F*CK Reality: Take One

by Raegan Matthews

  “After,” I insist. “Take these off.”

  My hands work the zipper of his pants, but he grabs them, bringing his gaze to mine.

  “Brooke, damn it, I said I missed you,” he whispers.

  His expressive determination shifts into something more...something I’m not sure has ever been between us. And there’s been a lot of firsts with Brock.

  “Say something already.”

  “I missed you, too,” I admit as his hand cups my cheek.

  Doubt blankets his face. If only he didn’t look so lost, because my statement is true. I did miss him, more than I want to admit.

  “We’ll talk after,” he offers, placing my hands back at his zipper. “Right now...”

  “We fuck,” I quip. The dark, possessive gleam in his eyes stops the breath I was about to take.

  “Yeah,” he concurs, pulling my waist and slamming my body against his chest. “We fuck.”

  “Well?” Brock prompts, running his fingers through my hair.

  My head is on his chest, listening attentively to his rapidly beating heart as we lay in bed, both sated and tired. We’ve been laying here for about an hour, not paying attention to the time or minding where we’re supposed to be. We don’t even know what we’re supposed to be doing. Tonight is the first time he’s ever grabbed me from my side of the bed and held me like he’s doing now. All the other times before, we either fell asleep or talked without touching. This position feels much more intimate.

  Taping doesn’t start again until tomorrow at lunch, where we’re all scheduled to be together again. After, he’s taking Emilee on her date. She’s told me she’s nervous, and that her break home was an eye opener. She doesn’t want to be here at all anymore, let alone with Brock.

  When I saw Ryleigh earlier, she insisted some of the girls get back together to go check out a club downtown. She said it’s young and hip—all the things I dread. Addie’s excited, but more so excited that I agreed to go without complaining...much.

  “Will you agree to let everything outside of us go?” he questions.

  Lifting my head, I rest my chin on his chest. His hair is mussed up, sticking out in all directions. I didn’t think it was possible for Brock to get any cuter, but since we last saw each other a week ago, it’s hard to deny he did. At the same time, I love and hate this realization.

  “You agree you won’t sleep with any of them?”

  “Yes,” he quickly complies.

  Making myself clear, I state further, “No kissing either. Even if they try.”

  Brock scrunches his face, remembering the date he had with Joelle, who tried to kiss him before making her way off the elevator. He wasn’t interested in her, but must not have made it clear enough for her.

  “I’ll agree to that, too.”

  “And no matter what, when this is over...”

  I feel his hand squeeze the back of my neck, so I’m unable to finish.

  “I’ll agree to whatever else you want me to, but nothing will change, Brooke.”

  In the overall scheme of things, even if he were to go back on his promise, I could hardly hold it against him. He’s here to find what some of those other women are—a life with someone they feel they’re compatible with. He’s said it’s me, but there’s still time, and more dates to be had.

  “Okay, then,” I concede. “I’m yours for as long as this lasts.”

  His lips form a lopsided grin. “You are mine, to do with as I please.”

  “Within reason,” I reply, rolling over on my back to avoid his determined and smug excitement. “Don’t get greedy.”

  Lifting himself to sit, he turns quickly. My back dips into the mattress before he comes down on top of me in a quick, eager movement. His hand trails my side before positioning it between my thighs where he stops, refusing the intimate contact I crave.

  “I have so many things I want to do to you, Brooke Malloy. And now, when I do them, I’ll know I get to do them repeatedly,” he whispers before sliding his tongue along my bottom lip.

  His finger caresses my clit, and my thighs open to grant him further access. When his lips trail small kisses down my jaw and to my neck, his finger probes my ready entrance. I haven’t had time to come down from the first time he took me.

  “Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he mumbles against my skin. “I’ve missed not being inside you.”

  Another stomach flutter, added now with the sensation of his fingers driving deep into me. He’s near the spot I know will promise release before he bites down on my ear. My hips shift, helping him deepen the connection.

  “Say my name when you come. Say it again and again.”

