Last: A Copperslane Romance Novel

by Garnet Christie

  His eyes darken, dilating under the light. “Fuck, Bianca.” He yanks me snug into his arms, air depleting out my lungs as I collide against his marbled frame. Our lips meet and we gasp together. One large heavy hand tangles in my hair, gripping hard into my wavy locks. There’s a tug of discomfort at the roots, but it fuels the thrill pulsing between my thighs—making me thirsty for more of the strange marriage of pain and pleasure.

  I sink into it, composure ripping away, leaving my nerves raw while our pent-up push and pull busts apart. We nip at each other’s mouths and grind into each other so hard the fabric of my jeans scrapes at my skin. Threading from my blouse snaps, giving way to Brett’s tugs. Fire shoots down my body when he slips underneath and connects with my skin.

  Shit. I need more. Demand more. Compounded need for him overpowers me and my fingers rake down his shirt front, fist and twisting the fabric till I think it will tear. A tremor rattles down my body when he groans—deep and resonating as it mixes with the blood ringing in my ears, blackening out time and space.

  In sync, our mouths open wide, and our tongues take turns stealing tastes between muffled pants and huffs.

  My heart slams against my ribs when I successfully unpluck a button on his shirt. I run my hand underneath the clothing, groaning at the ripple of abs, loving how his torso tightens. Scraping down his skin—his dick swells against my stomach and he thrusts.

  He breaks the kiss, gripping his hands at my temples, and I wonder if he can feel my heartbeat in his palms.

  “Keep that up and you might regret it.” One hand slinks down my back, and strong fingers bite into the round of my ass cheek.

  The authority of it works through the layer of my jeans, and I crumble to the command of his touch. I grind against him, rubbing my clothed tits against his body. My thighs tighten when he falls against the wall and lowers his frame.

  He spreads his legs, using well-built muscle to keep him upright, and guides me inside his thighs. Staring deep into my eyes, he doesn’t miss a beat even though he’s winded. “Fuck, kitten. Keep rubbing against me like that. Let me feel you, Bianca.”

  Obeying is too simple. Using my body like a paint brush, I stroke up and down this beautiful creation, whispering his name while I do it.

  “Shit.” A thud shakes the windows as his frame lifts and falls to the rhythm of my body. He tilts his head back, cusses, and palms my ass with both hands, somehow forcing me closer. “So fucking frustrating.” He yanks at the waistband of my jeans, hooking his index finger through a belt loop. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?”

  Palming his cock through his pants, I ghost my mouth against his. “Not long, I imagine.”

  “Bullshit.” His voice is dry heat. “So fucking long. Since we first laid eyes on each other.”

  My stomach bottoms out, forcing me to go completely still as he holds me in his arms. “That’s impossible.” Tracing my fingers along his collar, my brows furrow. “You said you didn’t find me attractive.”

  “I’d have to find you attractive to want to touch you.” I haven’t forgotten those words or the way they stung.

  Hooking my chin with his finger, he forces our gazes. “You’re right. I don’t find you attractive.”

  A quiver of rejection plucks at my heart. I try to hide a frown.

  “I think you’re the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  Goosebumps pluck at my skin and my eyes widen. “Brett—”

  “And when I saw you, I was angry.” Scanning my face, his throat bobs with a swallow. He presses a finger to my bottom lip and scowls. “Angry it wasn’t your gorgeous mouth around my cock. I was with the wrong person that night.”

  I can’t breathe as I soak in his words.

  Gripping my hips, he makes us flush, brows lowering along with his voice. “Who told you to stop grinding up against me?”

  The words act like a whip, spurring me to action. Determined to please, I grind my clit against his length, relishing the way it throbs at the feel of him.

  He gropes my breasts, forcing them high and tight together. With the mounds of them pushing out my shirt, a brief smirk presses up his mouth and he lowers his head, his tongue laving my skin.

  The wetness dances across my flesh with electricity. “God.” A shiver rips downward as he works the other side, all while holding deep eye contact. I love how dirty he is and how unapologetically grimy he makes me feel. My fingers stroke through the front of his hair. “You’re just as sinful as I imagined.”

