On Dublin Street - By Samantha Young Page 0,77

dropped my arms. “Just wait.” He moved back from me. I stood in nothing but my underwear and heels, and watched as Braden slowly and tortuously undressed. Wearing nothing but his suit pants, his chest and feet bare, he grinned at me, his eyes smoldering with intent. I didn’t care what the intent was. I just wanted him inside me already.

But Braden wasn’t done. With an arm around my waist he brought me into his body, the bare skin of my stomach touching his torso, my naked legs brushing his pants, my breasts pressed to his naked skin. I felt a tug in my hair as his other hand made quick work of taking out all the pins that were holding my hair up, and seconds later it was tumbling down my back in a riot of messy curls. I watched his eyes flare, and for once, thanked God for all my hair if this was the kind of reaction it got from Braden. His hand tightened in it and he used it to jerk my head back, his lips hovering over my exposed throat. I held my breath, my skin overheated, my legs trembling, my hands gripping his shoulders as I waited. I felt the tickle of his mouth on my skin, another, a barely there butterfly brush and I found myself making a noise of frustration.

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 breasts. 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 cock 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 breasts. 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 breasts, 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 cock 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 fucked 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 nipples as his hips continued to jerk against me. That was the trigger.

“Braden!”

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