Take (Need #2) (19 page)

I narrow my gaze at him. “You think you won, don’t you?”

He wets his lips and nods. “Oh, yeah.”

“You di
—
” I suck in a breath as his thumb rubs against my clit. My walls clamp down on him. “Not fair.”

“I know your weak spots,” he says with a smirk.

His hips give a little thrust, and he stares down to where we’re still joined. The look on his face . . . Jesus, I want him to fuck me all over again.

“Come on, pull out.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to leave.”

“What?”

He looks up at me. “You don’t want me to leave.”

“Come on, jerk face, I need to clean up the mess you made.”

“Mess
I
made? Oh, baby, the huge wet spot under your ass is all you.” He pulls back, his cock slowly pulling out. The second he’s gone, I let out a whimper. It feels like a light has been turned off in me.

His cock bounces, shiny and still hard, making the void in me even greater and the calling to shove him back in even stronger.

“Fuck. That is the best sight ever.”

I’m about to ask him, but then I feel the liquid sliding down my ass cheek.

He groans, brow furrowed, tortured almost, and he grabs his cock. I look down, watching as he tries to scoop the come back up to my now gaping opening.

The guy who never fucked anyone without a condom has fucked me bare multiple times in the last few days, and is now playing with it.

“One day, I’ll stuff you so full of come . . .” He trails off, lost for a few minutes before looking up at me. Something clicks in his brain, I can see it in the change of his expression, and he pulls away. “Let me find a towel or something.”

I lay here as he gets up and sneaks out into the hall. The things he said, or rather, the last thing he said, rings out in my head. He didn’t finish the thought, but my pussy twitched, knowing where he was going. The primal level thoughts.

Fuck, was he really thinking like that? Breeding? Making me pregnant?

One day, he said.

But why does him wanting that, even
one day
, turn me on?

Avoiding Brayden is easy when he’s at work, and I’ve even managed to avoid him at night, thanks to my girls. Early Friday morning I found him in his room, dressed for work and packing up some clothes to head back to Columbus for the weekend.

I lean on the door frame as he strips his bed, the sheets still stained from the other day.

“Laundry?” I watch as he stuffs the sheet into a bag and not into his laundry basket.

“Nope.”

“Then what are you doing?” I ask.

He smirks at me and turns it to show the large spot. “Souvenir.”

“That’s gross.”

He smirks and walks up to me. He leans down, so close that his lips are millimeters away from my own. “Keep telling yourself that, baby. I know you want to make another one.”

I mash my teeth together and step back. “Cocky asshole.”

The next few days passed without contact from him. Didn’t even text or call. Well, he did send another devastating picture of his fuck-hot body.

This morning he returned.

What is with Brayden and these three-day cycles? Three days gone, three home, and three gone again before coming back.

I know he’s working and trying to get his apartment set up, but there’s just something about it that grates on me.

The problem is admitting why it bothers me.

When he’s here I want him, while at the same time I want him to leave.

With him gone, I thought the anxiety would lessen, but instead, with each hour that passed the itch, the anticipation of the next time, increased.

I hate this. I hate that all he has to do is walk in the door and my legs are ready to spread willingly for him.

He got home an hour ago. and I’m trapped all alone with him. Our parents are at work, and while Ryan did come home this past weekend, he left yesterday.

The little shit even revealed to me why I haven’t seen his brotherly ass around
—
he’s giving his best friend space to defile his sister.

I’m not sure I love my brother anymore.

One day, big bro . . . Payback is a bitch.

With the knowledge of Brayden returning today, Mom left a list of chores for each of us to do. There wasn’t much on them, but enough to keep us from going at it the moment he walked in. Especially since I was teasing him over text yesterday.

I got him back with a pic of me in my bikini.

I’ve been dusting this table for way too long. The surface is so shiny I can see my reflection.

All that I’m doing is moving my hand back and forth across the wood, because I’m glued to the scene happening outside the window beside the table.

Brayden shirtless as he mows the backyard.

He’s got a hat on
—
a rarity for him
—
and his headphones as he cuts path after path through the grass.

The only sounds I hear are the racing beats of my heart and the loud buzz of the mower.

It’s hot and sunny, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the sweat rolling down his naked chest. I want to lick it up, lick him all over.

Fuck.

He wasn’t working five minutes outside when his shirt came off. Now I’m hypnotized by him again, watching his shiny muscles strain, pushing the mower around. I’m so entranced I don’t even notice when he turns it off.

I jump as he walks toward the house. Frantic energy buzzes through me as I search for something to help me look busy.

As I stare down at the cloth in one of my hands and the Pledge in the other, I want to slam my head against the wall.

I take a calming breath and look back out. He’s taken his hat and headphones off, and drops them along with his phone, onto one of the lounge chairs.

I’m drawn in again, watching with rapt attention as he pulls his shoes and socks off. I half expect him to keep stripping, but he leaves his jeans on. They sit so low on his waist, showcasing that perfect V of his that I want to lick and nibble on.

Two large steps and his arms draw above his head as his body launches forward, arching into the pool. When he surfaces, he shakes his head, flinging water around. He seems to struggle in the water for something before holding up a wad of dark blue and tossing it onto the concrete.

Fuck.

That’s his jeans, which means . . .

Look away! Look away!
I yell at myself.

It doesn’t work. I should have done that twenty minutes ago. Now is too late. I’m aroused past rational thought.

What was I saying about wanting him to leave? No, I want him to come.

Inside me.

All over me.

Give me the soul-shattering pleasure only he can.

I drop the can of Pledge onto the floor and press my fingers between my legs.

He swims a couple of laps, then stands in the shallow end.

The buzzer to the dryer goes off, startling me, reminding me that I just washed all of the pool towels. When I look back, he still hasn’t noticed me. He’s barely looked toward the house, but maybe he already knows.

