Her pussy is so wet, so fucking slippery, that I glide easily in and out of her, my cock collecting her sheen and glistening with every stroke from her.
“Do you like the way I fuck you?” I ask.
She purrs but otherwise doesn’t speak, following my directions. I don’t stop the smile from appearing on my lips, replacing the sly grin I had just seconds ago.
Brooklyn is unlike any woman I’ve ever had. She deserves more than just the orgasms I’m willing to deliver, the cold realization is that she deserves more than me. She’ll make some fuck happy one day, he’ll be lucky to have her.
Shaking away thoughts of someone else keeping her, I speed up my movements. I hear her breath hitch when I do, her pussy flooding me a little more. I know she likes being fucked hard and fast.
My good girl is all kinds of naughty, even if she doesn’t voice it, and I couldn’t be happier.
I can’t wait to really get down and dirty.
I plan on working her up to fucking her ass, I lick my lips picturing my cock disappearing between her round globes.
Goddamn.
My balls draw up, and I feel my lower back tingle as my release teeters on the edge. I tug Brooklyn’s hair, forcing her back and neck to arch, most likely uncomfortably, bowing her body beautifully.
“Play that clit, beautiful. Get yourself there on my cock. I don’t want to hear you come, I want to fucking feel it,” I rasp.
She shivers but doesn’t speak. My chest rumbles with a growl, enjoying her restraint, or my restraint of her, whatever the case, it’s fucking phenomenal.
Brooklyn’s hand slips between her hips and the table, her nails graze my balls before she starts to rub herself.
I hold back my gasp of breath at her light touch, listening to her as her breathing begins to speed up with each quick stroke of her fingers against her clit.
Her pussy flutters, she’s so fucking close that I can practically taste her cum, and I start to thrust inside her a little harder.
I’m going to bring her over the edge and when she comes, it’s going to feel fanfuckingtastic.
She doesn’t scream, or sob, or even squeak, but her pussy suddenly clamps down around my cock and her entire body stiffens.
My hips slam against her ass, speeding up my thrusts as I pound into her body.
Instantly, I regret not being able to see her face as she tries to stay quiet while her orgasm washes over her, while she holds back as I ruthlessly fuck her tight cunt.
I imagine she’s fucking stunning.
Brooklyn is going to have bruising all over her body, and I know I’m probably hurting her, but I can’t stop.
I fuck her with everything I have, unable to control myself. When I come, it’s with a roar that fills my entire, silent, house.
I lean over her back and force her chest against the table as I shudder over her, my cock twitching inside of her and filling her with my release.
When I pull out, I can’t wait to watch my release slip from her pussy.
Neither of us moves or even speaks, as we try to catch our breaths. That is, until I slowly pull out of her warmth, one thing, and one thing only on my mind, to watch my cum leak from her center. She whimpers as I plant my ass back in my chair.
My eyes scan her thighs, landing at her spread legs and I smile at the sight that I knew would be beautiful.
The white liquid that leaks from her fills me with something akin to pride. It shouldn’t. She isn’t mine to keep, but fuck, it’s still gorgeous.
Reaching for her, I gather her in my arms and drag her over to me, placing her in my lap.
“Lucas, baby,” she sighs against my neck as she tastes my skin. Her tongue sliding across my entire sweaty neck.
My arms tighten around her, loving the way she calls me that, especially with her sleepy, worn out voice. I shouldn’t like it as much as I do.
This, all of this, is going to do nothing but cause her heartache.
I can’t fucking stop myself though.
“Go upstairs and get cleaned up. I’m going to do my weights before I shower for the day,” I instruct.
I don’t wish to get into why I love the way she says my name, or how much I fucking adore it when she calls me baby.
I also don’t want to think any more about exactly what it was that we just shared, because I know without a doubt that it was more than just a fuck.
It was out of this world, but I don’t know exactly what it meant, and I’m not in the frame of mind to explore it.
“Okay,” she whispers as she attempts to amble off of me.
I don’t let her, lifting my hand, I shift it to the back of her head, applying pressure to bring her face closer to mine, I press my lips against hers, needing a taste of her. She immediately opens for me.
I let out a groan, enjoying the way she completely loosens in my hold, becoming pliable just for me.
I’m fucked.
So goddamn fucked.
Chapter Eleven
BROOKLYN
Monday mornings.
They always suck.
Now, after the all weekend sex-a-thon Lucas and I shared, this Monday morning is a billion times worse than just a regular one.
Not just because Lucas wakes me up at four-thirty in the morning, four-thirty, but because he didn’t wake me up like yesterday morning, with his mouth between my legs.
Lucas has already gone for a run and is showered. All I want to do is sleep.
I roll over, cuddling his pillow in an attempt to do just that. I hear him chuckling behind me, but I attempt to ignore him, closing my eyes.
A few minutes after my eyes have shut, my alarm sounds and I let out a cry of frustration.
Reaching for the device, I turn it off and force myself to get up. I let out a groan, as I slowly sit up.
My body is sore, every part of me from my scalp to my toes. Lucas worked me, stretched me, and pushed me to limits I didn’t know I had over the past two days. My muscles are screaming at me for it now.
