Page 44 of A Quick Stop in Paradise

My body ached for her, throbbed right away to take her a million different ways—take her fingers inside me, kiss her while she played with my clit, grind my pussy on hers, sit on her face, anything and everything—but I managed to make myself say, “You don’t… need a minute, first?”

She bit her lip, a hazy look my way. “Brooklyn, I couldn’t survive a minute. Please come on me again.”

Well, if she insisted.

Chapter 13

Ryan

Iburied my face in the pillow when Brooklyn stirred me, curling up on the far side of her bed.

“Ryan,” she laughed, leaning over the bed to jostle my shoulder. “I made breakfast. Are you planning on getting up, or just suffocating yourself?”

“Ugh…” I rolled to face her, even though I couldn’t bring myself to look her in the eye right now—tried my best and immediately found myself staring at the bedsheets. “Thanks. I mean, for the breakfast. You didn’t have to do that.”

She stared at me for a second before she eased herself onto the bed next to me, laying a hand softly on my side. “Talk to me,” she said lightly. “What’s wrong?”

I laughed awkwardly, sitting up with her. I’d gone to bed wearing one of her shirts, a cozy henley that had felt like a good decision at the time—and probably was a better decision than going to bed naked—but really? Sleeping in her clothes, too?

“I am… very sorry for last night,” I mumbled, fidgeting my hands together. Brooklyn leaned into my field of vision, eyebrows raised high.

“Did you not want it?”

“What—” I shot her an incredulous look. “Brooklyn, you’re a smart woman. I think you could tell I was into it.”

She tried to suppress a smile, keep a serious expression on. That little self-satisfied smile ofyeah I made you come four times and you loved it—I didn’t knowwhyit was a turn-on, but it was, inconveniently enough. “What’s the problem, then?”

“I just, uh—” I cleared my throat. “I don’t know what got into me. I swear I’m not normally like that.”

She stared for a second before her expression cracked, breaking out into a big, brilliant smile. “Like what, horny?”

I cleared my throat harder. “I mean, I’ve beenarousedbefore. I’ve had sex. Just, you know…”

“Not usually demanding someone get you off in a car, interrupting someone to go down on them until they come without even getting their pants off, begging to get—”

“Brooklyn.” I slumped down in the bed, covering my face with a pillow. She laughed, pulling it away.

“That was the hottest thing in my life,” she laughed. “I like sex. A lot. I’m not… judging you for being really into it. It’s actually enough of a turn-on that I really wanted to get myself off this morning thinking about it, but I didn’t want to wake you up and I thought you might want breakfast…”

I was not prepared for the way my whole body reacted to the idea—the thought of Brooklyn touching herself thinking about me, I felt a shudder that left me tingly out to my fingertips, and I couldn’t get the image out of my head.

Jesus Christ, though, she was so hot I felt like I was losing my mind. Even just now, in a casual loose white tee and sweatpants, tattoos on her arms standing out against the simple outfit, messy hair, she was like sex incarnate, the way she casually oozed desire, owning it simply.You’re hot, I enjoy sex with you, and I wanted to get off thinking about you.Was it that simple to win me over?

“You’re having a moment with that thought,” Brooklyn teased, and I huffed, looking away.

“Look, if I managed to get into bed withyou,the whole thing is going to take me a moment to process.”

She laughed, and she was quiet for a second before she said, “Ryan?”

“Yeah?” I turned to look at her, which was a mistake—or a very good idea—because she met my eyes, held my gaze, and slowly, deliberately, she slipped a hand under the blanket and placed it on my bare thigh, just below the hem of my shirt. I felt all my thoughts wash away like a waterfall all at once, replaced just with the sensation of her fingertips on my inner thigh, and she gave me a small, loaded smile.

“I like when you get turned on,” she whispered. “The more the better, honestly… I’m not expecting to get anywhere near my fill of you.”

“Brooklyn—do not—if you keep your hand there for one more second I’m not making it to breakfast.”

She licked her lips, looking down, and slowly, back up, keeping her hand there for more than one more second, before she said in a low murmur, “Breakfast can reheat,” and she ran her fingertips higher, up to the edge of my underwear, teasing just a hair’s breadth underneath, and I was gone.

It was quick, maybe fifteen minutes later that we collapsed together, Brooklyn breathing hard underneath me as I let myself indulge in resting on her firm musculature, our legs tangled, Brooklyn’s clean hand running through my hair, the two of us laughing breathlessly. She pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I felt so stupidly, ridiculously happy here like this—like I never wanted to leave this bed, never wanted to stop having morning quickies with Brooklyn and getting cuddles and kisses. Oxytocin releases from sex forming bonding feelings. Also that she was sexy as hell.

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