As for me? I can only judge by Magda’s eyes when she looks at me, by her vigilant, hawk-like expression, as if she’s every moment on the verge of calling 9-1-1.
“Have more,” she urges me gently in Spanish, gesturing with a serving spoon to the casserole dish in her hand. It’s chicken enchiladas with a verde sauce, deliciously succulent, one of at least five other things she’s urged me to take a second helping of in the last ten minutes.
Brody was only slightly exaggerating about how many courses she made. Several platters await on the kitchen counter, steaming under aluminum foil, and there’s some kind of pastry baking in the oven for dessert, but I know it will all go uneaten tonight.
We’re only sitting here out of courtesy and respect for Magda. The only place we both want to be right now is naked in each other’s arms.
I feel like we’ve got a Vulcan mind meld thing going on. As if every emotion he’s having, I’m having, as if every thought inside his head is echoed inside mine. It’s the most surreal experience. I’m not entirely convinced I’m not on the verge of a mental break.
“PTSD,” says Brody suddenly, gazing in wonder at a blob of refried beans on his plate like he’s seeing an image of Christ in it. He slowly lifts his head and turns his gaze to me. His eyes are dazed, a little unfocused. “I was diagnosed with PTSD after . . .”
After it, he doesn’t say. Whatever it is.
My feeling of unreality growing, I whisper, “Me, too.”
He looks like I’ve just told him I found his lost puppy. “Really? That’s . . . oh. Wow. So the nightmares—”
I nod. “And the hypervigilance—”
“And the avoidance—”
“Triggers—”
“Anxiety—”
“Depression—”
“Claustrophobia.”
I wrinkle my brow. “No. Not for me. Claustrophobia? That’s awful.”
He nods woodenly, looking back at the refried beans. “Yeah. I have trouble in enclosed spaces. Like planes. Even the big ones make me freak out.” His laugh sounds a little unhinged. “Which makes touring with the band super fun.”
So this is why his house is so big and open, I think, looking around. With the exception of the bedrooms, the entire floor plan is basically that of a loft, all yawning spaces and high ceilings. And you don’t get much more wide open than an endless, empty horizon looking out to the sea.
“You don’t seem to me like the kind of man with any of those problems,” I say softly.
His laugh is without humor. “Some people are better at pretending they’re fine than others.”
I think, I know. Like me.
He and I are so alike, especially in how well we’ve both perfected our masks. Mine is one of toughness. His is one of lightheartedness.
But inside, we’re both battered in all the same ways. Perhaps this is why he feels so familiar, why, as he said, there’s a weird connection between us. Because our broken pieces match.
I squeeze his hand. He looks up at me. My eyes pleading, I whisper his name.
That’s all it takes.
He jolts to his feet, bringing me along with him. “Magda,” he says, his voice husky. “Thank you. And good night.”
He turns abruptly, pulling me away by my hand. My last look at Magda is of her standing startled by the end of the dining room table, an oven mitt held in the air in confused farewell.
We stumble down the long hallway toward Brody’s bedroom like two toddlers getting used to their new feet. He slams into his bedroom door with a shoulder, throwing it open. He turns to me, his eyes wild.
“Grace,” he chokes out. “Grace.”
My name is a prayer on his lips. I fall on him, kissing him hungrily, desperately. He swings me up into his arms, kicks the door shut, and takes us down to the bed where we crash against each other, our mouths seeking, our hands grasping, our hearts unfettered, finally breaking free.
Free free free, I think, spinning. I’m like a bird set free.
When he hears my garbled laugh, Brody stills, panting above me. “What is it?”
“Sia,” I answer, reaching up to pull his head down toward me. “I’ve got a Sia song in my head.”
“At least it’s not Taylor Swift. I’d be worried we’re breaking up.”
“Never,” I hear myself whisper, as if I’m outside my own body. I kiss him, and say the word again, against his lips, this time as a promise. “Never.”
Brody softly groans. “I want—I want—”
“I know, honey,” I say breathlessly, pressing my pelvis to his. He’s already hard.
