by J. Daniels
I bend to kiss her forehead. “Shall we find that spot then? I want your taste in my throat.”
She seems to weave a bit on her feet, then mumbles a hoarse, “yes,” taking my hand and leading me down the footpath.
I slowly slide my fingers between hers as we pass a few shops, and my Denali. Interesting. “Have something in mind?” I ask.
She seems on a mission to get me somewhere specific. Determination leading her, along with desire.
Her shoulder jerks the slightest bit. “Maybe.”
She smiles at me. The moonlight slides across her face, a shadow pooling in her dimple.
“I was here a few months ago, down in this part of the city with Dylan and everyone. Juls and her kids were there. Anyway, we took them to this place down the street a bit and I’d like to go there with you.”
“Yeah?”
I can’t hide the delighted lift in my voice, the overwhelming warmth that seems to spread up my spine.
This seems pretty personal for her. I want personal with Brooke. Every tiny detail of her life, bottled up and given to me.
“It’s not anything special.”
And there goes that glorious feeling. I run a quick hand through my hair.
Right, mate. Just relax on her a bit.
She clears her throat. “It’s funny. When I was here before and used this thing I’m about to take you to, my mind was nowhere near the gutter. I mean, gross. There were kids around. That’s pushing it even for me. But now?” She shakes her head, making a soft tsk sound as we cross the street. “Full-on filth. I’m almost a little nervous about this.”
I straighten with intrigue, pulling her closer so I can slide my hand around her waist, so she can tuck against my side and I can feel the quick flutter of her heart against my ribs.
I press my lips to her hair. She smells like honey and vanilla.
“Sweet Brooke. I like you nervous. You get very honest with me.”
Her head tilts up, brows pinched together. “What? When have I ever been nervous with you?”
She thinks I miss it, the way she peels back a layer of that impetuous exterior of hers to take a breath and slow down. The wide eyed look she seems to give herself, not me, confused and a bit cautious when I reach for her hand or get caught simply gazing at her. It’s fleeting, yes. These aren’t obvious moments with Brooke and she recovers from them quickly, but I see them.
My fingers splay along her hip. “The alley I kissed you in. Your shop practically every time I walk in there, more so the first time though. You seemed a bit flushed, yeah?” I smile at her. “I was too. I felt that kiss the entire day.”
Her lips part, her eyes drop to my mouth. “Yeah,” she says on a rushed exhale.
Not a question. She isn’t asking me if I’m telling the truth, which I sure as fuck am. I’m honestly not sure if I’ve stopped feeling that kiss, or if I will.
She’s agreeing with me. Another layer is exposed, and I want to keep her like this, open and unconcerned with revealing too much, too soon, too fast. I want her letting go and letting me have her secrets, being perfectly unashamed and trusting that I’ll not only like every honest moment she gives me, I’ll protect them for her.
But before I can ask her to elaborate on that single perfect word, Brooke presses her hand against my chest, halting our progression.
“This is it.”
I look up at the building we’ve stopped in front of. The large sign set off in neon colors and strobe lights. The hordes of children scurrying in and out of the door with tickets and carnival prizes.
This is it? This is what she has in mind? I never would’ve guessed anything close to this.
I smile at Brooke, my hand circling around her back. “Are we playing skee-ball, gorgeous? I must warn you, I’m a bit competitive. I’ve never believed in letting a lady win simply because she’s a lady. Nothing honest in that.”
She stands on her toes, getting as close to my face as she can, her small hand sliding over my elbow to my bicep. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Mason,” she murmurs, her breath hot and hungry against my jaw.
I smirk, tilting my head down. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“I’m not a lady. Not even close. And I’m about to show you why.” She grabs my hand and eagerly tugs me inside the arcade.
The large space is dark and noisy, awarding sounds from machines mixing with the heavily bassed music pumping through the speakers. Children rush past us, alive with laughter and exuberance. Parents are lined up against the wall engaging each other in conversation while keeping an eye out.
