Page 85 of The End of Summer

“You’re all going to fucking pay for this! Mark my words.”

Then, she’s gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

GRETCHEN

After our recent debacle with Miranda, which Brady handledbrilliantly(if I do say so myself), Brady informs me that he’s done stripping. “I’ve made enough money to finish out the summer,” he explains. “This will give me the freedom and time I need in order to buckle down and find a real job.”

“I’m not against it,” I reply. “Save your stripping for my eyes only.”

“Exactly,” he says. “I like it better that way, anyway.”

I love that we both want to be done with the grind (no pun intended) of the adult entertainment industry, and that we’re also both diligently planning for our next steps once the summer ends.

I’m lying in bed with Brady on the last Monday morning of July. We slept naked, as we often do, and waking up, we’re just a tangle of limbs marked by his profound morning wood. I can’t help myself. I roll on top of him and kiss him, and he welcomes me into his mouth. My nipples pinch at the touch of his tongue against mine, and the sensation hits me right between my legs. It’s amazing how hot this man makes me. I bite his lower lip, then move down to his neck, and try to head lower when he stops me.

“Uh uh,” he says. “Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t I dare what?” I ask, my face against his chest.

“Don’t you try to go down on me just because I’m hard.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“Because you’ll break my cardinal rule.”

“Which is?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Ladies first.”

Seriously, I could try to dream up a fictional man and would never even come close to the real one I’ve got.

He flips me onto my back, kisses down my body and places his palms on my inner thighs, holding me open. He looks at me, first between my legs, and then up at my face. “You are so beautiful, Gretchen. I could stare at every inch of you and it would never get old.”

“Well, don’t just sit there staring. That’s weird.”

He removes one of his hands and rests his face on my inner thigh, getting a better look. “No, it’s not. I’m appreciating you. Besides, I’m getting to it. Don’t worry, I won’t make you wait very long.”

“Are you –” I stop myself, craning my neck to the side. Goddamn it. Heis.He’s touching himself while he looks at me. “No fair, Brady,” I squirm. “You can’t do that.”

“Does it bother you?” he asks.

“No,” I say. “I just – do it to me instead,” I beg.

“I think you like being teased,” he says, and he’s right. It dawns on me that I’ve never been so open in bed with anyone before. He doesn’t stop stroking himself, but he does lean in and give me a long lick, ending with a tender kiss that I grind my hips up to meet, searching for pressure from his tongue. “Tell me what you want, Gretchen. I’ll do anything.”

The old me – that is, me before Brady – would never,everask for anything in regards to sex. But this version of me enjoys the freedom that being in a healthy, stable relationship with the world’s hottest former stripper can bring.

“Fuck me,” I say.

“Already?” he asks.

“With your mouth,” I clarify.

“Damn,” he whispers, and kisses me again. “Gladly.”

I can feel him working himself faster as he buries his face into me. I’m so wet, and he knows exactly how to move his mouth to get me to come for him. He uses his free hand to play around at my entrance, then finally slides a finger inside me, and I can feel him stop moving his other hand – the one that’s wrapped around himself. “You okay?” I whisper.

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