“Brooks,” I whisper against his mouth. He reaches for the hem of my shirt in response, tugging it up and over my head once I lift my arms.
It’s the mistake of all mistakes, doing this again. Having him now just to let him go in the morning.
But I’ve done an excellent job of breaking my own heart already—and worse, breaking Brooks’s heart. What’s one more shove of the ice pick? I’m already broken.
Brooks’s hands are everywhere—down my spine, along my waist, through my hair again. He sweeps my shoulder, my elbow, feeling every bit of me. I scrape my fingers under his shirt, up his stomach, trying to touch him everywhere the same way.
I need to be able to recreate him in my mind, even years from now. Every rise and dip of his body, every callus on his hands. I want to close my eyes and find the precise length and shape of the scar on his cheek among memories of his body swaying with the waves on asailboat, and the way he bites into a lollipop because he’s too impatient to let it melt.
Brooks lifts his arms and lets me tug off his shirt, snaps off my bra and flattens me to him like he’s trying to absorb me. Give me no option but to stay. He grunts when I shift on his lap.
I’m straddling him on the floor, our bodies grinding together, searching, demanding the right kind of friction. My shorts ride to the side and my bare pussy meets his sweats. My clit barely makes contact with his straining cock before he lurches forward so that I’m flat on the ground.
Brooks groans softly, looking down between us. “Look at what you’ve done.” His thumb moves through the slick, wet patch on the front of his sweatpants I left behind. “Made a pretty little mess on me.”
He smooths his thumb over my nipple, spreading my own wetness. Licks it off, swirling his tongue and grazing with his teeth.
I pant into the room, tucking my chin down so that I never lose sight of him as he moves along my body, kissing every part he’d explored with his hands, like he needs to remember me both ways. How I feel, the way I taste.
He yanks my shorts to the side, freeing my pussy, and kisses the skin all around it, too.
“I want that mess on my face, Pip.” Brooks shoves my legs apart, holding me wide open. “I need you to soak me. Okay? I need to wake up with you on my lips. I want the sweet taste of your pussy to linger for days, to keep me warm when you can’t. I want it imprinted in my fucking brain, Siena.”
I writhe into the ground but his hands force me still as he licks one long path along my pussy. His teeth scrape over my clit and I almost shoot off the ground.
“Oh my God.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
He nips my clit before sucking it into his mouth. He does that overand over until the heart that had evaporated from my chest appears right there, in my clit, beating hard and heavy as Brooks winds me up.
I feel hot and swollen, needy in a way I’ve never been. If I’d ever let myself picture goodbye sex with Brooks, the love of my life, it wouldn’t have been this.
There’s no soft and sweet; no timid, parting touches. It’s all greed and desperation.
“That feels so good.” My fingers grip my own hair.
“Yeah? Are you gonna come hard for me, Pip?”
“Yeah.” Vaguely, I process his persistent, renewed use of the nickname and the new wave of bitterness inside me that comes with it.
I don’t want to be a Pip or a Pippen or anything that brands me as anything but his.
Brooks nips my clit, soothes it with a wet lick. “Good. I want you coming so hard it haunts you for the rest of your life. I want to ruin you for anyone else, want you to remember howmineyou are every time another man looks at you.”
There’ll never be anyone else,I mean to say, but Brooks licks me back into his mouth and this time stays put, flicking his tongue, sucking, pushing his face into me like he’s begging to suffocate in me. I hold the back of his head, rock into his mouth, and he groans his appreciation.
I’m doing my best to stay quiet, seeing as we’re in a house of sleeping people, but all that means is that the room fills with the wet sounds of his mouth sucking on me. Brooks lifts off me just long enough to mutterlouder, before continuing to lick me.
My fingers twist in his hair. “It’s—” I bite down on a moan. “Your parents—”
“I saidlouder. You aren’t going to let me fuck you one last time just to withhold your sounds.” He bites my clit again. “Everyone is upstairs, on the other side of the house. Make my ears ring, Pippen.”
My stomach twists. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not, Pippen?” His fingers bite into my thighs before hereleases one and works a finger into my pussy. “Does it hurt, Pippen?” He adds another finger, pumps inside me. “You want the kid gloves, Pippen? You want me to pretend you didn’t just piledrive my heart, Pippen?”
“Don’t say that.”