Guts & Glory: Brick (In the Shadows Security Book 6) Page 8

  He was wearing only his Ranger Panties, or Silkies, short athletic socks and running sneakers, so she’d have easy access to him. And in a second, he was going to be sporting an erection, too.

  “Turn around.” This time it was more of a whispered demand. And that made him lose his grin.

  If he did this and she touched him, there was no going back. They were done playing the game of “they shouldn’t.”

  Fuck that.

  Brick knew the moment they got on that plane together it was inevitable.

  He knew the moment she agreed to share that bedroom, it was inevitable.

  The inevitable was here and now.

  He wanted the opportunity to show her how beautiful she was and how perfect, too.

  No more “they shouldn’t.”

  He just needed to make sure she didn’t hate him afterward. And if he had to get a taste of monogamy for the time they were there, he’d swallow it down. It would be temporary just like that wedding band on his finger.

  He slowly turned, giving Londyn his bare back and he waited.

  Except for their rapid breathing, the kitchen was completely quiet. The anticipation of her touching him was making both his heart beat a little faster along with that breathing.

  The air shifted when she pushed away from the counter. His cock twitched in his shorts the second her fingers touched his skin. She drew her fingertips along his spine, starting from his shoulder blades and moving down...

  Down...

  Until the tips of all ten fingers swept from the center of his back outward to his hips and lower, skirting along the elastic of his waistband.

  She was torturing him slowly, almost as slowly as she tugged down his shorts. Just low enough to expose the area above his ass where those dimples were. She spread her hands at his hips and then placed the pads of her thumbs in each indentation.

  “You’re perfect,” she whispered, just like she had yesterday during his sit-ups, before seeing his scar.

  No. “If that’s what you think, then you’d be wrong.”

  “That scar doesn’t mar how beautiful you are.”

  “I wasn’t talking about that scar, Londyn.”

  “The scars that make you have nightmares?”

  His cock swelled and got caught awkwardly in his shorts.

  Her thumbs pressed harder into his dimples. “Will you tell me about them?”

  His brow furrowed. “No.”

  Then the pressure was gone, and her warm hands slid up his back and down, skimming along the top of his shorts. He did his best not to turn around, put her on the counter and fuck her right there.

  “Do you talk to anyone about them?”

  “No.” They always hovered at the surface. There was no point in bringing them to the light when all he wanted to do was bury them deeper. If at all possible, forget that fucking moment. That decision. That second that changed everything.

  He wanted to enjoy her touch, not remember the past.

  When he reached down to adjust himself, she stopped him by grabbing his elbow. “Let me.”

  Let me.

  Fuck.

  Releasing his elbow, she placed her hands on his ribcage and then slid them around to his gut. By doing so, it pressed her chest, braless and encased in that silky fabric, against his back. His muscles tensed beneath her exploring fingers and he held his breath, waiting for her to do what she was going to do next.

  She took her time running her hands up his abs, over his pecs, lightly brushing her fingers over both of his nipples. When she trailed her fingers back down, his muscles flexed and rippled as she went lower... lower, brushing over his Ranger Panties.

  Her breath beat a ragged rhythm against the skin of his back as she outlined his hard length. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head forward, wanting desperately to shove his shorts down, to feel his cock in her hands.

  He wanted nothing between them.

  “I was wrong,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear her.

  “About me being perfect?” he whispered back, trying not to groan as she cupped his balls with one hand and stroked him over the silky fabric with her other.

  “About you having a micro penis.”

  His eyes popped open. “What?”

  “I’m sorry I ever doubted your manliness.”

  Was she kidding? He was hard as a rock, his cock was throbbing under her fingers, and leaking, too. This was not a time for making jokes.

  He forgave her when her hot little tongue licked up his spine and she sucked on the back of his neck.

  Unfortunately, his cock was still at an uncomfortable angle. When he again reached to adjust it, she smacked his hand away.

  “I got it,” she murmured against his skin.

  Right, she’s got it.

  When he opened his mouth to argue, he quickly snapped it shut when his shorts were shoved further down. As his cock sprang free, she “got it.”

  Her hand slid along his length, stroking, squeezing, making his eyes close again and he thrust slightly forward, following her slow, steady rhythm.

  “Londyn,” came out on a croak.

  Slow and steady could be great but he’d gone to bed with her for the past two nights and they hadn’t had sex once. Which, for him, was a record. One he wasn’t thrilled about earning. So, slow and steady right now was torturous.

  His hips jerked as her thumb circled his swollen head, spreading the precum around, making him slick before she fisted him once more.

  “Fuck,” he groaned. “Londyn...”

  Then she was gone. Nothing but air swirled around him. He deeply felt the loss of her heat, her skin, her hand...

  Until she moved to stand in front of him. Again, her face was flushed, but not from embarrassment. The determined—or hungry, he couldn’t decide which it was—look in her eyes made his cock bob. Her nipples were two hard beads pressing against the thin fabric of that loose, but clingy in just the right spots, PJ top.

  And, damn, didn’t that make his mouth water.