I look around the room. I’m betting aside from the staff, Brooke and I are the only adults in this place who aren’t here to chaperone.
What the hell does she have in mind bringing me here?
She leads me to the back of the room and down a long hallway. A young bloke wearing a name-tag steps through a doorway and moves in our direction, nodding at me before asking Brooke if she needs help with anything.
“Bathrooms,” she more states than asks, alluding to her knowledge of their location. He takes her meaning and keeps moving in the opposite direction we head in.
The room breaks open. I spot the two doors indicating our destination, I veer right. Brooke goes left.
“This way.” She curls a finger, beckoning me to follow.
I glance at the signs on the doors. Frowning, I make my way to her. “No toilets? I’m a bit lost here, Brooke. What are we doing?”
She smiles at me over her shoulder, waving her hand floppily in the air. “Bathrooms are a bit played-out, don’t you think? Or toilets. Whatever you want to call them. Everyone fools around in bathrooms. I’m sure you have.”
“No,” I admit, a bit shocked at her suggestion. “Public facilities that probably aren’t cleaned often enough? Am I missing the appeal?”
We stop just outside a small, nearly pitch-black room. Her eyes widen as she looks up at me. “Shut up. You’ve never done anything sexual in a bathroom before?”
I shake my head.
“Not even a little hj between mates?”
“Bloody hell.” I lean back, searching her face, which is now alive with amusement. “A good wank between mates? Is that something you’ve witnessed in a toilet? ‘Cause I sure as fuck haven’t.”
She giggles, dropping her head against my arm. “Well, I do live with two men. There’s a lot of wanking going on in that condo. Semen flying everywhere. It’s like a minefield getting from my room to the kitchen.”
“Excuse me?”
What the fuck?
I’ve met both of Brooke’s roommates. Nice blokes. Seem to be very much in love and fully committed to each other, which I assume means they aren’t into sharing. But if I am way off here and they walk around whipping their cocks out around her, I’m going to have a major fucking problem with both of them.
Her laugh blooms to something louder, her small body vibrating against mine. She brushes her lips against my neck. “You seem worried. I’m kidding, mostly. Joey is terribly unashamed, much like myself, but Billy locks that bedroom door and keeps his private life very private. I haven’t seen anything. Only heard.”
“When are you moving out again?” I bend to kiss her. “Tomorrow?”
She rolls her eyes and pulls away, stepping into the room and swiping her hand along the wall. A light turns on in the corner. I follow her inside what appears to be another gaming room. Table games. Foosball, air hockey, pool. I’m shocked there aren’t any kids back here. I know this is where I would be if I were their age.
“Apparently you can only rent out this room for birthday parties and stuff. It’s not available to the people just here for the arcade. That’s why they keep it separate,” Brooke answers the silent questions circling in my head as she walks around the tables.
I take a moment to watch her.
Dark hair curling down her back. That tight black skirt, showing off her slim waist and perfect fucking arse. She turns to face m
e and I slowly lift my eyes, catching her smirk, knowing she’s caught me staring at her and hardly caring. I think she rather likes it when I do that.
“Do you know what this is?” With a quick hand, she pushes back the red curtain of the photo booth she’s stopped at in the back corner, then sticks that same hand to her hip. “I mean, do they have these in Australia or is this strictly an awesome American thing, like setting off fireworks on July fourth?”
With an intrigued smile, I step forward. “Ah, your pull from those bloody Poms. I’ll celebrate that.”
She tilts her head adorably. “Poms?”
“English. Brits. And of course we have photo booths. I believe they are quite popular at weddings and parties, yeah? People take pictures with silly props and what not.”
“Sometimes.”
I reach her, touching the smooth skin of her arm with the back of my fingers. My smile gentles. “What are we doing here, Brooke? Do you want to take photos with me?”
Something sharp gathers in the center of my chest, spreading down my limbs and prickling in my scalp. Is it possible she wants a keepsake from our night together? A piece she can store away and slowly build on?
The evidence of the beginning . . .