  He grunts. It sounds like approval. “And you’re just as delicious as I thought you’d be.” He glances down and sighs. “Look at these gorgeous tits.” His eyes float up to me, and they soften. “Look at you.”

  Air captures in my throat—I press more weight into him.

  His right hand releases my tit, only to snake down and find my nipple through the bulk of my sweater. He pinches hard.

  The painful bundling of nerves releases a whimper out of me. I melt into him and pant. “Do it again.” He does it harder. My teeth clench and I hiss through them, eyes squeezing shut. “Oh, fuck me.”

  “I intend to, little one.” The pleasure in his voice rumbles off in my ear. “By the time I’m done with you, there won’t be one part of your body I don’t know.”

  “Yes. Brett. Yes.” My pulse pounds in my stomach, and I can’t stop my hands from biting into him.

  “The question I have is . . .” His calloused thumb smooths over my cheek, forcing my eyes open. “How hard?” A darkness builds up in his voice, and his jawline ticks, making a vein pop out. “I have a lot of pent-up frustration with you, and I need to work it out. After a good, hard, proper fucking, I can be gentle the way I want to be with you, but right now I can’t.”

  I dig my fingers into his skin. He’s speaking a promise to me—one I’m dying to have. Chewing down on my lip, I stare at his perfect mouth, preparing to follow and give myself to whatever he wants.

  I want Brett.

  Untamed. Unhindered. Unmanned. And I’ll do whatever I can to experience it.

  “So how hard, Bianca? How hard do you want me to fuck you?”

  He’s octane to my desires, making me desperate. I yank at the collar of his shirt, nipping at his mouth. “I want you to fuck me harder than you’ve ever fucked in your whole life.”

  “Shit.” It comes out breathless and he collapses into the wall. “Like a little bit of danger, do you?”

  “With you?” I moan as he stands upright and adjusts me in his arms. “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll give it to you.” He hoists me over his shoulder in one fluid motion with a single arm.

  Hair dangles over me. I get a clear view of the floor rolling by while dangling upside down. Blood rushes in my head, building in pressure as he goes up the stairs. His intention is to have me in this house. Shit. Panic ricochets through my limbs and I clutch at his shirt. “Here? Brett we could always go—”

  “I can’t wait.” His voice is gruff and he takes the steps two by two. “That’s what you do to me, Bianca. I can’t fucking wait for you.”

  Butterflies alight in me and I giggle. Fuck yes. I make Brett Walker desperate, and that’s the best thing I’ve heard all year.

  He enters another room. My surroundings blur and whiz in a wild spin. I’m tossed like a ragdoll onto a soft bed.

  I do a slow blink to gather myself. A sea of faded blue comforter spans around me and a popcorn ceiling comes into focus.

  “Lose the damn sweater.” He’s towering over me, pure black racing through his pupils.

  My chest drops into my heels, hitting a swirl of flutters on the way down. I peel my sweater off fast as I can, anticipation forcing my ass off the edge so my toe tips touch the ground.

  He grips around my jeans, hooks, and flicks his thumb to undo the button. His jaw tightens as he flays the front of my jeans open. He looks dark and lost, like he’s waiting to devour me whole, but when his knuckle brushes with the lowest part of my b
are stomach, it’s light, almost reverent in feeling.

  I whimper, arching at the wild currents he sparks in me.

  “Fuck, Bianca.” He tugs at the fabric. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted me this bad?”

  “Because I didn’t think you wanted me.” A tremble whispers in my body as his fingers coast along the front of my stomach. I roll into it, wanting a firmer touch.

  “My hard-on at the restaurant wasn’t proof?” He strokes the top of my hair. “You had me. All you had to do was ask.” Floating his hand down, he presses his thumb against the front of my neck. “Were you bad, baby?” One side of his mouth perks up. “Did you ever get off on me?”

  The question is a soft droll of carnality, making me sink into the mattress, pulling out an easy confession. “Yes.”

  He grits his teeth, the kind expression vanishing and transforming. “Bad girl,” he growls, yanking my pants off in a lighting motion. He forces them off me, pulling my heels off at the same time. “Always come to me. Only cum to me.”

