Page 19 of Single Malt

Twelve

Brody

I torethe condom wrapper open and smiled down at Freedom. Her skin was flushed, her lips swollen, and her eyes dark. After she’d practically tortured me with the best blow job of my life, we’d ordered obscenely expensive room service and then started making out on the sofa.

We’d shed our clothes on our way to the bedroom, and now, I was enjoying seeing every inch of her stretched out in front of me. Flawless skin. Amazing curves. A thin bit of curls at the place where her legs met. Breasts that were the perfect size and shape. Light tan nipples that I’d sucked until they were tight and just begging for more attention.

I’d get back to them in a moment.

I let out a hiss as I rolled the condom on, my cock almost too sensitive. It wouldn’t stop me from being inside her, though. I needed that, even if it hurt a little. In all honesty, I’d never minded a bit of pain with my pleasure.

“I don’t think I’ve said this yet.” Freedom’s voice drew my attention back to her face. “But you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

If another woman had said it, I might’ve added clarifiers in my head. I knew I was good-looking, but once the clothes came off, I had some…imperfections. In the form of scar tissue in patches pretty much all over the right side of my body. Thigh. Ribcage. Arm. Shoulder. Chest. Back.

Most of the patches were around quarter-sized, some smaller, some bigger. I didn’t really think about them much, not even when I had sex. I never wanted to talk to the women I screwed about the scars, but I’d always gotten the impression that girls didn’t want to talk about them either. They’d just wanted to fuck.

Freedom saw all of me. I could see it in her eyes. She looked at every inch of me, and she meant it when she said I was gorgeous.

“Are you going to do something or just stare at me?” She smiled as she trailed a finger between her breasts and then down her stomach.

I watched her hand move between her legs, and I licked my lips, remembering the taste of her. As she brushed her finger over her clit, her entire body shuddered, and a small moan escaped. I leaned over her, holding myself so that our bodies were barely touching. My lips pressed to hers, and her nipples brushed against my chest. When I reached between us and lifted her hand, she whimpered and squirmed.

“I’ve got you,” I murmured against her mouth. “I’ve got you.”

I didn’t know why I said it. Nothing about my interactions with her suggested she’d wanted to hear something that intimate, but it just felt right. Like this strong, independent woman needed to know that it was okay to let me take care of her. I’d take care of her the way I knew she wanted. Something that was beyond desire twisted my stomach, and it took more than I liked to push it aside.

“Fuck.” The word was half-growl, half-groan as I slid inside her. She was wet enough to prevent uncomfortable friction, but I still needed to push through as her pussy tightened around me. I was aware of small bites of pain in my forearms and knew her nails had left a mark. I didn’t mind. A part of me even liked it.

“More.” She raised her hips as if she could take me deeper, but we were already joined as closely as two people could be.

I nipped her earlobe, her jaw, careful not to leave any marks where people could see them. I had left a small bruise-like circle on her breast, but she hadn’t seemed to mind that. In fact, she appeared to enjoy when I used my teeth.

“Harder,” she urged. “Make me feel it.”

I raised my head so I could meet her eyes, make sure we understood each other. She dug her nails into my shoulders, a wicked smile curving those tempting lips of hers.

“Harder.”

I pulled back and then drove forward in a single thrust. She let out a breath and nodded.

“Fuck. Yes.”

We urged each other on, bodies coming together with bruising force. The muscles in her thighs flexed against my sides, reminders of how strong this woman was. She could take everything and give it back to me the same.

My focus narrowed down to her. Her body. The way we moved together. The way she made me feel.

I’d never been as aware of another person as I was of her at that moment. Every breath, every heartbeat. How we fit together. The wet heat of her wrapped around my cock. The pink flush across her chest that signaled how aroused she was. The small noises she made that turned into curses and cries of pleasure.

I watched her face twist into that familiar expression that I knew meant she was getting ready to come. Even if I hadn’t seen it on her face, I would’ve felt it in her body. Muscles contracting. Rhythm faltering.

“Come for me,” I said as I felt my own control slipping. “Please, angel, come.”

The endearment slipped out, and I didn’t know if she really registered it or not, but it just felt right. I didn’t think much about it, though, because she was coming, and I fucked her through it, determined to prolong her pleasure as much as possible before I followed her over the edge.

As we collapsed into a sweaty tangle of limbs, she made a contented sound that did as much for me as her cries of pleasure. I had enough presence of mind to remove the condom, but that was as far as I made it before sleep claimed me, and I went under, Freedom still wrapped in my arms.

Thirteen