by Jaci Burton
Note to self: Brody made a bad-ass beast.
She liked it.
He held the door open. “You’d better hurry up or I’ll take you in the hall.”
Oh, my. She may have created a monster.
Thank God.
For the most part, she did not take her sex with sugar. She wasn’t into sweet.
Digging in her pocket for her key as she walked, she told him, “I’m guessing people know your face around here. You might want to be discreet.” He hadn’t told her much about his pro days but she knew enough about sports and small towns to figure he was known by the locals. Not that she was hip on doing it in the hallway, but if he kept looking at her that way, she might be tempted to throw caution to the wind.
“So your balcony is out then?”
Yes, and it had nothing to do with protecting his reputation. “Yes. Because there is no way in hell I would remove any of my clothes in these temperatures.”
“You were outside in your socks and no coat last night.”
“That was unintentional.” She unlocked her hotel room door and tossed the key card onto the console. She was peeling her coat off when Brody helped her along by yanking off the sleeves.
His was already off and on the floor. When the hell had he done that? He plucked her hat off and threw it, then he came into her space and completely filled it up with a whole lot of sexy man.
“You won’t get naked outside for me? You won’t let me bend you over that balcony and do wicked things to you until you scream?”
“When you put it like that…” She pulled his shirt out of his jeans and ran her fingers over the warmth of his flesh. “Still no.”
He gave a low laugh. Then he kissed her until she was breathless. Until she was irrational and no longer thinking of anything but him and the feel of his body against hers. Until she thrust her hips at him in a silent request, and her fingers dug into his shoulders.
She hadn’t been that blown away by plain old kissing since she was sixteen and making out with a nineteen-year-old in her mother’s minivan. Only then she would have never let the guy whose name she couldn’t remember put his hand down her pants. When Brody popped the snap on her jeans, she was thinking it was about damn time.
Without hesitation he took her zipper down and maneuvered his hand inside, his finger gliding with unerring accuracy right into her panties and deep inside her. “Holy crap,” was her opinion on that.
Sagging against the wall, she gripped him harder, afraid she was going to fall. Afraid she was going to come.
“Oh, my God, you’re wet,” he murmured, his voice strangled, eyes hooded.
“I can stop that if you’d like,” she said, because somehow he made it sound like a bad thing. Though she wasn’t sure she really could stop her desire at this point. He’d turned the faucet on and it wasn’t about to run dry anytime soon.
“Now why would I want you to do that?” He stroked inside her while nuzzling her skin, stretching the neck of her sweater to get as close to her breast as possible. “Where would the fun be if I couldn’t make you soaking wet for me.”
That was a good question. One she had no answer for because she was rocking her hips forward to meet the rhythm of his finger. “Well, I don’t know about soaking,” she said, because she felt the social pressure of a required response.
It was the wrong thing to say because he completely pulled his finger out of her and held it up for her to see how it was glistening with her sticky sweetness.
“Soaking,” he told her again. Then he peeled his shirt off.
Hello, Most Amazing Chest Ever. Chelsea checked the corner of her mouth for drool.
But before she could express appreciation, he picked her up and didn’t lay her on the bed so much as he threw her. Chelsea was still bouncing up and down from impact when he ripped her boots off her feet and sent them flying. Then he yanked down her jeans and panties with one swift motion, and before she could say oral sex, he was between her thighs, his mouth on her, his fingers squeezing her legs as he held them apart.
Looking down at the top of his head, with his knit hat still on, his beard stubble rough against her tender skin, and his tongue doing laps across her clitoris, Chelsea took a deep, shuddering breath and let the pleasure wash over her. She was immensely grateful she’d gotten locked out of her room and that Brody had been walking by at that precise moment, because this was some seriously good shit going on between her legs.
Gripping the bedspread, Chelsea couldn’t keep her eyes open or her mouth shut. She was letting out rather loud groans of ecstasy as he licked up and down with slow, painstaking strokes. It had been a while since she’d been with a guy, and even then, Eric had considered oral sex punishment. She’d only gotten it on special occasions and with zero enthusiasm or skill. Brody was eating her out like he was a starving man and she was a muttonchop. Or something sexier than mutton. Like she was a truffle.
