Page 79 of The Bro-code

I definitely don’t expect the way his fingers bring me right back up to that exhilarating precipice I recognize from earlier.

This time I’m prepared for the pleasure, I’m chasing it, moving my hips in tempo with the movement of his hand.

Just when the tension becomes so good that it’s almost unbearable, I snap.

God, I could get used to this. I love the way Jagger seems to know my own body better than I do, but I know a thing or two about him.

I noticed that he loves it when I touch his tip, especially the spot immediately under his crown.

So I concentrate my efforts right there, rubbing his silky skin with the pad of my thumb the same way he’s been doing with my clit.

Just as I begin pulsing with pleasure, spurts of white, warm cum coat my fingers, landing on my stomach.

After just a few seconds, Jagger places a quick kiss on the top of my head and heads to the bathroom.

I collapse on the pile of pillows against his headboard, fighting the urge to cry for the third time since I knocked on his door earlier.

This time however it isn’t because I feel inadequate or like I’m wading in uncharted waters. The emotion that is twisting my insides at this very moment is extremely familiar.

I feel abandoned, like I was just a means to an end, nothing more than a blow-up doll.

It’s the way I’ve always felt every time I’ve had sex with Topher and he got out of bed immediately after he was done or he rolled over and fell asleep the second he disposed of the condom.

Jagger wasn’t even wearing a condom.

The little annoying voice inside my head sounds like Lakyn’s. I roll my eyes as if she could see me and I have to wonder if her twin’s sixth sense is telling her about what a good evening I had until Jagger got up without a word.

She would probably argue that this twin connection is all in my head, but we both know it’s real and she just refuses to admit that I’m right.

To be fair, Lakyn would also tell me that I’m overreacting. First off, my expectations of Jagger are totally unrealistic. Why should he cuddle with me because we gave each other orgasms? It’s not like we’re together. I could expect that behavior from Topher because he was my boyfriend, but Jagger can do whatever the fuck he wants.

At least the Cove Knights D-man gave me two orgasms when my ex-boyfriend chose to believe I came in seconds every time his dick came near me.

I used to fool myself that I was an excellent actress, but come on. I suspect that Topher only cared about his own pleasure.

It wasn’t always that way, when we first started dating, he would try everything in his power to make me come. Until I started faking it. Sure, maybe I was convincing but it’s more than possible that Topher chose to believe what was convenient for his own ego.

Jagger has a fuckboy reputation and yet he seemed to know my own body better than I did.

Rather than dwelling on cuddles I had no right to expect, I should be basking in the post orgasmic glow that causes me to yawn as I stretch my limbs like a satisfied cat.

Topher zero, Jagger two. If this was a hockey game, you’d have to see if your fuckboy can go for a hat trick.

I snort, shaking my head at the ridiculous voice in my head. I definitely need to call Lake and tell her about my hookup with Jagger. Even though I’m not ready to admit that these were my very first orgasms in the almost twenty-two years we’ve been alive.

“Hey little supernova,” Jagger returns from the en-suite bathroom with a small, wet towel in his hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to run, but I made a mess of you and I wanted to help clean you up.”

What?

I watch totally speechless as he wipes his cum off my stomach with the little warm towel and then climbs into bed next to me, tossing the used terry cloth on the floor.

Neither of us say anything for a long moment. Jagger’s front is flush with my back, his strong arms wrapped around me and it’s surprisingly comfortable. So comfortable that my lids grow heavy and my breathing evens out.

I always found it hard to fall asleep next to Topher, despite the fact that he didn’t snore.

The thought shakes me awake and I attempt to wriggle out of Jagger’s embrace.

“No stay,” he grumbles, tightening his arms around me. “Let’s sleep for a bit and then we’ll sneak down to the kitchen when everyone will have gone to bed.”

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