He’s still wearing his jeans. I smooth my hands over his bronze and hard shoulders. So beautiful. His muscles are taut, and I slide my hands down his back as far as I can go. He’s warm, so warm. I want to kiss him all over. I want to feel the hardness of his muscles against my lips.
I have to get them off my boobs first.
“Brock,” I say softly.
He groans again, the vibrations reverberating against my chest.
“Brock…I need you inside me.”
Another groan, and then he pulls on the nipple between his teeth. Sparks shoot into me.
He finally drops the nipple. “You’re so beautiful, and your nipples—they taste better than I even imagined.”
My nipples have a taste? I’m not sure they do, but I’ll go with it.
“You’re beautiful too,” I say. “Let me touch you. I want to touch every part of you, Brock. Please.”
He moves his hand away from my other breast. Then he stands and removes his jeans.
No underwear. He was going commando. And his cock. It’s so big, so hard, and so beautiful. The skin tone is slightly darker than the rest of him, and a couple of purple veins meander over and under and around it.
He pulls me up next to him, and his dick pokes me in the belly. Then, he pushes me back down on the bed. I lift my eyebrows.
And I understand.
He removes my shoes and socks, and then he slides my jeans and underwear off me quickly.
We’re both naked now, both ready.
“What do you need?” I ask.
“You.”
“What can I do for you? What do you need right now, Brock?”
He sits next to me. “Just touch me, Rory. Please. You’re so beautiful. It’s almost hard to imagine that you were created by mere human beings. You’re an angel, Rory. Touch me. Please.”
His words leave me breathless.
His face is so close to mine, and though I expect him to kiss me, he doesn’t. So I do as he asks.
I touch him.
I begin with his nose, sliding my index finger over it—its perfection, its straightness. Then I trace his upper lip, his black stubble tickling my finger. I slide my other hand down his cheek to his neck and then to his tan shoulder. I rest on his shoulder for a second, reveling in its muscular shape and hardness. With my other hand, I touch his full lower lip. And then I slide it down his neck onto the other shoulder. I squeeze, gripping his shoulders, embracing the musculature.
I bring my hands together over his chest, his hard pectorals. A smattering of black hair—the perfect amount, in my opinion. His chest isn’t bare, but it’s not fuzzy either.
And my God, it’s so warm and so hard. His abs are glorious, a perfect sixpack, and they lead to his black bush and his massive cock.
“My God,” I sigh.
He doesn’t reply. Simply cups both my cheeks, thumbing them, and then he traces one finger over my lips.
A big part of me is surprised. When he called, his voice was filled with so much anguish, I thought he’d want to fuck—a quick, hard, and dirty fuck.
But it seems what he needs right now, more than anything, is comfort.
Though I’m horny, and I really want his dick inside me, I’m willing to give him what he needs.
What he seems to need is to touch me in return.
My breasts are rosy and swollen, my nipples still hard and slightly sore from his rough attention.
It’s a good sore, though. A really good sore, and I want more of it.
Brock bends down, kisses the side of my neck, sending shivers through me. His lips travel over my shoulder all the way to my hand. He kisses my palm and then each finger, ending at the tip.
My jaw drops. This is so not what I believed Brock Steel to be like. I never expected anything slow and gentle. Especially not after our first time.
Comfort. I was right. He needs comfort.
I take his other hand in mine, rub his palm with my thumb.
“Rory,” he says.
“Yes?”
“There’s so much I want to say to you. So much I’m not ready to say to you. So much I’m afraid you’re not ready to hear.”
I swallow. Surely he’s not thinking…
“So I’m going to leave words alone for now,” Brock says, “and use my mouth for other things.”
Then his lips meet mine. This kiss is so much different from the one we shared when I first got here. It’s gentle. Gentle and sweet, until—
It becomes not so gentle.
His dark anger is back, and he’s kissing me hard, with a fiery passion of a thousand flaming arrows.
My body erupts in a passionate explosion. What started as a simple smolder is growing, the embers inside me flaring.
In a flash, we’re horizontal, and I’m not sure how we got here. Brock is on top of me, still kissing me hard, his smattering of chest hair abrading my sensitive nipples.