It had her bursting in a full-fledged orgasm in about ninety seconds.
“Oh my God.” If it didn’t feel so amazing she might actually be embarrassed at how quickly she’d come, but it did, so she didn’t. Instead, she just lay there and enjoyed the ride.
All the tension left her body and she released the bedspread she’d been holding hostage as the spasms settled and she regained the ability to speak. “Brody…”
Before she could even finish her sentence, he was stripping off his pants and sheathing himself in a condom. She tried to sit up to offer assistance, or at least take a look at the penis she had only stroked and never seen before, but he pushed her back down onto the mattress. Then he took her hands and moved them up over her head, pinning them together with a tight grip.
Chelsea was startled, but not in a bad way. She liked the way he took charge. She liked the impatience. With his free hand, he popped her bra open and dragged it down her arms with his teeth, the tip of his tongue forcing goose bumps to rise on her flesh. Covering her breast with his mouth, he sucked lightly, drawing her nipple into his mouth.
“Yes,” she said, because she wanted to encourage him to continue doing that. There was something about the tingling tug that caused her still-simmering desire to boil over again.
The fact that he stopped would have been disappointing, except he was nudging at her still very wet opening with the head of his erection. The anticipation was killing her as he teased, dipping slightly in then out again, his finger brushing over her swollen clitoris.
“Do you need an invitation?” she asked.
“You already gave me one when you invited me up to your room.”
Yeah, she wasn’t one for subtle most of the time. “Then I won’t waste my breath with another one.”
“Am I making you impatient?” Brody was dying himself, desperate to plunge into her welcoming heat, but he enjoyed teasing her, wanting to hear what she would say, how she would urge him on.
He’d never met a woman like Chelsea, and she hadn’t been the least bit intimidated by his aggressiveness. He had always liked his sex a little on the rough side, but he’d held that in check, because most women in their twenties didn’t roll that way, or at least not the ones he’d met. The only time he’d really gotten down and dirty was with an older woman, but Chelsea hadn’t even blinked when he’d torn off her clothes and tossed her on the bed. In fact, she’d clearly liked it. She wasn’t lying—she wanted the beast.
Which he was more than happy to give her.
“No, I’m fine,” she said, clearly lying through her teeth. “I’m in no hurry.”
Under other circumstances he would have laughed. And he did appreciate her sense of humor and bravado. But here, in bed, with his cock throbbing and his balls tight with need, her legs spread for him, he felt a surge of desire, a need to prove that she wanted him. “No?”
That very well might be her plan. He was aware of that. He was also aware that his reaction was a testosterone-laden Pavlovian response, but knowing it didn’t stop him from having it.
&
nbsp; “I can wait all night,” she told him, licking her bottom lip, her breasts bouncing slightly with the rapid rise and fall of her chest, her fingers trembling beneath his iron grip.
The fucking hell with that. She was going to take it now.
Without saying a word, Brody thrust deep into her.
“Oh!” she said, her eyes widening.
Desire pooled in his mouth, and he gritted his teeth against the sensation of her body wrapped around him. He didn’t pause, didn’t hold back, just pounded into her, needing to feel that release he’d been careening toward for twenty-four hours. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t delicate. It was a hard, base need that had sweat beading on his forehead and his knuckles whitening as he held her hard against the bed.
The expression of surprise on her face faded away as her eyes drifted closed, little soft moans of pleasure escaping her mouth. She was a beautiful woman, her nose pert and cute, her eyes intelligent, her lips sensual and full. Both days he’d seen her she’d been wearing minimal makeup, her skin glowing with health, her cheeks pink. The skin above her breasts was splotchy from desire, and Brody would have called it an out-of-body experience except that he was so damn aware of his body it hurt.
But as he sank in and out of her, his muscles tense, the urgency so desperate it almost scared him, he realized he’d never experienced anything quite like this, certainly not with a woman he’d just met. He didn’t want to think about it, or analyze it. He just wanted to feel it.
