Boys of Brayshaw High (Brayshaw High 1)

There’s a pause, and a chill runs over my skin as all connection is lost. I’m ready to shoot from the place they’ve laid me when finally, one heated hand meets my flesh once again.

Two fingers find my collarbone, tracing over me slowly, not stopping when they reach the top of my swimsuit but dipping in the front to edge along my breast.

My breathing speeds up.

I jerk lightly when a second hand starts at my calf, running up and over my knee, sliding forward when they reach my thigh. They grip me tight, slowly skimming upward.

A moan starts to escape, but a mouth lands on mine again, swallowing any sound before it could be heard.

Warm breath hits my stomach then and hot air is blown across my abdomen, continuing until the heat seeps through the material covering my center.

Two hands glide up, slipping between my suit and skin, moving the suit to the side, and then I’m exposed ... but only to the darkness.

I sense it before it hits, and a breathy whimper makes its way up my chest.

A tongue comes down on me, and I lift my hips, needing all it can give. Reaching out, I latch onto the closest body, finding a solid arm to squeeze.

My chest rises rapidly as a practiced tongue explores me, not letting up until my clit is properly assaulted. When my thighs clench, the lips close over the sweet spot and I start to shake.

My kiss grows hungrier and the mouth on mine growls against me.

I’m right there, so fucking close to losing, I jerk away gasping, and right before I come, a hand hits my hip and feathers south, and my body recharges, unwilling to let go of the feeling just yet. The pleasure starts over, a new fire burning deep in my core. The fingers trace up and over my ribs until I’m a quivering mess. A deep, cry makes its way up my chest and just before it escapes, a hand covers my lips gently, slowly dragging down my neck, forcing my head to tilt back and my back to arch high as those hands slide over my suit covered breast. They pause there, my hard nipples now being squeezed between fingers.

“Fuuuck.” I think it’s Royce who draws out the word like a song. “She’s ... a fucking trooper.”

“She’s making us work.” Captain, I think.

“I knew she would.” Maddoc.

Over and over again, from every pleasure point I have, I’m brought to the edge, pushed back and led there again. Until it’s too much, until it’s everywhere, until they’ve been everywhere, consuming every inch of my body and mind. My back leaves the cushion one final time, my legs clamping tight against the head between my legs, and my teeth draw blood from the bottom lip teasing mine.

I come hard, the ride even more powerful as I fight for silence when all I want to do is fill the room with my moans, show them what they did to me.

For me.

‘Cause that’s what this was – the boys keeping me calm in the only way they knew they could.

In the minutes that follow, nothing but the sounds of heavy breathing fill the room.

Right when my body calms enough to realize I’m still in the dark, there are two soft taps against the window, followed by two more.

I jerk, but a hand to my thigh calms me.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” Maddoc rasps and a shiver runs through me.

The hand on my thigh squeezes.

“We sure it’s clear?” Royce whispers.

“Leo wouldn’t signal if he wasn’t sure.”

I fix my swimsuit and lace my fingers through the ones that reach for mine, allowing them to lead me out.

When we hit the landing and exit, I see it’s Captain who is holding my hand. He lets go the second we reach the door and together, the four of us round the house while I pretend not to see Royce stuff a piece of paper in the front of his trunks.

Leo’s eyes widen when he spots me, a mumbled “shit” leaving him.

“Yeah, fucker. What happened to keeping an eye on her?” Maddoc shoves him, but he laughs in good nature.

“Tried. She’s slippery.”

A scuffled laugh leaves Royce and my jaw drops, my head swiveling his way, but when Maddoc and Captain do the same, we share a laugh.

Pretty sure I might be blushing right now.

Leo’s questioning stare bounces between us, but he doesn’t ask. He knows his place, they’d talk if they wanted him involved.

He gives a stiff nod, his eyes skating past mine as he turns, walking the opposite way the four of us go.

Royce splits for the house once it’s in view, the other two going for the hot tub at the landing of the cabin beside theirs, and I make shoot straight for the picnic table turned bar. I pour a quick shot of Captain Morgan’s Tattoo and knock it back, letting the too thick, too sweet liquor coat my throat.