’ll be worth it. I’m hard as hell right now, so my dick’s totally down with being naked with you, but the slow road is better.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, hurry up with it, would ya?”
His eyes lit, and then I lost his weight (sadly) because he rolled toward the back of the couch as he belly-laughed at my question. Watching him laugh in his living room was just as good as it was on the patio at the club, and it made me bite my lip.
His fingers flicked out at my lip. “That’s my lip to bite, honey. So stop it... would ya?”
My head tilted with a fake smile acknowledging his mockery. The expression was cut short by his other hand brutally yanking at the tie of my wrap-dress and I was suddenly exposed to him.
“No bra?” he whispered.
I gave a feeble shrug. “The dress was padded,” I offered.
He grinned and started to lower his lips to my breast, but I stopped him. “What about your shirt?”
His body surged toward me, and his lips brushed mine. “We’ll get there,” he muttered, moving back to my breast.
He took my nipple between his teeth, while my hands delved into his hair. I couldn’t remember the last time I had someone paying my girls any attention. At least not like that. Like a man would.
With some effort, I kicked a leg out from under Brock and dragged my heel down his jeans-clad leg. One of his hands went under my lower back while the other grabbed my ankle.
“Baby,” he admonished. “I’m serious. Have patience for me. Enjoy this.”
I held his eyes for a long moment, then nodded. He kept hold of my ankle, and went to my other breast. My chest heaved from the unexpected sensations he built within me.
The song changed, and Brock, using his hold on my ankle, put my foot to the floor, lifted his body up and I found myself standing chest-to-chest with him.
“Let’s go, Cecilia.”
I followed him to his bedroom, and in the name of patience I let him take his sweet time plying my body with his lips, tongue and hands. He pulled away from me, desire burning in his eyes, and his gaze dropped to my shoulders while he watched his hands push my dress off. I wriggled my feet out of my heels and realized Brock was freaking tall.
Within no time, it was clear Brock knew what he wanted in his bed. His hands went to my hips and he laid me on his bed. I kept replaying his words in my mind and let him do as he wished so I could ‘enjoy this.’ And enjoy it I did. It was the least I could give myself because as heart-wrenching as it was, I knew without any doubt this would be a one-and-done experience.
After what seemed an eternity, Brock’s dress shirt slipped off his arms and he unbuttoned his dark-wash jeans while I watched his legs shift as he toed out of his shoes. I pressed my lips together to keep my thoughts to myself, but apparently Brock could read me.
“Just say it, honey,” he murmured.
Laying naked on his turned-down bed, I asked, “Say what... honey?”
With his thumbs in his boxer-briefs, he gave me a semi-incredulous look. “You know ‘what,’ Sunflower. That it’s about time I got naked with you.”
Sunflower?
I couldn’t devote any head space to that. He wanted to give me a nickname, so be it. Besides, the unveiling of the main event was happening before my eyes. His chest was unrealistically tan for a man who was in college. As I scrutinized his torso, his pecs flexed, and my eyes flew to his.
Those eyes of his were something else with their intensity and ability to ask me a question without him saying word one. They were staring intensely at me as though to underscore his statement, but I was distracted by his thumbs in his boxer-briefs.
After a lengthy moment, I whispered, “Yeah. It’s about time all right, Brock.”
I heard a low growling noise before he said, “You got that right, Cecilia.”
When he dropped his underwear, his tan lines were distinct. In the back of my mind I had to wonder how he had such drastic marks on his skin, but his cock standing erect stole my attention. Reflexively I pushed up on an elbow to get to him, but he shook his head.
“Don’t even think about it
, baby. Can see you want to get your lips around me, and I’m not saying no to that, but it’ll be a raincheck for sure. Gonna taste your pussy, touch that pussy, fuck you ‘til we’ve both come hard and long. Then, depending on how much energy we have after that, maybe I’ll let you suck me. Though, I think that will only happen if I’m returning the favor while you do it.”
Jesus. He needed to shut up, he was turning me on with what was, bar none, the best dirty talk I’d ever heard. My breasts tingled, and I reached up to grab a nipple, but Brock shook his head as he climbed onto the bed.
“No way, Cecilia,” he said, reaching long to swat at my hand. “That’s all me, too.”
Before I could shoot him an admonishing look, he lowered his mouth to my core and my hips bucked even more violently than they had on the couch. His eyes widened at me, and his hand gently stroked my hip. My breath hitched at his ministrations, and the skin next to his eyes crinkled.
“You taste really great, Sunflower,” he said, with a wink.
I chuckled. “You did not just wink at me!”
Against my clit he murmured, “Mm-hmm.”
That felt so good, I closed my eyes and inhaled. His face pulled away again, but his fingers traced me from entrance to clit and back again. When I opened my eyes, I saw Brock watching me.
“You like that?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Who wouldn’t? I’d just like to give back a little of what I’m getting.”
A lop-sided grin appeared. “Oh, you will, honey. Believe me. I know you will.”
He continued leisurely stroking me, and I was about to squirm when he ordered, “Reach the top drawer of the nightstand. Grab a condom, Cecilia.”
Shifting on the bed, I expected to lose his fingers, but he moved with me and I threw him a look over my shoulder. “You’re relentless, you know that?”
He chuckled. “You’re about to find out how relentless I can be, baby.”
With the condom in hand, I tore the foil open and a surprised look crossed Brock’s face. “Hell if you’re going to be the only one having any fun, honey.”