Beneath The Skin(79)

He thrusts into me so fast and so easily, I roll my eyes back and squeeze on his cock, tightening up. Now it’s my turn to claw into the bed sheets, bracing for Brant and his horny rage.

Is it healthy to crave someone this badly?

He pulls my legs over his shoulders and plows into me so deeply, my ass comes off the bed. He doesn’t seem to notice as he practically bends me in half, curling me off the bed as he thrusts and thrusts and thrusts.

“I’m close,” he hisses.

“Kiss me.”

He keeps fucking me, his eyes closing as he enters some alternate plane of orgasmic bliss.

Nope, none of that.

“Brant.”

He flips his eyes open, drunk on lust.

“Eyes,” I demand. “On me.”

“Fuuuuck …”

“And kiss me.”

He reaches under my back, continuing to pump my body. I lift up and cling to his shoulders as our lips crash together like waves against a beach, furious and reckless and loud. Then I feel the inevitable pulse of his cock when the kiss turns into hot, heavy breathing as he empties into me, shot after shot after shot.

After he recovers, we’re sitting in each other’s laps. I look into his eyes and his lock onto mine with intensity. He stays inside me, his cock staying hard even after his orgasm, throbbing as he calms down slowly. I feel so complete. I feel so connected.

“I should put on some clothes,” he whispers.

I nod. “But first, I have one more use for that pretty face of yours.”

“What?”

“My turn,” I say as I pull off his lap—his cock sliding out of me—and then I push him down, positioning myself over his face. I wonder if he’s got enough left in him to work me over the edge.

Brant’s hungry moan that casts an earthquake between my thighs is my answer.





BRANT



“So what’re you in for?” asks Tyrese, a dude I grew up with who works in law enforcement now.

“Indecent exposure,” I answer.

Nell tugs unkindly on the chain connected to my handcuffs and pulls me away from Tyrese, who I would wave goodbye to if I had any access to my hands, which are cuffed together and connected by another chain to a pair of cuffs at my ankles.

“I was talking to him,” I whine.

“No talking, inmate,” Nell shoots back, smirking under her prison guard hat.

The orange jumpsuit I wear has INMATE written in block letters down one leg, and PROPERTY OF COUNTY JAIL written across my chest on the right side. Nell’s top is a white button-down shirt (two sizes too small, of course) with a tie, matched to a navy blue pair of slacks. Naturally, she wears the tie loose, the shirt unbuttoned a bit to show off a hint of her ample cleavage.

Fuck, this is so hot.

She leads me into the kitchen, my chains rattling with every step—or should I say shuffle?—and I feel the amused eyes of some of the others as we pass by. She pulls open the fridge and grabs a beer. After snapping it open, she brings the bottle to her mouth, giving me a front row show to the way her sultry lips work, sucking down that delicious, thirst-quenching beer. Her beautiful breasts rise and fall as she slowly drinks. Seriously, it’s like she wants me to see all the sex I could be having right now if I hadn’t insisted so much on going to this party, just by the way she moves.

“I’m kinda thirsty,” I point out.

“Shut it, inmate,” she says after her long, plentiful gulp.

I draw up to Nell’s sexy side, my crotch pressed into her hip. “Isn’t it … bad … to drink on the job? Aren’t you afraid of gettin’ in trouble, Officer Nell?”

She ignores me, though I see the hint of a smirk on her mouth as she leans back against the counter, enjoying her beer.

After giving the crowded room full of pirates, fairies, sexy nurses, and vampires a onceover, I sigh. “Thought there would be more people here I’d know from back in the day. Everyone’s moved away or went to some other party or … somethin’.”

“Times change. People, too,” Nell mutters, I suppose deciding to break character along with me.

“I don’t know whether to be amused or … depressed by how much all my friends from high school seem to have accomplished.” I sigh, distracted for a second by a pair of oddly-disfigured demon-looking people at the back door chatting. “Med school. Harvard. Traveling the world selling … what was it he said?”

“I wasn’t listening.”

“Oh, and Lucas and his realtor gig. I mean, sure, it’s not like I haven’t done anything since graduation. Or have I?” I try to cross my arms only to be reminded of my whole wrists-cuffed-together situation, then drop my hands down. “I bet you could whip your whole high school reunion   into submission with your work.”