Page 128 of For the Boys
“That’s great, babe,” she said, getting up from the couch and making her way upstairs to the bathroom. She put Brent on speaker and set her phone on the back of the toilet while she proceeded to wash her makeup off, listening to Brent chatter about the game. Apparently, Parker got punched in the face, and Rat and Grey each had a goal.
“All in all, it sounds like a great night,” Berkley said.
“It was. How was yours?”
“Good. Reece and Harper came over to study. Which reminds me, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”
“What’s up?”
“So next Saturday, there’s this Treasure of Detroit Ball my law school class is hosting. It’s like law school’s version of prom. People get really dressed up, and there will be dinner and drinks and dancing. Would you want to come with me?”
“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “Well, as long as we’re in town.”
“You are,” she said quickly. “I checked.” No sense in throwing Reece under the bus.
“Then count me in.”
Brent picked Berkley up at her apartment the evening of the Treasure of Detroit Ball. He came to the door with a bouquet of flowers, a beautiful mix of spring blooms, which Berkley put in water before they left.
It had been well documented that Brent in a suit did funny things to Berkley’s insides, making her want to get on her knees at his feet and beg him to do terribly dirty things to her.
Brent in a tuxedo was a whole new ball game.
Every inch of him, from head to toe, was clad in black, save his white button-up shirt. The tuxedo jacket was a soft velvet, the lapels satin. He had stuffed his feet into shiny dress shoes, and his hair was slicked back with the coconut oil and aloe vera product he favored. The freshly shaved skin of his face was smooth, and he smelled of Acqua di Gio cologne.
She stepped into the circle of his arms and tipped her head back to kiss him. He swept his tongue into her mouth, twining it with hers. For several long moments, they remained there, mouths fused together, until Berkley pulled away and sucked in a shaky breath.
“Brent?”
“Yes?”
“If we don’t get out of this apartment right now, we’re not making it to the ball.”
“And why is that, my dear?” he asked her sweetly, nuzzling her neck, as if he had no idea the effect he had on her.
“Brent!” she said, halfheartedly pushing him away. “I mean it.”
“You know,” he said, turning away from her to grab her coat from the back of a bar stool and help her into it, “I have plans for that dress later.”
“Oh, this old thing?” she said, gesturing at herself.
The dress she had chosen was a deep red satin, with a slit up the right side that stopped mid-thigh. It had a tight bodice with spaghetti straps that criss-crossed and tied near the base of her spine, leaving her entire back exposed, and fell all the way to the floor in a full skirt. She had gathered her hair in a loose bun at the nape of her neck.
Brent rolled his eyes. “Yes, that old thing,” he said sarcastically.
They stepped into the hallway, and she locked the door behind her. “What sort of plans are we talking about here?” she asked as she took his arm and started toward the elevator.
“First,” he said, his voice low, “I’m going to stick my head under those skirts and get you all worked up with my mouth.”
The elevator arrived, another couple inside, so Brent quieted until they got outside. That didn’t stop him from settling his hand on her ass and squeezing it the entire way downstairs.
They reached the truck, and he helped Berkley inside, closing the door before moving around to the driver’s side.
“And then?” she asked when he was settled. Her clit was already tingling, and she shifted in her seat in hopes of taking some of the pressure off.
It didn’t work, especially not after what Brent said next.
“And then,” he said conversationally as he backed out of the parking space, “I’m going to spread you out on the bed and fuck you while you’re wearing it.”
