Page 46 of Body Check
“Ungh,” she mumbles, gripping my arms. “Yes, that. More of—bed.”
“More of bed is exactly what I was thinking, too,” I tell her, withdrawing my hand, bringing it up to my mouth, and licking my fingers clean. I walk us backward and stop just as my legs hit the side of the mattress. Thank fuck I didn’t make my bed this morning, because I just don’t have the extra two seconds necessary to pull down the sheets. I need to bury myself in Bridgette’s perfect body, and I need to do it now.
She’s just as desperate for me as I am for her, because the second I sit down on the mattress, she’s standing in between my legs, pressing at my shoulders. I wrap my hands around her waist and pull her down on top of me. We roll to the center of the bed, a tangle of limbs and sheets. “I want you so damn bad right now,” I tell her, no finesse in my tone. I’m too far gone for that. I’m raw honesty and unfiltered desire. We’re kissing each other’s skin as though a loss of contact would be catastrophic right now.
“I need you,” she tells me, her lips carving a path across my chest. “I need you to fill me up.”
Fuck yes. That’s exactly what I need, too. My body covers her as I press her deep into the mattress, bracketing her body with my legs. “Is this what you want?” I ask.
Tilting her head up, drops her legs wide and smiles. Damn, she’s beautiful. I reach for a spare pillow and wedge it under her hips. My fingers toy with her sex while she reaches for my cock. The palm of her hand is soft and delicate, and when it meets the hard ridge of my dick, I swear my vision blurs. I've never wanted anything as much as I want Bridgette’s pleasure. If it’s going tomake her feel good, if it’s going to make her whimper, if it’s going to make her scream, count me the fuck in.
I line our bodies up, but before I move another inch, my eyes lock on hers, and I hope to hell they say all the things I can’t quite put into words yet. When she reaches up to kiss me, I know she’s in just as deep as I am.
Thank fuck.
My cock twitches when she wraps her arms around my middle and pulls me impossibly closer to her. “Fuck, I need you,” I grind out.
She shifts her hips up and smiles at me. “Then take me, Dutton. I’m right here and I’m all yours.”
I sink inside her, letting every word wrap around me as I lose myself in the rhythm of our bodies. It’s like my mind has blocked out everything unimportant so all my attention can go straight to Bridgette. I’m focused on every cry that falls from her lips, every gasp, and every moan. Her body clenches around my cock, nearly taking me over the edge way too damn soon, so I wrap my lips around one hardened nipple. Having her in my bed again is incredible. Her red hair is fire across my pillow, her voluptuous body is perfection wrapped up in my sheets. I’ll probably get hard every time I do a load of laundry, but at this moment, I don’t give a damn.
Bridgette bends her knees, taking me deeper. I glide my body in and out of hers, doing my damnedest to hit that sweet spot inside her. There’s sweat dotting my brow, and my arms are trembling with the sheer force of holding myself up. But when her body pulses around mine, I erupt immediately.
I’m lying next to Bridgette, running my hands through her hair as she drifts off to sleep. I know I need to wake her so we can figure out an exit strategy, but I’ll do it in a minute. If worst comes to worst and we both fall asleep, I’m still not too concerned. We’re both early risers, so we should be in the clear tomorrow morning, but it’s probably better if we don’t take that chance.
My eyes are getting heavy when I hear my phone buzz. I’m about to check my messages when I hear voices outside my door. And one of them belongs to Blue.
I carefully pull the covers back, untangle my legs from Bridgette’s, and move toward the door, where the voices are getting louder. I’m not sure what the hell is going on until I hear Blue’s calm voice, and Mickey’s is frantic. I’m sending a silent prayer of thanks to whatever paranoid fucker lived in this room before because there’s a peephole in the door. Sliding the cover over, I get a bird’s eye view of the common area and part of the hallway. It looks like Mickey and Blue are squaring off, and there’s a cluster of random guys gathered on the couch in the common room, watching sports highlights. Jesus. How long have they been here? Blue and I are going to have to do something about the easy access to our floor, but that’s a problem for another day. Right now, the bigger issue is that Mickey’s headed straight for my door. Fuck. It’s locked, but he looks determined.
“Mick,” my best friend says, chill as fuck, “didn’t you say your sister went home? She’s probably asleep. Leave her a message and I guarantee she’ll call you in the morning.”
“Jenksy said he saw her coming up the stairs an hour ago. What the hell would my sister be doing up here, Blue?” Mickey says, like he’s afraid of the answer.
“Dude, just?—”
“Shut the fuck up, Blue. You’re not gonna give me a straight answer, and we both fucking know it.”
I watch as he turns toward the guys on the sofa. Mickey grabs the remote and pauses the TV before he starts barking at them. “I’m looking for a girl, really tall. Almost my height. Long red hair. Have you seen her? I think she might have been up here in the last hour or so.”
The guys look at each other, and one says, “Tits for days?” while cupping his hands and putting them about a foot in front of his chest. Fucker. The other guy starts nodding. “Oh, yeah, the big girl. We saw her come up the stairs with a guy.”
I can hear Mickey growling at the guys, and I know that, at least for this moment in time, it has nothing to do with where Bridgette is, but how they described her. Words are just words, sure. But that’s easy for me to say. And it’s not so much the words they used because my girl is not tiny and she does, in fact, have tits for days. It’s the tone they used. That has me fucking growling, too.
What do you know? Mickey and I finally agree on something.
Blue’s on the same team we are because as he hands back the remote, his elbow jerks, upending the one guy’s drink all over his shirt. “Oops. Sorry,” my buddy says, clearly not sorry at all, because he does the exact same thing to the other guy. They bitch up a storm, but at least their messy shirts get them to leave. As soon as they’re gone, though, Mickey’s eyes lock on my door. A second later, he’s charging toward it, but Blue is hot on his heels.
“Mickey. Relax. You don’t want to do this, trust me.”
“You think I don’t want to find out what the fuck my sister is doing in Dickhead Wagner’s room? Guess what? You’re wrong,” he says, whaling on the door like he’s going to beat it down. “Open the fuck up,” he yells.
“I’m serious, dude. You do not want to open that door. You guys can talk in the morning. Just—” Blue keeps doing his damnedest to keep Mickey at bay, even though it’s basically inevitable at this point.
“Open this fucking door, Wagner,” Mickey yells.
So I do.
The opening I leave is only a few inches wide, and because I’m standing in the doorway, he can’t see anything past me except maybe the overhead light. I’m not sure quite how to play this, but asshole mode has never failed me, and that’s still my default. “What’s up, Mick? Did you light the house on fire?”
