Wild Man (Dream Man #2)(41)
“Have you told him this?”
“Getting my brother to listen is like convincing him to let it go about Olivia or Dad. It is just not gonna happen.”
“My sister lives in Australia and my mother lives in Florida,” I told him, he grinned and let my hair go as his arms wrapped around me.
“Finally, two things that show my Tess can be lucky.”
My body relaxed into his and I shared, “I miss them every day.”
His eyes moved over my face as he murmured, “Yeah.”
“Thanksgivings suck. I either go to Florida, where it’s just Mom and me and that’s okay but that isn’t like having a full table with kids being loud and wondering what girl your philandering brother is going to bring to dinner. Or she’s in Australia and I have to find a friend close to mooch dinner from. Those are worse.”
The skin around his eyes went soft and he muttered, “My poor Tess.”
I moved my face a half an inch closer and my fingers tensed into his neck for a second before I said quietly, “I guess what I’m saying is, all this seems like it sucks but it doesn’t.
It’s all based in love and history and loyalty so really it’s kind of beautiful because the alternative would be not having any of that and then where would you be?”
Brock didn’t answer. No, instead, his eyes looked into mine for long moments before his hand slid up in my hair, his body rolled me so I was again on my back, he was again on me and his mouth had captured mine and he was delivering a hard, deep, wet kiss that took my breath away.
When he lifted his head, I fought for my breath as well as control of several areas of my body and he asked, “You hungry, babe?”
“Yes,” I breathed because that was the truth, I was, but I was happy to eat later, as in, lunch the next day.
Brock grinned and the sight of it with his handsome face close, his hard body pressed the length of mine and my lips (and other places besides) still tingling from his kiss, I again lost control of those several areas of my body.
Therefore, to move my mind from him and what he was doing to those places, I blurted, “I think I’ve got popsicle juice on my back.”
“I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”
“That’s okay. I kick ass with hand wash.”
He grinned again.
Then he asked, “Snickerdoodles?”
From the look in his eyes I knew that he knew I’d marked they were his favorites.
Therefore I shrugged and said, “The first time I made them, you ate, like, seven and you gravitate to cinnamon. It doesn’t take a mind reader to figure out you like them.”
He shook his head, still grinning but now muttering, “No games, no lies, no bullshit.”
What could I say? This was true.
So I didn’t say anything.
He did and this was a murmured, “Let’s get you fed.”
Then he knifed off me, grabbed my hand and pulled me off the couch then into the kitchen.
Then he fed me.
Then he ate three snickerdoodles.
Then he took me to bed.
* * * * *
Oh God. Oh my God.
“Fuck, Tess,” Brock growled and, not able to hold myself up anymore, I fell forward into a hand in the bed beside him as I kept riding him hard, grinding down to take him deep, his fingers on one hand clamped encouragingly around my hip as his thumb on the other continued to press and roll against my clit.
My dazed eyes focused on him as the sensations between my legs trembled down the tops of my thighs, warmed my belly, glided up to swell my br**sts making the silk covering them beautiful torture at my ni**les and up further so even my scalp tingled.
I ground down on his cock, rolling my h*ps as my free hand went to his face, sliding down his throat then down further to explore the sleek, solid wall of his chest as I held his heated, mercury eyes and whispered, “God, honey, you’re so f**king beautiful.”
At my words, he bucked his h*ps so forcefully, I nearly went flying then his torso knifed up, his arm clamped around me and he whipped me to my back. His h*ps driving into mine, his thumb still at my clit, he captured my mouth in a searing hot kiss and didn’t let go even as I whimpered the warning of my fast approaching orgasm into his mouth. And he still didn’t let go as one of my arms convulsed around his back, the other hand drove into his hair and fisted, my feet planted themselves in his bed, my h*ps surged up and I exploded with a sharp cry against his tongue.
Still coming, Brock’s thumb disappeared and both his hands yanked my legs up and around his hips, he gave me his weight then both hands went to my ass and he jerked my h*ps up, deepening his pounding thrusts. His mouth finally released mine in order for his to grunt, each noise he made throbbed into the walls of my sex and the subsiding wave built and, to my shock, started crashing in again.
“Brock.” His name came from somewhere deep, breathy with surprise and low with pleasure as the second orgasm rolled over me. My nails dragged his back and my neck started to arch but one of his hands left my hip and slid into my hair, fingers fisting and holding my head steady so he could watch.
The wave receded again just as his thrusts lost their rhythm but increased their violence then, still driving deep, I watched his head tilt back and listened to his release.
When it stopped being vocal and his thrusts regained a rhythm, this one slower and starting to gentle, I lifted my head and pressed my lips against his throat.