2. Brody

Her slender fingers slip on the straw in her glass of water and her gaze drops to the bar. At first, I think she’s not going to answer, but she surprises me. Her bottom lip slips out from her teeth, grabbing all my attention to her kissable lips before Rose answers me, “I wanted to meet someone tonight.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah,” she nods, the tension that was there for a split second when I asked her the question vanishes and her small hand lands on my thigh again, doing all sorts of things to me that the simplest of touches shouldn’t be capable of doing. Thump, thump, my blood pumps harder as she brings her lips to the shell of my ear.

“I kind of want to go home with you tonight,” her warm breath sends a shiver down my neck, past my shoulders and doesn’t stop.

“You’re tipsy,” it’s only a comment, but there’s an invitation hidden in my tone. I give her the way out though, just in case it’s only liquid courage. “I could take you home, drop you off if you want?”

“You’re cute,” Rose whispers around her drink as she peeks up at me with her thick lashes. My grin is easy. All of tonight has been easy. I haven’t thought about a damn thing except what she has to say. When the lights turn on behind the bar, the music turns off and the check hits the table, I slap the cash down, tipping the bartender well.

I ask this sweet Rose as she climbs off the stool, standing next to me a head shorter and her gaze focused on the dip in my throat, “What do you want to do?”

She sets her finger right where she’s looking, her touch gentle and her voice nearly lost in the air between us, “I want to kiss you right here.”

That does it. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pull her in close and revel in the feel of her soft body against mine as her heels hit the floor and she squeals in delight.

She doesn’t let go of me, and in the cab she fucking tortures me, kissing me just below my ear on that tender spot I thought about kissing her.

“Not yet, my wild Rose,” I half scold her in a whisper but as she pulls away, I capture her lips in mine. The kiss is searing, that first one in the back of the cab, with the taste of temptation and tequila mixing. My blood runs hot, my fingers inching up her thigh the way she did it to me all night. The only difference is I’m touching bare skin and the light, tender touch isn’t enough.

Her gasp fills the cab when I pull away and when the cab driver looks back at us in the rearview, I keep my gaze forward, as if nothing at all is going on back here against his black leather seat.

As if I don’t want to rip off her dress and push my hand between her legs, and rock my palm against her clit.

“You’re already hard,” her whisper comes with a hint of awe as she grips me through my jeans. Fuck, my head falls back and I close my eyes when the cab driver tries to meet my gaze again, his eyebrows much higher up on his forehead.

“Wait just five more minutes, Rose.”

“I don’t want to wait.” Her protest is adorable, but there’s no way this driver is getting a show.

“You’re killing me,” I groan and decide I should satisfy her before I come undone and take her right here.

With my fingers spearing through her gorgeous blonde locks, I mold my lips against hers, stealing her surprise gasp and loving the soft moan of pleasure she gives me when I kiss her again. Her fingers play along the back of my neck, her tongue dancing with mine and I make sure to keep my hands right where they are on the small of her waist. One move, and I swear I won’t be able to stop.

I’ve never been so relieved to hear a cab driver tell me “we’re here” and hand over the cash.

Rose’s cheeks are a gorgeous hue of pink that travels down to her chest.

Griffin’s not here when I unlock the apartment door. She’s in my arms, her legs wrapped around my waist, her ankles hooked behind me with her heels digging into my ass before I can even kick the door shut behind me.

This girl knows what she wants and I’ve never been so eager to give it to her, to satisfy every sordid thought I know she had back at the bar.

I don’t bother turning on the lights to Griffin’s bachelor apartment, barren of everything that makes a home a home considering his student budget.

She doesn’t need to see any of this place, she doesn’t want to either. All she wants is to get in bed and as I kick my shoes off, our lips still locked in place, I’m just fine with that.

Her ass fits perfectly in my palms, but this damn dress is in the way.

My desire to shred it is only tamed by the fact that I know this is all she has to wear when this is over and I sure as shit know Griffin doesn’t have any chick’s clothes here.