  I shudder at his dangerous tone. The loud thunk of my shoes and jeans hitting the wood floor grounds me harder into the moment. I’m nearly naked in front of Brett.

  All that remains of my garments are my sheer white balconette bra and a V thong. His gaze drinks me in. I twist under it, my clit aching and heavy.

  He stumbles back a step, gives me another keen pass, and runs his fingers through the sides of his hair. “Fuck.” He scrambles through the buttons on his shirt. “This is going to be fast.” Undoing his belt buckle, he tosses off his shirt, standing in his white undershirt. His dark voice rumbles out, working my stomach into a kinky knot. “Turn around. Ass in the air. Feet balancing on the side of the bed rail.”

  I nod, dry saliva catching in my swallow. My heart beats in my fingertips while I lay my stomach flush to the mattress. This moment is like redirected deja vu. I’ve heard that voice before, but tonight it’s mine. All mine, and I’m loving the monumental ache he’s stoking in me. Damn. He’s so hot it should be a sin . . . maybe it is.

  I flinch when the string of my thong bites and buries into the side of my hip. Brett’s fingers lie against my skin. A snap occurs, the thong falls away. I scowl at the loss of expensive lingerie. “Brett—”

  “It was in the way.”

  My mouth snaps shut. So do my eyes when his palm trails over my ass cheek and his groan reverberates in the air, making it grow thick and heavy. My pulse explodes. Then—

  SMACK

  I cry out at the descent of his hand on my skin—the yelp cracks in the silent room but pleasure ignites in my veins. My hands claw into the fabric.

  “That’s for watching me get that blow job.” His low voice fills my head, causing it to swim.

  His hand finds my ass again, in a different place, and I moan—his name spilling off my lips. “Yes. Brett.”

  “That’s for all the times you made me feel bad for saying mean things to you.”

  My clit screams out for his cock, for him to fill me and own me—dominate me the way I first hungered for. The wait he’s forcing builds up expected pleasure, and slickness already resides in my thighs. My legs shake when he takes note, grazing over my opening.

  “So deliciously fucking wet. Remind me to taste you someday.”

  A muffled groan slips out. This is insane. It’s a muddled thought, but it’s there. We’ve hardly kissed, yet I’m wetter than I’ve ever been—burning desperate in pure overload for Brett.

  When he strikes me a third time, I mewl in ecstasy. His raspy voice stroking my desires.

  “That’s for all the times I thought about fucking you when I should have been asleep.”

  There’s a pause . . . nothing. But I can’t bring myself to glance behind. Not when his hard and battered breaths collide in my ears.

  “Ahh!” I lurch with another descent of his hand. This smack is louder, the strike harder than the others. My back sways, making my butt wiggle.

  The skin on my ass is flaring and heated, but I want more. Need more. I thought one experience of Brett would be enough. So far every little taste of him leaves me dehydrated and I need more. The scary part is we’re only just starting.

  “And that . . .” His voice softens and he soothes over the area he struck. “That,” he repeats after a moan, “is because you feel too fucking good in my hands.”

  There’s no time for me to respond. My next sound is a shout.

  He slams his length into me and cusses. Bundling my hair into a low pony, he pulls out and does it again, almost pushing me to my limit in the process.

  He’s thick, wide, long. Perfect. My walls clench around him, but my knees shake. When my ass starts to fall, he spanks me again.

  “Keep it up, Bianca.” He can barely speak. “You feel perfect. Don’t move . . . please.”

  “Please” does the trick. I’ll do anything to keep my ass up for that sweet word. My obedience seems like an open invitation for him to unleash.

  He picks up the tempo and his thrusts go manic. The bed shakes and drums in a steady rhythm, and he freely ravages me. My shins thud against the box spring, my toes curl around the bed railing, my breasts chafe against the worn fabric, and his repeated slams have me grasping for anything I can find. Our skin claps with each rough connection. I pant and, fully adjusted to his girth, I back myself up to the beat of his pushes.

