I step forward, gliding the lubed condom over my shaft as I slide my fingers up Brooke's thighs and find … that she's not wearing any goddamn panties either.
“Are you fucking serious?” I whisper, my brows shooting up in surprise. The look she tosses over her shoulder is playful and sexy as fuck.
“You think you're the only one that prepared for this?”
Holy shit. So totally crushing right now.
I grab hold of Brooke's hips and she moans, tilting her pelvis back so that the warmth of her ass and pussy is pressed against me. I guide myself to her opening, teasing it with my fingers and finding her already slick and ready.
“Hell yes, baby,” I whisper, pushing into her tight heat, feeling her ridges slide down me, engulf me, fucking consume me. And I want to be consumed by this woman. Who wouldn't? My eyes eat up the sight of her arching her back, her long dark hair streaming over her shoulder and getting caught in the drafty breeze that sneaks through our alcove.
Outside our safe little space, people clap and cheer as a blues band takes over the stage and the singer's sexy croon takes over the cool evening air. It's a different backdrop, that's for sure, turning Brooke's and my sordid little affair into something more sensual.
My fingers knead her flesh, dig into the soft pale skin over her hips. I take hold of that natural handle, that perfect curve of hip bone that feels like it was designed for me to grab onto. In this position, I can push all the way in, every single inch. I can feel her moistness spreading across our combined flesh, can feel the contractions taking over as she succumbs to the pleasure, her breath fogging against the glass in front of her face.
I feel a satisfied smile drag across my mouth as I let my head tilt back and move my hips hard, loving the resistance she's giving me, the firm stance of her legs, the press of her palms into the glass. I give her everything I've got, fucking hard and fast, my balls teasing her pussy, my piercing playing with her clit.
I don't expect her to come so quick, to push back into me and collapse, my hands on her body the only things that keep her from hitting the ground knees first. I follow Brooke to the pavement and encourage her to stay on all fours, knees to the pavement, hands splayed open wide as her head hangs down. And then I fuck her harder, as fast and frenzied as I can. I let go completely and I don't worry about a goddamn thing except for this.
When I come, I feel her react to the sounds I'm making, the way I'm squeezing her body and pumping those last few, furious thrusts. She bucks her hips back into mine, easing her body down my shaft as I finish hard and quick.
“Fuck,” Brooke mumbles as she pulls away from me and curls against the door with her knees up, one hand resting on her calf as she gives me an almost-glare and I grin, tearing the condom off and rising to my feet. I toss it into the trash can just outside the alcove and then cross my arms over my chest.
“Don't tell me you didn't like that,” I say as I move back into the shadows and reach my hand down for Brooke. She's shaking when she lifts her palm up and places it gently, tentatively inside of mine. The brush of our fingers sends a warm thrill through me as I tug Brooke to her feet and into the circle of my arms.
“I'm shaking,” she admits, but I just smile.
“I know.”
“Can we go pierce my eyebrow now?”
I tilt my head back with a laugh and then drop my chin, pressing a kiss to Brooke's forehead.
That gentle, easy touch … it makes us both shiver.
I seriously cannot believe I just did it in the middle of Old Town. Like, anybody could've seen us. And I so totally didn't give a shit.
I wrap my arms around myself and pretend like I'm not wet and uncomfortable downstairs. Too embarrassing to talk about that with Zayden. While he's driving, I send off some secret texts to my girlfriends back in Berkeley, telling them to call me or better yet—come visit my ass like yesterday.
“You didn't tell me your brother lived over here,” I say as we pull into a slightly shadier area of town, down a street populated entirely with copies of the same duplex in different colors.
“Yeah, well, my poor bro works his butt off as an insurance salesman and he and his wife really wanted to own their own place …” Zay trails off a little as we pause in front of a green and white duplex with a really beautiful right side decorated in flowers and outdoor statuary … and the other side, well, not so beautiful. “They bought this place with the life insurance money our parents left us.” Zay eyes the ugly side of the duplex with his pierced brow cocked up in disgust. “And then they rented out one half to this doucher over here.” He points his thumb in that direction as we pull into the driveway behind a beat up old Geo Metro. “They've tried to evict the fucker, but he always threatens to sue 'em or squat or whatever the fuck.”
