by Harley Rayne
I find the elevator and get on, press the button for the penthouse, but nothing happens. It demands the swipe of a key. Of course it does. I’m panting as I dart from the elevator to the front desk. “I need to get up to the penthouse.”
The security officer looks entirely wary of me, but picks up a phone from the desk. “Name?”
“Kylie Hansen.”
It seems like forever until there seems to be an answer, and the guard says, “Yes. A Kylie Hansen here to see you.” There’s a long pause, and I wonder if I’ll get kicked out on site. But the guard finally says, “Thank you, sir,” hangs up, and tells me, “Elevator D as in Delta.”
I could kiss him. “Thank you so much. Thank you.” I take off to the elevator as it dings and climb on. The penthouse button is already lit, so all I have to do is wait anxiously as the elevator climbs floor by floor.
It seems like an eternity, but the doors finally open, right into the room. Right where Brett is waiting.
He looks incredibly surprised and utterly moved. I step out of the elevator, and there’s silence between us for a few long seconds. His hair is wet, just like mine. He’s wearing gym shorts, but nothing else.
I don’t know if he’ll talk first, so I do. I keep it simple, and to the point. “I love you.”
And I wait. Everything in me is telling me to run, that this is a terrible idea and I should go home. But the bigger part of me is telling me that this is the right thing. This is what I’ve been waiting for. This is my martini shot.
I don’t have to wait for long, because Brett breathes, “I love you, too,” and closes any space there was left between us. He kisses me hard, his hand in my hair, his other around my back to hold me against him.
I’m helpless as I melt into his body, and he somehow manages to keep me on my feet. My mouth opens for him and his tongue presses inside, swiping against mine, almost claiming me with a hunger I’ve never known. His beard scrapes my face and I melt against that, too. My hands find purchase at his sides, and there is nothing except for pure muscle.
It’s even more evident when he shifts and wraps his arms around me and picks me up with no effort at all. I snake my arms up so they can wind around his neck as I press my tongue against his in a flurry of movement. He begins to walk, and I can guess where, but I don’t look. I keep my eyes closed tightly so all I can sense is him.
He smells like soap, he feels like metal, and he tastes like peppermint. He lies me down on what I assume is his bed, and hovers over me. Even his bed smells good, like aftershave. His lips fall from mine to my jaw and then down over my neck. He begins to push the hem of my shirt up, but reaches my bellybutton when he looks up at me, endeared. “Your shirt is inside out.”
I flush, but the reason is a good one at least. “I was in a hurry to get to you.”
“I’m glad you were.” He continues to unearth my skin, inch by inch, his lips tracing the bits he reveals. When he reaches my breasts, he takes one pebbled nipple into his mouth. His tongue seeks it out, working it until it’s completely stiff, and he sucks until I’m writhing. He presses a line of kisses along the length of my chest until he reaches the other, and does the same.
The cool air in his room makes me shiver.
He pulls away only to draw my shirt up the rest of the way. It catches my glasses as he pulls it over my head, so I let them go.
Brett takes his time again, sucking and licking my skin as he works his way down. He reaches my bellybutton, and his tongue flicks out to trace it. My hips give an unconscious jerk upwards, but he stills them with his hand. His fingers hook into the waistband of my sweatpants and he yanks until they’re down completely. I draw my legs up to help him pull them off.
“You’re not wearing panties,” he observes, a little mischievous smile flitting over his features.
“I told you,” I say, breathless and bare, “I was in a hurry.”
He wastes no time now. He crouches down and lowers himself between my legs until I can feel his beard tickling the inside of my thighs. His hands keep my thighs parted as he boldly licks my labia, a satisfied noise escaping his lips. I gasp and rut my hips forward, trying to take him in more. He doesn’t keep me in wait long.
