Amber to Ashes (The Torn Heart #1) (15 page)

I cave, crumbling under the sharp scalpel of desire. “Please. I need your cock inside me. Now.”

“Ah. There she is,” he croons, his voice a dark ache as he pulls his fingers from me. Hunter eyes locked on mine, Brock touches them to my lips, sliding them into my mouth. I accept them without reserve, sucking my moisture from his fingers.

“Fuck, that’s right, Ber. You like the way you taste on me, don’t ya?”

On a moan, I nod and suck harder, my trembling hands wrapped around his wrist as I stare into his glazed-over eyes. As though the act shattered
his
sanity, Brock sweeps me off the table and up into his arms. He coats his mouth over mine as he carries me into the apartment.

“It’s my turn to taste that pussy,” he growls against my lips.

He fists the back of my hair, his shoulders slamming into furniture, walls, and the doorjamb of his bedroom before he sets me down on shaky legs. With dark eyes, Brock stares at me. God, he looks like an angelic demon, beautiful, frightening. My pulse thuds, sending blood screaming through my veins. Though the room’s scarcely lit—drabs of the moon’s potency filtering in through the wooden blinds—I see the hunger in his gaze, his want for me emanating off him.

I blink, my breathing matching his as I become aware of what’s happening to my heated body. I feel different, light, something close to nonexistent. My arms are weighed down like bricks, my scrambled thoughts trying to get past a hazy fog clogging my head. A freaky sen
sation’s coating my lips, but for some odd reason, I think I like it. My tongue feels thick like fur, or maybe heavy like lead. Everything’s taken on a new shape, taste, and texture. With all of these foreign sensations, the world feels as if it’s spread beneath me, airless, intoxicating.

“You’re drummed up,” Brock whispers, slowly sliding what remains of my blouse from my shoulders. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

It does. It feels
so
fucking good. For the first time in a long time, I’m weightless, almost as though the sins of my parents aren’t holding me in their grip.

“Mm-hmm,” I hum, thirsty for more.

He tosses the silken clothing to the floor and unhooks my bra. “And I’m about to make you feel so much better.”

My bra joins the discarded blouse, the soft wisp of it hitting the carpet crashing the finality of the moment through the air as I suck in a breath. I’m handing myself over to this man. I shiver and stare into his eyes, my senses drowning in his touch.

“Christ, you’re fucking gorgeous.” Brock’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. “There’s not an inch of you I’m not gonna cover tonight.”

Left in nothing but my skirt and heels, another tremble rocks through me as Brock circles my body. His movements are calculated, a hunter stalking its prey.

He stops behind me and fastens his lips to my neck, his words a deep growl as he palms my breasts. “You want me to make you feel better, Ber?”

My breathing hitches as he twirls my nipples between his fingers. “Oh God.”

“That’s the answer I was looking for. I
am
your God for the next few hours.” Brock glides a hand down the flat of my stomach. I suck in another dizzying breath as he pushes his knee between my legs, spreading them open. My heart beats in anticipation as he hikes my skirt above my waist, his free hand finding my swollen clit. Rubbing it in slow, tantalizing circles, he groans into my neck, his breathing hot
against my flesh. I gasp as he dips two urgent fingers inside my warmth. Greedy, I sheathe his fingers, my body hungry for his invasion.

“You like the way that feels?”

“Yes,” I pant, my arms flying up around the back of his head. I bury my hands in his hair, my fingers tugging the dampened strands. “Please, Brock, please keep going.”

“Can’t do that,” he whispers into my ear, abruptly stopping his delicious assault.

I moan in protest, my head dropping back against his chest as he unzips my skirt. It drops to the ground, pooling around my heels.

“I need to taste you. Tell me you want me to lick this pussy dry.” His carnal demand breaks down every molecule of my blood as he feathers his lips against my neck. “Say it.”

He could order me to commit armed robbery, and I’d do so without a second thought. Still, the push and pull’s not something I’m used to.

Mindless in my want, I face him, our gazes meeting with equal need. “I want you to lick my pussy dry. However, you’re not to stop until
I
say when. Not you.
Me
.” I touch my lips to his, sliding my hand down his rigid chest. “I want you to lick it until your tongue can’t stand the taste any longer. Bitter or sweet, I want you to lick it until it can’t function properly without your cock buried deep inside of it.” I smile coyly and nip his lip, not an ounce of me ashamed by my filthy words. “You’ve talked a lot of game, Cunningham. The stage is yours now. Let’s see if you can make me ache to the point where it . . . hurts. Good?”

