Page 37 of Avery's Hero

It’s totally irrational.

There’s no reason to be freaking out. Unless I let myself remember a life I have spent forever trying to forget.

Brock snaps me back when he growls, “Fuck, for a year I’ve been dreaming about having you in my bed.”

Okay… I’m officially having a case of tachycardia. I’m not sure my heart can take this. My heart meter has been redlined since he said he was bringing me to his house.

When I climbed on top of him in the truck. I was in charge.Okay,I was telling myself I was in charge.

For some reason, having sex in his truck was one thing… this is a whole other dangerous game. I’m in his bedroom. Inhisbed. Under his body. I’m clearly not in control.

But just like Brock does, he reads me like a book. He knows where my spiraling thoughts are trying to go and he doesn’t let me get inside of my head.

He talks dirty. Rough-whispering filthy things to me while he expertly peels off my clothes.

My hormones are geysering inside mybody. My ovaries are singing his name. Everything between my thighs feels hot, wet, burning with need.

Those rough words, throaty and raw are hot enough. Pair it with the way he consumes me with those eyes… Yep, the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.

That steals my voice. I’m all out of words. Moaning seems to be my new language.

It’s more than a poor gal can take. The big, rough hands, his hot, urgent voice. The crackling intensity in the air between us. I’m lost in a sea of carnal pleasure, riding high on a hormone rush, and being whisked away in a river of illogical submission.

I probably look like I’ve been hit by a taser. Wide-eyed, shaky, and breathless.

Every one of my thinking brain cells blinks off, replaced by a warm golden glow that’s coming from somewhere deep inside my pussy.

All hope of reason is gone.

Tracing his way down my body, he kisses along the line of my ribs, across the angle of my hip. I shiver beneath his touch as he moves closer and closer to the place I can’t wait for him to touch me.

Now!Please.

I’m almost ready to scream for him to hurry when he latches his perfect mouth on my clit. Lightning sears through me. I see stars as I fist the bedsheets. “Oh god, Brock. Yes, yes. That’s so incredible.”

He wedges those broad, strong shoulders, deeper between my legs, forcing me to open wider. Then, the man devours me.

Owns me.

Wrecks me and makes me whole again.

He fingers me, lashes me with broad strokes of his tongue, gently nips me with his teeth. Sucks on the tiny bundle of nerves until I’m coming unglued.

He does it all. Every freaking amazing thing he can do with his mouth and fingers until I’m shaking and glistening with perspiration. Moaning his name.

I couldn’t stop my orgasm if you paid me a million dollars. A bazillion dollars.

It’s the most outrageous, most powerful single feeling of pleasure I’ve ever felt.

I collapse into the bed, heart racing, chest pumping, limp like I’ve been wrung out.

But apparently, one isn’t enough for him. He doesn’t stop.

Hello,multiple orgasms. I’ve heard you are a thing, but this is our first acquaintance.

I’m not even sure what planet I’m on, but Brock apparently knows what he’s doing. He just slowly works me up again.

I’m completely powerless against his expert touch.

---