His tongue presses inside of me, finding my entrance, lapping at the wet crevice. My thighs are trembling. I arch my back. One of his hands winds its way up through my legs, over my stomach, and to my chest, where his thumb works my hard nipple, playing me like an instrument. I respond with a melody of my own, whimpering and writhing underneath him. His hand moves to my other nipple as the fingers of his other hand abandon my thigh. He curls a finger inside of me, stroking my inner walls as his tongue swipes along my clit. He’s driving me mad.
I’m seeing nothing but white light while I grind into him, breathless moans escaping my lips. I begin to feel my body clamp around his finger, and he only strokes me quicker, reading me expertly.
I’m so close to climax I can almost taste it, but it’s his moan that pushes me over the edge. I can feel it vibrate through my body and I cry out as I come, my sensitive body clinging to him, pulling him deeper. He strokes me through it fast, pulling out every clench and pull of my pussy until the throbs begin to slow. He slows, and so does his tongue, until he’s lapping at me slowly, helping me to ride every little shockwave.
I open my eyes again, and I’m recklessly spent.
Until he gives me one final lick and pulls his head up to say, “I’m not done with you.”
I look at him, bewildered, panting, and red. “Brett… holy shit.” His beard is glistening, and he wets his lips, doing absolutely nothing to help my desperate need of him.
“I want you.” His words are husky, and I can’t help but agree.
“I want you, too.”
He crawls over me until he can reach his bedside table. He pulls out a condom, but I pluck it from him when he draws back over me.
“I’ll do it,” I say, and he pushes off his gym shorts as I tear the wrapper.
I’ve seen his cock on camera before. I’ve watched him get off, and I’ve watched him with another woman. Nothing, however, could have prepared me to see him in the flesh in front of me. His shaft is fully erect, and it’s thick, and I wonder briefly how glorious it will feel inside of me.
I sit up so I can roll the condom over his shaft, and I give it a few, long strokes as I do. His cock throbs in my hand, and I feel somehow satisfied by that. I lie back down and Brett lies over me, kissing me again.
This time, it’s sweet and lingering. I taste myself on his lips and in his mouth. One of his arms moves down to take his cock in his fist, and before I know it, I feel the head pressing against my entrance. When he’s poised there, he lifts my thigh to settle my leg around his hip. He breaks the kiss enough to murmur, “I love you.”
His forehead is pressed to mine when I answer, “I love you, too,” and just like that, in one forceful thrust, he’s inside of me.
I cry out, but he catches the noise with a kiss, and I dig my hands into his thick hair. Once he’s fully inside, he waits, and my body clenches him, tugging, my thighs trembling around him. Once my body has grown adjusted to his size, he finally begins to move.
He pulls his hips back, and his cock slides halfway out of me. With a slow push, he’s back inside. His movements are fluid and slow, each thrust meant for me and only me, and I’m a wreck.
I kiss him, and it’s sloppy. My nipples are hard against his steel chest, his body flush against mine. He rocks into me, an ocean wave cresting and falling, and eventually, we’re both panting and heaving for breath, sneaking them between heavy kisses. I plead with him with a whimper and he obliges, knowing what I want, his hips picking up their pace.
Brett rolls into me harder now, and I readjust my legs higher on his hips so he can go deeper. His cock fills me completely, finding places inside of me I didn’t know existed, and I don’t realize how close I am until I feel his shaft throbbing inside of me.
I’m the one who takes charge, my fingers tightening in his hair, fisting in it when I murmur against his lips, “Come, Brett… come with me… please…”
He gasps against my mouth and I rock my hips forward, my heels pressing into his ass to get closer as his speed turns unruly and rocky. He groans as his cock stiffens further, ready to release, and that’s what does me in.
I climax hard as he comes, too, firm thrusts inside of me making me weak. I cry out, and so does he, but our lips find each other’s again somehow, and we keep them there until both of our bodies have stilled with exhaustion.
He lowers his head a little, nestling it against my chest, as I press sweaty hair from his forehead. “You fucking came.”
I let out a breathless laugh, fingers working through his hair, my chest rising and falling hard against him. “Of course I did. You’re a sex god.”
He lifts up with a small laugh of his own, looking down at me. And there’s nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. “No. To me. You came to me.”
