Page 49 of Fighting for You
I take him further into my mouth, gliding up and down a few times. I chance a glance up and see he’s fighting to stay quiet, one hand fisted at his mouth. It’s at this moment a chorus of “awwws” sound around us at something in the movie, and I’m reminded we’re in public. I’ve been so lost in my lust for this gorgeous man, I’ve completely forgotten where we are.
Somehow it only stokes the arousal coursing through me, the ache between my legs intensifying. I shift trying to find some friction, some relief, but my soaked panties offer none of either.
My own desire compels me to continue. I’ve always loved giving head. It’s an empowering, heady feeling to know I can bring a man to his knees by getting down on mine. Especially a man like Brooks, who looks like he could break me in half if he wanted to.
I bob faster, knowing our time is running out with only a couple more scenes left in the movie. Next time, I plan to draw this out, really push him to the edge, but there’s no time for that now. I use my hand in tandem with my mouth, and I still can’t cover his full length. Brooks quietly groans, still stifling hissounds, but his breathing has picked up, so I know he must be getting close.
I hollow out my cheeks on the upstroke, and after a few pulls, Brooks’ entire body tenses under my hands, he might even stop breathing. He taps my shoulder, signalling what’s about to happen, but I keep going. With a quiet but obscene grunt, he empties into my mouth. I greedily swallow down everything he offers, keeping his softening cock in my mouth as he comes down, just watching all the various expressions play out on his face before he finally opens his eyes, and they find me.
He looks sated and maybe a little bewildered. I pull back and use the back of my hand to wipe at my mouth and chin, cleaning up the last of the evidence of what just happened. Brooks tucks himself away, buckling his belt and quickly doing up his shirt before he pulls me back on top of him.
“What the fuck was that?” he whispers before plunging his tongue into my mouth. We kiss for a few minutes, when I feel him hardening under me again. I grind down on his lap, so turned on I could cry.
He slowly kisses down my neck, gently sucking on a few spots, spots I know will bloom with his marks by tomorrow morning. I’m not sure how I’ll explain it at work or to Hayes, but that’s a problem for future me.
“Do you want to come home with me?” he murmurs, his lips still brushing against my skin.
My answering “yes” is more breath than sound.
Chapter Twenty
Margot
Somehow we managed to extract ourselves from each other, unceremoniously throw the cheese back in the cooler, roll the blankets into a heap, and exit the drive-in all before the end-credits appeared on the screen.
We’re both quiet on the ride back. I’m still reeling from what I did now that the lust fog has cleared a little. Anyone could have looked over and seen us. I’m thankful Brooks had the forethought to close the tailgate. Along with how dark everything was, I’m confident no one got a free show, even though the thought seems to reignite the same desire from before. I wasn’t aware I had an exhibitionist side to me, but here we are.
Brooks keeps sneaking glances at me, like he’s making sure I’m still here. Like I’d be anywhere else. He’s pulled my hand into his lap, playing with my fingers, and I’m tempted to play with him again, but I reel it back. I’m not sure what’s gotten intome, but now that I’ve had a taste of him, I don’t want to stop touching him.
All these thoughts have me squirming in my seat and silently begging him to drive faster. I’m imagining all the ways I’d like to touch him, how he’d touch me. I wonder if he’s talkative when he doesn’t have to keep quiet.
But my daydreaming comes to a screeching halt when I get to a certain point. A certain slightly important point we haven’t discussed. I’m pretty sure I know where tonight is leading, and… I’m okay with it. There’s nothing in me screamingstoplike it did with the other men I’ve been with. Instead, all I hear ismore, more, more.
It should worry me. I barely know him; it’s our first date for Pete’s sake. But I feel secure, safe. I’ve seen a hidden side of Brooks, and it makes me feel like he’ll take care of me at my most vulnerable. Resolving myself to tell him about the big step I’m excited to take with him, I open my mouth, but the words die on my tongue as the phone he tossed onto the bench seat between us buzzes and lights up, drawing my eyes.
12/20 9:37 p.m.
Cary:Happy Birthday, bro! I’m back in town. Can we get a beer this weekend?
Brooks frowns at it, and his brow furrows. He lets go of my hand and turns the phone face down before clasping my fingers again.
“So are you going to tell me why you know a bunch of high schoolers?” I ask to break the silence and weird tension that’s settled around us.
Brooks clears his throat. “They come around to The Pit sometimes,” he finally says. “They’re friends with this kid Max, who’s pretty good. Or he will be good after Hayes—uh…” he trailsoff, looking for the right words to finish telling me how the kid will be great in a fighting ring after my brother is done coaching him. “He’s got potential,” he finally finishes. He must see the concern on my face as he quickly adds, “It’s not as bad as it sounds, the rules are different for the younger crowd.” The Pit is not a topic he ever brings up, and it’s something I’ve been dying to dive into with him, but right now is not the time.
After a few moments, Brooks squeezes my hand, and I catch his eyes. His smile is sweet, causing a warmth to sprout in my chest, and my returning smile is involuntary. How does he do that? Just as I’m about to climb into my head and get stuck thinking about Hayes and whatever he has going on with The Pit, Brooks gives me one smile, and all I can think of is him.
“So, why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” I ask.
“I don’t celebrate it,” he replies, eyes back on the road. “It’s really not a big deal.”
“Well, I feel bad. I wish I had known; I would have gotten you a gift.” I can’t imagine not celebrating my birthday. Ever since I can remember, Hayes would make such a big fuss every year. He’d pull me from school, and we’d spend the day doing something fun like going to the movies for a whole-day marathon or taking me to Charleston for a shopping spree and a fancy dinner. I’m of the strong mindset a birthday must be celebrated to the fullest.
“Trust me. This is already the best birthday I’ve had in a long time.” His smile flashes quickly, and heat rushes to my face at the reminder of what I just did. All I can think, though, is how I can’t wait to make it even better.
We’re quiet for the rest of the short trip to his house. With each mile the butterflies in my stomach intensify. I’m nervous, but it’s that about-to-jump-out-of-an-airplane nervousness, where you’re on the precipice of doing something scary and exciting, but the excitement is winning out.
When he parks, he softly says, “Wait here,” and jumps out of the truck. My door opens just a few seconds later, and he takes my hand to help me out. He holds my palm clasped in his the whole way to his front door. Those butterflies multiply.
