Page 109 of The Holiday Fakers
Now his hands are on my clothes, tugging my sweater and T-shirt up, before getting distracted by my tits. He palms them through my lacy bra, his thumbs rubbing the hardened peaks of my nipples as his tongue thrusts into my mouth, stifling my cry.
The pleasure is nuclear, and I can’t get enough. I may not have climaxed yet, but the sensations he’s giving me are hotter and more powerful than any orgasm I’ve ever had. My body’s no longer my own. Brody owns it, and I am a-okay with himmoving in, starting with his wicked tongue and ending with his monumental cock.
It’s like hot silk over a rod of iron, weeping so much pre-cum that my hands slide over it effortlessly. I grip him harder as electricity arcs from my nipples to my clit.
“Fu—oh fuck!” he cries, jerking away from me, his fingers digging into his thighs, all of his muscles straining like he’s maxing out at the gym.
I don’t need to ask to know he’s barely holding on; his cock is red and swollen, slapping against his washboard abs as if seeking my hands again.
I use the brief respite to unclip my bra, pulling it off along with my sweater and T-shirt, then tug off my jeans and sopping panties.
Brody slowly raises his head, his gaze raking over my naked body as if he’s going to devour me. I’ve never felt so sexy before, so fucking hot and horny, that even a million orgasms wouldn’t dull the hunger I have for him.
He lifts me up, and I wrap my arms and legs around him, grinding into him as our lips crash together. I’m gasping and moaning, and he’s making growling sounds that vibrate into my clit better than any toy, because they’re coming fromhim.
Walking us into the shower, Brody turns on the faucet without breaking contact between us, then stands with his back to the water as it slowly warms, shielding me.
Droplets trickle over my arms and legs, and as the steam envelops us, I stroke my fingers through his hair, feeling the water soaking through his locks, running down our faces, slipping between our bodies.
His mouth is hot and wet, his body hot and hard, his skin smooth over the ridges of muscle. I trace his shoulders, the curve of his biceps, the corded steel of his forearms.
I can’t stop touching him, kissing him, drinking him in. I’m drowning in the sensations flooding my body. I’ve craved him for so long, even when I lied to myself that I didn’t.
His fingers thread through my hair again, tugging my head back so his lips can find my neck—the sensitive spot just beneath my ear that makes me shiver despite the heat. I tilt my head back further, offering myself to him as his teeth graze my skin.
“Brody,” I pant, my nails scoring across his back, his scalp. His name on my lips is my ultimate fantasy. I’ve only ever cried it in my head, imagining his body covering me, his cock thrusting deep inside my pussy as I bring myself off. But now, each time I say his name, there’s an answering growl that sends thrills through every nerve ending.
My nipples ache, my breasts swollen and hypersensitive, desperate for his touch. He raises his head, pinning me with a gaze ferocious in its desire.
“I wanna take my time,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “But I’m so fucking horny for you right now, I’m about to blow my load. So, you’re gonna have to be a good girl and help me out here.”
I nod, reaching underneath me for his cock, but he shakes his head and lifts me off him, holding me steady as my feet find the shower tray. I start to kneel, wanting so badly to suck his cock, but he stops me with a shake of his head.
“But I want to?—”
“Can you stand?”
“Yes, but?—”
Brody moves me so my back is against the far wall of the shower. His expression is so intense I can hardly breathe. The energy he’s bringing shatters all my wildest, most illicit imaginings, and I am so here for it.
“Spread your legs,” he commands. “Show me what I’m desperate to taste.”
Panting with desire, every inch of my skin burns. Holding his gaze, I step my feet apart.
His breath hitches, but he nods his approval and extends a hand, caressing my cheek before running the pad of his thumb along my lower lip. I suck the tip, swirling my tongue around it, showing him exactly what I want to do to his cock.
“Fuck, Piper,” he growls, then runs his fingers down my neck, circling my breasts.
I arch my chest toward him, but he doesn’t touch my nipples. “Brody,” I whimper.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his gaze following his hand as it sweeps over the curve of my stomach. “So fucking perfect. Are you wet for me, Piper?”
“Y-yes.” I’m trembling now, desperate to grab his hand and push it between my legs. But I stay still, my palms pressed against the tiles as the water runs down them.
“Good girl,” he says, one hand holding my hip to keep me in place, the other inching lower, his middle finger leading the way through my sodden curls. I can’t look away, silently begging him to keep going.
The tip of his finger grazes my clit, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I gasp for breath, then shudder and cry out as he sinks his middle finger deep inside me.
