Page 91 of Choosing Skyler

“My beautiful, good girl,” I purr into her ear. “Are you ready?”

She nods frantically and tries to push back again. She lets out a little growl when I stop her movements again and I have to fight the chuckle trying to break free.

“Eyes on the mirror, Beautiful. Watch and feel,” I tell her and when her eyes snap to mine in the mirror, I push forward—slowly.

When our hips meet, I grind against her, hitting her G-spot and making her clench around me. She feels so good like this. Her wet heat is surrounding my aching cock and my own legs tremble as I force myself not to pull back and drive into her. I pull back slowly and enter her again, running my hand around her hip to rub circles around her clit.

“Oh, God, Brady…” she says huskily. “You feelsogood.”

“So do you, Beautiful,” I tell her.

I build us both up slowly and when she trembles and cries out, I’m right there with her.

I stand and finally unzip her dress before pulling it over her head and tossing it to the floor. I unhook her lacy bra and push it over her shoulders so that it falls to the ground too. Then, I just look at her beautiful body as she stands naked in front of me. Her skin is flushed and when I reach up to touch her, goosebumps raise in my fingers’ trail. I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her neck before meeting her eyes in the mirror again.

“Beautiful.” I sigh.

Chapter 33

Skyler

Our plane touches down at two o’clock and we head for the baggage claim to get our suitcase and toiletry bag. Brady turns his phone on and orders an Uber to take us from the airport in Norfolk to his house in Virginia Beach while I watch for our bags at the carousel. I reach for our bags just as Brady slides his phone back into his pocket, taking them from me as we head toward the exit.

When we step out to wait for the Uber driver, I’m hit with the familiar smell of the salt water. I haven’t smelled that since leaving Florida. The air also feels heavier at the lower altitude than I’ve become accustomed to. I take a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh.

“The air is different here, huh?” Brady chuckles.

I laugh. “This is nothing. Try breathing in Florida. The humidity is way worse there.”

Brady sets our bags down beside a bench and pulls me down to sit beside him. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side, kissing my temple.

“I’m so glad you came with me. Thank you,” he says, his voice heavy with emotion.

I look up at him and smile. “I’ve got you, Hot Stuff. I couldn’t let you do this alone. I choose you too. Besides, I couldn’t stand the thought of you six hundred miles away from me. So, thank you for letting me come with you.”

He relaxes against me, and I rest my head back on his shoulder as we wait for our driver to arrive. I’m not nearly as nervous as I thought I would be in a new place. It doesn’t seem to matter where I am. As long as Brady is with me, I feel safe and protected.I hope he never gets tired of being stuck with me.

He squeezes my shoulder, drawing my attention back to him and away from my inner thoughts. When I look up at him, his jaw clenches.

“I love you, Beautiful. I want you with me, always,” he says sternly.

I sigh. “Thank you. I love you too.”

Before he can say anything else his phone chimes, letting us know our ride is approaching. We stand and grab our bags as the driver pulls up to the curb. He pops the trunk for Brady to stow our bags and we slide into the back seat.

The driver looks up in the rear-view mirror. “It’s about a thirty-minute ride. Do you need to stop anywhere on the way?” he asks.

“No. Thank you. Just the address listed,” Brady answers.

It’s just after three when we pull up to a two-story brick home with blue shutters on the windows. There are matching blue flower boxes under the windows, but they are all empty. I get a sense of homecoming, even though I’ve never been here. I can picture the house with the boxes full of flowers and the windows open, letting the sea breeze in. It’s surreal.

“Oh, Brady. It’s so beautiful.” I smile at him as he lifts our bags from the trunk.

“Yeah. It’s home. I just hope we can keep it that way.” He smiles a sad smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“We will,” I say earnestly.We have to. I think this is my home too.

Brady sets the suitcase down on the porch to pull his keyring from his pocket and unlock the door. He pushes it open and waves his arm for me to enter first. I walk into a small foyer. On the right wall, there’s a table with a ceramic bowl on top next to a coat rack with a built-in bench that has cubby spaces at the bottom for shoes. I sit and kick off my tennis shoes, sliding them into the cubby under me. Brady steps in, tosses his keys into the ceramic bowl and smiles when he sees me sitting on the bench.

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