  My body jolts with his demand, causing my nails to dig into the skin of his back. Using my legs as leverage, I wrap them around his waist so the only thing between us is his hand. Brock uses his thumb, adding pressure to my clit as another finger breeches my rear entrance. The heady mix of being taken everywhere transforms my simmering body from a faint sizzle to full heat.

  “Fuck, I want this, too,” he hisses, thrusting his hips and running his cock along my inner thigh. “Your ass is fuckin’ perfect.”

  Braving my composure, I return, “Soon.”

  Another hiss escapes his clenched jaw as he drives that finger further in. The exact measures of his thrusts at each angle sends a piercing shock up my spine and my mouth opens. No words come out, only a whimper of surrender.

  “Give it up, Brooke. You want this. Take it,” he urges, pumping his fingers in and out, running his thumb against my clit with every grind.

  “Brock...it’s too much.”

  And it is too much.

  My eyes stay closed, and my breathing stops. Every touch, every movement has become overwhelming.

  “I’m coming, damn it,” he seethes. “All over you. Say when.”

  At his demand, I lift my hips for the last time, feeling him driving his fingers deep, then stifle a moan loudly into his ear, “When, Brock. Now.”

  His warm liquid coats my thigh as his thrusts continue against me in rapid fury. A string of quiet curses moves along the skin of my chest as Brock keeps his head down while releasing all he has.

  “Only one woman could make me lose my shit without being inside her. Jesus Christ, who the fuck are you, and why couldn’t I have found you sooner?”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  These women are driving me nuts.

  Brock

  -

  “Your date with Emilee is tonight,” Brooke reminds me as we’re seated around a big table in the conference room, which Jerry has turned into a lunchroom. I sure as fuck don’t need to be reminded since Brooke’s mentioned this four fucking times since we left my room this morning.

  Immediately after I’d gotten back to the hotel yesterday, Matt and Willow asked Jerry to escort me directly into Matt’s office. The audience members who were polled all agreed they’d like to see more camera time with everyone at once. Being in a room with all those women I’ve casted off without them even knowing, then stringing them along with the hope I’ll still choose them, bothers me.

  Jerry gave me the itinerary for the rest of the show. I caught Kylee’s name, along with her plans for the date, and cringed. She didn’t want dinner, skating, or any of the like. She plans to take me to a sports bar.

  I already have a well-developed opinion of Kylee Simmons, and she can kiss my ass. The first time I saw her in the elevator, I knew she was trouble. Since, she’s added a list of obnoxious offenses and reasons not to choose her.

  Kylee’s outwardly abusive, but passively so. I’ve heard the others talk when they think I’m not listening. I’ve seen the sad, defeated faces of those left behind from the crowd Kylee has reined in around her.

  Some women find men delusional or ignorant to their behavior, but I’m not most men. I have a little sister, a tormenter in her own right, and she’s taught me a lot about how women think.

  When Jerry expected me to nix Kate and I didn’t, he faltered w
ith his opinion by saying, “Cute girl, that one. She’d make a man very happy, I think.”

  She would, and she will. Just not me.

  “Emilee isn’t interested in me,” I return. Brooke is looking into the crowd around us.

  She smiles, turns her face to mine, and replies with a meaningful, “I know.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I told her you had bad breath.”

  I laugh. This is probably why Emilee’s kept herself from getting too close since the first time I spoke with her at the meet and greet.

  “That’s not fair,” I reply with a shake of my head. “What if she was my final pick?”

  Brooke’s face falls, and I realize the joke was a bad one. Not because she’s yet to show any direct interest in marrying me, but because I’ve surprised her with my own passiveness.

  Resting my arm around the back of her chair, I try to relax. A few eyes are on us, but not many. Most of the women are too busy chatting with each other.

  Brooke gets tense, then sits straight up to avoid physical contact.

  “Sit back,” I clip. “No one knows anything.”

  Turning in her seat, she notes the position of my arm. For all outsiders, the gesture is comfortable and simple. To her, it’s deliberate and telling.

