“Sweetheart, don’t tell me you can’t handle a stage. I’ve seen you conquer a catwalk with those mile-long legs of yours. I’ve seen you get lost in the music.” His gaze dropped to my mouth and his tongue swiped his bottom lip. “It’s inside you, Jessa. It’s steaming off you when you play. You want this.”
Yeah… I was definitely starting to steam. Brody’s proximity was pretty much making the world evaporate around us.
“I’m not comfortable with it, Brody,” I managed. My back was to the bathroom wall—when did that happen? He had me cornered, instead of the other way around. “Standing up there on stage with a guitar,” I said, “while Zane sings my words… it makes me feel… naked.”
For some reason, that pissed him off. A lot. He sucked in an agitated breath. “You modeled practically naked,” he bit out. “What’s the fucking difference?”
“The difference is that was my body,” I said. “You’re asking me to bare my soul.”
He stared at me for what had to be a full minute.
“Yeah. God forbid I ask you for anything.” He drew back, snapping the charge between us, leaving me cold.
“You’re wrong, you know.”
“Wrong about what?” he said, like he really didn’t give one fuck.
I took a breath and forced it out. “I never chose Seth over you.”
Brody shook his head and turned away. “Have a nice life on your pedestal, princess.” He kicked the garbage can out of his way, which sent it crashing across the room, and went for the door.
“It was you!” I called after him. “It was you, Brody, please, just stop… Don’t you fucking walk out on me!”
He stopped dead and turned back to me. We’d both stopped dead in the wake of my voice, pretty much screaming those words at him. I couldn’t help it. I just snapped.
How dare he walk out on me when all he did was punish me for leaving, over and over again?
“It was always you I wanted,” I told him. “Don’t you think that if I could go back to that first time you kissed me outside that party when I was fifteen and do everything from that moment on differently, I would? But I can’t! I can’t change the past, Brody. You’ll never know how much I wish I could, but I can’t. All I can do is stand here in front of you right now and ask you to see me, me, and not that girl who ran away! I’m. Right. Here.” By this point, I was really losing it, so I just let it all come gushing out. Because maybe this was my last chance? How many times was he going to walk away from me, or let me walk away from him, before he really was done with me? “A world where I don’t have you in my life… I lived that way for the last six-and-a-half years,” I said, my voice reaching near-hysterical level, “and these last couple of weeks have just proven to me that I don’t ever want to do that again! I can’t! To be honest, I have no idea how I did it for so long and kept on living!”
I was panting by the end of it, my chest rising and falling in shuddering breaths, and his gaze dropped, his expression darkening.
“Where the hell is your bra?”
“Wh—what?”
“You were wearing a bra at the show and you sure as fuck aren’t wearing one now.” He was staring so hard at me, my nipples were getting hard in my slinky shirt. “What happened to it?”
“I took it off.”
His blue eyes, cold and dark, met mine. “You took it off,” he repeated.
I threw up my hands. “What the hell do you think? I had a quickie with Jimmy backstage? I took it off for you.”
He stared at me. “For me?”
“Yeah. So I could do this.” I shoved myself up against him, standing on my tiptoes, so we were almost nose-to-nose. Then I gripped his hand and ran it up my bare waist under my top, all the way up… to cup my naked breast.
Brody’s eyes flared as his breathing changed, deepening and slowing right down.
“This?” he murmured, squeezing my breast.
“Yeah,” I breathed. I dropped back down on my heels and brought him with me, my hand wrapped around the back of his neck. He ran the tip of his nose slowly down mine, and I shivered in anticipation. And I said, “You better fucking kiss me. You better not walk out on me, because I am not letting you go. If I have to make a giant fucking scene and make Jude hold you here at gunpoint, I am not letting you go…”
Then he nipped my lips with his and my pussy clenched, empty and aching for him. “Like this?”
“Yeah.” I entwined my fingers deep in his soft hair. “And by the way… I took my panties off, too.”
That got a groan of approval and the next thing I knew, his mouth was on mine, his tongue down my throat, and we were making out.
“I need you,” I told him between kisses, clinging to him. “And before you accuse me… I do not say that to every guy. I have never said that to a man in my life.”
“Jessa…”
“I’ve wanted you, wanted this, for as long as I can remember.” I rubbed up against him like a cat in heat as I said it. “Since I can remember wanting this at all, I’ve wanted it with you.”
To show him how much I meant that, I undid my jeans and shimmied them down over my hips, feeling bold.
He stood back, swiping a hand over his face as he drank me in. “You sure you want this, babe?”
I stood there, awkwardly, with my jeans around my knees. “Don’t you?”
“I meant… it’s pretty fucking dirty in here, princess. If you hadn’t noticed.” He slid his hands around my bare ass and pulled me against him, showing me that yes, he definitely wanted this. “And you, in my mind,” he added, squeezing my butt, his voice dropping low, “are the furthest thing from dirty.”
I glanced around. It was gross. It appeared to have been cleaned, hastily, the garbage emptied and everything kind of mopped off, poorly. But it didn’t smell bad, just kind of mildewy.
