-
“Jesus Christ. Would you slow down?” Drew yells out as he trails not too far behind on my way to the limo. “You’re pissed. I get it, but I’m thinkin’ maybe you should listen to her.”
“Her?” I bite back. Turning around, I watch him stumble in place as to not bump straight into me. If he did, I may punch him for no real reason, other than to let off steam.
“Really?” he questions. “You’re gonna tell me that girl back there isn’t the girl?”
“No, I’m not going to tell you that,” I confess, my voice bitter. “But she’s hardly the girl if she’s dancing with another guy.”
As I turn to continue making my way out of the parking lot, Drew’s footsteps falter. “Brock, just stop for a second. Just one.”
I turn in place, but continue walking backward to the car. “Stop for what?”
I want out of here. Watching Brooke from across the room as I’ve done so many times before, but this time sitting at a small table with another guy, has done me in. I’m finished with everything.
“They were talking. So what? Who the fuck cares?” he exclaims, trying to excuse Brooke’s actions.
“Right.” I agree, if only to assuage him so we can go. “Are you getting in the fucking car or not?”
“I wasn’t doing anything else with him!” Brooke’s voice calls from the side of where Drew and I stand. When we turn in her direction, she’s standing alone. However, Ryleigh and Addie aren’t far behind. “I mean, I was talking to him,” she tries to explain. “But he was taking care of me so no one would—”
Oh, even better.
“Honey, maybe you shouldn’t say anything else,” Addie smartly advises as she grabs Brooke’s hand and pulls her two steps away from me.
Brooke’s having none of it. She jerks herself from Addie’s grasp and takes the steps she lost, back toward me. Her eyes are dazed, reminding me of the girl I met at the hotel bar so many weeks ago. She was oblivious as to how men looked at her without her notice. She’s in the same oblivious state now, except it’s me looking at her, and apparently, she’s clueless as to my reason for being angry.
“He really wasn’t hitting on her,” Ryleigh pipes up next in Brooke’s defense. “I’m sure it looked that way, but Brooke wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
Turning my gaze to Ryleigh, it hits me that the cameras inside were rolling. I don’t know how much of the scene was recorded.
“She knows,” Brooke stage whispers loudly, too loudly, as she points to Ryleigh.
Ryleigh smiles. “It’s okay, really. You’re not my type. Well, unless you happen to be a closet dirty talking hair puller.”
Brooke turns only her head and nods with a smug smile before confirming, “He’s every bit of that.”
Jesus Christ.
“Oh my,” Addie breathes. “Not sure we can recover from that.”
Drew steps between Brooke and I, and as he does, Brooke positions to her tiptoes. Her chin lifts as far as it’ll go while still remaining connected to her neck. If I weren’t so fucking pissed, I’d laugh.
“I’ll catch a ride back to the hotel with her girls,” Drew tells me. “You take Brooke with you in the limo.”
“This will work,” Addie agrees. “We can get a drink in the bar while you two talk.”
Drew turns around, nods his thanks to Addie then asks me, “Sound good?”
Turning in place, I find Clive standing near his van parked behind the limo with his black camera bag sitting at his feet. When I furrow my eyebrows and tilt my head with question, he shrugs. Surely, he should be taping every bit of this mess for Matt and his precious ratings.
“Not sure what happened, but I think my camera broke,” he casually explains.
For the tenth time, I take a moment to appreciate what a great guy Clive Masters is. Also, how my first order of official business with my father is putting in for a donation to the “Clive Masters is a cool guy foundation.”
Looking down and trying to hold back a smile, Clive light-heartedly suggests, “Take your girl back with you. I’ll explain to Willow and Matt what happened to the lens. Too late to do anything about it now.”
And now I’ll add that the donation is going to be a fucking big one.
Turning my eyes back to Brooke, I note hers are smiling. I’m still pissed, so I don’t return so much as a smirk. Her drunken smile falls quickly, and she looks down before leaning into Addie.
