soaked for me. Tell me that you’re going to take every inch of my rock star cock and beg for more. Tell me you’re going to come all over my cock.”
Her face turned red.
I kissed from her breast to her neck and stopped at her mouth.
Her sweetness lingered on my breath. Stronger than whiskey. Much deadlier too.
My hands moved to her hips.
Those hips were now deemed my favorite curve. Another part of her body made for my hands.
I moved Bree onto the bed, where she belonged with me.
I stepped out of my jeans in a smooth fashion and positioned myself between her legs.
The full head of my cock ached to feel her body.
But I held back for a moment…
I lowered my mouth down to her ear. “Tell me, babe. I need to hear your voice right now.”
“Sab… I’m here… I’m ready…”
“That’s not good enough,” I whispered. “You’re in a rock star’s bed. In a rock star’s house. Make it fucking count. Be… filthy…”
Bree let out a whimpering sound.
I inched forward and dipped my cock against her soft lips the way a painter would touch their brush to paint.
Bree was definitely a masterpiece.
Her hands touched my back.
She pulled herself up to my body.
Her breasts touched my chest.
I heard her heaving breathing in my right ear.
“Fuck me, Sab,” she said. “Take your rock star cock and fuck me. Show me what I’ve been fucking missing all these years. Don’t stop until we both can’t fucking move. I’m dripping for you, Sab. Are you going to keep me waiting or what?”
I gritted my teeth and thrust forward.
Bree let out a scream into my ear.
Her nails clawed harder at my back.
And I finally fucking had her.
“Your heart is still beating pretty fast, Sab,” Bree said.
I reached with my right hand and cupped her breast. “So is yours.”
“My heart is not there,” she said.
“Oh. Well… whatever.”
I moved my thumb over her nipple and she let out a playful laugh.
I had to change the subject.
Of course my heart was racing.
I couldn’t fucking calm myself down near her.
We were lost in my bed, under a mountain of covers, hiding from everything in the world.
There wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to be.
I turned my head and looked at her.
I moved my hand from her breast to her face.
I tucked her hair behind her ear.
The urge to kiss her was pretty wild, but if we started kissing the way I wanted to…
This was about sex.
Wild, hot, amazing sex.
“Can I do the worst thing possible right now?” Bree asked.
“Are you going to tell me I wasn’t good in bed?” I asked. “Because we both know that’s a lie.”
“Confidence is sexy, Sab. Cockiness isn’t.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No.”
“So, then it’s not being cocky. It’s being right.”
Bree shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m in bed with you.”
“Is that the worst possible thing right now?” I asked. “You in bed with me? Or are you going to ask me to leave my own bed?”
“If I did ask, what would you do?”
“For you, I’d leave.”
Bree smiled. “We’re drunk, Sab.”
“Yes, we are. But we’re here.”
“Yeah, we’re here… and I need to talk to you like a friend…”
“Ouch,” I said. “We fuck and now we’re friends again.”
“Sab…”
“Sorry,” I said. “You want to get dressed and talk?”
“Yeah,” she said.
I leaned closer and kissed her one more time.
“Had to,” I whispered.
I slipped out of the bed, grabbed my jeans and walked out to the balcony.
Outside, I gripped the railing tight, hating that I had to give Bree privacy to get dressed.
I wasn’t done with her.
I wanted more.
I craved more.
But I understood it.
She joined me outside, wearing a hoodie and panties.
Now that was a fucking sight.
I took a breath. “What’s going on, Bree?”
She leaned against the railing. “You were right. Before. About grieving and all that. The only time I really try to process it is when it’s forced on me. Like that new song you and the band play.”
“That’s why it’s your song,” I said.
She looked at me.
She was beautiful.
Just so simply beautiful. She was always beautiful. I always told her that too. When some fucking moron would break her heart or something, I would always make sure she knew it wasn’t her. And then I’d go beat the shit out of the guy that hurt her.
“What would you do, Sab?”
“About what?”
“That letter from my mother. I’m adopted. She gave me the names of my birth parents. What do I do with it?”
“Only you can decide that one.”
“Come on. Play the game. We’re drunk. We just had sex. My