26. Tate

CHAPTER 26

TATE

I was barely in Brooks’ bedroom when I went onto my hands and knees. I was sure he’d meant on the bed, but I’d never needed anything more than I needed him in that moment. So it was on the floor in front of the bed, face toward the window with the city sprawling out before me. The sun had just sank past the horizon and the skyline was a mix of purple and pink, the lights of the skyscrapers beyond our view just starting to blink to life.

“Insatiable,” Brooks said from behind me.

He went to the bed for the lube and was between my spread legs before I had time to formulate a response. The bottle snicked open and then the cold and hard tip of his cock pushed against my hole. His entry hurt, more than it ever had before, but he seated himself fully and quickly, the fronts of his thighs slapping loud against the backs of my legs. His balls were heavy and hot against mine, and I arched my back, pressing my cheek against the pale wood planks of his floor.

Brooks fisted my hair and yanked my face off the floor. I cried out, the gesture putting a deeper arch into my spine and somehow allowing him deeper inside of me. It couldn’t have been more than an inch, but it felt like a foot, the tip of his cock kissing against my second hole and sending a violent shiver through my whole body.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped from behind me, and I knew he’d felt just how deep he’d gotten into me.

My eyes rolled back and Brooks folded his body over mine, batting my hand out of the way and taking over the motions against my own cock. His grip was rougher and tighter than mine, far more demanding, and it was with that touch that he forced a second orgasm out of me. I shouted myself hoarse, cum streaking across his floor as my entire body seized and spasmed.

Normally after I came, he was close behind, but Brooks moved quick, flipping me onto my back and sinking back inside of me. The glint in his eyes was that of a man possessed, and he bent my legs toward my ears, folding me in half and fucking me so hard it pushed my body through the sticky puddles my cum had just left. Above me, Brooks was more disheveled than I’d ever seen him, nearly frantic with his hair falling loose across his face and sweat beading on his temple. His jaw was slack and his pupils dark pools that consumed the golden light of his irises.

We’d had sex plenty of times that wasn’t rough, that didn’t end in tears and whimpers, but after the way he’d so masterfully played my body, the way he knew what to give me when I hadn’t even asked, I found myself desperate to give it to him. All the other times, Brooks had coaxed the tears out of me whether I’d intended for them to fall or not. He knew what to do and how to get me there. It was a thing I didn’t think about, hadn’t had control over. But half-drunk with lust and maybe something far more potent, I realized the truth of it all.

I wanted to cry for him.

“Brooks,” I rasped his name, the violent snaps of his hips pushing the breath out of me with every thrust. He must have seen the plea in my eyes, the thing I needed to ask for, even though I didn’t have the words for it, because he closed the small space between us, collaring his hand around my throat and giving me a hard press into the floor. My entire body burned, muscles sore from tensing and trembling, my hole, tender and well-fucked. My back ached from the friction and the slide against the floor and my throat from all the crying out and screaming Brooks had made me do.

The sturdy slap of his body against mine, leaving bruises against my ass and my legs quaking from the overwhelm. It was only his hand around my throat that stopped me from telling him I loved him. His eyes scanned my face, lips parted like there was a confession just as damning on the tip of his tongue. I tapped the white knuckles that were cutting off my air, not because I wanted him to let up, but because I wanted more. I wanted him to take me right to the edge and then fall over with me.

His thrusts turned harder, and my vision gave way, sparkling like snow on an old television. The shape of his face went blurry and I blinked slowly, the hand I had around my own cock slowing down before stopping entirely. It took all of my strength to focus on breathing, and I bucked off the floor, folding myself into a neater half-shaped version of myself as I managed one last gasping breath. With spit flying out of my mouth and tears pooling in the corners of my eyes, Brooks let go of my throat with a roar .

He bowed backward and I sucked in a breath so necessary it hurt. Every muscle in my body constricted and seized, and then Brooks cursed under his breath and slammed himself into me once more before going still entirely. His cock thickened and swelled against my rim as he came, and I cried out, a desperate and agonized wail.

“Sssh, now,” Brooks coaxed, brushing my sweat-soaked hair back from my face as his dick still pumped me full of cum. Even in the throes of an orgasm that must have left him feeling like a god, his attention was on me and my pain.

My pleasure.

I gasped, my throat on fire, a cold sweat dripping down my spine and mixing with the cum that had started to dry there from my earlier orgasm. Brooks pulled out of me, slowly untangling my legs and pulling me into his lap. It wasn’t until I was against his chest and listening to the rapid-fire beat of his heart that I realized I was crying. Not just the kind of leaking tears from my eyes that he normally brought out, but full on, uncontrollable sobbing that vibrated my entire body.

