by LK Farlow
Brock scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuck, you really are a little firecracker.” He steps in behind me and I close the door, sliding the lock into place.
Instantly he grips the back of my thighs and hoists me up. Our lips meet in a heated kiss; it’s teeth and tongue and passion and longing all coming together at once. He lowers himself onto the couch so that I’m straddling him, and before I know it, I’m grinding down on him, and he’s meeting me thrust for thrust.
Brock breaks our kiss and murmurs against my lips. “Fuck, Abs, you’re so sexy. But I want to do things right with you.”
I swivel my hips and his eyes roll back just a little. “No one gets to decide what’s right but us.”
“You sure?” he asks, ever the gentleman.
I lick my lips then shrug out of my blazer and tug my shirt over my head, leaving me bare on top since I skipped a bra. “One hundred and twenty percent. I want to finish what we started last time you were here.” I bring my hands to my chest and tug on my nipple rings, moaning at the sensation. “I want to know how you feel inside me.”
“Jesus Christ. That mouth of yours is trouble.”
I shimmy out of his lap and sink to my knees on the floor, nestling myself between his spread legs. Brock watches me like a hawk as I flick open the button to his jeans before dragging the zipper down, freeing him from the confines of his pants. “Let me show you just how much trouble.”
He lets out a guttural moan from deep in his throat when I hum against him. His hands tug on my hair as my fingers press into his thighs. I don't get to finish what I started before I'm being hauled up and laid back onto the floor. "As much as I love your kind of trouble, it's my turn."
Brock wastes no time stripping me: first my heels, then my shorts. My black lace panties give him pause, though. He stares at them like they’re the eighth wonder of the world, rolling his lips as he does. “Damn. You are so sexy.” His voice is sandpaper and grit, full of want.
With sure hands, he pulls the delicate lace from my body before pushing my legs farther apart. I shudder the moment his mouth lands where I need him the most, threading my fingers through his hair as he expertly works my body. “Tastes so good,” he rumbles against my skin, and just like that, I fall apart, screaming his name.
Before I’ve even had a chance to recover, Brock moves from between my thighs to hovering over me. He seals his lips to mine in a searing kiss, nipping at my lip and then licking away the burn. He pulls back, and we’re nose to nose. “Are you sure?”
“One hundred and twenty-five percent now,” I reply with a sly grin.
He keeps his eyes on me, his eyes roaming over my exposed body, honing in on the colorful tattoos on my right side as he stands to kick off his shoes and finish the job I started of removing his pants.
I watch him just as intently as he pulls his wallet from his back pocket and snags a little foil packet. Sheathed and ready to go, Brock lowers himself back down to me and pushes inside, one hand supporting his weight while the other palms my cheek tenderly. He fits me like he was made for me, and he moves like he has a map to my pleasure points. He brings me to the edge again and again until we’re both a sweating, panting mess of tangled limbs. But when I finally fall apart, he’s right behind me, with a long, guttural, “Fuuuuck.”
BROCK
Just when I think life can’t get any better, Abby Jane shocks the shit out of me by asking if I want to stay the night. Obviously, I said yes. Hell. Yes.
So, here I am now, feeling like king of the fucking world, laying in my firecracker’s bed with her my arm around her and her head on my chest. “You wanna watch a show?” she asks.
I drop a kiss to the top of her head and hold her a little closer before murmuring, “Sounds good.”
She wiggles out of my hold to grab the remote, and I instantly miss the feel of her body pressed against mine. “Whatcha wanna watch?”
“It’s up to you.”
She turns to look at me, disbelief coloring her features. “Really?”
“Really. Do your worst, Abby Jane.”
She clicks around, moving through Netflix like a wizard before settling on Gossip Girl. I smirk and pull her back into the position we were in. “You really think watching a little Serena and Blair is gonna upset me?”
“Oh, my God,” she laughs. “You know their names?”
“Hell yeah. It’s one of those guilty pleasure shows. West and I were watching a show one night and a rerun marathon came on after. Shit…we were six episodes in before we even realized what the fuck we were watching. Now, I’ve seen all of the seasons—at least twice.”
