Page 28 of Broken Brothers

Her soft moans only hardened me even further. I felt like I could break through both layers of clothing to get to her, andwhen I did, I would make her beg to never leave my company. I moved down to her neck.

“Chance, oh… god, please,” she moaned softly.

I didn’t give a shit anymore if anyone heard. Edwin Hunt and John Burnson could come and watch—hell, even Craig Taylor too—and I wouldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop for a goddamn thing at this point.

I ripped—yes, ripped, her shirt and top off. Her breasts spilled out and I cupped them, kissed them, caressed them, squeezed them, anything to draw a pleasurable groan from Layla. I could do anything and everything I wanted to, and I sure planned on it. No more saying she’d call later. No more handjobs and then teasing the promise of more.

No, this was all now. There would be no “later” and no “next time.”

I lifted her off of the wall and pushed her onto my desk, letting some pencils and calendars fall to the ground. I tugged down her pants and panties, and there awaited her wetness, just begging for me to head in there.

I went back up and kissed her, tugging my pants off as I did. She reached down and grabbed my cock and stroked it as moans escaped her. She was beginning to get a little too loud for my comfort—while I didn’t really care if other people started watching, I did care that she didn’t outright expose us to the world. I put a hand over her mouth and shushed her.

She got the picture, although she had to grab her own shirt and bite into it to avoid making more noise. Somehow, that made all of this even hotter—something about seeing her have to stuff a shirt in her mouth made me believe I was giving her something so powerful and so overwhelming she had no choice but to do it.

I thought of putting my dick in her right there and going until I finished, but what can I say? I wanted to be a gentleman—that,and I knew if I treated her right here, it would be far from the last time something like this happened.

I put my face between her legs, licking and fingering her to the rise and fall of her hips and the intensity of her moans. It only seemed poetic that for as aggressively as she had moved on me, making me come so quickly at the bar, that I could see by the blushing of her skin and the movement of her hips that she would not be for much longer either.

And when she did come, when she did let out that jolt, I held onto her ass as tightly as I could, the better so she wouldn’t roll off the table in extreme pleasure. It was like riding a bull in heat, but I held my own, pulling back only when she removed the shirt from her mouth as a means of telling me to stop.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she said, gasping, as if she’d just run back to back marathons.

“Oh, we’re not done yet,” I said.

I let her stand on her own wobbly legs, but after giving her a second, I pushed her up against the wall.

“You don’t get out of here until I finish,” I said into her ear.

I inserted inside her from behind, pounding her into the wall and letting her suck my fingers as a way to prevent her from gasping out in pain. I had no intentions of letting her go now, not with everything that had happened. Not with all of the delays I’d encountered.

Perhaps I was never going to be ready to give my heart to a girl, but I knew when to give her something more pleasurable. I knew not to wait. I knew not to delay.

Unlike last time, when she had me pumping only for about a minute before I finished, this time, I was determined to enjoy the experience as long as I could. I had her against the wall both from behind and from the front. I fucked her against the office desk. I had her straddle me on the office chair. The entire place reeked of sex.

Good. Let it be a reminder to me for the next month what I had accomplished. It wasn’t like anyone came in here, either; if someone wanted me, I went to them.

Except, now, for Layla Taylor.

Only when I’d gotten her back against the wall, her face turned sideways, her eyes nearly rolling to the back of her head, did I finally finish. I bit into her back and neck as I did, straining to keep my voice controlled as best as I could. When I finished, I waited a few seconds before taking a step back, admiring the work I had just put in.

“Well,” I said. “That’s how you close a deal.”

Layla just laughed. She looked like she wanted to say something, but I had so ravaged her that she couldn’t speak anymore. That just wasn’t an option.

Instead, she came up to me and kissed me. It was a surprisingly tender moment, one I had certainly not expected, but one… I embraced?

“Next time, let’s go somewhere a little more private,” she said.

Next time. I dig it.

“Say no more,” I said.

11

FOUR YEARS AGO

There was only one person I ever could have envisioned having a conversation like this with.