He groans again, hiding his face in my neck, fighting his instinct to tear off my clothes and bury himself in my body. I feel how hard he’s fighting himself, but we need to be done with this. We’re past this now. I turn my face to his ear.
“I want you to make love to me. I want you to show me how you feel about me, and I want to show you how I feel about you. With my body, and my hands, and my mouth, and my heart, I want to show you how I feel. I want to bare myself to you. I don’t want any more walls between us.”
I press my lips to that place on his neck just beneath his ear that makes his entire body shudder. “Make love to me, Brody,” I whisper urgently, rocking my hips against him. “Make love to me and make me yours.”
It’s as if my words are a key that unlocks the cage to the dark, animal part of him. An animal I’ve seen glimpses of, prowling around me, growling and sniffing, hackles raised as I run my fingers through its fur. But now the animal is unleashed. It pounces in all its full, bristling fury, and devours me.
With a snarl, Brody crushes his mouth to mine.
This is no gentle lover’s kiss, no sweet, sentimental meeting of lips. This is hard, hungry, and possessive, a claim that sends a thrill straight through me and leaves me gasping for breath. I kiss him back, desperate for the connection, for his taste and the wave of adrenaline sizzling over my skin.
My thigh is drawn up beside his hip. He shoves the hem of my dress up my leg, his fingers digging into my flesh, and breaks the kiss with a growl when he feels the elastic of my stocking against my thigh. He lifts his head, stares at the black garter attached to the stocking, and mutters an oath.
He rears up to his knees and pushes my dress all the way up to my waist.
“Garter belt and stockings,” he whispers, breathing hard as he stares down at my spread legs. “And no fucking panties.” His eyes, glittering, flash up to meet mine.
Like a rabbit caught in a cobra’s hypnotic gaze, I lie still, panting softly, frozen except for the rapid rising and falling of my chest.
We stare at each other as he unbuttons his shirt. It divides between his fingers, falling open to reveal his beautiful skin, the angel’s wings tattoo spanning his chest, the hard, bunched muscles of his abdomen. He discards the shirt to the floor.
“There’s no running away after this, Grace. There’s no going back. You’re mine, and I’m yours. And that’s it. Understood?”
I want to moan in anticipation but can’t find the breath, so I simply nod, never looking away from his face.
He plants his hands on the mattress beside my head and leans down until we’re nose-to-nose. “Say yes or no, sweetheart.”
I whisper, “Yes.”
He takes the plunging neckline of my dress in his hands and rips it wide open.
I gasp, shocked at the sound of tearing fabric, at how quickly he moved, and gasp again as he cups my breasts in his hands, squeezes them together, and falls on me, sucking a nipple into his mouth so strongly I arch off the bed and cry out.
“No bra, either,” he whispers, moving to my other nipple. “Such a bad girl. My perfect, bad, beautiful girl.”
I’m delirious. The way he praises me with words as he worships me with his mouth—I never knew I could love something so much, that it could feel so natural, so good. I’m a flower, opening her petals to the sun.
He sucks and licks my nipples until I’m squirming ben
eath him, and then he gives me his teeth. He knows exactly how I like it, how much pressure will make it sting without really hurting, how to make me breathlessly beg for more.
“Please, Brody,” I whimper, my hands dug into his thick hair, pulling him closer because I can’t get him close enough.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you.” One of his hands finds my thigh, drifts downward as he circles his tongue around a nipple. “You know I’ll take care of you.”
Very lightly, he slaps me between my spread legs.
I jerk and yelp. He presses his palm over my sex. He lifts his head and gazes into my eyes. His own are hot and half-lidded, dark with lust.
“Which gets punished first, sweetheart?” he softly asks. “Your ass or your pussy?”
I think I might faint from desire. I softly moan.
“I love you like this,” he breathes, lightly rubbing his thumb back and forth over my clit, watching me with those predator’s eyes. “So soft for me. So unguarded. You’re never this vulnerable with anyone, are you, sweetheart?”
