Rendezvous (Renegades 5)

With her shoulders against the sofa cushions, Keaton stepped between her thighs, pressing them wide. He looked down at her with such blatant and overwhelming desire, her belly fluttered and her chest tightened. His dark gaze followed his hands down her body. He cupped her breasts, then caught the hem of her dress already at her hips thanks to gravity, and moved it up to her ribs in a deliberate shove. Brooke pulled in a breath of surprise and curved her hands around his forearms as Keaton’s hot eyes raked her nakedness.

A long, low sound of hunger ebbed from his throat as he lowered his head and pressed his face to the soft space just beneath her ribs. The pressure and warmth, the intimacy, made her shiver. He pressed kisses to her skin in a direct line south. His earlier words echoed in her head—“I can’t wait to get you under my mouth”—and the fire in Brooke’s body flared into an inferno as she pushed her hands into his hair.

But he straightened, pulling out of reach to wrap his arms under and around her thighs. Without warning, he hauled her hips higher on the sofa arm and spread her thighs wider. His gaze remained rapt between her legs, and Brooke’s breathing broke into another sprint.

He lowered his head again, pressing a kiss to her belly right below her belly button. Then lower. And lower. And lower.

Brooke curled the fingers of one hand into the sofa cushion at her side and reached forward with the other, combing her fingers through his dark hair. Loving the thick, soft feel of it while Keaton’s kisses grew hungrier.

And he used his mouth like his hands, patiently, but with clear, deliberate purpose—to drive Brooke insane with pleasure. Each lick or swirl of his tongue made her tighten her grip on the sofa cushions. Every suckle made her arch and reach overhead, using the sofa to push toward him. Until he ate at her like he’d never get enough, driving her to a place where she bordered on insanity and writhed with need. Where the peak was so sharp, there was no way one orgasm would be enough to satisfy it.

When he drove her over the edge, Brooke fisted the cushions over her head. She arched and cried his name. The pleasure seemed to spike through her, ricochet, then hover, making it impossible for her to pull herself fully back to the present. To reality. To his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs, his mouth eating at her with a ferocity that mirrored the hunger in her own body. But even when she was sure she couldn’t climb another peak, he led her there a different way, drawing more pleasure from her body than she ever fathomed it could even possess let alone exude. Brooke continued to rise and break. Rise and break. And each climax brought something different, something new, something she’d never experienced before.

Then she felt the exquisite pleasure of his fingers joining his mouth. The tips stroking and rubbing, shooting a fresh thrill through her sex while his tongue lazily laved her, adding heat and pressure and friction. She was already choking out a moan and writhing toward his touch when the pressure of his fingers penetrated her body. Then moved inside her. And, bam, ecstasy slammed her like hurricane winds, knocking the breath from her lungs.

“So good…” She arched, dropped her head back, and moaned, “Oh fuck, don’t stop.”

He did the opposite. He created more pressure inside, teasing her outside. The multiple sensations were too much for her brain to absorb all at once, and it felt like it took forever to rise to climax. By the time she did, she was absolutely delirious with lust, swamped in a depth of pleasure she’d never experienced, and—she already knew—addicted to it.

“Keat—” He closed his mouth over her and growled. The sound vibrated through her. So erotic, so wild, she was out of her mind. “Need…it. Keaton, please…”

He added suction with his mouth, movement with his hand, and launched Brooke into the stratosphere.

The pleasure was so intense, Brooke’s body exploded in a cluster of orgasms that wiped out her mind and ravaged her. She went limp. Her butt drifted off the arm of the sofa, and she sank into the cushions. Her breathing raced and her heart galloped. She had enough brain function to realize Keaton had moved away from her, but didn’t have the strength to make her mind think about where he went.

The rip of paper pulled her mind into the present and brought her eyes open. “Keaton?”

“Right here.” He bent over her, gripped her waist, and moved her up the sofa.

His jeans hung lower on his hips, and he pressed one knee between her thighs, shoving all the loose pillows to the floor. Then he lowered his hips between her legs and propped himself up on his elbows. Brushing the hair from her face, he kissed her, slow and deep.

His hips moved against her, and the feel of skin against skin made her moan. He pushed one hand between them, stroked her with his fingers, then with the head of his cock.

“I put a condom on,” he murmured.

Brooke tightened her arm around his shoulders. “I’ve waited so long for this.”

“Me too.” He dropped his forehead to hers. His eyes filled with lust, his kiss with affection and hunger. He brought his free hand to her breast, still covered in her rayon dress, stroked and squeezed. “I wish I could wait longer. I want to eat every inch of you, but you make me insane.” His voice was raspy and more serious than she’d ever heard the lightest of the lighthearted Renegades. “I need you now.”

His hips thrust, and his thick shaft penetrated her. A sound ebbed from Brooke’s throat before it closed. Before her body arched in both pleasure and pain. Her head fell back, her mouth dropped open. And she could only describe the sensation as searing pleasure radiating along her walls. Burning through her sex.

Keaton’s big body curved over her, every muscle taut beneath her hands where they dug into his shoulder.

“Ah, fuck, Brooke,” he murmured against her exposed throat, his voice rough and strained. “Fuck.”

She clutched at his shoulders with one hand, his hair with the other, caught up in the mind-bending thrill of all his sweat-slicked muscle sliding along her skin. Of his cock stretching her. Of his big body trembling with the effort to hold back.

He withdrew slowly, and the motion washed so much pleasure through Brooke’s body, she moaned, delirious. Keaton’s lips moved on her throat, and he kissed a path to her mouth, where his tongue dipped in to swirl and tease. Eyes open, tongues spiraling, he pushed back inside her. Stretching her until her breath caught. Then he held her gaze…and pushed even deeper.

The sound that rolled in her throat was almost animalistic. A sound she’d never heard come out of her mouth before. But she’d never been this…taken, this deep, this intimate with a man before. Because this wasn’t just about the sex. The wa

y he looked at her, the way he held her, the way he owned her went much deeper than the physical.

He pressed one hot palm to her thigh, spreading her wider. Wound his arm behind her knee and leaned in, hitching her leg higher. Wedged his hips farther between her legs. And penetrated even deeper.

“Fuck,” she breathed, the word hardly a whisper.

“Too deep?” he murmured, showing no sign of backing off as a trickle of sweat slid down his forehead, hit his brow, and veered along the top until it reached his temple.