“Brock?” Drew prods. “We good?”
Without giving me another second to contemplate, Brooke walks around Drew, places her hands on my chest, and looks up. With eyes as glazed as goddamn doughnuts, she grins happily and sweetly says, “I’ve never been inside of a limousine.”
“Really,” I return, not about to give away that she’s still as adorable as I remember her being the last time she was this drunk. “Never?”
“Nope. And I’d be willing to—”
“Stop talking,” I hiss as soon as I hear Drew stifling his laugh and Addie doing a shit job covering hers.
“Would you two just go already!” Ryleigh shrieks. “Good God. I said I didn’t mind you two together, but I don’t wanna watch you guys go at it.”
Brooke giggles, then plants her forehead against my chest. I finally give in to my frustration long enough to bend my neck to kiss her head. Annoyingly so, the woman’s made me unrecognizable to myself.
“We’ll see you guys back at the hotel.”
Drew slaps my back and leans in for man hug. “In the morning.”
He looks down to Brooke, who’s looking up at me, close enough I could easily kiss her, and grins.
“Yeah,” he says. “She’s a pain in the ass.”
“Bye, guys.” Ryleigh waves as she turns to walk away with Addie in tow.
I wait a few seconds until Drew catches up with them before turning Brooke around and walking her to the car.
After the two-minute tour of the limo Brooke demanded I give her is over, we’re sitting side by side in silence. She’s looking out the window as the city passes by, and I’m contemplating my first true adult spanking. If it weren’t for the driver, who luckily for him has kept his eyes on the road since we got in, I may have decided to give her that spanking.
Instead, she breaks the quiet by turning her head toward mine and offering a confession. “I really didn’t think I was doing anything wrong, Brock. When I was talking to him, I was just talking. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“It was to me,” I counter. At the reminder, I’m furious all over again.
The image of her sitting at his side, sipping on a bottle of water, frays my already worn-out nerves. We were in this together, this fucked up version of a dating triangle with eight other women. I thought, at the very least, she was interested in staying inside that triangle until it was time to let her go.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
Her hand reaches across the seat to grab mine, where she laces her fingers and squeezes gently to get my attention. I don’t remember ever holding Brooke’s hand. It fits in mine. Perfectly. I should’ve held it long before now. I’m an idiot.
“I’m sorry,” she pleads again, this time taking off her seatbelt and inching her way closer.
Once she reaches my lap, she straddles herself on top of me. Her hand cups my cheek as she says, “Don’t be mad.”
Her lips touch mine briefly before they trace my jaw, then she moves down to kiss my neck. This is where her tongue starts at the base of my throat before making its way to the back of my ear.
When her hands cover my chest and she draws them up to wrap them around my shoulders, I ask, “How drunk are you?”
Personally, I’m a man who enjoys drunk sex, but only with a willing and semi-alert partner. Brooke’s willing, but I’m not so certain of her degree of drunkenness.
“Drunk enough to admit I was pissed when Kylee kissed you. Not drunk enough to know I should’ve talked to you about it.”
“Yes, you should’ve.”
“Do you trust me?”
She nods in answer, but then stays quiet.
“Prove it.”
Up to now, I’ve done all I can not to touch her. A simple apology would be too easy. If I’m giving her a way out of this, she’ll be giving something back in return. She’s got to trust me, because there’s no one but her who holds my interest.
“Prove you trust me, Brooke.”
“Prove to you?”
“Take off your shirt.”
Sitting straight, she purses her lips. She hesitates, but moves her hands to her chest. My eyes stay trained on her fingers as they unbutton each button of her silk, black blouse. Slowly and seductively, even in her drunken haze, Brooke seduces me with her slow, coaxing gestures until her lacy black bra comes into full view. With a quick unsnap of her bra, her chest is on display. With the weight of her tits so heavy and the tips so pink, my mouth waters, so I lean my head back to avoid devouring them the way I’d love to.