  As he reached out to brush his thumbs against the tips, she moved out of reach by dropping to her knees.

  Right there on the kitchen floor.

  Dropped to her fucking knees.

  He drove his fingers into her hair and tugged her face up to him. The hardest thing he ever said in his life was, “You don’t have to do that.”

  “You’re right,” was her breathy answer. “But I want to.”

  As she gripped his cock tightly once more and her warm, wet mouth surrounded him, he decided he wasn’t going to argue.

  His head dropped back as she licked the tip, then sucked it deep into her mouth with her tongue swirling around the crown and down his length.

  His fingers dug into her scalp, he sucked in a breath and then shoved it all back out in his attempt not to hold her head and fuck her face.

  Because that was what he was tempted to do.

  His fingers twitched, his chest tightened as she sucked him hard and deep, as she circled the root of his cock like a vice within one hand, while the other gently kneaded his balls.

  Jesus fuck, she was going to slay him.

  Right here. In this fucking kitchen. In Florida.

  This woman was going to slay him with a simple blow job.

  The vibration of her moan had him dropping his head forward and opening his eyes. It was then he almost lost it.

  His balls pulled tight and the pressure built deep within him at the sight of her fucking mouth stretched around him. She squeezed the root of his cock tighter and began to stroke his slick length with her fist as she concentrated on the tip with her mouth.

  And, fuck him, did she concentrate on it.

  He was so fucking close. So fucking close. When he pulled her hair away from her face so he could see all of her, she tipped her blue eyes up to him.

  He was done.

  Slayed.

  By a woman he promised not to touch.

  “Londyn,” he warned in a low groan.


  She needed to heed his warning, or she’d get a mouthful.

  But instead of pulling away, she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. As he came, his hips jerked forward, painting that pink tongue with his cum.

  And when he was done, totally spent, she closed her mouth and smiled up at him.

  Holy fuck.

  Was she for real?

  Fuck the promises. Fuck his conscience.

  Fuck everything.

  He hooked her by the underarms, hauled her to her feet, and backed her up until that delectable caboose of hers—which he was determined to eventually explore—hit the kitchen table.

  “Get naked,” he demanded as he finished dropping his own shorts to his feet.

  “We don’t have a condom.”

  “We don’t need one. I’m about to eat breakfast.”

  She grinned. “It is the most important meal of the day.”

  Yes, it was.

  “I just...”

  He hesitated when she did. He quickly realized what her deal was. “Baby, get naked. I don’t give a fuck what hang ups you have.”

  “I have cellulite and stretch marks...”

  “You’re fucking beautiful and I want to see you naked.”

  “Just like that, huh?”

  “Fuck yes. Just like that.” He didn’t wait for her to pull off her top, instead doing it for her. “Now, that is fucking beautiful.” He took in her large tits with proportionately large peaked, dusky nipples. And yes, as he tugged her little shorts over her soft thighs, thick enough to cushion his hips, he saw stretch marks and cellulite. And he didn’t give a fuck, because she was so much more than that. “You need to stop picking yourself apart. I don’t see those pieces of you, I see you as a whole. But even if I did, every piece of you makes you who you are.”

  “Because you just want one thing.”

  He straightened, letting his gaze rake over her as she sat at the edge of the table completely naked.

  Was her stomach flat? Fuck no. Were her tits perky? Fuck no. Did she have a thigh gap? Fuck no.

  And all of that made him want her even more. “You’re right. I just want one thing. You.”

  Chapter Seven

  She didn’t know if she could trust his words, because if she could? Woah. She had not expected them to come out of a man who he himself claimed to be only into one-night stands.

  He was probably good at knowing just what to say. But, honestly, his physical appearance alone would get most women dropping their panties. She was sure he didn’t have to work hard at it.

  Apparently, he didn’t have to work so hard at it with her, either. Because here she was, sitting on the edge of the kitchen table as naked as the day she was born.

  In the daylight. No mood lighting. Nothing.

  All her. All Londyn. With nothing to hide.

  She gasped when he wrapped his arms around her thighs and jerked her to the very edge of the table, spreading her thighs wider and planting her heels at the corners. Curling his fingers around the front of her neck, he pushed her gently until her back was flat to the table.

  She felt like a turkey displayed on Thanksgiving Day. Especially when he stood at the end of the table, staring down at her, his blue eyes darker than normal as he took her all in.

  He took his time doing so, too.

  His thumb swept over the pounding pulse in her neck. Once, twice. She didn’t realize how tightly he was holding her there until he released his grip and her breathing came easier.

  His fingers trailed lightly from the hollow of her throat, between her breasts, over her belly and barely skimmed the top of her mound.

  Then they were gone. He moved only far enough to yank out a chair from the side of the table and pull it up.

  As if he was about to eat that turkey dinner.

  Her thighs quivered and her breath quickened, her nipples pulled tight as he took his time settling into that chair and scooching it forward, all the while keeping their eyes locked.

  His eyes slid from hers to what was displayed before him. She was open, already drenched and so ready for his touch. Even though she expected it, when it came, she still jerked anyway. One finger slid through her wetness, separating her for only a moment, then that, too, was gone.

