Page 48 of That: Taylor & Brooks

“Good.”

Before she could process what was happening, his head was between her legs and mouth on her pussy. Hot. Hungry. Possessive. She slammed her thighs shut, the pleasure to much to handle.

Brooks tsked, prying them back open. “Nah, girl. You wanted this.”

The next stroke of his tongue had her clawing at the dresser, no escape, no mercy. “BB…” she stammered, but he was lost in her, tasting, savoring, devouring. He wasn’t tryna hear it, there would be no copping pleas tonight.

His hands traveled up, fingers rolling her nipples between his fingertips. The sharp pleasure made her cry out, her breath coming in loud, desperate pants.

“Mmm,” he groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her core. “Just like that, baby. Breathe.”

She wasn’t even sure she was still in her body. She was too high, too far gone. His arms locked around her hips, keeping her exactly where he wanted.

“Hmmh,” she hummed. Her pussy gushed, her juices coated the two fingers he’d slid inside her. The filthy, wet sound made his head spin.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Look at you, already trembling. And we’re just getting started,” he said, working her through, kissing, licking, flicking until she came apart. Her orgasm ripped through her. She collapsed against the wall, legs trembling around his shoulders.

Brooks lowered her legs and pressed slow kisses against her stomach. When he finally reached her neck his hands gripping the back, bringing her mouth straight to his. Her lips were still parted, her body still quivering, and when he kissed her, she let him take whatever he wanted. He could have it all.

“Tell me something,” he muttered against her mouth, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin of her thighs.

“I don’t even know my name right,” she panted. He was giving her a minute to catch her breath. But he fully intended to be between her legs and in her head all night. He needed to pace himself.

“Mine, that’s your name. Say it,” he commanded.

Taylor’s heart was beating out of her chest, her mind spinning. She nodded. If Brooks said she was his than that’s what it was. She couldn’t muzzle her feelings. She was surrendering for the night.

She didn’t have the willpower to fight it.

“Mine,” she repeated.

Chapter 12

She should have run. Got the fuck out of there before he made good on that promise to ruin her whole damn life. It was too late. The wrecking ball had entered the chat. She would be scratching at the neck for another hit of him.

She couldn’t run.

She wanted more. Needed more.

Brooks kissed her slowly, their lips moving in a rhythm so fluid, so effortless, it felt like they’d been doing this for years instead of minutes. Her body hummed, her senses overwhelmed by the way his warm mouth moved over hers, deepening the kiss, claiming her. When he sighed into her mouth, the vibration sent a shockwave through her spine, and before she could stop herself, she sighed too loudly.

Taylor pulled his body close to hers, she needed to feel him. Needed him in a way that scared the shit out of her.

“Again?” He asked as she opened her eyes. The flood lights outside illuminated her face allowing him to look into her eyes. Brooks rested his head on her forehead.

“Again,” she muttered. Brooks slid her off of the dresser and placed her on her feet. Her back was to his chest now, her breath slowing down a bit. The anticipation of what he’d do next was making her dizzy.

This was the type of sex she only read about, the kind she thought only existed in her darkest, most secret fantasies. She never imagined that she’d be in thigh-high boots, standing in front of a mirror, while her best friend’s brother devoured her like a buzzard.

Blake forgive her. God help her.

Brooks’ lips met her neck, swirling his tongue with precision, applying just enough pressure to have her shuddering. He moved his hand down her stomach, his breath hot on her skin. Then, without warning, he grabbed her pussy in his hand, cupping her heat, pressing two fingers inside, his palm rubbing lazy circles against her clit.

“Oh my God...” she whispered, her head dropping back, resting against his shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s what I like,” he murmured. His thumb traced slow strokes against her swollen bud. With his free hand, he guided her head down making sure she watched herself in the mirror. Instinctively, her body wound against his hand.

Her knees buckled. She reached out, grabbing his hand between her legs, her other hand smacking against the mirror for balance. Brooks pulled his hand away, replacing it with her own.

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