Shifting her body back and forth, Brooke inches her skirt up until it tightens against her upper thighs. The warmth of her center rests heatedly against the material of my pants. My knee jerks in reaction, and our eyes move to each other.
“Keep going,” I encourage, before she starts to overthink it. “Touch yourself.”
When her hands attempt to make contact with her chest, I grab them both and shake my head. “Not there. Let me watch.”
She smirks, but it’s spiked with nervous tension. She steals a look behind her, I’m sure to verify the window for privacy is in place.
“Use your fingers. Spread yourself for me.”
Her quick intake of breath signals she’s more than ready. If I didn’t already know, her tight chest and flushed neck serve as confirmation.
My eyes don’t leave her fingers as she moves them down the tight expanse of her abs until meeting the material of her skirt. Resting one hand on my chest for balance, she uses the other to push through the top of it before going down in search for purchase.
No longer able to resist touching her, I use both hands to push her skirt up further so I can watch as she begins to work herself. In and out, her finger disappears before coming back to run against her swollen clit. Her head falls back, and her mouth parts as she takes shallow, but laboring breaths.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I hiss on a thrust as my cock strains against my zipper. My hand wraps around her long, delicate throat, feeling her pulse racing beneath my fingertips. “Ride your hand harder, baby. Don’t come, but keep going until you’re close.”
Doing exactly as she’s told, her eyes close and her head dips down to her chest. She’s watching herself. Her hair falls to her sides, obstructing my view of her self-giving pleasure. I reach to grab a handful, then fist the soft, thick strands before pulling her head back.
Her heaving breaths brush my face as I demand, “My name when you come, Brooke.”
Nodding, she continues picking up speed. Using her tanned and toned thighs, she rocks herself back and forth, up and down. Her flawless skin starts to sweat as she continues straddling my lap.
I can’t fucking watch this.
Although she’s close to release, I can’t sit back and let this play out without me. I don’t have the self-control it takes to watch her reach her own end.
Grabbing her hand and bringing it to my mouth, I suck her fingers while using the fingers of my other hand to delve deep inside her.
The gasp she emits and the smell of her pending arousal is my undoing.
“I’m fucking you in here. Any objections?” I advise, while unbuttoning my pants and not hesitating to hear her response. She’s ready. Once I’ve freed myself, I tap her thigh lightly. She lifts ever so slightly until my heavy cock is positioned beneath her. “Now, ride me.”
She slowly sinks down, taking me all in. I grab her, bringing her body flush with mine. My fingers dig into the skin at her waist, and using all my frustration, I lift her enough to slam her back down.
“Fuck yes,” I hiss into her ear.
For the first time since being with Brooke, I’m not wearing a condom. There’s nothing between us. In every way, I’ve exposed us to each other.
“Brock,” she breathes unsteadily. My name coming from her lips in the close confines of the limo spurs me on. I thrust my hips from beneath her, meeting her halfway, but I’m still not able to get enough at once.
After she’s coaxed us into a steady rhythm, I sit back and regard her carefully. Her face is flush, and her eyes are glossy.
“I was pissed,” she tells me. Focusing on my chest, her fingers wrap around my tie. Her words come out as confession as she pulls on it, bringing my mouth toward hers. There she admits, “I was pissed you let her kiss you.” Her hips continue moving back and forth, up and down, again and again before she quietly relents, “I hate seeing you with any of them.”
This isn’t the first time Brooke’s outright admitted to being crazy jealous, but it’s the first time we’ve ever argued and she’s readily seduced me after. If I can get her to admit the true reason for her jealousy, maybe I can get her to admit we’re more than what she believes.
“Why?” I prod. “Tell me why you hate it. Say it.”
Her body rocks once, twice, then for the third and final time. She stills above me, clutching my shoulders and digging her nails in over my shirt. My cock pulses inside her as her body contracts at every angle. Willfully knowing Brooke’s going to take everything I have to give, I empty into her, holding her tightly against my chest.