“Yes. Fucking. Ma’am.” A slow grin creeps along his face. With one hand, he reaches behind his shoulder and pulls his T-shirt over his head.

My gaze falls to the hard ripples of his abs—trailing lower still to the perfectly defined V, anchoring everything together in delicious slabs of raw muscle. I bring my eyes back to Brock’s and, with stead
fast determination, work the button of his jeans, my lips on his as he backs me toward his bed. I feel the king frame hit my thighs, my heart hitting the ground as Brock pulls his mouth from mine.

“Get on the bed and spread your gorgeous legs for me.” Though his command is whispered with coolness, the urgency on his face is hot, a branding iron to my flesh. “And, Ber,” he adds, his stare intent on mine as he slowly rubs the bulge beneath his jeans, “keep your heels on. I want to feel them cutting into my back while your legs go numb around my head.” He unbuckles his belt, the promise in his eyes flaring over my skin. “Also, I never talk game.
Ever
. I’m about to lick that pussy undone.”

Burn. I’m literally burning with desire, its glorious tongue spitting flames across my body. I sink onto the mattress, a nervous swallow bobbing my throat as I glide along what feels like cool satin sheets. I watch Brock in utter amazement, my breathing a mess as he undresses.

In nothing but black boxer briefs, he frees his cock and palms it, stroking the divine piece as he eye-fucks me with every pull. My heart kicks, every muscle clenching with longing. I lick my lips, aching to taste it.

On a shaky sigh, my eyes close of their own accord as the bed dips with the weight of Brock’s body. Grabbing the backs of my knees, and stare honed in on mine, his breathing is eerily relaxed as he pulls me down the mattress. With my ass cushioned against his muscled thighs, I struggle to swallow as he hovers above me.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he whispers, his mouth landing on my breast.

He flicks his tongue against my nipple, drawing it to a tight bud. I gasp as he sucks it between his teeth, his hand kneading my other breast with skilled precision. Another gasp catches in my throat as he lifts his head, puffing out a chilled breath over my slickened nipple. I lurch in response, goose bumps dotting my skin.

Chuckling, Brock gazes down at me. “You like that?”

“Yes,” I say breathily.

He smirks, and moves down my body, his tongue leaving a trail of moisture along its path. Anywhere he can mark, he does. He sucks the hollow of my neck, ribs, the curve of my waist, stopping to dip his tongue inside my belly button.

Another lurch, another chuckle.

“Ticklish?” he asks, his brow drawn up.

“Yes, very, but please—”

“Don’t worry, I’m not down here to make you laugh.” His smirk is back. “I’ll leave that for the spooning and pillow talk.”

A sigh of relief leaves me, but it’s quickly replaced by a sharp intake of air as Brock sweeps my legs over his shoulders. Positioned on his elbows—centered between my thighs—he gives me one last hungry look before he teases his tongue against my clit.

I tense, and my hands fly to Brock’s head, grasping his hair as he sucks the swollen hood into his mouth with a deep groan. Each controlled flick of his tongue sinks me further into both bliss and confusion. I can’t remember ever being touched like this. I’ve had my share of guys go down on me, but none basked in it the way he does. He’s literally tongue-fucking my pussy senseless, cataloging its texture, taste, savoring it as though it’s his last meal. In and out, out and in, slow strokes, fast strokes, each delicious movement carried out with his sharp gaze pinned on mine.

“Oh my God,” I moan, pinching my nipples. Chest heaving, I stare at him, every sense drowning in the here and now. The glorious stinging build between my legs, combined with the rapture of his fingers, sends me into a storm of sensations, a furious need to be fucked overtaking my thoughts. “God, yes, keep going, Brock. Don’t you dare stop.”

Brock groans and slides his hands under my ass, pulling me flush against his face. “Your pussy tastes too good to stop.” He strokes a finger
through my folds, exploring the edges of my nub. “It’s all the right flavors. Tart.” He lowers his head, tonguing the delicate slice of skin below my warmth. “Tangy.” He draws my clit into his mouth before releasing it with a pop. “Sweet.” He slides two adept fingers inside me, hooking and circling my G-spot. “Pure, fucking, edible, delicious pussy.”

