Brazen (A Miami Lust Novella Book 1)

by C. M. Lally

  “The Solis boys are just waiting for the one to make this all seem okay. That it doesn’t matter, and we alone are enough,” he mutters, looking away from me like he’s embarrassed to have admitted that. “It’d have to be a very strong woman to make us feel normal. We’re all so jaded here. And that just might be asking for a unicorn to appear in a dark world.”

  “Well, I believe in unicorns,” I tilt my head up and look him right in the eyes. I watch the corners of his mouth turn up in a brilliant, white smile. His dark eyes sparkle, showing me the resemblance to his brothers. I watch his eyes move to something behind me, right about the time I feel a strong hand on the center of my back. It’s Thiago. I know it without even looking up. Those electrical pulses shoot through me and race throughout my body.

  “Hey, Brooke. It’s nice of you to come see us. Is anything wrong?” Thiago asks, the deep timbre of his voice liquefies my vagina and hardens my nipples. I’ve never experienced an orgasm just from hearing a man speak, but he somehow manages to do it every time. He can say the simplest of words, but my brain registers them as sexual innuendo for some reason.

  “No, Thiago. She just got these from the printers and thought she’d help boost some Saturday bar business for us,” he states matter-of-factly, handing one of the placards to him. ”Wasn’t that sweet of her? I’ll go and drop these off on the other floors. It was nice talking to you, Brooke. See you Monday.” He takes the remaining placards from my hands and leaves quickly.

  “Alright. I thought maybe you stopped by not believing me that Matt isn’t working tonight,” he says in a cruel tone before taking over Dante’s empty seat. Anger flashes in his eyes when I look up at him.

  “Are you jealous?” I ask harshly. “You’ve had several opportunities to have me, and you let your morals take priority of me.”

  “My morals come first. Always have. Always will. Most people would admire that,” he spits those words out to hurt me. “I won’t have a future without them.”

  “You won’t have a future if you keep hiding behind them as a barrier to whatever it is you want out of life,” I reply with contempt. I stand, slinging my purse over my shoulder and fishing out a $10 bill for my drink.

  He stands as well, grabs my wrist and says “C’mon. We’re hashing this out once and for all, but not here,” then he proceeds to pull me towards the back hallway towards the private rooms.

  Chapter 11 - Thiago

  I unwrap my hand from her wrist, sliding it down to lace my fingers with hers and pull her through the crowd gently. We move quickly, lest I be stopped by someone for business. What we need to say to each other takes priority. Some of the women throw death stares at Brooke while catching my eye. I press on, ignoring the petty jealousy seething from them.

  We pass the dancers lounge right as Mateo comes out the door. We brush past him in a hurry and I hear him holler out “It’s about time!” as I push the back hallway door open and hold it for her to pass through. She stands still in the empty hallway not sure which way to go. I’m not even sure where I want to take her myself. Perry looks up from the book he’s reading and raises his eyebrow in question, but doesn’t say a word. I turn her around quickly and lead her back to my apartment. I can’t talk to her in my private room.

  After pressing in the security code, the door swings wide and she leads the way to my apartment now that she has figured out where this security door leads. She reaches to open the door, but I beat her to it opening it for her. The gentleman in me is struggling with the prick that I need to be right now. As soon as I enter the door, she turns on me and slams me back against the closed door forcing her lips into mine and pushing against them with her tongue. Damn, the force of her pushing me makes her perfume swirl around my nostrils taking in her scent and I’m instantly weak in the moment. I open to her, grabbing and clutching at her ass holding her to me.

  Our tongues entwine and force the other to continue our duel of wills with each other. She wraps her arms under mine and holds on tightly to my shoulders as she winds her legs with mine. My hands cradle her neck and jaw line, taking our maniacal kiss deeper until I hear her moan deep from within her throat. She pants occasionally and takes deep breaths through her nose. The temperature in the room builds to the point where I can feel sweat forming in the center of my back.