Zay parks the car and we climb out, slamming the doors closed behind us.
Not ten seconds later, some guy with a beard and a shotgun comes out the front door of the ugly duplex and points the muzzle at Zayden.
“You fucked with my crop, you piece of shit,” he says as I put my palms up and take a small step back. Zayden just tucks his hands into his back pockets and stares the guy down.
“What are you gonna do about it, you baby hating motherfucker? The law says you can have six plants. Not, like, thirty. And not to sell. Go eat a dick and stop banging on the wall. The next time you do it, it won't be your weed that I snip off.” Zay makes a cutting motion with his fingers as the man cocks his shotgun and takes a step forward, his hands shaking with rage.
Uh-oh.
What the hell did you do, Zayden?
“Shoot me. In the front yard. With several witnesses. How do you think that shit'll go down?”
I don't exactly think antagonizing a guy with a gun pointed at your chest is the best idea in the world, but … it's kind of hot to see Zayden standing up for himself. I dig my phone out of my back pocket and start up a live video feed, just in case.
“This guy's threatening to shoot us. I hope it's just a joke,” I say as I point the camera at the bearded guy in the Go Fuck Yourself t-shirt. “I'm trying to decide if I should call the cops or not. What do you think, Zay?”
“Naw. I think this asshole's going to go back inside and start looking for alternative housing. I don't think you've got much room to threaten my brother anymore. If you don't want us to show this video to the police, then you won't wait for him to evict you. Get the fuck out of my face.” Zay shoves the shotgun to the side and turns around without waiting for a response.
I keep the phone up as I take a few steps back and then follow Zay around the corner and down the short walkway to the front door. Shotgun Man never takes his focus off of Zayden, but before we can even get the front door unlocked, I feel the house shake with a slammed door from the opposite side.
“What did you do?” I whisper and Zayden shrugs, avoiding a really small, very badly burned paper bag on the porch. Really? People still burn shit bags as a prank? I guess Shotgun Man really was pissed.
“Every time Sadie cried, the asshole slammed his fist against the wall. I got sick of it, so I took my sister-in-law's clippers and cut down his crop. Every last plant. I have no clue what exactly that means for him because I don't smoke the shit, but”—Zayden shrugs as he unlocks the door and smiles at me—“it sure seemed to piss him off.”
“Depends on the strain. Might just decrease the yield; might change the high, make it less potent, more short-lived,” I say and then shrug back at him when he raises his eyebrows. “You didn't learn anything growing up around here? This is Pot Capital, USA.” Zayden grins at me and shoves the door open, holding his hand out to welcome me in.
“Well, look at you. So full of fun facts.” He reaches out and pokes me in the shoulder playfully. Too bad all that small touch does is reignite the wetness between my legs. I suck in a harsh breath. “Feel free to check the place out. I'll be right back. Gotta grab something from my piece of shit car.”
Zayden disappears as I loo
k around at the tiny foyer and the walls covered in family photos. There's a set of stairs to my right and a small pathway to the living room on my left.
I move inside and scope the room out. It's small, but the wall is painted with a rich eggplant and the furniture, while small, is perfectly sized and carefully arranged to give the place the maximum amount of space. Somebody's hung a shelf behind the sofa and covered it in chihuahua statues. Makes me smile.
I spot a picture of Zayden and a redhead that must be his brother. He called him a lumberjack when he was talking about him, and I see that the description is dead on—right down to the flannel shirt he's wearing. Next to that, in a silly black and white frame with grinning pink skulls on it, there's a picture of two little boys that match up to the men next to them.
I pick up the frame in my hands and feel a warm smile chasing across my lips.
Zayden is so goddamn cute in this shot, wearing a little Mohawk and grinning big. He looks like he's maybe eight or nine in the picture, his hand wrapped around a plastic hammer while his brother clutches a yellow foam lightning bolt. They have the same mouth, same chin. Despite the difference in hair color, it's easy to tell they're related. No wonder I thought Zayden's nieces and nephews looked like they were his.