I nod, keeping my hand at the side of his face. “I couldn’t stand the thought of being without you anymore.”
Brett kisses my lips once more and lies back down with his head on my chest. I don’t know when we fall asleep, just that we do, and our breath melds together somehow, like it was always meant to be like this, at the same time.
Chapter Thirty-One: Brett
Kylie is asleep on my chest. Two nights have passed since she made the extremely reckless decision to show up at my place and tell me that she loved me. They have been the two best nights of my life.
I was completely resigned to my relationship with Kylie never having a full step forward, for her own protection, but she assured me through her actions that it wasn’t good enough for her. How can I possibly deny her what she wants?
I’m toying with her hair now, sifting it between my fingers, and her hand is curled at my chest like she’s trying to hold on. I’ve never had something as equally delicate and indestructible in my arms at once. There is something about Kylie that I haven’t been able to put my finger on from the moment I first met her, and I’m okay with that.
I have a meeting with Lori later, where I’m going to finally explain to her my intention to leave the porn industry. Kylie, even in her sleep, is already giving me the strength that I need.
She is exactly why this conversation needs to happen. Kylie is why there is no longer any option. I need to do this immediately. Kylie is the reason for all of it, and she doesn’t have any idea.
I kiss the top of her head and she finally stirs, but it’s only to blink at me, tired eyes still half-lidded, and just like that, she lays her head down on my chest again and curls up, asleep. I tighten my arms around her because I want to remember this very moment. It’s going to be the thing that reminds me why I can’t give in despite my contract, which is getting extremely fucking hard to fathom.
I have fucked far less in the past week than I ever have before. Last night, Kylie and I didn’t fuck at all. I kissed her lips until she muttered that she was sleepy, I pulled her into me and wound my arms around her completely, and we both just fell asleep. The sabbatical has been fucking great.
I like sex. Love it. But I’m realizing that I don’t need it in order to be satisfied. In fact, I’ve never been quite so quenched before.
Eventually, Kylie yawns and stretches both up and down like a cat. She knows my meeting is today, too, and she seems as absolutely nervous as I am. I can tell in the way that she glances off when she climbs out of bed, shuffling into the kitchen to hunt for my coffee pot. I manage to swing my legs out of bed, but I head into my bathroom. I don’t want to appear to be any more appealing than I have to. Not for today.
By the time I’m out, Kylie’s got a cup of coffee and a piece of toast waiting for me. “Before you say anything about the carbs,” she says, “it’s about all I’m qualified to make. Have you ever heard of burning water? Because I’ve done that. I have actually burned water.”
“Who needs water when you can have coffee?” I pull the mug and the plate closer, touched by the gesture of it, even if the meal has no substance. I ease onto one of the tall stools by the kitchen island.
“I don’t know if you want eggs or anything else, but you had a toaster and bread, so…”
I reach out and take her hand, and use it to pull her into my lap. I kiss her shoulder once. “This is perfect. I’m too nervous to eat anything else.”
Kylie tips her head against mine and sinks down into my lap, relaxing. It’s like she knows that this might be the last chance she gets to be comfortable, without worrying about who I’m going to be fucking and if we’re going to survive it. I know I will, but I also know that Kylie might not. It’s a lot to ask of a woman, and it’s not something she deserves.
Kylie’s the one to break the silence quietly. “It’s going to be fine.”
The funny thing is, I actually believe her. I swallow a bit of coffee; the bitter taste soothes me a little, along with the warmth from Kylie’s body. My thumb runs along her waist, drawing circles, and I work through the toast slowly.
But I’m distracted. Kylie knows it. She can sense it in me, as if it was spelled out for her with a thorough analysis.
“Hey.” Kylie sits up and turns in my lap so she can wind an arm around my shoulders. She leans in and presses a slow, lingering kiss to my jaw. I close my eyes and lean into her, comforted. She places a line of kisses up until she reaches my ear where she purrs, “I want to remind you what you’re fighting for.”