“No Brody only for you only ever for you.”
It’s a breathless, incoherent rush, and it makes his jaw harden.
“I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, Grace. That badass attitude and those long legs and all this beautiful fucking hair.” He bunches his hand in my hair and makes a fist. “I just wanted to bury my face in it. I wanted to drown in it. I wanted to drown in you. And now I’m going to, and I’m never gonna come up for air again.”
He takes my mouth, pulling my hair so my head arches back. My hips bucking against his other hand, my pulse flying and my body on fire, I dig my nails into his scalp.
“Ass or pussy, love,” he growls, nipping my lower lip. “Decide.”
I’ve always believed that actions speak louder than words. So in one swift motion, I roll over beneath him, look at him over my shoulder, and wiggle my behind.
His chuckle is darkly satisfied. “Ass it is.”
He stands at the side of the bed, kicks off his shoes, removes my heels and tosses them to the floor. Then he unzips his fly and takes his erection in his fist. He whispers, “On your knees, Grace.”
Trembling all over, my mouth dry, I get on my hands and knees. My dress is hiked up over my hips, exposing my bare bottom.
“Come over here.”
He holds out his hand. I crawl to the edge of the bed. He steps closer and gently cups my jaw. Looking down at me, he says, “I’m not into pain. Giving it or receiving it. For me this is all about pleasure, both yours and mine.”
He waits for me to respond. I whisper, “Same.”
“Good. Now, if you want it, ask me to spank you.”
I look up at him, letting him see what’s in my eyes. All the desire and the need, the permission he’s seeking. My voice wavering, I say, “Brody, please spank me.”
He nods, satisfied. Moving slowly, he reaches out and caresses my bottom, one cheek at a time, a gentle gliding slide of skin on skin that makes me shiver. He firmly pinches my flesh, and I moan.
His hand tightens around my jaw. His voice comes out raspy with desire. “You’ll never know how much I fucking love that sound, Grace. But you have to be quiet. Those little moans of yours make me lose control.”
I bite my lip and hold my breath, my entire body primed to his touch. He stares down at me, his face flushed with color, his chest heaving, his jaw hard.
His hand flashes up and down. It cracks across my flesh. I jump and shudder but remain silent.
“Perfect,” he whispers. Then he asks, “Harder or softer?”
I choke out, “Harder.”
“I’ll do three and ask you again. Okay?”
I nod. Between my legs, I’m soaked. I can’t ever remember feeling like this, this extraordinary combination of lost and found, of shattered but whole, of finally being safe, and seen.
He spanks me three more times in quick succession on the same cheek, his hand firm and sure, his other hand still gripping my jaw, steadying me. When he stops I release a pent-up breath in a noisy rush, then gasp for air.
“More, more, don’t stop now!”
“You know what I need to hear.”
I whimper. “Please.”
He leans down and kisses me. “Play with yourself as I spank you, baby, but don’t come. I want you to come with my cock inside you, not before.”
He straightens. I put my hand between my legs, gasping again when I feel just how soaked I really am, how sensitive under my fingers.
“Tell me.”
I groan. “I’m so wet, Brody, I’m so wet for you—”
Crack!
At the first blow, my pussy clenches. I rock my hips into each successive blow, my eyes closed and my mouth open, everything else blotted out of my consciousness except my hand between my legs and Brody’s on my ass, claiming me.
When he stops he says gruffly, “I need your mouth, beautiful.”
The head of his cock nudges my lips. I open my mouth, greedy for his taste, and suck it in.
His hand tight around my jaw, he inhales a sharp breath. I take him deeper.
His moan is low and ragged, and the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
Softly panting, he says, “Suck me as I spank you, sweetheart, and keep playing with yourself. You get ten more strokes and remember—don’t come.”
I moan around his cock, and am rewarded with a sharp, stinging slap on my behind.
“I know you did that on purpose,” he growls, stroking his hand over my tender flesh to soothe it.