  She jumped again when his hands curled firmly around her ankles and he set her bare feet on his shoulders. “Keep them there.”

  Holy smokes, the light-hearted, humorous man was gone. The way he gave that order, she expected him to get out a ball-gag and handcuffs next.

  At that imagery, the table shuddered when she did.

  She was not into kinky play, but this man might be able to talk her into anything.

  Which was stupid.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Kevin had talked her into moving across the country to be with him. And foolish her, she had.

  Lips pressed to the top of her mound made any thoughts of that deceiving asshole disintegrate. Warm breath swept along her heated skin, then just the tip of his tongue touched her.

  There. Right there. Lightly on her clit. Just a tease.

  What the hell was he doing? Was he trying to kill her?

  She groaned, tempted to grab his head and shove him against her to get his meal started.

  Her head shot up and her eyes popped open when that very tongue slipped between her folds.

  Then the man got serious at satisfying his hunger.

  His fingers dug almost painfully into her thighs, keeping her spread open with his unspoken demand not to move. The barely-there beard along the line of his jaw scraped her inner thighs as his tongue delved deep within her, working her into a frenzy.

  Holy smokes, he was good with his mouth. So freaking good. He knew when to suck, flick, nibble or lick. He varied the pressure. He...

  Oh.

  His name got caught in her throat as he gave her clit no mercy.

  Her thighs began to shake as she got closer and closer, the swirl of heat building low in her belly, her core clenching.

  And just when she thought she was close to coming, she whimpered when he stopped and took one of her folds into his hungry mouth, sucking it hard, before doing the same with the other.

  Then he hit her center again, flicking her clit with only the tip of his tongue before scraping his teeth over the sensitive nub.

  As much as she expected the orgasm which had been building, she wasn’t expecting the intensity of the one that ripped through her, starting at her clit and moving outward.

  Her palms slammed on the table as her hips shot up, dislodging his mouth. But he didn’t move away. Even as she came back down, riding the waves to the very end, trying to catch her breath and her scattered thoughts...

  He remained.

  Warm breath swept over her swollen and sensitive flesh. He kissed one inner thigh and then the other before lifting his head.

  Londyn tilted her own enough to see his lips shiny, his eyes focused on her. And when he rose to his feet, she couldn’t miss that he was ready to do more.

  So was she.

  “How was breakfast?”

  One side of his mouth pulled up. “Fucking delicious.”

  She jerked her chin toward his erection. “Are you still hungry?”

  He wrapped his fingers around the base of it and squeezed, making the veins protrude even more than normal. “Fuck yes.”

  Her words caught in her throat and she cleared it to ask, “What are you going to do about it?”

  He gave his cock one long stroke, then leaned over the table, between her thighs, until his face was right above hers.

  As her lips parted, his dropped and he claimed her mouth. She tasted herself on his lips and tongue. A tongue which tangled with hers for a few seconds, before he moved away.

  The disappointment from him ending the kiss so soon quickly disappeared when his lips slid along her jaw and down her throat to the hollow. Once his face was clear from her neck, his hand replaced it. His warm, long fingers wrapped snuggly around the front o
f her throat as he moved lower, no longer kissing or licking but biting instead.

  Sharp nips began across both collarbones, down her chest, until each playful bite turned into him sinking his teeth into her flesh even harder. She couldn’t be sure if he was leaving marks behind, because his head hid her view, but she could feel it. Just when she thought he’d get to the point where she’d have to tell him to stop, he’d let up and move to another spot along the curves of her breasts and do it again.

  It wasn’t just the biting which made her think Brick had a little bit of a freaky side, it was the pressure he put on her neck. Not quite cutting off her air, but his grip was tight enough for her to be super aware of what he was doing.

  She wondered how far he would push it.

  She wondered how far she would let him.

  So far, she liked everything he was doing and what he had done.

  His teeth scraping sharply over the tip of her nipple had her crying out and her back bowing off the table. When he sank his teeth around her areola and bit down even harder, she whimpered and grabbed his head.

  She couldn’t take any more.

  But crazy enough, she wanted more anyway.

  “The other,” she managed to get out.

  He lifted his head for only a split second, then did the same to her other nipple. The breath rushed out of her and she groaned. The man was bringing out the freak in her, too. And amazingly enough, she loved every second of it.

  “Again,” she urged, the word coming out a bit strained due to the pressure on her throat.

  He willingly complied.

  “Anything you want, say the word,” he murmured against the curve of her breast, which stung from his bites.

  Her nipples were so hard, they ached painfully.

  Anything she wanted, he said she only needed to say the word. She was never one who liked to ask, she always assumed men knew what a woman wanted.

  Maybe that was wrong.

  “More.”

  His head lifted slightly, and his blue eyes hit hers. “More of what?”

  “You.”

  With a serious face, he straightened between her thighs, pressing his fingers firmly into her knees and spreading them even wider. “Stay right where you are. Don’t move. Don’t cover yourself up. Don’t hide from me.”