  “Don’t do this here,” she instructs. “They’ll assume something’s up.”

  Leaning toward her, I use my finger to move the hair from her neck before bending mine to catch her scent.

  “Fuck, you smell good. You smell like me.”

  When she inches away, I reach my end and start to get annoyed.

  All these weeks, Brooke and I have slinked around like criminals. I’ve snuck her in and out of my suite too many times to count, and I’m growing tired of this game. When we were on break, I missed having her close. Now that we’re back and in the cameras’ lens, I don’t have all of her attention.

  There are three dates left before I get to take her on ours, where I will touch her. I’ll do whatever the fuck I please.

  “If you don’t relax, I’m going to put my hand up your skirt and slide my fingers inside of you,” I seethe with crass words, all while placing my hand on her shoulder. “Then I’ll suck them clean so the others can watch.”

  “And what does that make you, Brock?”

  “Hard,” I immediately return.

  “Oh my. Aren’t you two adorable?” Kylee sarcastically drawls, coming to stand on the other side of Brooke.

  My arm is still draped over her chair, and Brooke’s still leaning into my side in order to finish our conversation. She doesn’t take her eyes off me, but I look up to Kylee and smile. The cameras are rolling, and I’m not willing to cause a scene which would put Brooke into a negative light.

  “Kylee,” I nod to greet, then lie. “Good to see you again.”

  Kylee moves her gaze to Brooke, then to the position of my arm where her top lip curls. She soon recovers and paints on another plastic smile.

  “I’m looking forward to our time together. I’ve heard you’re very entertaining.”

  At her accusation, Brooke’s back tenses again. She leans toward the table to grab her water, taking a long sip. She hasn’t touched her plate of food, nor have I. The tension from her has caused my loss of appetite; no doubt Kylee has caused Brooke’s.

  “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Just wanted to come say hello. Brooke’s been taking up all your time this afternoon, and I wanted my share.”

  Not a fucking chance.

  “Sorry,” Brooke mumbles, looking up at Kylee, then back to me. “But if you wait, I need to get going. He’s all yours.” She sets her napkin on the table and moves to stand.

  Kylee immediately takes her seat and gets comfortable. I move my arm back to my place and take a drink of the wine that I ordered with lunch.

  Clive, my favorite crewman, nods once as he lowers his camera. Good man that he is, he must see the same thing in this amazon woman that I do—pure, unadulterated trouble.

  “Ya know, Brock,” Kylee starts while I fight not to roll my eyes. Just the sound of her voice annoys the fuck out of me.

  Turning in place to look over her shoulder, we both watch as Brooke makes her way out of the room, but not without stopping to say goodbye to Ryleigh, Emilee, and Kate.

  “I think you and me could make beautiful babies together. I’m not so much into kids as I am into making them.”

  Yeah, she just said that.

  “I love kids,” I tell her. “I want a dozen, and the woman I marry will have them, or she’ll get nothing from me at all.”

  Kylee’s eyes widen. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a vast amount of fear in their empty depths.

  “Good luck with that,” she tells me. “We’ll talk about the future next week.”

  No, we won’t.

  “Until then,” she bids while standing. “I need to get back. I have a lot to do before the episode airs tonight. All my friends and family call to get the lowdown on what really happened.”

  “Yeah, you should go tell them.”

  Kylee, being the bitch she is, leans down and kisses my cheek before I can back away. She also allows her lips to linger much longer than she should. I realize this when Brooke’s stark expression of betrayal stares at us both with a hurt like I’ve never seen.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  I’ll be okay after another thirteen rounds.

  Brooke

  -

  “Brooke, honey. You’re done. You’ve had enough to drink,” Addie preaches, sounding more like my mother than my best friend.

  She’s not trying to mother me, though. She’s attempting to reason with the jealous fury that has violently invaded my once calm and happy soul. This whole situation is ludicrous, ridiculous in every way.