Abby Jane runs her hand across my chest, lightly raking her nails as she goes. “You are something else, Brock. Not at all like I thought.”
I hum deep in my throat. “Hush.” My words are gruff. Tonight’s been so damn perfect; I have no desire to ruin it by digging into the heavy shit. “We’re getting to the good part of this episode.”
Abby Jane passed out cold during the finale of the first season. I stayed up a little longer, despite my eyelids drooping—I wasn’t ready for our night to end. I finally gave in and decided to call it quits at the start of the second season, just as Kristen Bell’s voiceover told viewers, “Sex, lies, and scandal never take a vacation.” I smirked at the familiar opening lines as I grabbed the remote and powered off the television.
If only I knew how true that would soon prove to be.
AJ
I wake up earlier than usual thanks to a random beep from somewhere in the house, immediately rolling over to snuggle into Brock…only he isn’t there. What the fuck? Did he seriously bail on me in the middle of the night?
No. No, he wouldn’t do that. Right? Unless he already got what he was interested in whispers the inner bitch in my mind. Maybe he’s in another room? I tiptoe from the bed to the bathroom, naked as the day I was born, but when I swing open the door, he’s not there.
I snag my robe from the hook on the door and slip it on as I trudge into the living room, feeling slightly defeated. Still no Brock. What the fuck? I continue into the kitchen and a piece of paper on the island grabs my attention.
Abs-
You can go ahead and stop with all those thoughts I know you’re thinking. I didn’t run out…did you really think you’d get rid of me that easily? Nah, get real firecracker. I have private golf sessions every Saturday and Sunday morning early AF. Sorry I forgot to tell you; please don’t be mad. I’ll call you when I finish up. Oh, and I made you a pot of coffee before I left.
-Brock
Ah! That’s what the beep was—my coffee pot telling me it was finished brewing. My cheeks split into a wide grin as I pull a mug down from the cabinet, filling it with the nectar of the gods. I doctor it up just right and carry it back to my bedroom. Back in bed, I pull out my Kindle and skim through my TBR, finally settling on Bashful—a rom-com about a theater major who’s majorly crushing on her bestie, who she assumes is gay.
I’m immediately sucked into this book, only pausing twice to refill my mug, and before I know it, hours have passed. Honestly, if it wasn’t for my stomach growling and demanding food, I’d keep reading. After I power down my Kindle, I head into the kitchen in search of sustenance.
I settle on a peanut butter, jelly, and pretzel sandwich and an ice-cold glass of milk. Once I’ve cleared my plate, I check the time. It’s almost noon, and I still haven’t heard from Brock. While my irrational heart wants to panic, my logical brain reminds me he very well could still be golfing. Lord knows, when my dad went, he’d be gone for endless hours. Then again, for dear old dad, “I’m going golfing” roughly translated to “I’m out cheating with my secretary,” so maybe not the best comparison.
I’m debating over whether or not I should text him when he calls me. Not caring about looking eager, I answer on the first ring. “Hey.”
“Hey, Abs. You get my note?”
“I did. Thanks for leaving it. Not gonna lie, I was a little worried at first.�
��
“Figured you might be. Sorry I forgot to tell you.” I hear a car door shut in the background, followed by the sound of an ignition cranking. When he speaks again, his voice is low and husky. “I’ve been thinkin’ about you all day—about last night...how hot you were.”
His words light a fire in me, and I clench my thighs together. “I’ve been thinking about you, too.”
“Oh yeah? Wanna tell me about those thoughts? In detail?”
“Are you trying to have phone sex with me while you drive?” I snort out a small laugh. “That doesn’t seem safe.”
“Good point, Abby Jane. Plus, why settle for your words when I get the real deal?”
“Oh, my God. You’re so cocky.”
“But I got the goods to back it.” I’m about to ask him how he even fits in his truck with that ego of his, but he changes the subject. “Seriously, what are you up to today?”
“Other than wasting the day away in my bed reading, not much.”
“West texted me earlier and asked if I wanted to go tubing in about an hour. You wanna come?”