  My fingers trace down her throat and I gently run the tip of my tongue over her pulse point. “We’re gonna finish this and then we’re gonna talk, but right now, you’re taking these clothes off,” I demand as my dick pokes and prods at her belly. She nods her head and begins unbuttoning the endless row of tiny pearls on her silk blouse. She gets to the final few and just pulls at them, impatient with the process of undressing. Her belt is quickly removed and tossed to the floor, following that with a few stomps of her legs to remove her pants.

  I bend down and grab her slim, braided leather belt, and use it to bind her hands together in front of her. This doesn’t slow her down though. She takes one step forward and pulls at the solo button on my pants and slides the zipper down easily letting my pants fall to the floor on top of her clothes. In just her panties and bra, she walks over to my bed. I watch her hips sway and wonder if I should pull the panties down her legs or simply rip the strings that bind them together across her hip.

  She stands there waiting patiently with one hip thrust upwards and provocatively points with her toes. I can see the indention from her abs to her hips as that string teases me. She’s toned everywhere and is in obvious great shape. Those legs are killing me though. They’re endless. Before this day is over, I’m running my tongue from head to toe over this woman. She’s got me salivating like a dog in heat, and her scent is forbidding me to leave her alone.

  “Lay down,” I demand from across the room.

  “No,” she crosses back at me. “I’ve got things I want first. You’re not bossing me around.” She drops to her knees and waits for me to approach. Well fuck. I can’t pass that up. I’ve never known a man to walk away from a blow job, and I won’t be the first.

  I kick off my boxer briefs, and watch her eyes widen at the length and thickness of my penis. I’m not one to brag, but it’s satisfactory—it satisfies all that it’s known. She licks her lips and proceeds to open her mouth wide; waiting for me to place it on her tongue like a priest would lay a communion wafer. Damn, I love this woman. She’s got my blood thrumming through every vein like it’s running from the devil itself. I load her mouth up with my cock, and feel her lips form a tight suction around the neck and foreskin, pulling it into her throat. She suctions deeper and deeper until I hit the back of her throat.

  I hold on to her head with my fingertips and gently slide back and forth inside her mouth, listening to her moans and deep breathing through her nose. My dick is driving down her throat, and I swear she has no gag reflex. The flat of her tongue is massaging the vein underneath my cock, and the heat from her mouth is already tricking my dick into thinking it’s ready to come. Nope. Not gonna happen this soon. She asked for this, and I’m taking the long road to our final destination. My eyes roll back into my head when she creeps forward on her knees to take my dick deeper into her exquisite mouth.

  Those luscious lips know how to please. They kiss like a firestorm that can’t be tamed and suck like a tornado tearing up the plains. She sucks and wraps her tongue around my dick giving it a slight squeeze. I have no idea how she’s doing that, but I’ve never experienced it before and I love it. My lower spine starts to tingle and my dick gets harder and thicker in her mouth. She’s driving me to the edge of pleasure and I’m about to fall off the cliff. I release her head and attempt to pull back, but she moans and clamps down tighter on my penis, shaking her head and making that “nun uh” noise through a mouth full of my dick.

  I chuckle under my breath, and look down at her. Her big blue eyes are glossy and shimmering up at me. A small smile spreads around my cock as she continues to concentrate on the blow job at hand. She’s enjoying herself. Who am I to argue w
ith the sheer dedication to her talents? If she wants to swallow, then so be it. I let her tongue and lips stroke me until I explode down her throat. She takes it all in, not letting one small drop free. As crass as it sounds, I’m impressed as hell. Most women gag and spit, but not Brooke. She’s special, but I already knew that.

  After licking me clean, I pull her off her knees and lay her solidly in the middle of my bed. She presents her wrists to be freed from the belt, so I oblige. She’s been a good girl so far. This next part will be her reward. I pull off my T-shirt because I want to feel her breasts against my skin.

  Her nipples poke through the lace of her bra and beg for my tongue to tease them. I graze my thumbs back and forth across them for a moment, and watch her raise her hips in anticipation of pleasure. I love when bra’s clasp in the front. It’s sexy as hell when I twist on the mechanism and they fall out into my hands—or in Brooke’s case, my mouth. I hover over each nipple blowing hot breath onto them, feeling her tremble and shake, before I draw each one into my mouth. Her nails are digging into my shoulders, pulling me closer into her.

