Page 12 of Brazen Defiance (Brazen Boys #4)

Clara

R J collapses on top of me, his welcome weight forcing me flat on the mattress, our skin slick.

The sensation of his gasping breath against my back has me preening.

I want every experience of his to be amazing.

Because it’s only ever been me. And that’s something I’m not going to forget or take advantage of.

RJ deserves remarkable, magical, whatever words I have to give him.

He slips out, and I mew, his absence aching deep in my chest. I roll to pull him close, but he halts me, his hand heavy on the small of my back, his fingers scooping up the wetness leaking from me and pressing it back inside, my mew turning into something darker, richer.

He wants to stay inside me as much as I want him to be there.

And just like last time, he coaxes me to orgasm, my face pressed against the mattress, his hand leaving me pinned, unable to do anything but take. So I take, even though all I want to do is give, my body already halfway to jelly as I come again, his fingers slipping from the mess we made.

He lets me turn, and I pull him down to me, a messy kiss the only gift I’m capable of.

But his eyes shine, the intensity there softened, just a little. A kiss feathers under my ear, and he whispers, just for me. “Sweetness, you’re more than I could have imagined. More than any damn list.”

Tears pool in my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. Instead, I force his lips back to mine, showing him, like he’s always shown me, that I care. That I care so damn much it scares me.

I have to tell him.

But not right now.

He deserves a private confession.

Pulling back, he cradles my face before sliding down me and onto the floor, blindly reaching behind himself until he finds one of my pink chairs, pushing my clean clothes from the seat and sliding it to the side of the mattress. Picking a spot to watch what happens next.

Because there’s more. So much more.

I swallow, twisting to find two sets of eyes locked on me. Walker’s dark, calculating. Jansen’s full of mischief and want.

“Jay?” Walker asks, leaning against the wall like he’s unaffected, even as precum glints at the tip of his cock, his hand stilled around it.

Jansen doesn’t need to be asked twice, bounding into the bed and rolling me to my side, his lips meeting mine while he grinds himself against my opening, slick from RJ and me.

“That was so hot,” he murmurs against my lips, his calloused fingers tracing across my skin before grabbing my ass and pressing me against him.

“So fucking hot,” he repeats, teasing me, the head of his cock riding my sensitive clit.

“Trouble, don’t make me wait,” I whine, limp from coming twice, but still needy. So damn needy. Will I ever get enough of these guys?

It seems impossible.

Doing what he’s told has never been Jansen’s strong suit, though, so instead, he latches onto my nipple, laving it with spirals of his tongue, making me gasp and moan.

Moving to the other nipple, coaxing me higher than I thought possible, he plays, teasing me.

“You’re a brat, Jansen,” I whimper, and his chuckle against my wet nipple has shivers coursing through me.

“And you love it,” he mutters, licking a line from my sternum to my belly button, circling that, decorating me with his tongue. He drifts to the side, nipping at my hip, and I yelp.

“Jansen, fuck me or I’m skipping you,” I threaten, having no idea how I’d enact that threat.

I wouldn’t.

There’s no way.

“Jeez, a little patience could go a long way,” he says, those fingers skimming up from my calves, over my thigh as he inches back up my body, hooking my knee over his hip as he slowly sinks into me.

“Shit,” I mutter, the sensation sublime, the speed glacial.

“Patience,” he says, his grin vicious as he nips my nose, his breath coming in quick pants that betray his demand.

When he finally thrusts the last inch in, he pauses, his eyes bright before mine. Using my leg, I tug him impossibly closer. “More,” I demand.

“Always, beautiful.”

It’s slow. Reverent. So unlike Jansen that I struggle to breathe. It’s big. Bigger than a claiming, or a connection. He’s savoring me. Like he’s afraid that if he doesn’t, I might not be real. It’s written there in his green eyes. He’s afraid, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

Was it me almost dying? Or is it something else?

When I come, it’s in rolling waves of pleasure, my body lax in his arms. He continues his slow, even strokes, riding my pleasure without wavering in rhythm or intensity, his gaze overwhelming in a way I’ve never felt from him.

“Trouble?”

He presses his lips to mine, keeping me from asking more.

And when he comes, it’s with the same intensity, a low groan and a slow blink of his blond lashes.

His lips are soft against mine, his voice muffled. “I’m not giving this up. Not ever.”

“Never,” I agree.

He bundles me into his arms, his nose pressed against the crook of my neck.

We don’t separate until he slips loose, his parting kiss soft, gentle.

And it hurts. Only I can’t push it, not now. He didn’t say it with words, but his actions were clear enough. Later, we’ll talk.

So for now, I flop my boneless neck to the side, finding RJ leaning back in my chair, his eyes hooded. And Walker, dropping to his knees beside me. “Princess,” he says, his thumb tracing my likely swollen lips.

“Yes?” I croak.

“Can you do one more?”

As an answer, I pull his thumb into my mouth, spiraling my tongue around the tip. A grin hints at the corner of his mouth. “Insatiable.”

I grin around his thumb, digging my teeth into it just enough to keep him from pulling it back.

He kneels over me, his eyes dark.

Then, instead of trying to take back his thumb, his other fingers dig into my hair, and he leans forward, his tongue slipping between my teeth, coaxing mine to dance with his.

Letting go of his thumb only makes sense, so I do, diving to meet him. His newly freed hand pulls my hair tight enough for the sting to register, causing my already limp body to slacken farther, trusting him to do what he wants with me. To take so much, and to give as much in return.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he whispers to me, and I feel it. I feel it in a way that I’m not sure I could have a few months ago. Maybe ever.

“So are you,” I whisper, dragging my hand down the side of his face, his dark eyes searching mine.

“I want to do more, but I don’t think I can wait.”

“You’ve waited plenty.”

That grin is back. “I have, haven’t I?”

He runs his hands down my front, tweaking my nipples, making me gasp and arch.

Then, without preamble, he slides into me, the way so slick there’s no friction.

He sits back on his heels, dragging me with him down the bed, my ass resting on his thighs, the rest of me spread out like some kind of dazed, sex-sated feast. “Decadent,” he mutters, and the way he looks at me, I know he’s collecting details to add to a drawing, a painting, preparing to combine a piece of his soul with how he sees me.

Then he rocks into me, tiny nudges against my swollen flesh, and thoughts become slippery, his thumb coaxing me higher, another, impossible orgasm building inside of me.

And when I come, my body trembling, too tired to shake, he grabs hold of me, slamming me against him until he comes too, his jaw clenched, but his eyes locked on mine.

We stay frozen in the moment, our breaths ragged.

Once the moment settles, I flutter my hands, needing them close. I need them all, and somehow, they understand. I close my eyes, too tired to keep them open, but safe. So safe.

RJ pulls me onto the chair, someone else leaving and coming back with a damp washcloth, cleaning me up.

Muttered conversation happens behind me, and not too long later, I’m laid out in the middle of a clean bed.

Bodies surround me, holding me close, and despite the hour, sleep claims me. Dreamless. Warm.

Safe.