I gawk at him as he climbs the steps out of the pool, the water running down his sexy-ass muscles. The boxer briefs he’s wearing are clinging to him, accentuating everything.

Especially the one thing I’m dying for.

He picks up the lump that is his jeans and spreads them onto one of the chairs. Then, he grabs his stuff and heads to the sliding glass door.

I no longer have my busy items in hand, but my pussy and nipple instead. “Shit.” I frantically search for my dusting tools.

Instead of heading my way, to the left, he heads right, into the kitchen.

I don’t even think as I set the stuff down and walk the same way.

When I get there, he’s at the sink, gulping down a huge glass of water.

Droplets cling to his skin, and a puddle forms beneath him.

“You’re making a mess,” I say, gaining his attention.

After a little jump in surprise, he turns to me and smirks. “No mess yet, just water. Nothing a towel can’t fix.”

I continue toward him and reach out to his waist. He quirks a brow at me, his abs tensing.

“You’re getting water everywhere.” I grab onto his waistband and pull.

“Whoa.”

I fall down to my knees and work the wet cloth down his hips, over his biteable ass, and the slab of man meat that’s getting bigger with each tug.

I’m left eye to cock. It’s staring at me, getting harder by the second and begging me to take him in my mouth.

Long, thick, veiny . . . How can something so weird looking turn me on so much and make my pussy so wet I’m probably dripping on the floor with him?

Salivating, on my knees in front of him. Lined up with the head, I lean forward, mouth open, and flick the tip of his cock with my tongue, then close my lips around him.

“Shit,” he hisses, hips bucking, pushing him further into my mouth.

He’s so big and I take as much of him as I can until I’m gagging, which is about halfway. After a few times moving up and down, I pull back and draw in a deep breath.

“Fuck, you’re big.”

I glance up at him, and he’s staring down at me with that lust-filled look I’ve begun to crave. He reaches out and brushes my hair back. “Damn, baby . . . This is now one of my top five favorite views.”

I wrap my fingers around his shaft, pumping him, taking in how good he feels in my hand.

“What are some of the others?”

“No worries, Kitty,” he says as his fingers run down my cheek. “The top fifty . . . top hundred are all of you.”

Me? All of them? That can’t be true, and so it leaves me with one question, “What’s number one?”

He bends over, smiling, and presses his lips against mine.

“Eleven years ago when you came bounding out your front door in a tutu and cat ears and claiming me as yours.”

Damn it.

Damn him.

No, this is my show.

I reach up around his neck, pulling his lips back to mine. My mouth opens, tongue finding his in a building frenzy as I stand back up.

His body is still warm from being outside and in the sun, while his skin has patches of cool from the air conditioning on the water droplets drying on him.

I step back, turning, tugging him with me. “Come on.”

After only a few short steps I stop and push against his chest. He falls back, landing on one of the kitchen chairs, eyes locked on me.

His cock is so hard it’s sticking straight up in the air, bouncing against his abs, leaving sticky trails as it taps against his skin. I press my fingers against my pussy before pushing my shorts and panties to the ground.

“Something you want, baby?” He smirks at me.

“Shut up.” I step forward, straddling his legs.

A groan crawls out of his chest when I grab his cock, running it against my pussy lips before lining it up.

“I’m your fuckdoll. Use me,” he says, arms held out to his sides.

My brow scrunches, but quickly relaxes as I sit, his dick stretching me and making me forget whatever thought I may have had.

It’s dangerous
—
his cock. A weapon of mass female destruction.

I fell prey, just like so many before me. Finally, I see why they can’t stay away. If it’s like this, I feel sorry for those who only got it once.

I take my time working my way down.

His mouth drops open as he stares to where we’re joined. One hand wraps around my neck, pulling my face down to his. Lips parting, tongues sparking the tingling that flies through every nerve ending.

It takes me to a place where I forget. A live version of fantasies of him.

His other hand sneaks around my back, grabbing, pulling me down hard as his hips flex up, impaling me, filling me.

My eyes and mouth pop open, then a shuddering moan rips through me as my eyes roll back.

“You’re being a tease,” he says as he begins lifting me at the waist, moving me up and down his shaft.

I push against his chest and pry his hands away.

“This is my show. You’re just here to get me off. Shut up, and be a good dildo.”

My thighs flex, lifting me up, then dropping me back down.

Each thrust rubs against my insides, driving me insane with each small move we make. It drives my body to search out more.

How is it so different with Brayden? With Austin there wasn’t really anything.

Fuck. Why does this feel so good?

Brayden’s head leans back against the chair, abs tensing as he pushes his hips up each time I fall back down.

For some reason it pisses me off, almost as much as it turns me on, to see the blissed-out expression on his face. I pick up my pace, riding him harder, faster. Make him feel how angry I am that I need this, need him.

His green eyes open and bore straight into me. “If you’re trying to hate fuck me, you have to do it harder.”

My lip twitches up. “I said, shut up.”

His hands grip my waist again, burning my skin and making my pussy clench.

He leans forward, snarling at me. “Harder.”

He lifts me up and pulls me back down like I weigh nothing. Thrusting up, fucking me like we’re going to die if one of us doesn’t come in the next thirty seconds.

I’m a rag doll in his hands, crying out, no control.

“This is what you wanted.” He breathes against my lips. “You think you’re in charge, but what you need is my cock to dominate you. For me to possess you.”

“Fuuuck . . .”

I can’t take anymore. My muscles lock up, pussy squeezing down as I convulse on top of him.

He somehow seems to get deeper, almost painful. Long, hard thrusts followed by a frantic pounding. I grab him, holding on for the ride.

He lets out a roar, holding me down as he explodes at the same time as a loud crack rings out in the room.