Page 79 of Sinful Skulls
“Let it happen,” he says confidently, not slowing down the firm and repetitive motion he’s set.
Tears spring to my eyes, and oh my god, it’s going to happen. I close my eyes … and … it happens.
“There we go,” he praises, basking in the crude wet sounds that seem to excite him. “I knew you’d be good at this.”
I peek my eyes open slightly to see him grinning from ear to ear. He holds my gaze and begins again.
“Oh, Brody, no.” I literally feel my eyes roll back in my head as it happens again.
“Fuck, yes,” he moans, dipping his head. He flattens his tongue over my clit and begins to finger fuck me again.
“Shittttt …”
The vibrations from his deep groan send me right over again. I lose count of the number of times he drains me of my very essence.
As he’s cleaning me, I sit up on my elbows, blinking my eyes sleepily. “What about you?”
He pushes me back. “Don’t worry about me. I came in my pants. Twice.”
His honesty makes me giggle, which earns my already stinging behind another little love tap.
“Ow,” I whine, rubbing my butt, but the smile on my face tells a different story.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Daisy
Brody kisses me awake. “I’m heading out. I left the keys to the truck on the counter if you want to go somewhere.”
I sit up, still half asleep. “I feel ba …” His tongue thrusts against mine and shuts me up.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll sneak a nap in sometime today.” He shrugs after he pushes himself from the bed. “I usually do.”
It makes me laugh. I love the silly side of Brody.
“I might head over and take Jesse up on the use of her studio. I’ll have more room to paint over there.”
“I’m going to build you your own art studio in the backyard someday. That is, if you want to stay here. We could always look for someplace new.”
“I like it here.”
He attacks me with kisses, and I have to physically shove him from the bed to get him out the door.
When he’s gone, I lie back and stare at the ceiling, happy and content.
I jump from the bed, ready to get the day started. I’m anxious to get to the warehouse and paint.
As I’m loading my stuff in the back of Brody’s truck, the postman pulls in the driveway.
“You must be Miss Daisy!” he hollers as he gets out of his vehicle with Brody’s mail in his hands.
“I am.”
He gives me a kind smile, and it instantly puts me at ease. He hands me a small bundle of letters.
“I have a package for you. It’s in the back.”
I walk with him. “Oh good. I’ve been expecting something from a friend of mine.”