If the way her body tightening around his was any indication, she felt it, too. Her inner muscles started to quiver.
“Don’t stop doing that,” she breathed, her eyes opening to lock with his. “If you change the rhythm I will kill you.”
“Why, are you going to come?” he asked her, knowing the answer.
“Oh, yeah.”
“I guess you couldn’t wait all night.”
He grinned down at her, loving the way a flash of annoyance crossed her face at the same time she squeezed her inner muscles, gripping him like a vise, her orgasm sweeping over her.
“I guess not, Brody.”
It was spoken in a way he’d never heard his name. It was soft yet aggressive, shaky but controlled. It was his name on the lips of a woman who knew exactly who she was and what she wanted. What she wanted was him. And she was shattering beneath him.
Sexy as hell. That’s what she was. Brody had never felt so tight, so hard, so completely inside a woman, and her orgasm sent him rushing into his.
Normally he kept his thoughts and his enthusiasm to himself, but he couldn’t contain it this time, not with Chelsea so honest and straight up, her pleasure so obvious. He let out a deep groan through gritted teeth and let himself go. He didn’t just let his body go. He let himself go as well, just fell into the moment and took it for all it was worth.
It was the best orgasm he had ever had, and when it was over, he just stared down at her for a second, panting. She stared up at him, panting. They stared at each other.
“Well,” she said finally, while Brody was still trying to assemble his thoughts. “That didn’t take us long, did it?”
“No.” Brody forced himself to pull out, even though he would have loved to have just taken up residence inside of her permanently. “I think we both needed that. To take the edge off.” He knew he had. “What do you say we jump in your Jacuzzi then go again, a little slower this time?”
She pushed her hair back off her forehead and moistened her lips, giving him such a sexy, speculative look that he felt his dick give a jump of approval.
“Sounds good,” she said. “As long as slow doesn’t mean gentle. I like the beast.”
Yeah, she was going to kill him. He honestly didn’t think he’d ever met a sexier woman.
Brody shifted closer and kissed her. Then bit her lip. Hard. “I think I can manage that.”
CHAPTER SIX
Chelsea followed Brody to the bathroom, naked and still a little stunned from how hot and fast things had gone between them. She had expected that she would enjoy herself, but that had been intense. It was easy to blame celibacy for why they had both been so hungry and so quick to orgasm, but she knew it wasn’t that simple. Chemistry was either there or it wasn’t, and it was clearly there between the two of them.
Walking behind Brody was a beautiful thing. She had known in theory, of course, that a man’s ass could be that tight, with that much muscular definition, but she’d never seen it in person. It was awe-inspiring. He glanced back and caught her staring. She just raised an eyebrow and dared him to say something. He was the one walking naked. She had every right to look.
But he didn’t say anything. His eyes just smoldered. It was ridiculous. He had brooding, sexy alpha male down pat. Chelsea wanted to bottle him up and take him home.
“How hot do you like the water to be?” he asked as he turned the faucets of her jetted tub on. “We should have brought some wine or something with us.”
“I like it a shade shy of scalding. And a beer would be nice but I’m not going to the store like this.” She gestured to her lack of clothes, thrusting her shoulders back in the universal female trick of making her breasts look bigger and her stomach flatter.
Brody just nodded. “Too cold.”
Damn, he had a good poker face. “It’s hard to get a rise out of you, isn’t it?”
Which actually made him laugh. “Oh, I think you’re doing just fine getting a rise out of me.” He gestured to his erection, which was back, full sail.
Nice to know she was appreciated. “Good pun. Six points.”
“We’re keeping score?” Brody turned the water on and plugged the tub. “Hop in. I’ll figure out how to turn the jets on.”
“I think there’s a button on the wall.” Chelsea stepped into the tub and eased herself down into the warm water. “Ahh, that feels good. And I guess we shouldn’t keep score because I would win. Hands down.”
“Well yeah, because you’re the one doling out points.” Brody hit the button for the jets.