  Her perfume swirls around me again, intoxicating me with her scent. I trail my nose down the separation between her breasts inhaling her and laying small kisses down her quivering abdominal muscles. I lick the rim of her belly button and hear a deep guttural moan release from her throat. She’s waxed and completely bare at her pussy. There’s not even a tan line, but she’s golden everywhere. The thought of her sunbathing nude thickens my cock again. My fingertips dance down her labial lips, spreading them wide open. I flatten my tongue to lick her wetness and swallow before nipping at her clit. Her hands instantly move to my head and hold me in place while I lick and tease her sensitive sex. It’s swollen and thick with desire.

  Cream flows from her and I taste each drop like its fresh honey. I bury my tongue deep into her vagina pressing in and out, fucking her hard. Her legs rest over my shoulders and begin to shake, pushing me deeper into her. I rise up breathless when my dick commands that it needs her now. My hands slide up her long, shapely legs and clasp her ankles, spreading her wide open. I push my cock against her pussy and it opens up to me completely, sucking me in deep like rain soaks into the parched ground. I’ve never needed a woman so intensely like I do her. She makes me feel like I just arrived home after a long absence, and I never want to leave again.

  I press her legs against my body, thrusting harder into her until her legs tremble against my chest and her moans become high-pitched whimpers. She’s tight and the constant squeezing has my dick ready to explode. I slow down to delay my orgasm. She’s already come many times over, but I’ll keep pumping her just to keep her riding on that high. The noises she makes has me turned on to maximum overdrive. I really love how she doesn’t scream ‘Oh, God!’ or my name over and over again. She simply mewls and whimpers like a hungry kitten. I don’t like dirty talk from women, just dirty sex. And Brooke...is the dirtiest woman I’ve ever known.

  Her latest orgasm slows down its grip on my cock, and she surprises me yet again. She flips herself over and crawls backwards to me shaking her ass. Jesus Christ, this woman is perfect. I slap her on both ass cheeks before pushing my dick into her again. With greater momentum now, I grab on to her hips and thrust hard, pounding her until the noises coming from her mouth become one big long sigh of satisfaction. My orgasm peaks and thunders through me, releasing into her. I sit back on my legs and pull her back to sit on my lap, running my fingers down the cinnamon-colored strands of her hair. She fits perfectly in my arms. I wrap them around her and fondle her perfect breasts as we catch our breath. Oh shit! My hands freeze as that sick feeling of dread comes over me. I never even thought of grabbing a condom. The thought of having her consumed me, and then the feel of her drove me to take all of her.

  “Umm, Brooke. We have a problem,” I say, trying not to sound like I’m worried. I drop my hands to her thighs and rub circles on them with my thumbs.

  She snickers out loud. “Will you please stop worrying that I’m going to call you daddy next year? It ruins the mood,” she teases, popping off my now flaccid dick and rolling over onto her back. She smiles up at me, and my heart actually thumps hard in my chest, like it’s trying to get my attention. Her face is flushed and she’s glowing. She pushes her foot against my chest and stops me from lying beside her. “Damn, Thi. That was the best I’ve ever known, but wait! We need to talk about the other aspect of this. Tell me you’re clean.” Her eyes narrow and she’s all business now.

  “Fuck yes, I’m clean,” I state emphatically, removing her foot from my chest and falling onto the bed next to her, completely fatigued. “I’ve always used a condom. Always.” I make sure I’m looking directly in her eyes when I repeat it. I twine my fingers with hers, and soften my voice to explain, “I’ve never fucked anyone in here before, that’s why I didn’t have any available. The thought of putting one on for you never even crossed my mind though. That’s how much you consume me with need. One touch and I disintegrate into a weak man starving for you.” She has to believe me. I need her to believe me.

  She rolls over onto her side away from me, and stretches her legs out, resting her feet against mine. We both lay completely still, catching our breath after one exhaustive fuck session.

