Page 36 of Climbing Everest

Everest

B y the time we leave, my chest is raw, my pussy is soaked and I’m feeling a little needy. Oh, and Brix looks seconds away from bending me over the closest surface and fucking me, regardless of who might see us.

At this point, I’m not sure I would give a shit if someone witnessed us at our most primal state.

I came on his tongue while Nico somehow managed to remain professional and complete my tattoo, but my body is primed and ready for more.

It’s Brixton. Actually, it’s all three of them. I can never seem to get enough of them. Never have been able to get enough of them.

At least they’re finally past the insulting me for how I made a living stage.

I’m sure it’s still in the back of their minds, I’m sure they do their best to ignore the fact I stripped and turned tricks to feed myself or keep a roof over my head, but all that shit is over.

As long as our plans go accordingly, nothing short of death will tear us apart again.

That last thought is like ice water over my head. Death very well could be what tears us apart. We’re playing a dangerous game, and I’m going along with it.

Actually, I might be the one pushing it further than necessary.

I just don’t think my father and his men should be allowed to get away with what they did. And no, I really don’t give a flying fuck if one of my men or even one of my father’s enemies ends his life with a well-placed bullet or stab wound.

I really wish I knew what my mom knows, what she’s been told, whether she looked for me, whether she grieved me.

Or, if she simply went through life attending parties, shopping, and flitting through society as she had since I was born and raised by nannies.

Brixton glances at me as he navigates through traffic on our way home. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

Neither of us bothered turning on the radio and neither have spoken a single word since we got in the truck. At first, I was simply trying to calm my libido so I didn’t end up climbing onto his dick while he was driving.

But now…

“I keep wondering what my mom knows. If she thinks I’m dead. If she grieved me.”

He hums a sound but doesn’t comment.

“What sucks is I don’t think she would have shed more than a tear or two. I’m their only daughter and neither gave a single flying fuck about me. Don’t you think that’s fucked up?”

“I’m the last person who can answer something like that, E.”

Because his own family didn’t give a shit about him, either.

We are one fucked up family, that’s for sure.

That’s fine. I love them and they love me more than our parents ever did. I mean, hell, Kato killed Christos to keep his father from killing me or starting a war with the Sidorov Bratva.

And me?

Yeah. I went through hell and almost died to protect my guys. There’s no way anyone could ever doubt how strongly we feel for each other, how deeply our love for each other runs.

Fuck it. I’m done dwelling on the negative shit. At least for now. We have approximately two weeks before I make my reappearance and look my father directly in the eye for the first time in four fucking years.

Yeah, we’re planning the engagement party barely over two weeks from the wedding, but not like any part of our lives together is the norm.

Reaching across the console, I rest my hand directly over Brixton’s crotch and find he’s still rock hard. Huh. Apparently, even the shitty conversation wasn’t enough to kill his boner.

“Need some help with that?” I ask.

Might be a little difficult with the divider, but I can make it work.

Except he reaches down and lifts the console, leaving me plenty of room to stretch out. “Fuck yeah, I need some help,” he says, using a free hand to pop the button on his jeans and tear his zipper down.

I undo my seatbelt and, after looking around to make sure a cop doesn’t happen to be riding close enough to see me give road head while Brixton is driving seventy miles an hour on the highway, I lower onto my knees on the floorboard to give myself plenty of wiggle room to return the favor of distracting him.

Okay. Distracting him while he’s driving might not be the best idea, but I don’t care. I trust him enough to keep his eyes open and his focus on the vehicles around us. He protected me when we were kids and I know he’ll continue protecting me, including avoiding a catastrophic car accident.

Reaching into his pants, I pull his long, pierced cock free and lean forward, running my tongue along the bars.

I love the way his piercings feel. I have to wonder whether he got turned on by the pain or if this was some form of masochistic thing for him, some way to erase the emotional pain by self-inflicting physical pain.

Yeah. Definitely a conversation for later, because right now, all I care about is feeling him filling my mouth, tasting the saltiness of his precum, and eventually swallowing every drop he gives me.

One of his hands leaves the steering wheel and lands on the back of my head. As I open my mouth and wrap my lips around the flared head of his cock, he adds a little pressure, pushing me down until the tip hits the back of my throat.

