Page 54 of Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High 4)

Ruined but resilient.

My heart pounds heavy as I push the thin material of her top up to see the rest, but her hand flies down, clamping around mine in a death grip.

Her nostrils flare, a heavy frown taking over her face, and fuck if a pressure doesn’t fall on my chest, no matter how hard I fight it away.

What...

Oh shit. Her scars...

I relax my hold and slowly, hers falls away as she shifts her attention to my hands as I trail them across the image, ready to take both our minds to one place and erase everything else.

My fingertips test the skin at her hipbones, kneading and rubbing. I grip her there, nice and tight, and squeeze—a perfect fucking fit.

I lick my lips and as slow as I can manage, slide my eyes to the prize in the center, pink and perfect. She’s not bare as I imagined, but precisely trimmed, shaped to mirror her body, and curved just right.

She’s not shy, doesn’t try to hide, but lies there offering me a seat at the king’s table.

I bring my pinkie up, sliding it against the deep center, and I’m met with slick, warm proof of her arousal. My blood runs hot.

My eyes fly to hers. Her teeth come down to punish her bottom lip right as my finger glides across my own, my tongue greedily following to get that first, fevering fucking taste.

Oh fuck.

My head falls back some, and I groan, my dick now fully hard and straining in my sweats, pushing tight against my boxers. Too tight.

I reach down, quickly shoving them to my thighs to free it and an airy moan leaves her, sending a jolt through my body.

No, no. Can’t have her taking control of my body’s reactions.

She’s short enough her arms reach her legs, so I quickly grip her by the wrists, locking her palms on my shoulders, and squeeze.

A quick and heavy pounding fires within my chest, growing stronger with each beat as every nerve in my body wakes wild and wanting. I lower until my breath is fanning across her, right over her swollen little clit.

She shakes and I’m not even fucking touching her.

I pointedly move my eyes to her grip on me and slide them back to her.

“Not a sound...”

Talk with your touch. Your moans will be my ruin.

Her head lifts as mine falls, my mouth closing around her clit and her knees glide higher on the mattress, pushing her closer to me.

She buries my face between her legs, begging for all I’ve got, and tonight, I’ve got a lot.

I nip at her, licking and sucking and when her body starts to quake, my tongue vibrates with it as I slip my left hand into my pocket, pulling it out just as fast and press the cooled brass against her slit, her body a frenzy of sensations.

My heated tongue, the cool of the metal, the night breeze flowing through the window and the dirty darkness we’re playing in.

She gasps, flying off the bed, her hand slamming over her mouth in the process.

“There you go,” I breathe. “Hide from me.”

I fucking need you to.

“You’re going to come for me, right against the brass.”

She does, her pulse beating through her pussy.

“Mm,” I moan, placing the edge of the pinky knuckle at her opening, and rolling my fist, coating my token from one end to the other with her cum.

With my left hand still playing along her center, I grab my cock with my right and pump. Slow to start, but as her legs fall open with satisfaction, I go harder, and her head lifts, her eyes falling to my arm she can’t see the end of as my lower half is hidden by the rise of her mattress.

Her gaze snaps to mine and I hold it, staring right in her eyes as I work toward my own release, thoughts of her heat in my head, her flavor on my tongue.

Her body slick on mine.

Her lips part as I pull my fist to my mouth, my tongue coming out for a heavy sweep along the brass, cleaning her from it completely. I groan, long and loud, my cum following the sound. I shift quickly, catching it with my palm.

I don’t look back at her, don’t wait for my body to settle or my heart rate to drop.

I pull up my sweats, place my knuckles back in my pocket, and walk out, but I freeze right outside her door, when her whispered words reach me, and I’m not even sure if they were supposed to.

“Hate me today, Cap,” she speaks to herself. “But careful. You might just love me tomorrow.”

Fuck.Chapter 15CaptainI fucked up.

I tested and tasted the deceiving forbidden fruit when I should have stomped it beneath my feet. A flavor so sweet I want more, a sight so gripping I’ll never forget.