Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The word echoed in his head as his blood pulsed painfully in his shaft.
Her lips parted as if she could feel him growing harder at just the thought.
As if the temptation of her pressed up against a wall panting wasn’t enough, her fingers closed around the low neck of her sweater and pulled down.
He was already a goner. He knew it. But that full, round breast with its perky nipple was the last kick in the balls he could take. He used one more short, hard thrust to hitch her higher. He was breathing like a horse after a long run as he leaned down. He ran his tongue over that pink peak in one long lick. Just that little taste sent electricity coursing through his body.
She felt it, too. Her gasp had his erection swelling impossibly bigger.
Desperation. It sunk its claws into him, drawing blood. He needed more. With one quick tug of her sweater, he bared both breasts.
She was perfection. Round and full and firm. Pretty pink nipples begging for his mouth. He treated them to what they craved, and when he’d bathed them both with the rough of his tongue, he sucked one point deep into his mouth. He suckled, drawing that tip deeper and lashing it with his tongue.
“Brick,” she hissed out his name as her fingers gripped his hair.
“Keep fucking breathing, baby doll.”
“Don’t fucking stop, please,” she begged, bucking against him.
He peeled her off the door and carried her toward the light. He wanted to see her. He wanted to memorize every moment of this night so he could carry it with him for the rest of his life.
She held his face in her hands as she kissed and bit his lips.
“Where’s your cast?” he asked between assaults.
“Gone today,” she murmured against his mouth. He regained control of the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth just like he planned to do to that wet, tight pussy she had for him.
God. There were so many things he wanted to do. Needed to do.
As if reading his mind, Remi pulled back and squeezed his cheeks in one hand. “This is the first time. Not the only time. Got it?”
He nodded, not trusting his own voice.
“Focus on what you need to do this time, then we’ll work our way around to all the want tos.”
“Promise me.” His voice was hoarse.
She looked surprised. “Promise you what?”
“That this is just the first time.” He needed that guarantee. Needed to know he could have her again.
Looking him in the eye, she tightened her legs around his waist. “I promise you, Brick. Don’t go slow. Don’t waste time trying to be romantic. I want you to take me like you can’t help yourself.”
She had no fucking idea.
“Do you understand the permission you’re giving me here?” he rasped. Half hoping she’d come to her senses. If she let him do this, how would he ever go back to the way it was?
“I do and I want it, too,” she whispered.
His balls fucking ached. Brick wasn’t sure he’d survive round one, let alone be physically capable of participating in round two. But damn it, he was going to try.
“Trust me. Show me what you like, Brick. Please.”
The whimpered please got him.
Their entire relationship played out on fast forward in his head. He thought of all the trouble. All the yearning. All the smart-mouthed comments and the teasing. So much fucking teasing.
He knew what he wanted to do first.
The dining table was empty. He put her down, and just as she started to pout, he spun her around and pressed a hand between her shoulder blades. He increased the pressure until she folded over the table, her breasts and face resting on the cool wood. She was up on her tiptoes, thighs spread for him.
Just having her in this position in front of him was doing terrible things to his blood pressure.
He kept one hand on her back and stared at those white panties as he loosened his belt.
She dragged in a shaky breath when the buckle jingled.
“Breathe, baby,” he ordered, yanking the belt through the loops with one quick pull. The end of the leather caught her on the back of the thigh as it shot free, and Remi let out a little gasp.
Dear God in heaven. She was pushing that sweet, round ass back against him as if she’d liked it. He couldn’t be that lucky. Brick Callan was not that lucky.
Carefully, he nudged one knee between her thighs and lowered his zipper. His cock, now only confined by his underwear, sprang free in relief. But he couldn’t afford to take it out yet. To grip his shaft and drag the tip of it over each ivory cheek. Not yet.
Giving in to the hypnotic taunting of her hips, he let himself grind against her. Once. Twice. Three times.
She was whimpering now, begging him for something she didn’t seem to know the words for.
Reverently, he traced his hand up the back of her knee, coasting up her thigh and over the curve of her behind.
“Remi,” he said, as he curled his fingers in the waistband of those virginal white briefs.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, please.”
He dragged her underwear down, baring her tight little ass.
He’d dreamed of this. Fantasized about it. Jerked off to it so many times it almost felt real. But the reality of Remi submitting to him, bent over a table, waiting for him to touch her was incomparable.
“Breathe, baby,” he said again. They both took a minute to catch their breath. The oxygen he sucked into his lungs was hot as his fingers gently trailed patterns over both her precious cheeks.
She was shaking hard.
“Are you scared? Should I stop?” he whispered, hinging over her to press a kiss to her neck.
“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” she said, her voice as shaky as her legs.
“Tell me if it’s…too much.”
He rested his palm on one smooth cheek and waited until she’d taken a breath. Then he pulled his hand back and let it fly. The slap rang out in the silence of the room, chased by Remi’s sharp gasp. His palm stung pleasantly, and his cock jerked as her flesh jiggled from the blow. Her skin was pinking up like a pretty little blush.
Fuck. How would he ever go back now?
“Tell me what that one was for,” she whispered.
“What it was for?”
“Tell me what the punishment is for.”
Oh, God. He was a dead man. A fucking dead man.
“That was for smiling at my brother like you should have been smiling at me.”
She pressed her hips back, begging for more.
Slap.
It was harder, louder. And this time, she cried out.
“Brick!”
He’d landed the slap on the opposite cheek and watched in twisted pride as a handprint slowly bloomed into being.
He was so fucked.
“That was for making me wait years before letting me do this,” he growled, fisting his cock through his underwear and rubbing it over the spot he’d assaulted.
She bucked against him.
Slap.
“Yes!” she breathed against the table.
“For those goddamn shorts when you were seventeen and I couldn’t touch you.”
Again, he soothed the spot by grinding his erection against her pink skin.
Slap.
Slap.
Slap.
“Brick!”
His palm burned now. His ears rang with the siren song of his hand connecting with her flesh. And his blood was thundering through his veins.