I slowly make my way toward his bathroom, fumbling around as I attempt to take a shower.
Once I’m clean, I try to do my hair and makeup with still bleary, tired eyes.
When I packed, I didn’t anticipate staying longer than just one night.
I honestly thought that something would happen and he’d take me home just like he did the last time he forced me to pack.
So, this time, I didn’t bring any work clothes with me. Now, he has to take me home to change, which is why I’m even entertaining the idea of being up this early.
Throwing on a pair of jeans and a tee, I slowly make my way downstairs, wishing I had time for a coffee and a smoothie.
Lucas is already ready and waiting by the door for me. If I were more awake, more alert, I would take in the fact that he looks downright lickable in his gray tailored suit and black tie.
“Ready?” he asks as he shoves his wallet in his back pocket.
I watch, silently, as he takes the handle of his briefcase, from the countertop.
“Got something for you,” he murmurs as he bends down slightly and hands me a glossy boutique bag.
Furrowing my brows, I take the handles from him, walking over to the empty counter space next to him.
Setting the bag on the countertop, I slowly reach inside and pull the object out of the bag. Holy shit.
I hold the item in my hand, its heavy weight and smooth buttery texture, I can tell it’s too rich for the likes of me. I’ve never touched anything so exquisite in my entire life.
know that it probably costs more than I make in a year, it’s completely ridiculous.
“Lucas?” I ask, looking up to him in confusion.
He shrugs giving me his sexy smirk. “Every lawyer should have a nice briefcase, Brooklyn. The one you have is shit.”
I open my mouth to try and decline the gift, but he wraps his hand around the back of my neck and tugs me closer to him. His lips graze mine before he whispers against my lips.
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“Don’t give me any shit. Take the briefcase.”
I nod, my voice not working partially because it’s so damn early, plus there’s also the fact that he’s being so damn sweet. I don’t know this side to him.
This weekend has been nothing but hard fucking, spankings, and control. I didn’t think Lucas Black even did sweet.
We walk to his car together, me in a daze and him with purposeful strides.
Once he puts my bags in his small trunk, he opens the passenger door for me. I slide inside before he does the same on the driver’s side.
The ride to my house is in silence, I’m not sure what to say and he isn’t even attempting to make conversation and I wonder if the spell of this weekend is broken? Looking out the window, I watch as the city passes by.
Is this the end?
Will he forget about me, again, focusing on work for another ten days?
Was this weekend nothing but a dream?
I hate how I feel as though I need to question every single thing, how everything with Lucas is—unknowing. I despise the self-doubt.
I am a strong, capable independent woman, except when I come into contact with this man.
When we arrive at my condo, Lucas turns to me, looking at me for the first time since handing me the expensive briefcase and places his hand on my knee, giving it a squeeze.
Slowly, I face him, but he’s already released me and is unfolding from the car.
Shaking my head once, I don’t bother waiting for him to open my door for me.
I am feeling deflated, and a bit used. I take the briefcase for what it is, what I know that it is, my parting gift for spending the weekend in his bed.
I meet him at the front of my condo. With my purse and my new briefcase in hand, without saying a word, he holds his hand out as he reaches my side. He has my small overnight bag in his grasp.
Lucas dips his chin to the key in my hand and I take my bag as I slip my key in his palm.
I watch as he wordlessly unlocks the door before walking inside. He checks out my place and lifts his chin, assuring me that all is well and good.
“Do you want me to take you into work?” he asks.
He sounds funny, distant, and I swallow the lump in my throat. His hand extends, wrapping around my waist, tugging me closer to his chest.
This is the first sort of real contact we’ve had this morning, at least, the first that makes me feel more like I did yesterday.
Placing my palms on his chest, I hold my breath as his mouth grazes my own, his tongue peeking out to taste the seam of my lips.
I melt closer to him, forgetting my doubts instantly. I don’t know how he does it, but he fills my head with doubt as easily as he strips those same doubts away.
I could get used to having this man in my life, if he’s like this, this version of himself that’s holding me right now.
I find that all the sides of him I know I’m enjoying. I even kind of like the asshole, if I must admit. Except distant and aloof, him I don’t like too much.
“No. I’ll be okay,” I murmur with a shrug.
I have a really busy week coming up, I probably won’t even be home much, so whoever has been watching me will probably get bored and move on. The last thing I need is for Lucas to feel obligated to babysit me.
His lips stay against mine for another moment, lingering, before he mutters against my mouth.
“You get even one phone call or one bouquet of flowers, and you call me, understand?” His voice is gentle, his lips touching mine, but his words are insistent.
I won’t be calling him, not unless I absolutely have to. I am not a damsel in distress, at least not completely.
However, I can’t deny that I’m curious if this week he’ll contact me at all, this could be the biggest test of them all.
I don’t want to test him, but I do feel like this week will be a test in and of itself.
This week will show me exactly how he wishes us to proceed. I can’t just call him anytime something happens, spread my legs for him, then be tossed aside until he gets that knight syndrome to save me fulfilled again.
