Page 28 of The Brooklyn Way

She slid down on my dick. The tight, moistness of her caught me off guard. I sucked in a deep breath, while she released a shuddering one.

“Cameron.” Her voice was a whisper into the wind—breathy and light.

I bit down on her shoulder, because there were so many sensations hitting me at once that I felt like I was gonna bust any second, and I didn’t want to. I wanted to experience all the sensations as long as possible. Every one of my senses was activated and engaged. Of course I could feel her pussy. I could see the effects of being outside in the rain. I could smell the brininess of the ocean, the sweat from both of our bodies, and the breeze. I could hear her pants, the thud of raindrops hitting the deck, the sway of the leaves on the trees. And I could taste the sweetness of her mouth and the saltiness from the sweat on her shoulder.

She was slowly rolling her hips to a rhythm that was clearly playing in her own head. “Uhhhhh.” Her moan was the most sensual thing I had ever heard.

I needed to fuck this girl, so I stood up with our bodies connected and moved her over to the chaise lounge. Once I had her on her back, I dug into the pussy while the rain pummeled us. She was my first experience with raw sex. I was the flirty type, but I’d never been the careless type or the reckless type. My parents had drilled into me since puberty how important it was for me to protect myself. To make the choices that gave me the best outcomes. I’d been a stellar student of their lessons.

I wasn’t a cheater. I didn’t like the duplicitous nature of cheating. My dad taught me that a man was a man and that a man’s word was his bond. Lying to your woman didn’t leave a lot of room for your word to be your bond, so I didn’t do that. I preferred to stay single, fucking whoever I wanted to fuck, without any dishonesty or fraud. But always with condoms between. A woman’s status in my life never mattered when it came to wearing condoms during sex… until now.

Brooklyn’s moans were going right into my ear and the shit was doing something to me. I needed to back up off her before I lost myself, but at the same time, I wanted to bury myself more deeply in her and stay there.

“Cameron.” She made my name sound like the lyric to a song.

I looked down at her. Her expression was blissful—her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted, her brows furrowed in concentration as she matched me stroke for stroke. For some inexplicable reason, I kissed her lips. I knew it was a mistake as I was doing it, but she was so open and responsive to everything we were doing.

Another flash of lightning caused the sky to brighten for a millisecond, before the roar of thunder crackled and the intensity of the summer storm picked up. The raindrops pounded my back as I pounded into Brooklyn’s pussy, temporarily losing myself in the heavy raindrops. I had never once considered having sex in the middle of a downpour, but after experiencing it, I knew I would never look at rain in the same way. Or maybe even sex in the same way.

I lowered my head, pulling her pert nipple into my mouth and sucking it hungrily.

“Kiss me, please.” She panted her command,. I obliged kissing her deeply.

The wind picked up and so did my stroke. I thrusted into her as if I was trying to put her through the chaise lounge. She screamed unintelligible words as her pussy clamped down on my dick and I knew she was cumming. I kept pumping her, lifting her legs onto my shoulders, and repeatedly burying myself in her hidden treasure. Finally, the familiar feeling began to brew inside of me—the ringing in my ears, the tightening of my muscles. At the very last second, I managed to reluctantly pull out of her and release my load on her stomach.

“Shit!” I kissed her lips that were swollen from all of the kissing we’d been doing since we started fucking.

Her eyes were closed. Her chest heaved with each inhale and exhale. Brooklyn came off as wholesome, but her little ass was a sex goddess. I wiggled my face into the crook of her neck and she wrapped her arms around me.

“Shit,” I repeated.

The rain continued to fall on us… well, mostly on me since my body was stretched over hers. And we held each other.

I fucked Brooklyn as many times as she would let me on Saturday night. Once the rain let up, I brought her into the house. We fucked some more, dozing off together in my bed. Around two o’clock, after a particularly slow and intimate round, she divulged to me that she had a flight at six o’clock that morning. She was going to someplace called Fenwick, Kentucky to spend Father’s Day with her grandfather. I reluctantly came up off her and drove her to the guest house because the lawn was too wet and soggy for us to walk across it. Once she had showered, dressed, and packed, I drove her to the airport.

It was tradition for my mother to hold the debutante ball on the day before Father’s Day. After church, Carrington and I went home with my parents. Every year, my mother did a huge Father’s Day Luncheon at their house. She invited 25 percent of the island to the affair and always expected Carrington and me to help. Since I’d blown off helping her at the deb ball the day before, there was no way I could get away with not helping with the Father’s Day Luncheon, but my mind wasn’t anywhere on the backyard setup. It was on Brooklyn.

When it came to women, I had the tendency to not put up the necessary walls that would prevent a connection from happening. Personally, I felt like it had something to do with the fact that I was the product of a set of boy/girl twins. The closest person to me on Earth was of the opposite gender. I didn’t find the behavior of women confusing. I wasn’t afraid of their emotions. Their aggression or assertiveness didn’t threaten me or my manhood. I was cool with them being better at some things… a lot of things than men. I actually liked listening to them. Those were gifts Carrington gave me by being my best friend. I couldn’t help but wonder if a connection would happen between Brooklyn and me. I wondered if her mind was on me the way mine was on her.

While I was thinking about Brooklyn, my father, Will, and Bryce joined me in my parents’ living room.

“Boy,” my father said to me, “get up out of my recliner and go fix that backyard up for my party. Today is my day. You aren’t a father and you’re sitting here in my recliner. Get up.”

I chuckled, but I also stood to my feet proffering the seat to my dad. He was right; it was his day.

As I exchanged dap with both my cousin and my future brother-in-law, my mother entered the living room.

“You want us to start with setting up the tables, right, Auntie?” Will questioned.

My father’s brow furrowed as he looked over at his wife. “You sure it’s not too wet out there from all of that rain last night, Madeline?”

At the mention of the prior night’s rain, a smile came over my face. I tamped it down. I didn’t need any over-observant family members questioning me about it.

“I had Jorge cover the entire lawn with a tarp after he mowed yesterday. He should’ve come by while we were at church and removed it. The lawn should be perfectly fine. Hurry up and get those tables put up, boys. The caterer will be here after while and Carrington and I still have to get them dressed.”

I pulled out my phone and texted Brooklyn as we walked out to the shed to get the tables.

Me: Hey.

---