Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)(74)

I slip my fingers inside of Brooke and watch her bite her lower lip and grab the pillow on either side of her head. She is living for this, thrashing around and making those cute small sounds in the back of her throat. I f*ck her swollen flesh with my fingers, loving the way the V and the E tattooed on my knuckles disappears inside of her with each movement.

When her moans devolve into a more guttural sound, I slide my fingers out and lean down, putting myself on my elbows and hooking my arms under her thighs, hands gripping tight to her hips. This way, when Brooke starts bucking, I'll be ready for it.

My tongue slicks down her bare flesh to the hot slit between her legs, dipping down to her opening and swirling a quick circle against all of that heat. She tastes as sweet as she smells, like flowers and vanilla, fresh and clean and aroused as f*ck.

My lips trail hot kisses back up and around her clit, putting pressure against the hooded flesh before I try taking this any further. I want to rush, suck the hardened nub into my mouth and f*ck her opening with my tongue, but I need this to be memorable. I want this moment ingrained into Brooke's history with a hammer and chisel. Normally, I don't give a shit if girls forget me later. I mean, I always aim to please, but if they leave our night together back in Vegas when they fly home to wherever-the-hell-they-came-from, I don't care.

With Brooke, I really, really do. I need her to remember this.

I tease and savor her with my mouth, using the sound of her breathing to plan my movements, keeping her locked in place with the strength of my arms.

When Brooke drops a hand to my hair and twists it around her fingers, shoving my face into her cunt, I grin and let myself go a little deeper, a little harder. She strains to thrust against me, ride my face as I finally give in and take her clit gently into my mouth, sucking on it and lightly grazing my teeth across it.

The sounds she makes are f*cking killer.

I let go of Brooke's hip with my right hand and slip it inside her for a moment, getting myself nice and wet and slick. Then I shove it down to my jeans, tearing the button open and sliding my fingers down my shaft, using Brooke's lube to stroke my cock with smooth, slippery fingers.

I moan against her * as I bring us both to the edge of an orgasm, stopping myself short, so I can enjoy hers fully. My hand comes back up and locks that hip into place so that when Brooke starts to fight the orgasm, I can keep going, taking her over the edge as she slaps a hand on her mouth and screams against it.

I release her suddenly, sitting up and tearing one of my trusty condoms from the pocket of my jeans and slipping it on. While Brooke's still panting and shaking, I climb on top of her, put my lips to her throat and thrust hard and deep, the headboard slamming into the wall with each movement. I'll probably wake a damn kid again, but I can't stop.

I need this; we both do.

Brooke throws her arms around my neck and slides her fingers into my hair, squeezing me tight to her shoulder as I nuzzle against her throat, nibbling the smooth flesh with my teeth. Our voices draw into a crescendo, this loud, messy sound that I've heard a million times before … yet never like this.

I grab Brooke's hips and drive into her until she comes again, massaging my body with her own, encouraging me to finish inside her. I fight it for a few thrusts before I give in and let her drag me down into a groaning whimper, my face pressed close to hers, her body held up against mine, as close as I can get it.

“That was my favorite one of the Big Four,” she whispers and then laughs, locking down on me hard. I groan and slide out, finding that I'm already half-hard again. Jesus Christ. This girl is so going to kill me. I toss my condom into the trash and get another from the box I stashed in her nightstand drawer. When I roll back over and she sees it, Brooke raises her eyebrows.

“Already?” she whispers and I shrug my shoulders, sweat pouring down my back, that weird male satisfaction creeping over me. I know Brooke's, like, her own person and totally independent and I'm a serious feminist and all that, but … God, I so want her to be mine. Every f*cking molecule in my body says that this is where I belong, here, with this chick and her ugly dog and her two inherited kids.

That f*cking terrifies me. I know it's just because she gave me her virginity and all that, but I need it to stop. I need these feelings to go away because I have a life in Las Vegas. I have a condo that I spent my parents' life insurance money on, a condo that I have to make big payments on every month. I have a job and friends and a lifestyle that I love.

This girl, she can't take those kids to Vegas, and God knows if there's anywhere for her to study down here. And me, I could never move back to this shit hole in the middle of nowhere. I'd kill myself.

I start to panic and slick my fingers back over my hair.

“You're not down for another go?” I joke as Brooke blushes a little and turns toward me, reaching out to brush some hair off my sweaty forehead. The way she looks at me … that's a little scary, too, like maybe I'm not the only person in this room with a crush.

I'd so totally ruin her life though; I know I would.

I look down at her, her pale green eyes somehow brilliant in the dim light, her chocolate braid thrown casually over one shoulder, her body pale and perfect and curvy.

That's the problem right there, I think, as I look her over. We just haven't f*cked enough. I've been taking it slow and easy with this girl, but I need to do what I always do back home. I need to spend days in this bed with her, f*cking her slow and fast and hard and easy. Just over and over and over again until this weird possession and contentment I'm feeling fades away into nothing.