Fuck, it’s staggering how badly I want it. How affected I am. She isn’t the only one feeling out of sorts here.
Brooke steps inside the booth, which seems to be much larger than any of the ones I have ever seen before. I’m guessing you can fit groups of people in here instead of just one or two. Perfect for a large party of kids, I suppose.
Facing me, the corner of her mouth lightly pulls into a smile. “It’s a dark spot. I’m hoping there’s enough going on out there to keep the staff occupied for a bit.” She holds out her hand to me. I don’t miss the slight tremble in it. “I need ones. Got any?”
I stare at her, wondering if she’s about to do something she’s possibly never done before. If maybe this fresh, charmingly sexual woman wants to give me one of her firsts.
I’ll take it.
I dig into my wallet and hand her a few bills. When I move to step inside with her, she presses against my chest, keeping me out.
“Watch for your photos. There.” She nods at the slot on the outside panel.
I give her a wary look, but ultimately agree to this. Maybe she wants to give me photos of herself first before we take any together.
Too fucking right. I would love photos of Brooke.
I step back with a quick jerk of my chin. “All right.”
The curtain is drawn. It stops a short distance from the bottom of the booth, completely obstructing my view of Brooke. I move to the side and press my back against the panel, waiting. A soft shuffling sound comes from behind the curtain, followed by a click, the shutter of the lens. Three more follow between long seconds, and I imagine her changing her pose, going from something innocent and playful to something a bit silly. Brief flashes of white light streak across the tile floor at my feet. I cross my arms over my chest, only to push away from the panel when I hear something slide into the slot behind me.
I pick up the sheet of photos.
Good God. Holy . . .
“Fuck,” I groan, my cock quickly lengthening as I stare at the four shots of Brooke; topless, pinching her rose colored nipples, licking and sucking the skin of her tits. Her pretty little arse turned toward the camera in the bottom shots while she fucks her pussy with two fingers. Over her shoulder, her eyes are round with abandon. Feverish and frenzied. Her red lips parted with a sigh or a moan.
She’s giving me this. This gorgeous girl is giving me images of her body to not only admire, but to keep and stare at for later, stroke my cock to, do what I want with.
I wrench the curtain open and step inside, dropping the sheet of photos on the bench and grabbing her face after I conceal us.
She’s still topless. Her skirt is still gathered at her waist, and she’s panting, breathless from her own touch.
I slide my mouth against hers. “Jesus Christ, Brooke. You’re trying to kill me, yeah? You sweet fucking thing.” She answers with a moan as I kiss her jaw and suck on the skin beneath her ear. Sugar sticks to my tongue. Gripping her arse in my hands, I groan against her neck. “You taste so fucking good. Like one of those bloody cupcakes you make.”
“It’s my body lotion. Vanilla cake batter. It’s edible.”
“Fuck. Don’t tell me that.” My groin throbs against her belly. I pinch my eyes shut.
Stay focused, mate. You don’t want to rush with her.
Brooke giggles against my ear. “Why not? I’m wearing it for you. Lick away.”
I lean back and bring her hand to my mouth, drawing on the tips of her fingers.
“Mason,” she whispers, moving in to kiss me, sucking her taste off my tongue. Pressing, pressing, harder. Her lips are soft yet commanding, and she tastes like her wine from earlier; a warm, ripe fruit. I bite her lip and she gasps, tilting her head back and brushing her heavy breasts against my shirt. She does the same to me, a quick bite of pain, and I groan, slapping her ass and relishing in the quiet shudder that ripples through her body.
Fucking hell, she likes it.
Her warm hands travel under my shirt and across my stomach, nails dragging against skin, fingers squeezing my hips and pulling me closer while her mouth slowly devours me.
“Filthy fucking devil. Sit. I want to kiss you here.” I press my hand between her legs, my other palming her breast, roughly squeezing it.
She drops back onto the bench, meeting my eyes as I lower to my knees in front of her, as I spread her thighs open with my hands and settle my body between them.
