I knot my fingers up in his hair as his tongue glides down to my neck. Pinpricks of desire prickle all over me, and all of my organs spring back to life. I didn’t even realize it, but it’s as if my insides died the moment he left me, and his every stroke brings them back to where they need to be.
His hand grips my thigh and then slowly rakes up and down. My legs part for him automatically, unable to behave in any kind of acceptable way. My core throbs and pulses for him. I’m desperate. There’s no rationality anymore—that flew out the window the moment he touched my hypersensitive mouth.
“Oh fuck, Brock. That feels so good.” I let my head loll back as desire screams through me.
“Jodi, I need you so badly.” There’s a tremble in his voice. “I know I shouldn’t. We’re supposed to be taking things slow, but you’re driving me crazy. I can hardly control myself around you.”
His thumb brushes against the cotton of my underwear, nearly tipping me over the edge.
“I need you too, Brock. Oh fuck, you have no idea.”
I don’t even care that we’re in the back of a car, that the driver could come back at any moment. Brock and I are used to semi-dangerous sex, and we’ve nearly been caught every single time, so this is familiar territory.
He pushes me backward onto the seat, and I fall willingly, wanting to do whatever he needs of me. As long as I get to feel him everywhere, I honestly don’t give a damn. My body clearly recalls the sensation of his thick, throbbing cock inside of me, and I can’t wait to have that again.
Brock tugs my panties to one side, not quite pulling them down yet, and he trails his finger up and down my soaking wet slit. I buck my hips, lifting upward to give him all the access he needs. He caresses me, massaging my clit, not enough to send me flying over the edge, but just enough to have my head spinning . . .
“Hello, sir. Sorry I’m late, I just got your message as I was—”
We leap apart as the driver’s voice shatters through the thick, heady, lustful atmosphere. I push myself into a sitting position and try to smooth my hair and clothing, but it's too obvious what’s been happening. It rings all through the car. The driver averts his eyes rapidly and tactfully climbs into his seat. He then slides the partition between us closed, blocking us from his view. I giggle hysterically, fully knowing that we haven’t gotten away with it but actually not minding as much as I should, stopping only when his voice comes back through on speaker.
“Where would you like to go now?” He sounds about as sheepish as Brock looks, which is even funnier.
“Home,” Brock replies gravely, giving me a look to check that’s okay with me. I nod, very much needing that myself. We’re nowhere near finished with what we just started. “Yes, take us to my home, please.”
The drive back to Brock’s is an agonizing one. Every bump in the road, each little vibration, makes me crazy, and I’m pretty sure he can see that. Each squirm, all the tiny little moans, none of it goes unnoticed. His eyes continually glaze over every time he looks at me, as if it’s just as painful for him to keep away from me. He keeps wiping his hands down his trousers as if a slick sweat covers them. I know the moment we get inside, all the past few months will melt away into nothingness, and it’ll be back to him and me again.
I don’t know why I was nervous. Everything about Brock just makes sense.
The tension inside of me builds, so by the time we pull up outside of Brock’s home, I think I might explode. I perch on the edge of the seat, waiting for Brock to finish his conversation with the driver, and finally we exit. The cool night air on the walk up to Brock’s house makes me feel lightheaded, almost drunk. He holds me up, stopping me from falling as we walk. I want him so badly. My hormones seem to circle me like crazy, and I’m half-tempted to push him up against the outside of his home and just take him there and then. It’s only because I don’t actually want to be caught in the middle of it, for fear of being stopped, that halts me.
But only until we step inside. Then I let loose. I grab him, I kiss him all over, and I grind my hips into him. I’m absolutely desperate now. He’s ignited the fire, and I need to be sated.
“You are so beautiful,” he gasps between snatched kisses. “I can’t believe I get to keep you.”
I love the idea of being his so much that a moan slips from between my lips. We belong to one another.
“Come on . . . come with me to the bedroom.”
He takes my hand and leads me through his house. All I can hear is my thumping heart and the footsteps to match. Once inside, he lays me gently down on the sheets as if I’m precious, something to be worshipped. I lift my hands above my head, allowing him to peel my dress from me. He fixes his eyes on mine as he does, then pauses to step back to look at my new body. I haven’t felt one hundred percent confident with my bump up until this point, but with him looking at me like that, I still somehow feel like I’m sexy.
Brock climbs up onto the bed, kissing me all the way up as he goes. The warm sensation of his lips is intoxicating, especially since every single part of me is on fire. My fingers curl around the sheets. I grip tightly because I need something to keep me sane and connected to the planet.
Eventually, he reaches my wet panties again, and he peels them away with his teeth. I shudder hard as he trails them all the way down to my feet and tosses them casually to one side. He grabs my thighs and tugs me down to the bottom of the bed so my feet hang over the edge, where he’s waiting for me with his eager, rough tongue. As soon as he does, all the pent-up pleasure that’s built up inside me races free like a river. I can’t contain it any longer. I’m absolutely on fire for him.
“Oh fuck, Brock, that feels so good.” There’s a deep vibration buzzing through me. I can almost hear it in my brain. Every cell in my body explodes, every fiber loosens. I barely even know my name anymore. It’s just this gorgeous sensation that continues to intensify with every passing second.
As I tip and finally fall, I can’t stop screaming out Brock’s name. I’m probably shattering the glass, shaking the walls, waking the neighbors, but I can’t stop. How the hell I thought I could survive the rest of my life without this man is beyond me. He’s absolutely everything. We’re entwined, two halves of one whole.
Once the pleasure subsides, Brock scoots up the bed, and I go with him. He curls me up in his arms, kissing me gently while I slowly return myself to normal. I need to calm down before my lungs explode.
“You are so fucking easy to love,” Brock murmurs while pressing himself up against me. He doesn’t seem to be angling for anything, but I want him all the same. I’m not done with him just yet. I still want to feel him buried deep inside me. I roll back into him, hopefully firing him up some more. “I’m so glad to have you back.”
With my back to him, I part my thighs and allow him to slide inside. I moan blissfully as he fills me up, stretching me to fit around him. Finally, I feel whole again as he gently thrusts into me over and over again.
“More,” I beg desperately as I slam back into him. “I need more, Brock. All of you.”
He’s trying to be careful. I know exactly what he’s doing, but I really do need more. I arch my back to give him a better angle, and I do what I can to control the pace. Eventually, he catches up with me, losing himself too much to be rational. That’s the moment the hot bliss circles me for a second time. I don’t even feel it coming—it simply crashes into me like a tsunami, sending me turning and tumbling into the hot pool of pleasure I was in only moments ago. I want to cling to the sensation forever, to never let it go.