Page 47 of The Misfits of Copper County
I twisted my fingers into his hair, needingmoreandharder, but his hands caught my hips, fingers digging into my flesh.
“Delaney,” he growled. The word vibrated through my chest.
“Please, Brewer?” I said. For once, I had no idea what I was asking for. No opinions. No thoughts. No demands. No need to be in control. No need for anything but him.
“Living room,” he gasped after a piece of plaster crumbled to the floor behind me.
I pushed against his chest with my free hand, walking him backward through the kitchen doorway, our bodies glued together. The cool plaster dust on my hand left ghostly prints on his shirt, marking him as mine, if only for tonight.
“Delaney,” Brewer said again. His eyes were dark and heavy-lidded. “Are you sure?—”
I silenced him with another kiss, deeper this time, my tongue sliding against his. My hand still gripped his hair like a lifeline.
We stumbled into the living room, nearly tripping over the pillows I’d laid on the floor earlier. From her spot near the hearth, Teeny lifted her head, then huffed and curled back into a ball, apparently unimpressed by our display.
I pushed Brewer down onto the couch, the momentum carrying me forward until I straddled his lap, my knees bracketing his thighs. His calloused hands slid beneath my—his—sweatshirt, leaving trails of fire everywhere he touched.
“God, you feel—” he murmured against my neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against my skin. “I’ve wanted this.”
The confession hit me like another kind of sledgehammer.
“You…” I gasped as he sucked on my collarbone. “You thought about this? With… me?”
My stomach was tight with need, and my heart thundered with nerves. Was this just the heat of the moment, or was it possible Brewer had actually been attracted to me?
“You fucking kidding?” he huffed without taking his mouth off my skin. “Can’t fucking function around here. All those legs and those fucking glasses always slipping down your nose.”
Brewer’s hands moved down to my hips, fingers digging in as he pulled me down against his hard length. As soon as our cocks touched, I couldn’t help but grind down into him. “W-what did you w-want?” I asked, desperate to find out what he’d meant by “wanting this” but also desperate to feel his hands and mouth on me.
My brain felt like it was both electric static sparking all over the place and gooey sludge locking up every available oxygen molecule and brain cell. But I needed to know what the hell he’d meant. Because there was no way my sexy contractor had actually meant he?—
“Wanted you naked under me,” he breathed hot against my skin. “Wanted to see your cheeks turn all splotchy and your eyes roll up. Wanted to know what it would take to make you shut up, stop thinking, and just fuckingfeel.”
“Uh,” I said stupidly as he continued to torment me with his roaming mouth and hands. “Well…Oh.”
His hands moved down over my silk-clad ass and squeezed. “Wanted to feel this ass,” he murmured as his nose pressed up under my chin. He took his time sucking the skin there before pulling back and meeting my eyes. His were dark with need, and his nose was slightly red from my stubble. “Wanted to make you come, Delaney.”
I lurched down to kiss him on the mouth again, grinding our cocks while sneaking a hand between us to feel the length of him through the denim of his jeans. “Fuck,” I whimpered before pressing my lips together to keep from begging him to fuck me. Was that rude? To ask your contractor to fuck you after one or two maybe-alcohol-induced kisses? It seemed like it was.
But then I remembered he’d offered to make me come. That had actually happened. “Yes,” I said quickly. “Yes, please.”
The edges of his lips turned up. “You gonna let me take care of you?”
His wording took me aback. Takecareof me? I did not need a man totake careof me. I didn’t need taking care of, period. I needed an orgasm.
“Pants off,” I said, asserting a little control. I tried climbing off him but tipped over and fell forward between Brewer and the sofa cushions instead, letting out a littleoof.
His smile faded. “Y’okay?”
“Pfft. Pants off. I’m… supervising. From here.”
Brewer stood up like he was no longer as drunk as other people in the room and started to make a big production of taking off his jeans. The knowing quirk of his brow might have annoyed me if I hadn’t been so distracted by his little striptease.
“Faster,” I urged, moving to the edge of the sofa without realizing what I was doing. “Oh, never mind. Here. I’ll do it.” I reached out to shimmy his jeans past his hips, watching with rapt attention as the thick outline of his erection was revealed under the cotton fabric of his underwear.
Brewer’s fingers tangled in my hair. “You look like Teeny when I finish a steak and offer her the bone,” he murmured.
I glanced up at him before settling my eyes back on his package as I stroked it appreciatively. “I will not dignify that with the expected bone joke. Nor will I be compared to a feral beast.”