When I toss her on the bed, the faded light shining through the slits in the blinds and casting the most beautiful shadows along the curves of her neck and breasts, she takes in a deep inhale, arching her back like she’s been deprived of breath all the while.

That’s when I realize the heavy rising and falling of my own chest, and sharp need to be buried inside of her that overrides any other sane thought that might come to me.

My jeans are off, my shirt ripped over my head and tossed carelessly on the floor in seconds. Her dress and lace underwear are quick to join my pile of clothes.

“I love the way your hands feel,” she moans as I cup her breast in my hand. Her chest is small but full and when I run the pad my thumb over her hardened peaks, her head falls back, her lips part just slightly and her eyes close. I let her lose herself in the pleasure I give her, skimming my hands over her body, kissing every inch of her until I find her hot and glistening between her thighs.

With my breathing finally calm again, and hers ragged as she lays under me, I pump my cock once in my hand to get her attention. Her eyes go wide and that seems to wake her up.

She doesn’t say anything, but her gaze doesn’t leave my length and she stills on the bed.

Fuck. That is not a good sign.

“You alright?” I ask her realizing something is very fucking wrong right now. Please don’t back out. Please, for the love of all things holy, I need to be inside this woman more than I need to breathe.

Licking her lower lip, her body relaxes only slightly when she looks up at me and says, “You’re… you’re really big.” I don’t break her hazel stare.

“I’ll go slow.”

She nods and gets settled, the sheets rustling as she lays down, far more aware than I think she’s been all night.

Nestling my hips between her thighs, she spreads her legs wider for me. The first kiss I give her is in the crook of her neck, that spot I was dying to kiss before. With the head of my dick pressing against her warmth, I let the tip of my nose run up her neck and take my time kissing her again.

The warmth comes back to her body, every small touch bringing her closer and closer to the edge of writhing under me. I nip her lower lip and she kisses me desperately.

That’s my cue to enter her in a swift but slow, deep stroke. I stare down at her as I push all of myself into her. Her nails dig into my back, her reddened lips, swollen from kissing me, making a beautiful little “o”.

And her gaze stays on mine as her heart pounds in time with mine. I stay that way, letting her stretch and get adjusted until she finally breathes again. It takes longer than I thought it would, but every second is worth it.

The next stroke is faster, deeper and then harder. Working my way up to taking her like I want. The slapping sound due to her arousal and my pistoning hips stirs with her strangled moans of pleasure. She tilts her hips every time she comes and it lets me in deeper as her pussy flutters around my cock.

I want to come more times than I can count, but I can’t get enough of the feeling when she gets off. The sound of her crying out my name. The pleas she makes not to stop. Every little thing she does is mesmerizing.

When I finally have my release, it’s four o clock in the morning and her breathing comes in chaotic pants, her body well spent and well fucked.

“Can I crash here?” her voice is a whispered wish, sleeping dragging her down deeper into the covers. As if I’d kick her out. What kind of men is she used to?

“Yeah, of course,” I answer her, pulling the covers around us both. I’m rewarded with a small smile on her gorgeous face and a hum of satisfaction as she scoots closer to me. Apparently, she’s a cuddler. A piece of me is more than satisfied with that side of her and the feel of her against me and the easy way she lets me hold her.

Her body molds to mine, her soft curves not leaving an inch of space between us in the bed. The bed protests with a groan at every small movement we make. The dim light that slips through the blinds, provided only by the street lights, lays against her soft skin, and begs me to kiss her again. Right there in the crook of her neck, just to see if she’ll shiver again at my touch. If it wasn’t for her steady breathing and the angelic look on her face as she sleeps, I’d wake her again and take her again. There’s something about her that’s addictive. Something that calls to a deeper side of me, telling me she needs it just as much as I do.

Lying beside the messy halo of her blonde locks, with the floral and fragrant, I drift off. Sleeping beside her lures me to sweet dreams of her soft moans as I take her again and again; I sleep better than I have in months.