  The next thing I know, someone is pounding on the door. I jump up to answer it, hearing my brothers’ on the other side argue about the new bar details. Jesus Christ, they are fucking idiots, and I guess I’m the referee. I suddenly remember that Brooke is here, and I turn back to the bed to see if she’s covered before I open the door, and it’s empty. Brooke was here. Fuck!

  Chapter 12 - Brooke

  Perfect. Just perfect! Who in the hell is calling me now. I slide out from beneath the sheet covering us, and reach for my phone, but I miss the call as soon as I swipe across the screen. Shit. It’s my mother. I pick up my clothes from the floor and walk towards the bathroom while waiting for her to leave a message or give up and send a text. For some reason, I can’t talk to my mother on the phone while I’m naked.

  Before I can finish getting all of my clothes back on, she calls again. That’s not like her to call again so quickly. “Hi, Mom. How are you?” I ask, a little out of breath.

  “Why are you breathing heavy? Are you alright?” she asks.

  “Yes, mom. I’m fine. I was using the restroom when I missed your call and was just re-tucking my shirt when you called again. I got flustered in fishing for my phone, that’s all,” I explain. “So, what’s up?”

  “Honey, I’m at the hospital with your father,” she breaks down in tears saying the word hospital. The phone goes silent while she collects herself. I can hear the sniffles of her nose, and then a loud blow. “They think he’s had a stroke. He’s pretty sick. Can you come?”

  “Of course, Mom. I’m on my way. What hospital,” I ask.

  “He’s in the emergency room at St. Alexis Memorial,” she blubbers.

  “He’s gonna be alright, Mom. I’m coming. Be there soon. I love you,” I tell her to ease her worry, and blow her a kiss through the phone. She and my dad have been married for twenty-six years. She won’t know what to do without him. They still laugh and dance together. Hell, they go on more dates than I do. I finish putting on my clothes and fix my sex-hair to make me more presentable to the public. His cologne is in my nostrils and rubbed on my chest. Of all the days to have to wash that off...fuck it. It’s staying. I’ll never get a second chance with him, so I might as well preserve this memory as long as I can.

  I quietly race to the front door, throwing my purse over my shoulder and turning for one last look at him on the bed before closing the door. He’s still peacefully asleep and sprawled across the bed. One ass cheek is playing peek-a-boo from under the sheet. Damn, I’d love to have the time to walk over and lick it before slapping it really hard. Why is life so unfair?

  I pull the door closed as quietly as I can, and leave him behind. My heart is full and splintered at the same time. Never has a
man made me feel ten different emotions at the same time. I want to spit fire at him and make him see us as a viable couple. But I also see his point of view that his brothers and employees come first. His moral and business rules are in place to make life tolerable and as easy as possible for everyone involved. I can respect that. Business isn’t always pleasure, even in the sex industry.

  I exit through the side door that puts me right at my car in the parking lot. It’s just after rush hour and the hospital is close by. I only have to run through a few yellow lights, getting lucky on the rest of them. The double sliding doors open for me as I approach, letting the various noises inside escape. Once they close, my body tenses immediately from the chaos inside the emergency room. Multiple languages are tossed back and forth between family, friends and nurses. You can feel the worry and frustration within the waiting room.

  I push my way past a couple arguing over who’s at fault for their child’s broken arm in taking the training wheels off her bike. The child sits and cries holding her arm awkwardly with bumps, bruises and little strawberry-shaped skin scrapes on her face, elbows and knees while her parents make a scene. Poor thing. I’ve been there. It all heals. I smile softly at her when she looks in my direction. Once arriving at the emergency room window, I ask for my father and explain my relationship. A nurse sends another back to check on his status, while I wait impatiently tapping my foot and fidgeting with my belt loops.

  After a few minutes, my mother comes out to get me. Her face stained with mascara and blotchy streaks of missing foundation and powder. I grab hold of her hands and squeeze them tightly for support before she gets the chance to start wringing them. That’s what she does when she doesn’t know what to do—she wrings her hands tightly until they glow with blood flow to them. I’ve seen them as vivid red as a crayon. That was when I left for Europe at eighteen. I look down at them in my hands, and they are close to that color now.