Page 11

11

Pigs in a Blanket

I t’s delectably warm and cozy in my bed. My eyes won’t open, but honestly, I don’t even make a valor attempt. I’m too comfortable and snuggle in deeper. An arm wraps around my middle and pulls me close. Normal Carmen would freak the fuck out that someone is in my bed, their hand slowly making its way up my abdomen. But my brain quietly reminds my nerves that I fell asleep beside an incapacitated Brick. The comfort and sleep still gnawing on half of my consciousness make everything lighter and harder to resist.

His big hands emit the perfect temperature, and I lean into his touch, softly nudging him up my body. He doesn’t heed my non-verbal requests at first, but when I place my hand over his and direct him to my breast, he doesn’t resist. His touches are light, not breaking me from my trance but turning my insides into a warm liquid. He dives his hand underneath the neckline of my dress, teasing over the lace of my bra.

I press against him, my backside colliding with a wall of muscle. I arch my back, rubbing my ass against his hardened length. A heavy breath escapes me. He’s impressively long, and I could spend the rest of the morning moving up and down his morning wood, even with our clothing separating us. That’s not true, though. My body sings with anticipation, wanting him to relieve the inferno between my legs with his glorious rod.

His breath on my neck is heavy and strained. We’re both moving so slowly, stealing brushes without breaking the fog settled over us. His fingers find their way under my bra, and I lean into his feather-light touch. It’s teasing and sweet, and I could come undone just from the simple movement. A meek moan breaks through my lips, but I don’t let more pass. A part of me knows that the only reason we’re allowing this intimacy is because of the sleepy drunkenness settled over us. One wrong move and the shades open, waking us to reality. I want to enjoy this. In fact, I need release more than I need air.

His lips graze across the skin on the back of my neck. It’s not a kiss, but I feel the wetness of his saliva and the stubble of his chin. I want his mouth all over me. I press closer into him, and he bucks his hips ever so slightly, grinding against my ass. I need more, so much more, but the gentleness is such a delicious torture that I’m happy to wade in the sticky waters of our lust.

His gentle swipes at my nipple cease, trailing down my abdomen. I can’t stop my low moans. Brick groans from behind me, halting his thrusts and digging his nose into my shoulder. His hand grips at my side, squeezing me to steady himself. I remain completely still. We’re so close to ruining this thing—this delectable, delirious pocket of time we’ve found ourselves.

Time starts up again, and Brick’s breath evens. He continues crawling his hand down my side, pausing once he meets the hem of my dress halfway up my ass. The moment moves like melted chocolate as he works his way under the lace of my panties, pausing to restrain himself with every inch he gains. His rough fingers dance at my lips, dipping into my wetness. I press into him, and he allows his finger to slide through me. The small movement steals the breath from my lungs, and I grind myself against his touch.

His breath heats the space between my neck and my shoulder as he increases his tempo, both grinding against me and running his finger through the silky valley leading to my core. I’m so goddamn wet, making his moves even more erotic. His fingers tease at my entrance. I can’t take it anymore. I need him inside of me.

“Brick,” I whisper. I don’t mean the words to leave my lips, but I’m too lost to think about anything but him. The moment my ears pick up the break in silence, I tense, waiting to see if I just ruined our silent contract. His scruff rubs up my neck, and his teeth graze my lobe. “You’re so fucking wet for me, Carmen.”

My moan mixes with my sigh of relief. I work my hips harder against him, rubbing against his shaft in a desperate motion. One of his fingers enters me, just a taste of what it would feel like wrapping around him. “Oh, God!” I cry, not afraid of words anymore.

“Jesus Christ, Carmen, you’re so tight. I’d rip you in half.” He’s not lying. Just from the impression on my backside, I know he’d stretch me in all the right ways. He inserts another finger, fucking me harder as if to get me ready for what I hope is to come.

I reach behind me to grab him, but his other hand snakes underneath me and holds my hand against me. “No, I’m too close,” he says through gritted teeth. Jesus Christ, he’s about to come just from rubbing against me. My dress is up to my stomach, but he’s still wearing his slacks from the night before. God, I want to feel his hottest point on me—in me, stretching me to my breaking point.

He inserts another finger while applying pressure to my clit with his thumb. “So good,” I murmur, biting my lip as if the words are involuntary. He increases his pressure and speed at my words. I bet he’d be so responsive, so eager to please. Wet sounds fill my eardrums as he thrusts his fingers in and out of me. I’m so close to the breaking point I barely notice the shift happening behind me. It’s slight but obvious. He’s growing larger, all of him. His skin toughens, and as he presses his top teeth against my clavicle, I swear I feel the impressions of fangs. If I were in my right mind, I’d turn to catch his transformation, but I’m too lost, his dick rubbing against me, his fingers deep within me. Nothing could bring me out of this moment, not even an obvious monster grinding behind me.

The fear, mixed with intrigue, brings me to my breakpoint. I cry out, “Brick!” Ultraviolet colors cloud behind my eyelids. My body melts to Brick’s whim. I’m not human anymore, just a vessel of liquid pleasure. Brick doesn’t let up as my orgasm washes over me, still grinding against me. He whimpers. “Carmen, God,” he says before he moans, loud and low in my eardrum. “Fuck.” He falls to his back.

My head clears as he creates space between us. His arm is still trapped under my body, and he doesn’t yank himself free. My eyes blink open, the reprieve lasting only a moment. Brick catches his breath, but I don’t move yet, too mortified for what happens next. Brick just made me come. The man I loathe, the man who may have murdered members of my pack and betrayed us, just fucked me with his fingers until I cried his name and convulsed into a pile of mush. Not only that, but I just made him ejaculate, and he didn’t even fuck me. He came from grinding against me and bringing me to pleasure. It’s a powerful feeling, and maybe I would revel in it more if, just seconds ago, I wasn’t in the mental state to drop to my knees and let him have me in any way he pleased.

My memory kicks in, reminding me of the shift I felt happening against me. I turn to Brick. His eyes clench shut, and his chest falls and rises as if he just ran a marathon. There’s a subtle difference to him. His muscles seem larger, especially in his neck, almost as if he just pumped hundreds of pounds of iron, but whatever he turned into when he was holding back has gone.

His eyes shoot open as if dread dropped through his stomach. He sits up, ramrod straight. “Shit. I…” He doesn’t look at me, but I can see his eyes darting and his panic morphing across his features.

I grab his arm. “Brick, it’s fine.”

He pulls his arm back, not aggressively, but enough to hurt my feelings. “I should go.” He stands, walking toward my bedroom door. Before he completely disappears, he sticks his head back in with a sigh, finally looking me in the eye. “Sorry about… everything. I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s fine,” I say, still lying down but turned to face him with my head propped up in my hand.

He nods, his eyes saying so much more than his mouth will allow. He walks out of view as my brain plays catch up. “Wait, how are you going to get home?” I ask, sitting up.

“I’ll walk,” he replies, the door shutting behind him.

I laugh. The man is going to walk to his house with cum lining the inside of his underwear. What a fucking sight to see.