I could live with that.
“I wasn’t planning on touching anything in here but you,” I said, as I slipped my hand down the front of his jeans and grasped his dick. It was rock-hard and standing at attention, eager to be grasped. “And anyway…” I bit my lip a little. “Maybe I like it a little dirty.”
He groaned, his cock straining in my hand as he kissed me again. Then he spun me around by my hips. He caught me as I stumbled in my jeans, holding me up with a strong arm around my waist. I felt him fumbling to open his jeans with the other hand and he took his cock from my grip. The smooth skin of the head was silky and warm against my pussy, and a flush of excitement rushed through me.
“Last chance to change your mind.” He was teasing me, probably; I was so wet, the head of his cock had already slipped inside me and his voice had gotten low and tight, the way it did when his brain had left the building.
“Fuck me, Brody,” I urged him. If he didn’t, he was going to have to make me come some other way—soon. I’d never been into sex in public places… had never even come close to trying it before, had never really had sex anywhere but in a bed or maybe on the floor next to a bed. But I was way too turned on by the thought of Brody fucking me in this dirty bathroom.
Then he was inside me, in one fast, possessive thrust. I cried out because it shocked me a little; it hurt a bit, but he didn’t stop and I didn’t tell him to. I bent forward a bit more to accommodate him, arching my back, and as he pumped into me, his thrusts got deeper, fit better.
I rubbed my clit as his cockhead did magical things inside me; it felt so plump and smooth from this angle. He seemed to know it, too, because he gripped my hips and gave it to me with short, fast strokes, digging into my front wall, and then shoving in deeper… short and hard, then deep… in an erotic rhythm that drove me insane.
I paused a little in touching myself, distracted by the overwhelming pleasure that was building in a rush from the inside out… different from the rush of a clitoral orgasm. Freer, somehow, wilder… like I couldn’t control it, because really, I couldn’t.
Brody had control.
“Come, Jessa,” he rasped, between
thrusts. “I wanna hear you scream.”
“They’ll hear me…” I gasped, my body riding the force of his thrusts, driving me back and forth against my hand.
“They won’t hear,” he said. “Scream for me the way you always wanted to… all those times you thought about fucking me…”
But I was distracted, weirdly conscious of the people out in the bar, and it was keeping me from letting go. Brody seemed to sense it. He reached around my front, underneath my hand, pressing his warm fingers over my clit—and wrapped his other hand over my mouth.
“You want it dirty, babe?” he whispered in my ear.
Then he fucked me, hard and fast, lifting me on my tiptoes until he made me scream, his thrusts and my orgasm tearing me apart.
Brody shuddered against me. He growled as he bit my neck, and I felt him shoot. But he didn’t stop; he fucked his come into me, gravity and his slowing thrusts making it messy. I felt some dripping out, running down my thigh as I took him the way I’d always wanted to take him—hard, wild, and free… and just that little bit dirty.
Later, we showered off the dirty back at Brody’s place. We were pressed together under the hot water and I was sucking on his neck. I kind of wanted to leave a hickey, just because I could, the way I had when I was seventeen; because I wanted to see it on him afterward.
The bathroom lights were on a dimmer and we’d put them low, so it was kind of like we were in another world; suspended in time, nothing else that mattered beyond this dim, steamy space and this private moment between us. I had him naked and wet and all mine, his body slippery against me, and I couldn’t get enough. I’d kissed him everywhere at least a dozen times, in a slow exploration of his body.
I’d licked his tattoo; the tribal pattern that ran down the left side of his body. I bit his nipples just to see what would happen (he liked it). I bit his ass (he liked that too, but he laughed because it tickled). I nibbled his neck and sucked on his fingers and kissed his feet (he liked everything).
“Are we just gonna keep doing this?” he whispered, as he slicked the head of his cock against my pussy, getting ready to fuck me again.
“Yeah,” I panted.
“I meant, without a condom.”
I peered up into his deep blue eyes. They were hooded and hazy. It was almost dawn and we hadn’t slept or even laid down yet. I felt kind of dazed from lack of sleep, but I refused to close my eyes on this. He grabbed my wet hair and tugged my head back, then leaned in to bite my bottom lip.
“Have you ever done it without a condom?” I asked him, shuddering as he shoved his cock between my legs and the hard shaft brushed my clit.
“Only with you.”
Right answer.
“Me too.” I kissed my way down his chest, kneeling on the tile floor of the shower as I made my way down his lean abs and the sexy V of his groin. “I don’t want anything between us.”
Then I took his cock in my mouth for the first time ever. I’d kissed it moments ago, but that was just a tease. This time I enveloped the smooth head with my lips, lightly stroking the rigid shaft with my hand. His cock jerked at my touch and he groaned, relaxing back against the tile wall. Water sluiced over him, running down over my tongue, and I kept licking, the warmth of the water and my tongue caressing him.
“You have no idea,” I told him, “how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
“Not as long as I’ve wanted you to do this,” he groaned.