I have a weird idea that it'd be kind of fun to make babies with him. Someday, of course. Not now. Way, way, way later. I'm kind of thinking my first baby will be at thirty-five. And don't give me all the silly medical facts; science and medicine evolve everyday.
“I totally kicked his ass that day,” Zay says as I jump and almost drop the picture, setting it quickly back on the side table and shoving hair over my shoulder in a wave. Was I just fantasizing about making future babies with this guy? Like that would ever happen. Zayden's made it pretty clear that he's not interested in having a relationship; I think I've made the same clear. And I meant it. I did.
Don't get all virgin cliché and start falling for this guy, Brooke.
“Kicked his ass?” I ask as Zayden moves over to a closer door I hadn't noticed before and opens it to reveal a bathroom. “Were you guys sparring or something?”
“Rob was playing as the god Zeus, and I was supposed to be Thor. He kept getting pissed at me because I was saying Shor instead, and we ended up getting into a real fight.” Zay waves me into the bathroom and lays a towel down on the toilet, gesturing for me to take a seat. “He gave me my first black eye, and I knocked two of his teeth out.”
“Yikes,” I say as I sit, but I'm smiling anyway. I like hearing Zay's stories, getting to know him better. And why shouldn't I? All his girlfriends probably heard this story and he claims to not even have liked them. So he dates people he hates. Totally weird. I find that it bothers me more than it should, like why were they worth dating and I'm not even at that level?
I blink those thoughts away and sweep my fingers through my hair, suddenly nervous about the whole idea of getting pierced. Although you already let Zayden pierce you in the most intimate way possible, so why not?
“Were your parents pissed?”
“Oh hell yeah,” Zay says as he opens a silver kit filled with medical supplies. “They made me and Rob work, like, forever doing obscure chores to pay for that dental work. Have you ever had to sweep the street in front of the house? The actual road for an entire block. Who does that?”
I laugh as Zayden comes over to stand in front of me, reaching up to take my chin in his hands. I can see in his eyes that he's in total work mode right now, but the touch of his hands makes me remember the other night—not to mention our exhibition experiment. Oh God.
I feel my eyes flutter closed and Zayden exhales sharply.
“Stop that,” he says, but he sounds goofy and playful, like he doesn't much care if I tear his pants open and start sucking his cock again. And I kind of want to. I … actually really liked it. “I've been fantasizing about this since the day I met you. Now hold still.”
Zayden looks at me for a few seconds and then grabs some black gloves out of his kit, snapping them onto his fingers in a way that's oddly erotic. I want to feel that latex on my body—and not just inside of it.
Fuck. Who thinks about condoms like that? I'm being totally weird.
Zayden grabs a white antiseptic wipe and then comes to stare at me again.
“Right or left?” he asks, and I pause. I have to really think about that for a minute.
“Do you have a preference?” I ask. “I mean, it's your art.”
“And it's your body,” he says, but almost like he wishes it were his, too. “Let's do the left. Then me and you can be piercing buddies.” He waggles his own pierced brow and I smile.
Zayden lifts the wipe up and cleans a spot on my left brow with the cool feeling of alcohol, pulling back and tossing the little square into the can between the toilet and the sink. Once he's done that, he stares at me for another few seconds, like he's really taking this seriously. I like that about him. He's a goofy guy, someone that likes to have fun, but he takes the things that matter and he actually applies himself. Whether it's being a nanny or a body piercer … or introducing a girl to her first sexual experience, I can tell he really gives it all he's got.
“Sixteen gauge,” Zayden mumbles to himself, heading back to the kit. “You can change the jewelry in about six months, but for now, we're going with medical grade stainless steel.” I nod and watch as he opens up a package with a silver bar inside it and lays it on top of its package on the counter. Next he opens up a new needle and a package with a little wooden toothpick thing inside of it. It has a purple dye on the end and I can't figure out what it's for until Zay comes back and puts the jewelry to my face, using the dye to mark an entry and exit point.
