Page 58 of Crossing Into Brooklyn

“No?” Brooklyn leans back and takes off her blouse. Slowly.

I reach out to help her and she slams my hands over my head.

“Oh, no. I want you.”

I swear she might break me one day. A feral look sparkles in her eyes. I’m her prey, and she intends to devour me. I lick my lips when she begins to tease her nipples in front of me. It’s delicious torture. I love making love to Brooklyn. I also love submitting to her demands. I’ve never been an assertive lover. I worried about that at first. Brooklyn set my mind at ease. She’s comfortable with her sexuality—every aspect of it. She voices her needs and her desires, and she unleashes mine. As it is with everything, Brooklyn Brady constantly takes me out of my comfort zone. It’s terrifying and it’s exhilarating. There is nothing I won’t give her. She can take all of me. She can ask for anything. Brooklyn knows it and she uses it to her advantage.

“Did you miss me?” Brooklyn asks.

I watch as she removes the rest of her clothing and climbs on top of me. “I always miss you,” I tell her.

Brooklyn’s gentle smile does little to conceal the lust burning in her eyes. Her hand slips between her legs and I groan. It’s an empty protest. She knows that too. Pleasure creases the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes. I am enraptured. Always.

I make my request. “Let me touch you.”

Brooklyn’s eyes pin me in place. She reaches for my hands and places them over her breasts.

My thumbs roll across the peaks of her erect nipples. I’m rewarded with an urgent moan. I can feel the movement of her hand as her fingers work to bring about her release. I’m tempted to lean forward and taste her breasts. The sight of her swaying above me, her teeth gripping her bottom lip sends tiny ripples of ecstasy through my core. As she sways, her hand brushes against me. My need swells. Nothing excites me more than the vision in front of me, knowing I am its cause. Brooklyn’s lips part. I realize she’s reaching the precipice, dangling on the edge of release. I squeeze her nipples gently and feel her legs shake.

“You are so beautiful,” I tell her. “So beautiful.”

Brooklyn’s eyes meet mine. A tear escapes and runs down her cheek. She kisses me just as her orgasm erupts. I hold her close.

“I love you,” Brooklyn whispers.

Before I can answer she kisses me again. Wordlessly, she removes everything that separates us. My hands caress her back. Her lips discover my flesh inch by excruciating inch. The heat of her mouth surrounding my nipple brings every cell of my body to attention. Heat floods my veins. My hands thread themselves in the waves of her hair. I feel a deep sense of loss when her kiss strays to my stomach. One kiss followed by another leads her lower. I look down at her. Graceful and strong. Sensual and determined. Brooklyn. She’s everything. My heart sings and my body hums. Ripples of pleasure ebb and flow over my skin. Her tongue dances softly over my center. An exploration. A question. A promise. My eyelids flutter and close against passion’s rising tide. I know it will pull me under. Like the unexpected strength of rolling waves that suddenly build, I am helpless to resist.

“Perfect,” Brooklyn mutters.

It is perfect. I grip her shoulders and my hips rock in time with the insistent movements of her tongue. I feel her slip a finger inside me. My back arches into her thrust—a plea to let me fall. She is unyielding. Over and over again she takes me to the edge of sanity. Harder. Softer. Never stopping.

“Please,” I beg Brooklyn to release me.

Brooklyn’s hand reaches up and covers my breast. We’ve spent many nights exploring each other, discovering where a tender kiss ignites a tiny spark, and how the slightest touch transforms a spark into a flame. I can barely feel her fingertip on my nipple. My core clenches around her fingers and my body lifts off the bed. She presses her weight against me.

“Brooklyn!” I announce my pleasure. I don’t care if Ali hears us. She wanted a story. She’ll get the soundtrack instead. “Babe. Please. Please.”

Brooklyn refuses to relinquish her hold on me. She teases me with her tongue and her fingers until my body shakes violently. She’s my undoing. I’m sucked under. Time disappears. I may scream. She may moan. All I can hear is the swishing of the blood as it rushes through my veins. It’s exactly like tumbling within an undertow. I can’t breathe. Colors swirl behind my eyelids. I grip the sheets. My heart pounds ferociously. Just when I think I will never recover, I float gently back to the surface. Brooklyn’s smile greets me like the light of the sun. She’s crying. Not sobbing. Silent tears spill over her cheeks. I lift her into my arms.

“Why are you crying?” I ask.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you.” I hold her for a moment. I turn so I can look into her eyes, and I brush some hair from her face. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I don’t want to lose you, Carter.”

“Is this about your interview?”

“They made me an offer.”

I expected this. “That’s great.”

“I declined.”

I’m stunned.

“Then they made me a different offer.”

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