There is where she finally answers. “Because I know at the end of this, it’ll be one of them who gets to keep you.”
Chapter Forty-Two
I didn’t see that coming.
Brooke
-
“This sucks,” I mumble, low enough that I doubt Brock can hear anything I’m saying. “I feel sick.”
Lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling, I listen as he paces around the room while preparing for this morning’s meeting. All the contestants got a group text message from Matt instructing us to be downstairs in an hour.
“You should be sick. Exactly how much did you drink last night?”
“Too much and not enough?” I answer cautiously.
Something happened last night.
Even before the limo pulled up to the hotel, I felt a discernible disconnect. After we had sex, Brock helped me dress, but it was in complete silence. He didn’t hold my hand as we made our way from the lobby to the elevator. This was understandable as we were still in public and he never does. But then once we stepped on and the doors closed behind us, I reached to grab his hand and he kept his still. He put no effort into holding mine back. I wasn’t so drunk I didn’t notice he remained quiet and detached the rest of the night, right up until I fell asleep beside him.
Beside him, not next to him or on top of him as I’ve come to do. All night, I was left alone and untouched.
Not minding my absence of clothes, I sit up and rest my weight on my elbows. The bright light from the sun delivers a sharp pain to the back of my eyes.
“You’re leaving?”
Straightening his tie, he looks at me in the dresser mirror and replies, “Yeah. I got a text from Matt after the one he sent everyone together. Either Clive showed him footage from last night and he wants to discuss it, or something else is up. I don’t know what it is.”
“Clive was taping?”
Turning to me, Brock frowns. “Do you not remember what the hell happened?”
Oh, I remember. But evidently, I only remember my version.
I remember the ride home where, fueled by copious amounts of alcohol, I went from being restless and angry to downright sex-starved and feral. Then I remember having sex, without a condom, which led to one of the most memorable orgasms I’ve ever had. Last, I remember how quiet Brock was the rest of the night and how I spent my first night feeling ultimately alone in his company.
“Shower
,” he commands, pointing to his silver watch to signal the time before grabbing his shoes and taking a seat next to me on the bed.
“You’re awfully bossy, Brock LaDuece,” I return. The alcohol no longer serves as carnal courage, and after waking to his still somber mood, I’m in many ways exposed, so I grab the blankets and lay back again.
“Bossy, maybe. But at least I’m sober,” he smarts, then adds to further insult, “No guarantee you are.”
As he heads to the door without so much as a kiss goodbye, I narrow my eyes and wonder what the hell I missed.
After I showered off the drunken remains of last night and managed to make myself passably presentable, I head downstairs where I find Ryleigh, Emilee, and Joelle sitting together at a small table near the back of the room. The other women are scattered among the camera crews as last minute makeup touches are done.
Brock’s nowhere to be found.
“How are you standing in front of me right now?” Ryleigh asks, handing me a much-appreciated bottle of lukewarm water.
“I’m sick,” I confirm. “But I don’t feel as bad as I look.”
“Thank God for that,” she returns. “How was last night?”
Feeling my face flush, but not from embarrassment, rather from worry, I go vague. “Good. I slept well.”
“Oh, right. I’m sure you did.” Ryleigh pats my shoulder. She leans in right after to explain some of what I didn’t know. “Drew slept in our room last night. He’s upstairs, testing Addie’s morning disposition as we speak.”
Shit, Drew. I forgot about Brock’s friend.
“He slept in our room?”
Nodding, she takes a drink of her water, and as she snaps the lid back into place, she keeps going. “He came here from Dallas. Apparently, he’s here for the week. I like him, he’s really sweet. But I think he might be gay. I didn’t get a good read.”
“How was Addie with him staying there?” I question, not because I care about Drew, but Addie doesn’t like unexpected company. Or company at all.
Ryleigh shrugs, turns in her seat, and scans the area. “She was okay. She woke up long enough to tell me to tell you that you owe her dinner tonight.”
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