I crash, coming apart like a rickety house in a raging storm. Heels digging into his back, my muscles rock, hot ribbons of orgasm exploding through my body.

Holding me snug to his face, Brock laps at my clit, through my center, and down the crack of my ass, sucking me dry like he promised. “That’s right,” he snarls, gripping me tighter, “give me everything this pussy’s got.”

Unable to handle the second orgasm I feel coming on, I throw my shaky legs off his back, and sit up, my breath a choppy disaster. “That’s en-enough,” I stammer, pressing a trembling hand against the skull tattoo on his shoulder. “Please. I’m good. No—no more.”

Brock stays quiet for a long moment before he gets to his knees, his hands finding purchase on my waist as a grin moves across his face. “Did you just beg me to . . .
stop
?”

His mouth claims mine in a slow, passionate kiss, preventing me from answering. God, I’m all over him. My taste, scent, moisture, my very essence combined with his dizzies me, suffocating each rushed breath I take. I go limp, my fingers digging into his scalp as he guides me back against the mountain of pillows. Stuck in a sweet daze, I faintly register the sound of him opening a condom wrapper. Before I know it, he’s propped on his elbows, hovering above me, his strong hands cradling my head.

“I’ve never had a girl ask me to stop,” he whispers, a soft smile twisting his mouth. “You’re my first.” Lowering his lips to my temple, he swipes my right leg to the side with his knee. “They usually insist I keep going.” His knee attacks my left leg, repeating the process. “It’s all good. I’ll get you there.”

Spread wide open beneath him, the ache at the center of my thighs intensifies as he skirts his lips down my jaw, the base of my throat, and back up to my mouth.

“Are you ready for me to fuck you, Ber?” He teases the tip of his cock against my pussy, drawing a shudder from my body as he sweeps his tongue through my mouth. “Or are you going to beg me to . . .
stop
?”

Everything fades, even the passage of time. I’m lost. Lost in my surroundings. Lost in him. The low timbre of his voice. The sensual promise in his eyes. The musky smell of myself on his lips.

He pulls back a fraction, his gaze roaming my face. “Because that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna fuck you. I’m gonna fuck you in ways you’ve never been fucked. Ever. I know you
think
you’ve been taken care of, but you haven’t. Not the way I’m about to.” He licks his lips, and barely pushes inside me, a low groan rumbling from his throat as a moan leaves mine. “But after I fuck you, you’re mine and mine
only
. No one else’s.” He cocks his head and stares at me, the look in his glazed eyes unreadable. “That means you’re no longer allowed to kiss my friends . . . in their cars . . . after they’ve treated you to lunch unless
I
give either of you
permission
to do so.”

My vocal cords freeze up, my heart sinking to my toes as he tilts my head, kissing my cheek, jaw, and neck.

“Are we understood, my beautiful, mysterious little . . . liar?”

I swallow, trying to bring some form of moisture to my parched throat. “How di-did you—”

“I have eyes
all
over campus. Never forget that.” He drops a tender kiss on my lips, his fingers playing into my hair. “You two put on quite a display earlier. It was bound to get back to me.”

He pushes into me again, this time breaching the barrier of my slickened folds. My pussy clenches, attempting to suck him in, but he pulls out, leaving me gasping for air. A shaky breath hurtles from my chest as I clutch his shoulders, the exotic protest climbing from his throat dousing my ears.

Hands still cradling the back of my head, he gazes down at me with a lazy grin. “I know you and Ryder dig each other. That’s a given. Though he knew I was trying for you first, I can’t blame him for taking a shot. He’d have to be fucking crazy not to.” He glides his lips against mine, his fingers lightly fisting my hair. “I know my friend
very
well, and I can’t say I’m shocked or mad at him. Ryder and I are both a little . . . fucked up. When we see what we want, we go after it, no matter who’s in our way. Seems odd that we’re buds, right?”

I nod, wanting to understand their friendship. I know there’s more behind it, or less. I’m not sure. Either way, this conversation has me curious.

Brock grins and claims my neck, his tongue sweeping the spot below my ear. “Well, we are, and nothing will ever change that. But unless I give you two permission otherwise, you’re no longer allowed to further . . . indulge.
I’m
the one who’s going to fuck you straight. The one whose name you’re going to cry out several times a day. I’m the one you’re going to fall asleep next to and wake up with. The one who’s going to know every secret you’re hiding. Good?”