Beneath The Skin(65)
The table is remarkably just how I left it, all its occupants standing around it cracking jokes and laughing every few seconds, the bottoms of bottles and glasses being more prevalent than their tops. I don’t seem to draw any attention, which eerily makes me feel like my little scene never happened. Dessie slips right back into Clayton’s hold, and though I was just minutes ago hating every talented, loveable cell in that girl’s very existence, I suddenly find myself drawn to her magnetic demeanor and the way that her and Clayton seem to share some kind of unseen gravitational force that keeps them in orbit. Clayton pours into her eyes, and she lets him, smiling brightly and clinging to him like a cliff—like a big, solid cliff made of flesh and muscle.
When Brant looks my way after hearing the end of a story from Dmitri, his crystalline blues shimmer. A smile breaks across his face, a smile that seems almost automatic, like he can’t help but smile when he sees I’ve returned.
My heart catches in my throat. My chest feels like a cavern of bones and nerves, little electric currents swimming around inside with nowhere to go and nothing to focus upon.
Except him.
Brant lifts his eyebrows at me. “You alright?”
I slide up next to him at the table, my shoulder rubbing against his. I let that and a tiny smile be my answer. Then Eric howls when Clayton jokingly tosses an ice cube down the back of his shirt, and even the stoic, monotone-driven Sam cracks an uncharacteristic smile.
When Dessie announces her need to sleep for a rehearsal and Sam talks about “a thing her and Tomas need to do”, Eric slaps Dmitri on the back and demonstratively suggests to him that they get some late night pancakes. It isn’t my clue to get, but I get it nonetheless, and when Brant turns his face to ask me something, I cut him off with, “You wanna get out of here?”
After I ask that question, his eyes burn blue. I never knew that color could burn. I’ve moved really close to him somehow, so close that our hips nearly touch. My right hand betrays me, coming up to meet the waist of his jeans, a finger hooking in one of the belt loops.
His breathing has quickened. “Sure,” he finally says. “W-Where?”
“Your place,” I answer, tugging on his belt loop. Our hips push into one another.
He’s hard as a rock in his jeans.
I’m wet as fuck.
“Who are you?” he breathes.
“In,” I answer. “I’m all in.”
BRANT
The doors to my apartment burst open.
I have her lifted by her thighs, held to my body with our hips pressed together and our lips locked.
I kick the door shut behind me. I can’t believe this is happening.
She moans as I carry her down the little hall and drop her onto my bed, making that sound of bedsprings creaking I’ve so longed to hear.
She breathes heavily as I push my face into her, pinning her to the bed with my hands and my weight. She moans into the kiss, the vibrations sending tremors between our bodies.
I’m a fucking animal. I want to get myself inside her so bad, my cock aches, flexing incessantly from inside the confines of my tight boxer briefs.
In answer, my hands fly to the button and zipper of my jeans, sending them on a journey to the floor. Nell seems to get the same idea, grabbing her own and undoing them in a feverish fluster.
Already freed from my own clothes and growing impatient, I pick her up off the bed, set her feet on the floor, then grab her jeans—and panties—and pull them down her hips as I drop to my knees.
She says something between her breaths, but I don’t hear her as I plunge face-first between her thighs, drawing my tongue lightly up her lower lips and reaching her clit, which I proceed to gently lick. She bucks, so I reach around and grip her perfect, curvy ass, pulling her deeper into me and not letting her go anywhere except exactly where I want her.
Her breaths quickly turn vocal, sending moans soaring overhead. Encouraged, I let go of her ass and slide a finger into her pussy with ease. Drawing the finger in and out of her slowly, teasingly, tortuously, I continue to lick and lap at her on the outside with my dancing tongue.
She’s so wet, a second finger glides right in, stretching her.
Her muscles tighten hungrily in response and she moans, loud and desperately.
I run my free hand up her body, slipping it under her top and into her bra. My fingers graze over her nipple, finding it hard and pebbled under my touch. I feel her body respond, tightening, pushing into me and pulling against me at the same time.
She tenses up. She’s about to come all over my face. My fingers hook into her pussy and hit that spot that sends her flying over the edge.
I’m used to driving women crazy, but it’s so different with Nell. I want to worship every inch of her. I want to own her, yet acknowledge how wholly and irrevocably she owns me.