“Fuck, I love hearing you choke on my dick,” he grunts.

I really, really hope he’s keeping his eyes on the road.

That thought fades away as I feel the vehicle slowing, then he stops, putting the truck in park and tangling the fingers of both hands in my hair.

No way we’re home already. Which means he’s pulled off the side of the road so he can fully enjoy me blowing him.

Why the hell does that turn me on so bad? I love that he’s so into this when I’ve barely started that he had to pull off the road and is now giving my mouth his full attention.

Good thing his windows are tinted. Not that anyone would see me bobbing up and down on his length with the height of the truck and how fast the traffic is flying past us.

“Fuck, your mouth feels amazing,” he groans as he urges me to bob faster, to take him deeper.

The teeth of his zipper are scraping my chin and lips, and I want so badly to force his jeans lower so I can play with his balls. Guess I’ll just have to hit replay and add a little more fun when we get home.

“Fuck,” Brixton grits out. “I’m going to come down your throat.”

I hum my approval, ready to beg him for it. I love the way he tastes. I love the way all three of my men taste.

“Here it comes, baby,” he grits out, holding my head down as he thrusts up a few times, the piercings scraping against my tongue and clinking against the back of my teeth.

When his cock jerks, I’m ready and swallow down every drop he feeds me. Holy shit, I’ve missed this. All of this.

I might have used my body to make money over the years, but it was a means to an end. I don’t think I enjoyed a single man I was with through that time.

But this? The taste and feeling of Brix in my mouth, the feeling of power as he trembles, as his thighs clench under my hands, the way it feels as though I topped him from the bottom?

I’m high. Or drunk. Drunk on lust, on the power of making him lose control.

It isn’t until he clenches my hair tight and pulls my head up that I finally stop licking and sucking him, then lick my lips to make sure I didn’t miss any of his warm, masculine taste.

Still kneeling on the floorboard, I turn my eyes up to his face, only catching glimpses of his strong, square jaw, his long hair laying on his shoulders, the straight line of his nose as cars drive past.

But I swear I can feel his eyes burning into me, can feel the smolder of them as though we’re not done yet, even though we’ve both come tonight.

He runs his thumb over my bottom lip, and I instinctively open for him, tonguing the digit as though it was still his cock in my mouth.

“When we get home, I’m bending you over the first fucking surface I can find. I’m going to fuck you so deep and so hard you’ll feel me for days.”

My pussy flutters and I grow wetter as I nod. “Yes. Please,” I beg.

“Get back in your seat and buckle up,” he says as he puts the truck back into gear and hits the signal switch to get us back on the road.

I do as I’m told, quickly climbing into my seat and pulling my belt into place, but I can’t sit still the next fifteen minutes it takes him to get us home.

The entire time, I’m squeezing my thighs together, periodically shifting them together for some friction as my own need skyrockets from his threat.

Nah. That was a promise, one I fully intend on forcing him to fulfill.

He hasn’t put the console back into place, so he stretches a long arm toward me and slides a hand up my thigh, running his fingers along the seam of my leggings right over my pussy before pulling his touch from me.

I swear this is the longest fifteen minutes of my life; the air of the cab is charged with so much sexual tension my panties are soaked. Shit, my leggings might very well be wet at this point.

Brixton pulls the truck into his spot once the garage door rumbles up, but he doesn’t bother waiting for the door to lower behind us before he’s shoving from his seat and rounding the truck, his long legs eating the space in mere seconds.

My door is yanked open just as I release my seatbelt and his hands are urgent as they jerk and pull at my leggings until I hear the seams begin to tear.

I can’t find it in me to give a shit that he’s ruining my pants or that anyone, including staff or Kato’s guards, could easily walk in here and see as Brixton shoves my legs apart the second my leggings are out of the way, yanks my panties to the side and begins to lick and suck my pussy.

I’m barely on the edge of the seat, half my ass hanging off while I hang onto the bar over my head to keep from falling forward and toppling us both to the ground.

He doesn’t eat me until I come. Apparently, he only wants a taste because he straightens, lifts me in his arms, then impales me on his dick as I wrap my legs around his waist.

He walks forward and fucks into me with my back pressed against the cold metal of the bed of his truck.