Page 20 of Bruiser's Reckoning

Lots of hours later.

We spent the majority of the day after breakfast screwing on every surface of my apartment. From the dining table to the kitchen counter, into the living room, on my couch, even the floor. We finally managed to get into my bed, where I rode him to climax.

There wasn’t a part of me that Bruiser didn’t touch. Including my rear, though it was only with his fingers touching me there. The girth of his shaft, I know he’ll never fit. I’m lucky enough that he can fit inside me, period. He’s a massive guy. If he didn’t make me wet from just looking at him or didn’t have foreplay, there’s no way he’d get that monster cock to enter my vajayjay.

Lifting up off his chest, I look up to find him watching me from where he’s got his head propped up on my pillows. “What?”

“I meant to talk to you about it earlier, but we got . . . distracted.” He smirks. “It’s not something I prefer to talk about while we’re lying naked, but we gotta talk about it.”

“Okay.” I shift on the bed, sit upright next to him, and pull the sheet up and over my breasts.

Bruiser adjusts until he’s also sitting upright, but rather than talking, he leans forward and grips my hips, pulling me up and over his body until I’m straddling his lap. “Don’t ever shield your body from me,” he commands, kissing my lips with a simple peck, but it’s still enough to cause my toes to curl.

I struggle briefly to try to keep myself from grinding against him. Being in his lap, his thick, monster shaft right there, still hard and ready to go, it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate.

“What is it you need to talk to me about?” I finally find my voice and ask.

Bruiser’s grip on my waist loosens as he shifts more and sits with his back against the headboard, hands going around me, securing me so there’s no way to escape.

“Any time today.” If he doesn’t start talking, I’m going to end up trying to find a way to get his cock inside me again.

Of course, he has to give me that knowing smirk of his that tells me that he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“As much as I want to be inside you right now, this is important. So, I’m gonna need for you to focus for me,” he states.

“Easier said than done,” I grumble with a roll of my eyes.

“Princess, focus,” he mutters.

“Yeah, yeah, focus.” Sucking in a breath, I brush my hands up his chest and wrap my arms around his neck. “All right, let’s hear it,” I say, doing my best at being serious.

Bruiser shakes his head slightly as if he didn’t know what to do with me. He takes a breath, eyes boring into me. “The Spa.”Those two words are enough to cause me to stiffen and attempt to jerk away from him. “I see you know what I’m talking about, Gwyneth, and I need to know what they did to you.”

“I’m not talking about that place with you,” I snarl, all thoughts of sex wiped from my mind.

“We’re talking about it, Gwyneth, whether you like it or not. I need to know what the fuck they did to you there.”

“No, you don’t.” There’s no way in hell I’m about to talk to him about this or anything to do with the subject. “I refuse to talk about this with you. It’s none of your business. Period.”

“When it comes to you, baby, it’s my business,” Bruiser remarks a bit harshly and tightens his arms further. “Now, start talking before I put you over my knee and give you a spanking you won’t like.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” I gape, eyes wide.

“Oh, I definitely dare. Don’t test me on this. You don’t start talking, you’ll find yourself spanked. Spanked and fucked.”

The warning in his tone sends a shiver down my spine. I don’t think I want him to fuck me with the way he said that. Then again, this is Bruiser, I’d probably take him however I can.

“Fuck me. Your pussy is drenching me,” he growls and grinds himself against me. “We’ll get to that, but first, you’re gonna answer my damn question. What did they do to you in that place?”

Groaning, I bite my bottom lip, dread threatening to consume me at the mere thought of the place I prefer to think of as Hell rather than a place to be pampered. “What exactly do you know of the place?” I find myself whispering the question.

“That they have different treatments,” he states, curling his lip on the last word.

“They do,” I agree, nodding, “And during the six months I was there, I went through each and every one of them.”

Bruiser’s body tenses, and his eyes narrow. “You went through them all?”

“To say I wasn’t my mom’s ideal daughter. I made good grades in school. Had friends, though they weren’t real friends.” I drop my gaze from his and take a deep breath. “I left home the first chance I had. I didn’t take a single thing except for the clothes on my back and a small backpack with only a few of my things that I cherished.”

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