“Yes!” My answer surprises me. I haven’t been out to the river in a long time…in fact, I think the last time I went was the summer before Brock ditched me. But the thought of seeing him in his swim trunks outweighs my memories of our past—at least for today. “Can I invite Stacia?”
“For sure. I know West won’t complain. I’ll pick y’all up. Oh, and Abby Jane…I can’t fucking wait to see you in a bikini.”
The fact that Brock and I were both thinking about seeing the other in are swimsuits has me feeling giddy. I end the call and fire off a text to my bestie telling her to get her ass over here stat before dashing back to my room to get ready.
Thirty minutes later, I’m dressed in a pair of denim cutoffs and a white tank top, with my black two-piece swimsuit underneath. I’m sliding my feet into a pair of flip-flops when I hear Stacia let herself in. “Yo! You ready?” she hollers from the living room.
“Yup. Just packing a bag,” I yell back, tossing a towel and some sunblock into my bag.
I walk out to where she is and find her raiding my fridge. “Fabulous. I grabbed us a six-pack on my way!”
“Nice. FYI, I need groceries, so your mission is a lost cause.”
Stacia nudges the refrigerator closed with her hip. “Damn. I’m hungry.”
“You know one of them will have food.”
“Truth. Who all is going?” she asks, hoisting herself up to sit on my counter.
“I’m not sure. Brock and West are the only two I know for sure.”
Stacia goes to reply, but my phone pings with an incoming text. “C’mon, he’s here.”
BROCK
I pull up in front of Abby Jane’s building and both West and I hop out to help the girls load up. “Just so you know, you’re riding in the backseat.”
“Are you being serious?” he asks, incredulous.
“As a heart attack. Plenty of room back there, Plus, Abby Jane invited her friend along.”
West’s interest is instantly piqued. “The hot one with the bull ring in her nose?” His question answers itself when the girls exit the building.
I swear to God, my mouth goes drier than the Sahara when my eyes land on Abby Jane. Her shorts are so short, they could pass as denim underwear, and I can see her skimpy black triangle top through her white tank. Having intimate knowledge of what that top is hiding, somehow makes it hotter. I reach down and adjust my hard-on as my girl approaches me.
She hesitates at the last second, so I step to her and take her beach bag from her. “Glad you decided to join us,” I whisper the greeting before pressing my lips to hers, sucking on her bottom lip for a beat before pulling away. “Let’s go. You’ve got shotgun.”
She glances over to where West is helping Stacia load her drinks into the cooler—and by helping, I mean that he’s staring at her ass as she bends over.
I snort at her unspoken question. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
With everyone situated, I shift the truck into gear and pull out into the flow of traffic. “Hey, Brock,” Stacia says. “Y’all have fun last night?” I catch her eyes in my rearview mirror, and she’s smiling like the cat who ate the canary.
“More than you know.” With one hand on the wheel, I reach out and grip Abby Jane’s leg with the other, shooting a knowing look her way, causing her cheeks to pinken. Who knew I could make this little hardass blush so easily?
“Oh yeah? Wanna share details?” Stacia asks, and West groans beside her.
“I do not want to hear about my cousin’s sex life.” His comment strikes me as odd, because in the past he’s had no trouble prying into my bedroom activities. I’ll have to remember to ask him what’s up when it’s just the two of us.
“No. No details,” Abby Jane answers for me. “What we do is between us.”
“Spoilsport,” Stacia grumbles, at the same time West says, “Thank God.”
Abby Jane leans forward and fiddles with the radio until a song she likes comes on. We spend the rest of the drive listening to music, and I’m so zoned out, imagining her riding me the same way she’s dancing in her seat, I miss our damn turn. “Shit,” I mutter mostly to myself.
“What’s wrong?” Abby Jane asks, laying her hand on my leg, dangerously close to my dick. Just a little higher and to the left, firecracker.
“Missed the turn.”
“You did? Where?” She shifts in her seat, looking at the road behind us.
Her question is valid as fuck, because the only thing marking the dirt road turnoff is a little red reflector on a tree. I ride down a little farther until I can make a safe U-turn.