It’s so inherently sexy that my cock responds immediately, stiffening in my black boxer-briefs, pressing up against her ass. My hand moves from my plate to the side of my chair, shaking off any crumbs, and I find her thigh shortly after.
She’s wearing a white pair of cotton panties with little pink polka dots, one of my t-shirts--ironically, it reads, Porn is Cheaper than Dating--and as a result, my smell is all over her. It’s a strange kind of animalistic arousal, pleasure that she’s mine, and anything who comes near her today will be able to tell.
As my hand moves upwards, her legs move further apart, and she’s soon spread beautifully for me, her breath already light. I push her panties to the side and my forefinger strokes her vulva, making her shiver.
I’ve never been so addicted to someone before.
“I need you,” she whispers, and it’s such a soft sound that I barely hear her. But I can feel it, and I react instantly, pressing my finger inside of her.
Her breath suspends at the sudden intrusion, and she hangs her head so that it presses against mine. I feel her inner walls clamp down, and before too long, she begins to rock her hips forward into my palm. The heel of it presses against her clit, and she is desperate.
So am I, but I’m not interested in my own pleasure at the moment. I want to leave her reeling. I want to carry her scent with me. I want to have the memory of her gorgeous body and luscious lips and wet pussy all day.
And Kylie is completely vibrant. Her dark hair hides part of her face as she pants and grinds into my hand, but I can’t push it away without taking an arm from around her or pulling out of her. Neither of these is something I want to do. Instead, I urge, “Look at me, Kylie.”
She does. She turns her eyes up to greet mine, and the honey hazel of them seems so cloudy.
I did that. I’ve fucked hundreds of women, but none have satisfied me quite as much as Kylie does right now. It’s the way that there is no one else in the world but me right now. It’s the way that her thighs tremble and her breasts swell. Her hair looks wild as she struggles to keep her eyes open.
I pump my fingers in and out of her, a rhythm that picks up with her gasps. She’s so wet and tight, and so delicate in my arms, but she jerks against me in a fever pitch. I know I’m getting her closer.
My cock is painfully hard, and her shifting in my lap does nothing to help that. My balls tighten, and I realize that I’m about to come
in my boxer-briefs without so much as a touch.
Holy shit.
No direct stimulation, just Kylie, her eyes, and the way that she whimpers and thrusts against me.
I work her faster, the heel of my palm beating mercilessly against her clitoris, a second finger working inside of her. I coil both so they catch her inner walls in a way that makes her pussy tighten even more and her breath suspend.
“Brett…” she whimpers, and her eyes grow heavy, her body more still. She’s on the edge.
I push her over it with my lips on hers. I taste her with a muffled groan, appreciative of the sensation. When she comes, it’s completely catastrophic. She whimpers into my mouth, squirms in my lap, and my palm is soaked with the feeling of her. I feel ripples from inside of her that I draw out with the pounding of my hand. I slow down as her body does, matching its pace, and it’s not long before I can’t take anymore either.
It’s her final sigh that does me in. I don’t seal the kiss as much as leave a guttural groan in her throat. My balls draw up, my abs quiver, and I come, too, into the fabric of my boxer-briefs. I’m panting heavily by the end of it, and I draw my fingers out of her to recover.
She looks flushed and stunned. Gorgeous. “Did you just…” she starts, and her voice is sweet, honey-kissed. “Did you come?”
I let out a laugh and nod, before sealing the kiss I left so open before. “Yeah. You on top of me like that? I couldn’t help it.”
Kylie takes my face in her hands and looks at me, saying firmly, “You are fantastic. Holy hell.”
I’m smiling, and it feels genuine. I don’t smile a lot anymore. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I’ve been forcing smiles and glances for so long that it’s hard to remember what anything authentic feels like. “You’re perfect. And I should shower.”
“Yeah,” Kylie agrees. “Wouldn’t want you sticky in your meeting.”
I press a small kiss to her cheek as I rise, careful so she can find her footing. I’m halfway back to the bedroom when she stops me. “Brett.”