I open my throat and take his hard cock all the way to the base. The zipper of his trousers is cold and sharp on my chin.
He grunts. “So. Fucking. Good.”
Crack! Crack! Crack!
I lose count after three. I sink down into myself, past the noise in my head and the sound of the blood screaming through my veins, past all thought and memory. I exist on a plane of pure sensation, untethered from time, untouched from all worries. Each stroke of my fingers over my clit, each swirl of my tongue around his cock, each blow of his hand that rocks my body, making my breasts swing and heat bloom over my ass, takes me deeper.
Finally I become aware of Brody moaning my name. “Not yet, Grace, don’t make me come yet!” He moves his hand to my throat and lightly squeezes.
I’m so close to orgasm it takes an enormous effort of will to remove my hand from between my legs and wrap it around the base of Brody’s cock. I open my eyes and gaze up at him, only to find him staring down at me with a look of utter adoration.
He swallows and moistens his lips. “You okay?”
I slide his cock out of my mouth, furling my tongue around the head. “More than okay.”
His laugh is husky. “You look a little blissed out. You sure you didn’t come?”
I shake my head.
“Good.” He pushes me back by my shoulders. “Let’s see how well you can obey me when I’ve got my mouth between your legs.”
I fall flat to the mattress. Brody whips off the belt of my dress, a soft length of fabric tied in a bow at one side of my waist, and wraps it around his hands. He commands, “Put your arms over your head.”
Oh God. He’s going to tie me up. He’s going to do exactly what he said he’d do on the phone and tie me up and—
“That’s right,” he says softly, watching my face. “Now do as you’re told.”
Trembling, I lift my arms overhead and rest them against the pillow. Brody leans over me and binds my wrists together, wrapping the belt around and between them. He takes the two loose ends and ties them into a loop, which he then pulls under the edge of the mattress to the right side of my head and ties off around the leg of the headboard. He then steps out of his slacks and briefs, peels off his socks, and stands there gazing down at me, stroking his erection.
I bend my knees so my dress slides up my thighs, exposing me, and watch his expression transform.
The wolf is on the prowl again.
He kneels on the bed between my spread legs. Sliding his hands along my thighs, he pinches the tender flesh here and there, testing it first with his hands and then his teeth as he leans in to draw it into his mouth. The feel of his tongue on my flesh, so soft and warm, sucking, makes my pulse go haywire all over again. He blows a breath of air between my legs, chuckling when I start to rock my hips, eager for his mouth.
He whispers a warning. “Make any noise and I won’t let you come.”
Then he lowers his head and gives me what I need.
I arch sharply off the mattress, biting my tongue to stay quiet, straining against the bindings around my wrists, my eyes squeezed shut. Brody slides two thick fingers inside me and presses them deep, making gentle circles as he swirls his tongue around my clit. With his free hand he reaches up and cups my breast, and then pinches my aching nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Pleasure builds and builds and builds, coiling hotly around that bright center of Brody’s clever tongue, until I’m panting hard and loud and my legs are quivering.
“God, you’re beautiful,” comes the reverent whisper from between my legs. “You’re close, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” The word is gritted out through clenched teeth. I’m right there, right at the edge, teetering.
Brody flips me onto my belly, presses a hand flat to the small of my back to hold me in place, and then starts to spank my behind again, lighter than before but faster, back and forth from side to side, creating a rhythm that sends shockwaves pulsing through my lower body. He keeps it up until my ass is burning and I’m grinding my pelvis against the bed.
I cry out his name. He stops abruptly and leans over me.
“Talk to me.”
I sob, “I’m so close I’m so fucking close, please Brody, please please!”
His breathing is as rough as mine. He smooths a hand over my stinging behind, and then slides his fingers down between my thighs.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re drenched, sweetheart. You loved that, didn’t you?”
My only answer is a broken, pleading sob.
His fingers slide over my pulsing clit. I jerk, crying out again.
Sin With Me (Bad Habit) Page 23