  “Fuck.” His fingers bite into my hips. “Fuck, you ride good baby. Take me. Take me just like that.” I don’t recognize his voice. It’s too gruff. Too lost—and my body doesn’t feel like mine. It feels like his. He pulls me in deeper, and races us to the finish line of undoing and spillage.

  “Yes, Brett. Fuck. I’m about to come.”

  He grunts. “Only if you say my name when you cum.”

  “I . . . will.” I groan as he expands in me. “I’ll say your name.”

  “Then cum. Take me with you.”

  We release at the same time, moaning, shouting, echoing each other’s names.

  When he draws out and collapses onto his back next to me, I’m already loathing the emptiness. Whatever frown I want to make rubs out at his breathless chuckle.

  “Holy shit.” He wipes sweat off his forehead, looks at me, and smiles. “I’d say that was overdue.”

  My legs finally give out, losing the last bit of their endurance. I bury my head into the bedding, and doing that reminds me we’re in someone else’s house. I examine the tousled comforter wide eyed. “Whose bed is this?”

  “I don’t know.” He’s still panting, raking through the front strands of his hair. “But I need to thank them. I’ve never been ridden that hard. Ever.”

  A giggle works its way up, but it halts and my heart sinks. “Brett, we didn’t use a condom.”

  “We sure as hell didn’t.”

  “But, but—”

  “It’s not like I had one anyway.”

  My eyes widen. “Really? I thought—”

  “That I carried them around in my pocket for randos?” His eyelids lower. “I should spank you again for that lewd thought.”

  “Please do,” I purr, still loving the way my ass stings.

  “Dangerous words, kitten.” Peeling himself off the bed, he stands and refixes himself, setting his hair straight and tucking his shirt in his pants. “But if you’re serious, gather up your things and I’ll take you home.”

  Hell yes. My pulse sings at the words. Too bad my body groans as I try to stand. “Well, if you’re taking me home, then I hope you like teal and purple flowers.” Collecting my broken panties, I wad them in my hand. “That’s the color of my room.”

  “Your room?” He scoffs. “Who said anything about your room?” Waggling his brows, he observes my half-clothed body. “You sure do assume a lot.”

  “Your place, then?” I poke my head through my sweater.

  “Yes, my place.” Wrapping a tendril of my hair around his fingers, he lowers his head. “I’m tying you to my bedpost with my belts. No one is going to see you
all weekend.”

  I clamp down on my lip at those words.

  He smirks. “Think you can handle it? I told you our start would be a little rough and ready.”

  Shimmying up to his build, I brush my tits against his torso. I grin when he bites back a moan. “I think I like you rough and ready.”

  “I like you.”

  “You said that already.” I toy with him, hooking a finger in the pocket of his jeans to tug him closer.

  “I sure did.” He stumbles my way, bringing our bodies close together. Reaching behind, he wraps a hand around my back. “I’ll keep saying it too. Now, get those shoes on so we can leave.”

  “Yes sir.” After a quick clean up, I slide into my jeans and shoes faster than I can comprehend.

  We leave, our arms slung around each other, wide grins splashing across our faces, and my body aching for more. We leave with me thoroughly, completely happy and wishing on my lucky stars that he makes good on that bedpost threat. Because I need it. Damn, I need it, and I think he does too.

  Chapter 18

  “Hot damn.” Brett smacks my thigh and chuckles before rolling off me.

  This morning, he’s served me via good old-fashioned missionary style. The most normal and subdued method we’ve tried yet since last night. Well, minus the fact that I’m certain I almost broke him when I begged him to choke me harder. That riled up some breathtaking slams out of him. Not that I’m complaining.

  After tucking the sheets around his torso, he props himself sideways, rolling closer to me. “You should have come with a warning label.” Hunger glistens in his gaze while he brushes his fingers over the sheets, right between the area of my tits. “I didn’t know you’d fuck me till my cock wanted to break off.”

  I glance down and giggle as said member pokes me in the thigh. Brett’s staying semi-hard after each round. Impressive really. “Seems to be holding up okay to me.” I sigh. “Are you sure you have to leave?” Scooting toward him, I provide enough bodily connection to stir up a darkening across his face but nothing more. “We’re just starting. Surely you could put off this business trip.”