Brooks wrapped his arms around me, stroking through my hair and down my back. I hiccupped against his chest, fingers scrabbling against his ribs like I wanted to crack him open and crawl inside.

“Tate. My darling man,” he cooed, kissing the top of my head. “I’m here. You’re okay. Did I hurt you too much? Was it too far?”

Even through the haze of the asphyxiation and the orgasms, I could hear the ever-present worry in his voice. I shook my head against him, licking my lips and trying to draw the words up from my heart .

“No,” I rasped, clearing my throat, which only sent me into another coughing and crying spiral.

Brooks soothed me until I settled, and I waited until my arms and legs worked again so I could draw back enough to see his face. His stare was etched with concern, from the tight draw around his mouth to the quick way he blinked as he studied me. I huffed a breath out, testing the pressure against my throat, then I traced my fingers over the stubble on his cheeks.

“Brooks.” I tested my voice with his name, and it came out scratchy, but clear.

“I’m sorry.” He dragged his trembling fingertips over my throat, frowning. “I went too far.”

I curled my fingers around his wrist and jerked his hand away. “Brooks, stop.”

“Tate.” It was another apology, this one in the shape of my name, and I wanted none of it.

“It was perfect,” I said before he could utter another word. He blinked again, brows knitting together. “It was perfect and so were you.”

“Tate.”

Less of an apology there, which felt like a step in the right direction.

“You’re perfect for me,” I said again, clarifying my last thought. “Perfect, Brooks, and I love you.”

There was a pause.

A breath.

A beat.

And I wasn’t sure if he was going to push me away or pull me closer. I was ready to open my mouth and take the whole thing back when his eyes went glassy and before I had time to see if it would turn into tears, he crashed our mouths together and knocked me back down onto the floor.

“I love you,” I said again, the words garbled around his tongue.

He reached between our bodies and pushed the tip of his cock against my sensitive hole. I shivered and whimpered, scared, but ready. I spread my legs wider and he pushed his half-hard dick back inside of me. There was still enough of a gape that it didn’t hurt as bad as I’d expected it to. All of my feelings tangled together in my stomach, threatening to be everything and nothing all at once. I felt like I was a black hole beneath him, ready to expand beyond comprehension and consume us both.

Once he was inside me again, he didn’t move, though. He rocked back onto his ass and pulled me onto his lap, my body sinking deeper around him. Groaning, I dropped my forehead into the crook of his neck, shivering as he drew circles and stars up the sweaty length of my back.

“Tell me again,” he said softly, kissing the shell of my ear. “Tell me that when I’m home inside of you.”

I bared my teeth against his neck, desperate to sink my teeth into him, to take a part of him for myself like he’d taken all of me.

“I love you,” I whispered.

He splayed his fingers against the small of my back and lifted off the floor like he was trying to thrust into me again, but his cock wasn’t hard enough and it slipped out with a sticky plop. He took my face into his hands, thumbs chasing the tears that hadn’t quit falling, and he leaned close, kissing the salt off my skin that his first pass had missed.

“Are you certain?” he asked, breath hot against the tip of my nose.

“Never been more sure.” I managed a weak smile. “I think maybe I have since the first night, but I didn’t?—”

He cut me off with another kiss, this one slower and deeper…as if such a thing was even possible. Brooks kissed me like either of us had enough stamina to get hard again, and when I had to break away to suck in a much needed lungful of air, he collapsed onto his back with a grunt. He pressed one of his hands against the center of his chest, the other to his forehead, and his lashes fluttered as his eyes fell closed.

I sat beside him and studied him quietly, watching his chest rise and fall in time with my own, even though he couldn’t have known that. Finally, he sat back up, moving onto his knees before rising to his feet and holding out a hand for me. I knew what came next was his favorite part, but the thought of getting to my feet and walking myself into the bathroom was a bridge too far.

“I can’t,” I said, swallowing thickly. “I think you fucked the bones out of me.”

He grinned, a quick and exhausted thing, then he stretched and bent down, hooking one arm beneath my knees and the other under my arms. Even in our post-sex state, Brooks lifted me like I didn’t weigh more than a book, and I flung my arms around his neck with a startled yelp.

“Bath or shower?” he asked into my hair.

The bench in the shower was nice, but there was no question.

“Bath.”

Brooks carried me into the bathroom and lowered me gingerly into the tub before plugging the drain and turning the water on. He sprinkled in some bath salts that smelled like lavender and sage, and then turned to go.

“Bath with you,” I clarified, stretching my arm toward him with all the strength I could muster.

“Let me get you some water, Tate.” He bent down and grabbed my hand, kissing my knuckles before disappearing and leaving me alone in the tub.

It wasn’t until I registered his absence that I realized…

Brooks hadn’t said it back.