“Were you wet before you touched yourself?” I ask, bending over her and licking between her breasts. I pull a nipple into my mouth and she arches her back, hands fisting my hair and breaths growing hurried and sharp. A whimpered yes catches in her throat when I drag my teeth across the hardened peak.
I know at any second someone could come walking into this room, see the bottoms of my legs, hear Brooke’s quiet, aching noises and investigate behind the curtain.
What would Brooke do? Would she stop me? Cover herself up while I continue working her with my mouth? Maybe she wasn’t only shaking when she stepped inside here because this is a first for her. Maybe she was thinking about the risk, doing this here when we can easily be somewhere more private, a room with four walls and a lock on the door.
I don’t relish in the thought of anyone seeing Brooke, topless and coming against my face, but I want to give her this. Be the person she associates with this memory.
With a thick voice, she begins begging me with quiet words.
More and move and more and yes.
“How wet were you?” I ask her, kissing her ribs, her stomach, licking the skin of her hip. The sweetness from her lotion soaks into my throat, making me dizzy and delirious.
She tastes too good. Smells too good.
“V-very. It was dripping down my leg.”
“Fuck, Brooke,” I growl, ducking my head, meeting her gaze as I press my lips against the smooth skin of her inner thigh. “Here?” I ask, opening my mouth and sucking.
She nods, her lips parting, fingers digging into my scalp. “Higher too.”
I smile against her. “Obviously. But I rather like kissing you here. Can I keep going?”
“Mm.” She tugs gently on my hair. “No. Move up. I want you to taste me.”
“I am.”
I switch legs and slowly drag my tongue closer to her pussy, kissing and licking her skin. She never stops watching me, her hazel eyes wide and hungry, capturing and captivating me.
“Play with your tits,” I tell her, blowing against her clit.
With a soft cry, she lifts and squeezes them, rolling her nipples between her fingers as I slide her legs to my shoulders. I press my nose against her clit and inhale, groaning, blinking up and seeing the awe bloom across her face.
She’s beautiful; the way she smells, the way she
tastes. That heavy look in her eyes as she watches me.
“Say something,” she pleads, moving her hands over her breasts.
I take a slow lick, my eyes nearly rolling closed in ecstasy. “Mi stai rovinando.”
You’re ruining me.
Her eyes widen ever so slightly. “What does that mean?”
I open my mouth to tell her but she silences me with her fingers against my lips.
“Don’t,” she whispers, slowly removing her hand and bringing it back to her breast. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
There it is; that quiet panic lingering, never too far away when she begins to feel something unfamiliar or different. The little protective shield she slides into place until she senses it’s okay and safe to let herself just fucking be with me.
I’ll wait. Stand still or move, I don’t care. I’ll go where she goes.
Keeping my eyes on hers, I lean forward again and press my mouth between her legs.
Brooke drops her head back with a sigh, quietly crying, “oh, God.” Her thighs tense in my hands while she openly gropes her breasts, her fingers twisting and pulling on her nipples.
I stay as unhurried as I can with my tongue, with my lips sucking gently on her clit. Teasing. Slow. Slower. Drawing this out, leisurely building her to the point of madness. I lick up one side and down the other, again and again. Ignoring where she is wettest until I can’t fucking think straight, until I need her coating my mouth more than I need to fucking breathe.
I slide my hand up her stomach and over her ribs to palm her breast, rolling her nipple between my fingers. She gasps and lifts her hips against my mouth, rocking into me, seeking out her release with gentle, pleading circles.
“Put money in,” I instruct.
Her eyes flash open, dark and cautious, but only for a second. Hurriedly, she grabs a dollar off the bench and leans over me to insert the bill into the slot. With a shaky breath she falls back and grabs my head, guiding me between her legs where I grin against her, moaning at the feel of her heels on my back.
Click.
“Mason,” she whispers through the shyest, sweetest smile, knowing what all is probably being captured right now by the lens behind me; my head between her legs, her hands sliding up her body, over her bare breasts where she lifts and squeezes them, blissfully unashamed.
