Page 7 of Brock
On his arms, there are tattoos.
I’d seen the slightest hint of them peaking out his shirt sleeves, but now I get to see the whole thing.
I ask him to turn around, and slowly he complies. They cover his back too. There are dates. Passages from books. Entwined between faces and pictures and symbols of all kinds. A tapestry of his life. Of his journey through this world, and the people he’s met and loved and lost.
“Soon you’ll be on here,” he says, turning back around and kissing me. “My next chapter. My last chapter. My best chapter.”
I unbuckle his belt and he slides out of his jeans. Reaching into his boxers, I pull his cock free.
It’s hot to the touch, and so thick I can barely wrap my fingers around his girth.
We melt to the floor, kissing. Before I know it, I’m naked, too. He’s kissing my breasts. His fingers are running through my wet, silken folds. He’s groaning my name and telling me how beautiful I am.
I spread my legs open and let him have his way with me.
I’ve never felt so at home with a man before. Especially naked. Usually, I’d insist on the lights being turned off. I’ve only ever made love in the dark before. But now, with Brock, I want him to see my body. I want to watch his face as he takes pleasure in looking at me for the first time.
“Oh, shit,” he groans, as he climbs on top of me and the tip of his cock enters my pussy. “You’re so fucking tight, Layla. Does it hurt?”
“Just a little,” I say. “I’ve never been with anyone as big as you, Brock.”
“I’ll go slow,” he promises, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. “I want this to be magical… for the both of us.”
“It already is.”
He pushes further into me. My nails dig into the flesh on his shoulders and his back and the back of his neck.
He bites my lip. I wrap my legs around his narrow waist.
At first, it is kind of painful. But then the muscles in my cunt relax and my body welcomes him, and the only thing I feel is pleasure.
“I’m gonna cum!” I moan, the record now onto the next track. Another wild, sixties, psychedelic rock song.
Our bodies grind and thrust in time with the music.
“Shit,” he moans. “Me too. Hold on. Just a second. I’m right there with you, Layla. Right there.”
“Yes!” I push my hips up into his body. Brock holds my wrists against the ground and thrusts deep inside me.
My channel squeezes tight around his cock. Brock groans and then kisses me and by the time our lips separate I can feel the cum shooting into my cunt.
“Oh my God.”
He rolls onto the floor beside me. I rest my head in the crook of his arm and run my fingers through his damp stomach hair.
“Brock,” I say. “I’m not going back.”
“I know,” he says. “You’re staying here with me.”
“Is that okay?” I ask. “Is that what you want?”
He kisses me tenderly. My chin in his fingers. Our eyes just inches apart. “It’s better than okay, Layla. It’s perfect.” He touches his lips to the tip of my nose. “Just like you.”
Epilogue
One Year Later…
“Excuse me, ma’am.” The slim, young waitress who’s been trying to flirt with Brock all evening saddles up beside me. “Are you okay?”