Chelsea wasn’t prepared for the intensity of the spray, and it knocked the bar of soap she had just picked up right out of her hands. It pummeled her breasts and her knees and hit her in the face. “Ahh! I can’t see anything, turn it off. Turn it off!”
Brody did.
She wiped her face, blinking, stunned. “Oh my God.”
He was clearly fighting the urge to laugh, unsure of her reaction. But Chelsea was no diva. She started laughing herself. It was funny.
“Now you can really say you got me wet.”
Brody handed her a towel to wipe her face. “I had no idea that would have so much power. Are you okay? I think I can turn it down.”
The jets started again, a more gentle rush of water this time. After scrubbing herself dry, she found herself at eye level with his penis. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. What were we talking about?”
Without waiting for an answer, she reached out and stroked the length of him, enjoying the sharp exhalation of air from his mouth. His penis was as attractive as the rest of him, long and thick and shiny. She didn’t imagine a man wanted his penis called pretty, but his was. There were no imperfections, no changes in skin tone, no curve to the tip. It was just a perfectly pretty penis, and Chelsea decided she was going to suck it.
With the tip of her tongue, she started at the top and worked her way to the end, enjoying the anticipation and the way his fingers were suddenly pressing into her shoulders. Then she fully enclosed her mouth around him and drew him deep.
“Chelsea, damn.”
She didn’t really have a response since she was busy, but she figured actions spoke louder than words anyway. Gripping the base of his shaft, she picked up the pace a little, pulling him in and out, letting her saliva lubricate her strokes. With her other hand, she cupped his balls gently, her feathery touch causing them to draw up tighter. Then, because she could, and because she wanted to touch such a tight ass for herself, just to say she had, Chelsea continued unti
l she was gripping the firm muscles of his backside.
The sound he made was gratifying. It was somewhere between a groan and a hiss. Chelsea started to shift restlessly in the water, her inner thighs aching anew, her nipples puckering as they brushed against the cold porcelain as she leaned over Brody. The decreased jets were hitting in very pleasant places and the room was steamy, Brody’s body warm. Glancing up at him, she gave him a smile, then stopped moving her head, using her hand to guide him forward to rock onto her mouth.
At first he let her control the movement, but then he started thrusting, filling her deep. Chelsea thought about how it had felt to have him thrusting inside her, and she shifted in the water, the ache of desire blooming into an unbearable burn. She wanted more.
He seemed to understand because he suddenly pulled out, his hands on his hips as he breathed hard. Then again, maybe he hadn’t been thinking of her, exactly. Given the way his jaw was working and his cock was jumping, he had been on the verge of an orgasm. Chelsea wanted to preen at how satisfying that was. She had brought him to the edge.
Feeling a little arrogant, she leaned back against the tub and put her arms on either side, feet crossed at the bottom, closing her eyes to further the effect. “Ah. This is nice. Very relaxing.”
When he didn’t answer, she opened her eyes again.
It seemed to take him some effort to speak, his hand hovering over his erection like he wanted to stroke it himself and stop the agony, but he finally said, “Scoot up.”
“Sure,” she said lightly, moving forward so that she was hugging her knees. Brody stepped in behind her, sloshing the water over her breasts.
“Keep going.”
“Go where?” She glanced back at him. Uh-oh. His expression was downright fierce and he was unwrapping a condom. He wasn’t going to lie back and soak in the tub. She actually shivered a little in excitement, her inner muscles quivering with anticipation.
“On your knees. Hold on to the edge.”
Yep. That’s what she thought he was going to do.
Lifting her backside, she shifted her legs as far apart as they would go and braced herself both on the wall of the tub and on the ledge in front of her. Brody grabbed her hips, and then he was sliding inside her. It was glorious. He was the perfect size for her and he instinctively knew that she liked to stick with one rhythm. Sure, he was a little high-handed, but she had asked for that, and unlike some women, she found it hot. She might like to get in the last word, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be the aggressor in the bedroom. Or in this case, the bathtub.