I nod toward the tree when we turn and Abby Jane shrugs. “Guess it’s been a long time since I’ve been out here.”
Stacia snorts. “No shit. Since like middle school, AJ. Wonder what made you wanna come today?”
“Probably the same person who made her come last night,” West cracks, causing Stacia and me to laugh while Abby Jane to buries her face in her hands.
The road is long, winding, and riddled with potholes—making me extra thankful for my badass suspension. After about five minutes, we reach the outpost parking lot. I scan the dirt lot, looking for a spot my behemoth of a truck will fit into, because holy crap, there are a lot of people on the river today.
“Fuck,” I curse out loud when I see a certain Benz parked in the shade next to the only open spot. “Dammit.” What in the hell is she doing here? This is so not her scene.
Abby Jane turns to face me, concern evident in her big, brown eyes. “What’s wrong?”
West immediately spots what has me upset. “Sucks to be you, dude. Maybe she heard you’d be here?”
“Seriously,” Abby Jane implores. “What’s going on? She who?”
I suck in a breath through my teeth. “Amanda is here.”
“Amanda as in…”
“Yeah. Her.”
“Well, that sucks, but fuck her. She can only ruin our fun if we let her.”
I can’t help but grin at my girl’s enthusiasm. “You know what? You’re right, firecracker. Let’s go.”
The banks of the river are lined with dense woods, and every so often there’s a sandbar perfect for breaking and eating. Abby Jane and I decided to share an innertube and no lie, floating under a cloudless sky with her body pressed against mine is the best form of torture. The tube with our cooler and waterproof radio is tethered to us and West and Stacia’s tubes are tethered to it, leaving them far enough back that we can talk if we holler, but far enough that Abby and I have some semblance of privacy.
Though, not private enough for what’s on my mind.
“Can we stop and eat soon?” Stacia yells over the music.
I shoot her a thumbs-up and as we approach the next sandbar, Abby Jane and I hop off of our float and help guide it to the bank. We fucking lucked out, because no one else is stopped here—it’s just us and nature and the occasional sounds of other t
ubers passing by. West grabs the cooler, and Stacia produces a blanket from her bag. Once we get our stuff situated, we feast on cold fried chicken, pasta salad, and watermelon.
Stacia and West are goofing off in the water while we relax in the shade. I’m sitting with my legs out in front of me propped back on my elbows and Abby Jane is using my lap as a pillow. I’m so damn relaxed; this is truly shaping up to be the perfect Saturday until a cacophony of raised voices causes me to look up.
God, I wish I wouldn’t have looked. Because sure enough, Amanda is walking my way, her hips swaying, but there’s fire in her eyes. “Brocky!”
At the sound of her shrill voice, Abby Jane sits up and shoots me a look, silently asking if that’s who she thinks it is. I give her a discreet nod. It’s no wonder she doesn’t recognize her, what with all the work Amanda’s had: a new nose, filled lips, double D’s, and then some—pretty fucking insane for a twenty-one-year-old.
“Hey there, Amanda. Didn’t know you’d be out here today.”
She frowns and inspects her perfectly manicured nails before replying. “Ugh. Me either. Rob said we were going out on the water. I thought he meant on a boat.”
I hold back my snort, but Abby Jane…yeah, she doesn’t.
Amanda turns her gaze to my girl. “You’re Bill and Elenore’s daughter?” Her lip curls in a nasty snarl.
Abby Jane though—she’s cool as a cucumber. With a grace I didn’t know she possessed, she rises from sitting to standing and extends a hand toward Amanda. “I am, and you are?”
This only serves to piss Amanda off even more. “Like you don’t know who I am.” She ignores Abby’s outstretched hand, showing that she’s not the polite socialite she’d have people believe her to be.
At this point, Stacia, West, and Rob—a new money douchebag—along with a few of his friends, are all making their way toward us from the water to watch the show.
Abby Jane drops her arm and silently scans Amanda from head to toe before frowning at her. “Honestly? I couldn’t tell you from any other bitch on the avenue. Y’all are a dime a dozen and nothing to write home about. So, how about you step down off your pedestal and introduce yourself like a normal fucking person?”