I smiled, tracing the lines of his cock with my tongue, taking my time, learning what made his breath catch, what made him groan, what made him stir or clench or spasm. Just savoring the feel and the taste of him.
In my somewhat limited experience, penises were all pretty much the same. Or so I’d thought. But I’d never actually had a boyfriend, and the men I’d slept with I hadn’t exactly taken my time with. I’d only given head a few times, pretty much because a guy asked me to, I’d never swallowed, and I’d definitely never done it like this.
As it turned out, penises were not all the same.
Brody’s was thick and long and beautiful, and I’d never really thought of a cock as a thing of beauty before.
Maybe because I’d never been in love with the man attached to it?
Everything about Brody was beautiful, and strong, and yet… there was something about his vulnerability that fascinated me. That he was making himself vulnerable to me, now… he wasn’t grabbing my hair in his fists and forcing his way into the back of my throat, or driving the rhythm or generally fucking my mouth. I’d been mouth-fucked before. It definitely wasn’t my favorite.
Though if Brody wanted to do it, I’d let him.
But he didn’t. He just leaned back and took what I gave. It kind of felt like I was worshipping him, here on my knees, caressing his strong body… and yet, like I had all the power. I was setting the pace, gradually coaxing him to the edge, and when I got him there, I held back, slowing down, making him wait for it.
I savored the feeling of Brody, a man known for his decisiveness, his bossiness, his managerial prowess, giving up control to me.
I savored his responses, every twitch or involuntary shudder, the flex of muscle beneath my hand, the tightening of his skin, the changes in his breathing… the way he started squirming around, his back squeaking against the wet tile wall as he got closer to totally losing it.
“Jessa… babe…” was all he managed to say, and maybe that was my warning to get out of the way if I didn’t want to swallow, but no way was I doing that.
It was like I’d already told him: I wanted all of him. Nothing between us, ever again.
He arched off the wall as he came in my mouth, hot and thick, the taste of him salty and musky and him. He groaned and kind of panted as I took it, everything he had to give, and when he fell back against the wall, I gentled my touch. But I still had him in my mouth, sucking, caressing, easing him back down.
He shuddered and bucked, sensitive to every touch.
When I finally slid away, I said, “Tell me…” I was still down on my knees in front of him, peering up at his face, the both of us all blissed out and sated. “Tell me you’re not done with me.” And I did not just mean now.
I did not just mean sex.
He knew that, right?
He hauled me up against him and delved his hands into my hair, kissing my face with dazed, sex-drunk kisses as he held me close, his pupils large in the dim light.
“I will never be done with you,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jessa
Brody Mason was taking me on a date.
I’d never been on a real date with Brody, ever, and I was so, so excited I thought I might pee myself.
I didn’t tell him that, though. I just sat in the passenger seat of his truck, gazing out into the night, grinning like a lunatic and intermittently holding his hand, whenever he didn’t need it to drive.
After the show last night, we’d barely slept; we’d had sex so many times over the past eighteen hours we’d almost forgotten to eat, and I was sore and exhausted and giddy in a really, really good way.
In a way that only made me want more.
Wherever Brody was taking me, I just hoped he was planning to do me again when we got there. The feel of him inside me, pressed against me, wrapped around me, his hands all over me, seeking, wanting… I was officially addicted to it.
Besides, I figured we had years to make up for. Every time I opened myself to him, my body was an apology, a plea and a promise, telling him everything that I hadn’t yet found the courage to say… when we were alone, naked and fused together, all that was true in my heart could no longer be ignored or denied.
I was in love with Brody. And really, what else was new?
Maybe he knew, but I hadn’t exactly said it out loud yet. I was going to, though. Whether I planned it or not, it was going to come falling out of me, sooner or later, in a moment of uncensored bliss.
He squeezed my hand and I squeezed back.
“Wow. Nice place to bring a girl,” I commented, as we turned off the creepy gravel road onto an even creepier dirt path, barely discernible in a field of weeds, running alongside a rickety barbed wire fence. But I was still grinning. “This where you bury all your dates?”
Brody shook his head, but smiled back. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got an incredibly twisted mind?”
“Yes.” I beamed at him. “You. Many times.”
The truth was, I was loving every second of this. Not only had I never been on a date with Brody, but I had no idea what kind of date he’d take me on. All I knew was what he told me, which was, “Don’t bother with high heels” and “Dress warm.”
I kept expecting something to magically appear just over the horizon in all this darkness. Then suddenly Brody turned us off the “road” into what amounted to a little gravel driveway… leading to absolutely nothing. Well, there was that barbed wire fence.
We pulled up to it and parked. “Hop out,” he said. I grinned, hopping out as he shut down the truck, and we met outside. “Look up,” he ordered.
I looked up, but there was nothing to see.
The sky?
It was dark, overcast, a deep blue-black with mottled spots that I could tell were clouds. I could barely even see the moon glowing through.
“What am I looking at?”
He put his arms around me, drawing me against him. “Nothing,” he said. “Because the weather app on my phone fucking lied.”
Dirty Like Brody: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 2) Page 25