On Dublin Street (On Dublin Street 1)

Braden’s breath huffed against my throat and then his mouth was pressing there, his tongue flicking softly against my skin as he trailed hot kisses down, down, until he hit the rise of my br**sts. Cold air blew over me as he tugged down the bra, my nipple tight and begging for his mouth. His lips closed around me and I jerked my hips into his, his hard c**k digging into me, the need coiling into wildness. “Braden, please,” I begged, my back arched against his mouth. My hand brushed down his chest, smoothing over his hot, hard skin, to cup him through his pants.

His breath faltered and he pulled back, his own hips leaned into my touch as he rubbed himself against my hand. “Fuck,” he murmured, his eyes closing briefly before flashing back open with fire in them. “I can’t wait.”

I nodded, my belly squeezing with anticipation, my panties absolutely drenched with it. With deftness I didn’t want to think about, Braden undid my bra in seconds, his large hands taking a moment to cup my br**sts. I felt him grow even harder against me.

That’s when his slow, torturous control really snapped. I was tugged towards him as he moved back towards the door where a high side cabinet was positioned against the wall, and then I was spun around, pushed none-too-gently into it, his front at my back. My breath was coming out in frantic puffs now as I gripped hold of the unit. Braden’s hands came around to squeeze my br**sts, forcing my body back into his as his tongue flicked my ear. “I’m going to take you like this. It’s going to be hard, Jocelyn, hard and rough. You ready?”

I nodded, my heart spluttering a little.

My panties were gone, whipped down my legs and I stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. The heat of him at my back, the sound of the zipper on his pants sliding down, sent a bolt of pure lust through my sex and my nails dug into the cabinet with anticipation

He splayed a hand on my belly, tugging me back and upwards so I was bent over, my arms flat on the unit, and bent at the elbow. He slid a finger inside me. “Babe…” he murmured smugly, “You’re soaked.”

I made a guttural ‘get on with it’ sound and he chuckled in response an instant before he slammed his c**k inside me. I cried out at the deep invasion, my back bowing, but Braden gave me no time for reprieve. He slid out a couple of inches and thrust back inside, the cabinet solid beneath my weight as I relaxed into it. The apartment filled with the sound of our heavy breathing, our groans and grunts, the wet slap of flesh as he f**ked me hard into oblivion. His fingers dug into my hips as he pounded into me from behind, groaning as I pushed back into him in perfect, but rough, rhythm. My panting got louder, spurring him on and he reached up to pinch my ni**les as his hips continued to jerk against me. That was the trigger.

“Braden!” I screamed, an orgasm to beat all others exploding through me, my sex squeezing and pulsing around his c**k as he continued to ride me to his own climax.

He came with a deep groan, his mouth on my shoulder, his hands gripping my hips even tighter to his as he rocked up into me, shuddering as he came.

My limbs were no longer working. The only thing holding me up was Braden.

After a while, he slipped out of me carefully, but still I winced. He hadn’t taken it easy on me. As if he sensed that, he held me tight. “Are you okay?”

No. I was freaking awesome. “That was amazing,” I breathed, falling against him.

His laugh was low, almost a purr. “You’re telling me.”

I found myself turned around to face him and gently lifted onto the cabinet, Braden hitching my legs up around his hips, my hands resting on his chest as he locked eyes with me. I felt something shift in his expression as he looked at me, something that made my breath catch. He caught the sound with his mouth as he dipped his head to kiss me slowly, languorously. Tenderly.

Sometimes words aren’t needed for you to know a change has come upon you. You can share a look with a friend that cements a deeper understanding between you, and thus a stronger bond. A touch with a sister or brother or parent that says ‘I’m here, no matter what’ and suddenly someone who was just a relative, a person you love, turns out also to be one of your best friends.

Something happened there with Braden when he looked at me, when we kissed.

It wasn’t just sex.

I needed to get out of there.

He pulled back, his lip quirked up at the corner as he brushed my hair back from my face. “I’m not done with you yet.” And then he kissed me again.

I stayed there, wrapped around him, as we made out. It was a real, honest-to-goodness make-out and, like teenagers, we were at for at least ten minutes. My body warred with my emotions. I didn’t want to give up what was between us. It was addictive, seductive. But I didn’t want anything more than what we were able to give each other physically. I should leave.

I couldn’t leave.

I understood now what people meant when they referred to someone as their drug.

That meant I’d just have to redefine the night. Sex.

Decision made, I pulled back and licked my swollen lips before I scooted off the cabinet and kicked off my heels. “I have an apology to make,” I reminded him, lowering myself to my knees.

Eyes lidded, Braden gazed down at me. “For what?” he murmured as his semi-hard c**k rose into full-blown hard-on.

I grinned. “For calling you an ass**le.”

He laughed, thick laughter that choked off into a groan as I wrapped my mouth around him.

***

Even though Braden had pressed a remote that drew blinds across the windows that took up most of the wall in his bedroom, the morning sun still shone brightly into the room, waking me. I turned my head on his pillow and saw the clock said seven thirty. I knew Braden wasn’t beside me because usually his heat woke me, plus I could hear the shower running in his en-suite.