  “She fucking kissed him, Addie,” I curse with venom. “That scaly, dragon-breathing hooker kissed my Brock,” I slur loudly and with drunken conviction. “And he let her do it right in front of me.”

  Addie hasn’t said much since we found a table near the back of the club and sat down. Other than demanding I keep my mouth shut as to not slip in front of Ryleigh, she hasn’t talked to me at all. On the drive over, she insisted everything was going to work out as it should and I’d be okay, no matter what else happened.

  Well, fuck that. I’m not okay. Nothing is okay.

  “You knew he’d be dating those women before you two officially agreed to get involved,” she insists. “And being that he’s the one man all these women are here for, not to mention he’s been sleeping with you all this time, you don’t have the right to be ass hurt.”

  Disregarding Addie’s self-proclaimed words of wisdom, I slam down another shot glass, then unsteadily lift my eyes to hers. She’s scowling.

  “Get me another drink,” I strongly request.

  Ryleigh is sitting between us in the half-moon booth, which is our table. Her oh-so-perfect blonde hair is swept up in an oh-so-perfect bun, and her oh-so-perfect chest is staring at me oh-so-perkily.

  It’s possible I’ve skated past a little drunk and veered into being an overly emotional mess. This, I’m guessing, happened about thirty minutes ago. However, I’m not keeping track.

  “I fucking like him, Addie!” I shriek so loud it pierces my own ears.

  Both Addie and Ryleigh wince. The music in this club is loud, so it goes unsaid I’ve made my point.

  Just in case I haven’t, I push, “I mean, I committed myself to him.”

  “Brooke,” Addie charges, grabbing my forearm from across the table. “Enough, honey. You need to stop talking.”

  “Don’t have her stop on my account, Adds.” The cute nickname oh-so-perfect Ryleigh coined Addie with weeks ago doesn’t sound so cute tonight, more so annoying.

  Everything is annoying.

  “God, you even have perfect teeth,” I compliment, and she smiles wide. “Does it hurt to be so pretty? It must be painful. Has to be,” I continue.

  “Brooke,” Add
ie calls. “Let’s find the ladies’ room.”

  “For what?” I snip. Her face is fuzzy. She looks like Donald Duck. “I don’t want to go to the bathroom. I want another drink. I’m celebrating.”

  “What are you celebrating?” Ryleigh smiles her question, doing all she can not to bust out into fits of laughter at my expense, I’m sure.

  “I’m celebrating how single I am,” I smart.

  Ryleigh nods once, sits back in the booth, and traces her oh-so-perfect, lush bottom lip.

  “You’re not single,” she denies. “Not even. No way.”

  Addie clears her throat, tosses me a disgusted eye roll, and sits back in her own seat.

  “I am single,” I insist.

  “No,” Ryleigh disagrees. “Girl, you haven’t been single since I met you.”

  Come again?

  “What?”

  “It’s okay,” she pleads, lifting her hands up in surrender. “All is fair in love and war. I get it. I’m happy for you and for him.”

  Shit.

  Little miss oh-so-perfect knows more than she’s let on.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Drunkenly feigning ignorance, I question, “Happy for who? Who are you happy for?”

  “Brooke,” she sighs out as an answer. “And Brock.”

  I gasp from shock. Addie looks to the ceiling and starts counting to ten. Ryleigh laughs.

  “Shit,” I whisper to myself. My eyes are wide; the dry sensation begs me to blink, but I can’t. I can only hyperventilate. “Shit.”

  “Brooke, you don’t volunteer at the zoo.”

  My eyebrows furrow, but because of my drunken state of misery, my eyes close as they do.

  Ryleigh clears her throat before advising, “You’re gone every night. Adds told me you volunteered at the zoo overnight. No one volunteers that many hours.”

  “I don’t,” I concur, looking down with shame.

  Placing her hand on my arm, Ryleigh soothes, “Don’t worry. I’ve known for a while. I’m telling you, I’ve known about you guys since before you knew he was...”

  She trails off before saying more, clearly understanding the precarious predicament I’ve put myself in.