Page 24 of Brighton

There’s lots about Brighton Ranger that turns me on. There’s a lot that pisses me off, too, but this is quickly topping the list. I reach over her shoulder and turn the water off before doing the same with those behind me.

“Talk to me, darlin’.”

“Darlin’?” She makes to climb off of me but I carry her, my dick still deep inside her, to her room and fold over her on her bed. The air is cold after the heat of the shower and goosebumps rise on her flesh.

I grind into her slow and deep, forcing her to look me in the face until I see it. Her bottom lip quivers. Brighton doesn’t quiver. Brighton is an out loud, in your face, take hers and give-as-good-as-she-gets girl. Nothing about this woman quivers.

“Did I hurt you?”

She turns to scramble, and I grab her waist, then her shoulders as she slips from around my dick. I might as well be oil wrestling an eel for as crafty and quick as she is. No, this isn’t speed.

Her escape is desperation.

I climb over her fully naked, defending my manhood from her flailing limbs, as we perform an almost comical dance. I finally pin her to the bed facedown, caging her in with my knees at her thighs.

Prone over her body, I whisper at her shoulder, “What am I missing, baby?”

She lifts her ass, pushing up into me as if searching for my dick.

“Seriously? Your mood swings are giving me whiplash. You want me then ghost me. You swallow my cock, then run away as if I hurt you. Now you’re trying to escape and seek me out all at the same time?”

“Woman’s prerogative.”

“No.” I slide my hot length along her ass crack, seeing the head play peek-a-boo with her firm globes. “It seems, darlin’, that the only time you’re honest with me is when we’re like this.”

“Need you inside me, Eli.”

“Are you going to be truthful with me if I give you that?” I lift her onto her knees, still folded over her back, still whispering.

Silence. But she rocks her hips as if she can’t control her body, as if she’s a magnet being drawn to me and can’t help but seek out my dick.

I give her ass a quick spank. That’s not my thing, but the moan that pulls from her throat is music to my ears and makes it impossible for me to think. I position at her entrance and tease her with my head.

“Eli.” She barks out my name while seeking my cock, trying to lift onto all fours.

“Brighton.” I toss the same tone right back and slam inside her, pushing her down between her shoulder blades until her chest is pressed into the mattress.

Two deep, fast strokes and pull back, hovering on the edge of her body. “Why were you crying?”

“You always talk this much during sex, Elias? Do you call all your women baby and darlin’? It’s okay, I guess, but I’m good with less chit chat and more fucking.”

Her words are a mental and physical ice bath. I pull out entirely, roll to my back, and throw a hand over my forehead. “For someone who makes me hard just thinking about them, you sure can kill a mood.”

And before my eyes, ass still lifted in the air, the woman reaches between her legs and fingers her clit. She’s facing away from me. I can’t see her features but I can imagine them. I know that look. And when I hear her moan, my eyes go hard.

Fucking Brighton is magnificent.

Fighting Brighton is brutal.

And she’s just used me like a prop to get herself off.

She slips off the bed, walks back to the bathroom, and closes the door.

I jump up and push into the bathroom to see her wrapped in a towel, angrily pulling a brush through her long, wet hair, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“What the fuck, Bright?”

She looks away, focuses on her hair, and turns her back to me.

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