His hand slammed into the wall, and he groaned in frustration. “Hold on,” he muttered. “Or I’m gonna take you right here.”
I held on tight and he kicked open the door to my room. There he was, in the room where I’d grown up. My Twilight Eclipse poster and my Nick Jonas poster both still up on the wall. It was surreal, having Brody Peters groping me in my childhood room—surreal and fabulous.
He had me up against a wall, his hand on my breast, fondling, pinching the nipple into a stiff peak. His other hand ran up my bare thigh. I remembered then that I was wearing a big t-shirt and panties, that I had rolled out of bed with my gun about an hour ago. There was not much between us, just the thin white fabric separating his hot hand from my needy flesh. I was moaning stupid stuff like, oh yeah just like that and oh God, Brody, yes. He jerked the V-neck off my shoulder and covered my bare flesh with his mouth, hot and wet, sucking hard on my neck and making me buck against the hand he fondled my breast with. Then the hand on my breast moved down, slid under the hem of my shirt and his fingers pushed right down the front of my panties.
“Oh God!” I squealed. His thick, work-roughened fingers worked through my soft, slippery folds. I was so wet for him that he stroked me easily.
“You do that to me,” I managed to gasp, “that’s why I’m so wet. I’m never this wet,” I babbled.
“Baby, don’t tell me that. I gotta make this good for you, gotta make it last. You’ll make me go off if you keep talking that way,” he said, his voice rough. It made me feel so good that he was worked up, too.
I gripped his shoulder, canted my hips into his probing hand. He petted me, stroked my pussy with his fingers, parting my folds and making me whimper. He leaned his forehead against mine.
“I’m gonna make you feel better than anyone ever has.”
“Yes,” I said simply, bumping my lips against his, getting a kiss in return.
Then he unfurled his fingers, tucked one and then two inside me as I gasped and bore down against him. He worked them in and out and rubbed my clit with his thumb, relentlessly pressing and circling until I came so hard, screaming, biting his bottom lip as I tensed and pulsed around his thick fingers. I shuddered, so sensitive and shaken by the sudden climax.
He lowered me to my feet and pulled me toward the bed. The twin bed where I’d slept all my life, with its yellow and white daisy comforter thrown back from where I leapt out of bed earlier. I sat beside him on the edge of the bed. He took my hand in his and laced our fingers together.
“You’re not obligated—” he began.
“Brody. Don’t be crazy. I’ve wanted you since I was sixteen years old, okay? Let’s just lay it all out there. Don’t act like we’re just coworkers. Do you want me to beg? Okay, fine. I want you, Brody. I want you tonight, please. Please stay with me, and I don’t mean just for safety.”
“So what exactly do you mean?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at me, teasing shamelessly.
“I want you to fuck me. Right here on this bed, or the floor, or against the wall, or on the dresser. Whatever your terms are—if you never want us to talk about it again, if it’s just one night. If we’re friends with benefits who do this again and again. If we’re more than that. I’ll say yes, Brody,” I told him. “So, are we clear?”
He rewarded me with a kiss, with his mouth on mine, lush and sexy.
“Crystal. I would’ve had you in the back of the squad car on your first day. You were so clever and sexy and gorgeous, with that smart mouth. I wanted to take your breath away, leave you speechless.”
With one hand, he pushed me back on the bed. He reached for my panties and trailed them down my legs. He kissed the inside of my thigh. His touch was as gentle and caressing as it had been frantic before. I shivered at even the softest brush of his finger on the inside of my thigh. He coerced me toward him, until I was stretched out full length on the mattress. He took one of my legs and draped it over his shoulder almost luxuriantly. Brody massaged my thigh and calf, and I savored his touch. He grinned up at me as though he enjoyed it, as though he wanted to do this very much.
The rasp of his stubble stung the inside of my thighs and his lips worked softly, kissing my folds, tracing the outline of my clit with the tip of his flexible tongue, so light and infuriating and delectable all at once. I moaned when he sucked just right, just how I wanted it, and then I laughed when he teased me, driving me crazy enough that I tossed my head back and forth on the pillow and bit my lip.