Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High #4)(50)

A small crease forms over her forehead, but she doesn’t fight me.

I place my hand on her chest, spreading my fingers across her collarbone and she pulls in a long inhale. I push.

It takes her a few seconds, but she finally gives in, and falls back, tilting her head so she can look at me on my knees between her open thighs. Her brown eyes darken, eyelids lowering and she lays her head back, her fingertips touching at the edge of her face.

A light breeze blows through the open window then, and goosebumps spread along her thighs, making her shiver. It’s almost enough for me to tear away from her.

Fuck me, the sight, her on her back shivering and shaking in front of me, and all from the wind.

She’s gonna lose her fucking mind.

I bring my hands to her panties, not looking away from where my fingertips dip into the cotton material, and tug. I chance a quick glance up when she lifts her hips, but quickly focus back on what I want to see most.

What I need to see, taste. Drive wild.

As wild and fucked in the head as I feel tonight.

Everything burns like a lie.

What she did and didn’t do.

What I did and didn’t do.

What she should but hasn’t done.

What I could but won’t do...

I feel like a fraud in my own life, weak and unsure and I hate it.

But this, her in front of me, terribly gorgeous and wanting, is no lie.

It’s real.

And right now, tonight, that’s what I need.

It’s selfish and stupid, but it’s happening...

I want her and can’t fight it, no matter how hard I try and convince myself to stay away, it only serves as a bid to get closer.

Her bottoms slide past her hips, but I use all my control not to peek yet, forcing my gaze to the floor as I tug her legs in enough to slip them off completely, and she drags them right back where she wants them.

Wide the fuck open, but still, I don’t cheat myself by looking.

My fingers begin at her ankles, my eyes following the left one as I trace along her calves, up over her knees until my palms are flat on her thighs. My hands twitch, squeezing into her soft skin and a harsh exhale escapes her.

What a body you hide, Beauty.

Tanned and toned.

I push higher, my brows crashing together when a heavy, shadowed ink catches my attention. I lean closer, my heated breath now a gift to her skin, and she jerks in response.

A tattoo.

She has a tattoo on her upper thigh that lifts up under her shirt.

Purple petals, both frozen and falling, curved and cut, bleeding an icy blue, and hanging from a curved barbed wire designed to play as if it’s ivy, giving the flowers life while taking it just the same.

Ruined but resilient.

My heart pounds heavy as I push the thin material of her top up to see the rest, but her hand flies down, clamping around mine in a death grip.

Her nostrils flare, a heavy frown taking over her face, and fuck if a pressure doesn’t fall on my chest, no matter how hard I fight it away.

What...

Oh shit. Her scars...

I relax my hold and slowly, hers falls away as she shifts her attention to my hands as I trail them across the image, ready to take both our minds to one place and erase everything else.

My fingertips test the skin at her hipbones, kneading and rubbing. I grip her there, nice and tight, and squeeze—a perfect fucking fit.

I lick my lips and as slow as I can manage, slide my eyes to the prize in the center, pink and perfect. She’s not bare as I imagined, but precisely trimmed, shaped to mirror her body, and curved just right.

She’s not shy, doesn’t try to hide, but lies there offering me a seat at the king’s table.

I bring my pinkie up, sliding it against the deep center, and I’m met with slick, warm proof of her arousal. My blood runs hot.

My eyes fly to hers. Her teeth come down to punish her bottom lip right as my finger glides across my own, my tongue greedily following to get that first, fevering fucking taste.

Oh fuck.

My head falls back some, and I groan, my dick now fully hard and straining in my sweats, pushing tight against my boxers. Too tight.

I reach down, quickly shoving them to my thighs to free it and an airy moan leaves her, sending a jolt through my body.

No, no. Can’t have her taking control of my body’s reactions.

She’s short enough her arms reach her legs, so I quickly grip her by the wrists, locking her palms on my shoulders, and squeeze.

A quick and heavy pounding fires within my chest, growing stronger with each beat as every nerve in my body wakes wild and wanting. I lower until my breath is fanning across her, right over her swollen little clit.

She shakes and I’m not even fucking touching her.

I pointedly move my eyes to her grip on me and slide them back to her.

“Not a sound...”

Talk with your touch. Your moans will be my ruin.

Her head lifts as mine falls, my mouth closing around her clit and her knees glide higher on the mattress, pushing her closer to me.

She buries my face between her legs, begging for all I’ve got, and tonight, I’ve got a lot.

I nip at her, licking and sucking and when her body starts to quake, my tongue vibrates with it as I slip my left hand into my pocket, pulling it out just as fast and press the cooled brass against her slit, her body a frenzy of sensations.

My heated tongue, the cool of the metal, the night breeze flowing through the window and the dirty darkness we’re playing in.