“Alright, Smarty-Pants,” he says as he stands up and steps into the doorway of the bathroom, using his hand to indicate the mirror. “Check it out and tell me what you think. And don't be shy, baby, tell me if you don't like it.”
I stand up and tuck some hair behind my ear, my eyes straying to Zayden in his sexy black gloves. I love the way they cut across his tattoos, emphasize the brightness with all of that latex as contrast. He notices my gaze lingering and wiggles the fingers of his right hand.
“You like these, I take it? Some people have a fetish for 'em.”
“What about you?” I ask, deflecting the question as I lean in and examine the proposed placement for my piercing. It looks perfect, balanced at just the right spot on my eyebrow, which is basically what I expected. I can't imagine Zayden failing at something he's obviously so passionate about. “Do you have that fetish?”
“A little bit,” he purrs, leaning in and breathing against my ear. To keep things sterile, he makes sure his gloves are nowhere near me. It's kind of sexy, knowing he couldn't touch me even if he wanted to. “I'd like to touch you all over with these, slide 'em into the pink perfection of your pussy.”
“Look at you and your alliteration,” I joke with a hot flush, retreating away to sit on the lid of the toilet again. “So clever.”
“Not near as clever as you,” he says as he tosses the toothpick thing and picks up a pair of what look like tongs. “You with your bachelor's in statistics and all. I barely graduated high school.”
“And yet I'm still working as a stripper,” I say, and I hate how bitter that sounds. I don't want to be that person, lamenting all of the awful things in their life. Yeah, sometimes life sucks, but it's just like the shadows in a painting: there are always highlights to offset all that darkness. “At least when I get my master's, I should be able to get my dream job.”
“Which is?” Zayden asks as he positions himself in front of me, his tongue sticking out slightly to the side as he concentrates on what he's doing. He massages my brow with his thumb and forefinger for a few seconds and then uses the tongs to pinch my skin so that it's sticking out.
“I want to work for the CDC,” I say and he makes an impressed sound in the back of his sexy throat. I study his tattoos, realizing that I've never taken note
of the words under his right ear. In a fine black script, the phrase In Head and Heart is written out. I wonder what it means? “I don't really care where, but I'd like to analyze data on diseases that pose a risk to public health.”
“Sounds hella fancy,” he says as he smiles at me and I feel my heart flutter. Being this close to him is like a drug, like each breath we share in this small room brings us closer, drags me inexorably into this man's arms. Not good. I want to look away, but I can't because he's bringing a needle up to my face and pressing it against my skin. “And important, too. Instead of being a useless waste of life like yours truly, it sounds like you're going places, Brooke Overland. Now suck in a deep breath.”
I pull air into my lungs and then start to panic. Wow. This is actually happening, isn't it?
Before I can get myself together enough to protest, Zayden's telling me, “breathe out.”
I do, and then the pain of the needle is slicing through me, hot and sharp and sudden. It happens too quick for me to cry out, and then Zayden's standing up and grabbing the jewelry from its spot on the counter.
“See? Not so bad,” he coos and I feel myself smiling again. That voice must work on all his clients; it's definitely working on me.
“You're right. It wasn't bad at all. Maybe I should get my clit pierced next?” Zayden laughs as he pushes the silver metal bar through my skin and then tosses the needle into the trash, slipping a metal ball onto the opposite end. One more wipe with an antiseptic square and it's done.
“Clit piercings are actually pretty rare. What you're probably thinking of is a clitoral hood piercing.” He smiles as I stand up and pose in front of the mirror, leaning in close to examine my new piercing. It's barely red there at all, and it doesn't hurt, not even a little.
Zayden is good.
“Not everyone's a good candidate for it.” He spreads his fingers into a V shape in what I'm assuming is an imitation of a vagina. “You, you Brooke have the anatomy necessary. If you ever seriously consider it, check with me. I can give you a whole new orgasm with a properly placed piece of metal down there.”
Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1) Page 20