I have to decide if I can accept being on the backburner or not. He’s a busy partner in a very prestigious law firm, I know that he’s busy and under pressure, but I have no desire to be something to warm his bed when he feels like coming.
I’m trying to stay positive, but I’m skittish, especially after the last time he left me on this very front porch.
“I will,” I confirm my half-truth. I’m not lying, but I’m not going to call him over a little plastic bag of flowers either.
Immediately, he fills my mouth with his tongue and kisses me breathless before he abruptly pulls away, turns and jogs down my walkway.
He leaves me in my doorway, weakened, breathless, and craving so much more of him than I should.
Closing the door, I lock it and hurry upstairs to change into work-appropriate clothing.
Slipping a forest green pencil skirt on, I pair it with a beige sleeveless satin shell and tuck it into the high waist of my skirt.
Finding my camel colored high heel booties, I quickly slip them on and take a glance at myself in the mirror.
My hair is already pulled into a ponytail at the nape of my neck, and my makeup is neutral from the quick application at Lucas’ house.
Deciding I need something else, I go in search for my camel colored slim belt and wrap it around my waist before making my way toward my front door.
Once I’m standing in my living room, I reach for my old briefcase and purse. Shaking my head once, I decide to use the new one.
I can’t let it go to waste just sitting in my house. It only takes me a moment to switch all of its contents.
Taking my keys in my hand, I grip them tightly then I’m out the door. It’s too late in the morning to get breakfast or coffee, so I hope that I can make it to lunch without my stomach eating itself.
I’m a foodie, I need food or I tend to get extremely irritable. It’s probably not the best trait, but food is fuel.
I quickly make my way through the city, thankful that I don’t live too far away. Parking in the garage, I practically run toward my building.
When I walk into the office, it’s buzzing, as it always is on the first day back to work after a weekend. I attempt to ignore everyone else around me, diving into work and foregoing all of the social catch ups with my coworkers.
I spend my day catching up on phone calls and emails, never even leaving my desk. For lunch, Kay brings a salad from one of the little cafés nearby, and I almost kiss her.
Lucas kept me so busy during the weekend that we hardly came up for air or food.
I definitely didn’t have time to catch up on work or get ahead the way I usually do.
I shovel the salad in my mouth as I continue to do some computer work. The salad is tasty, but a breadstick wouldn’t have been amiss.
I frown, feeling like I haven’t had carbs in at least a full twenty-four-hour period. Lucas had a shortage of bread at his house, and I’m sure it was with purpose.
As I continue working, I pause when my eye catches the clock at the bottom of my screen, and I realize that it’s six o’clock in the evening.
I blink a couple times, wondering how I let the time get past me. I bite the corner of my lip, hoping that the parking garage is still busy with people leaving their offices.
I finally decide to shut everything down and head toward the gym.
I need a yoga session to work out all of the kinks from the deliciously scandalous kinky sex.
I need to release my Lucas tension.
I also need to clear my mind of all of this stalker nonsense.
It’s ridiculous and I’m sure it’s all passed.
LUCAS
I focus on the screen in front of me. In fact, I’ve spent the whole fucking day focusing on this screen.
I have a headache, but I’m catching up on work, work that I should have done over the weekend to stay on
top of shit.
Work I ignored because I spent my entire weekend balls deep inside of the best cunt I’ve ever had.
“Black,” a voice calls out.
Lifting my eyes from my computer, thankful for the forced break, I watch as Noah walks into my office.
I frown for a moment, glancing at the time, surprised to see that it’s after six in the evening.
I didn’t even take a lunch today. I literally didn’t move from my chair from the moment I arrived, until right now. Fuck, no wonder my head hurts.
Noah continues inside of my office, closing the door behind him, I wait for him to speak.
He doesn’t say anything right away, instead he sits down in the chair in front of my desk with a heavy sigh.
“What’s up?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.
He shrugs. “Want to go out tonight? I could use a wingman. I need a good fuck.”
He sounds down, he doesn’t sound like he wants to fuck anybody at all. In fact, he sounds like he wants to go home and drink his sorrows away.
I tilt my head to the side, taking him in and trying to decide if there’s anything different about him, other than looking completely fucking depressed he seems the same old Noah.
“No can do,” I say, shaking my head.
He lifts a brow and waits for me to speak, knowing there must be more, and there is. I’m not sure I want to tell him, though.
Brooklyn and me, we’re not completely defined, and it feels odd talking about her to someone. She’s mine and I want to keep her that way.
I’m not sure I want to share her with the world, or my feelings for her, anyway. I don’t want to share anything about her, with anyone.
It might be fucked up, but I want to keep her for myself, completely for me and nobody else.
“You better fucking tell me, or I’ll find out. I’m a lawyer too, Black. I’ll figure it out,” he announces.
I chuckle, wondering if I could tell him the same shit. There is something up with him too. I decide since he looked like a fucking depressed jackass, that I’ll give him a little something.
“I’m fucking Brooklyn Myers,” I smirk.
DISCOVERY (Esquire Black Duet Book 1) Page 12
