Authors: M. S. Parker
Crying out, my body tightening and rising at the same time, forcing him further inside even as my muscles contracted.
“Fuck!” He swore as our bodies came together. His arms slid around my back, pulling me up enough that he could lower his head and wrap his lips around my nipple, filling me with sensation everywhere.
The orgasm that had been fading roared back, crashing into me with enough force my nails dug into his shoulders. Without moving, he increased the suction on my breast, drawing a line of pleasure straight through as another wave of pleasure washed over me.
Finally, he let it slide from his mouth, his teeth scraping over it as it went. I moaned as pleasure morphed into pain then cried out as he began to move inside me. He thrust hard and fast, but his strokes were evenly paced, nothing erratic or uncontrolled about his movement. These weren’t frantic, like someone close to the edge, but rather of someone intending I remember every moment of this in the morning.
And that was exactly what I wanted too.
It was almost painful, how hard he drove into me, but I encouraged him nonetheless. This wasn't some drunken quickie in a storeroom. I'd made this choice and wanted to feel every instant of it. His angle kept the pressure off of my clit and I was determined to get off at least one more time. I was riding high on sensation and not climaxing would leave me far too frustrated to even consider.
“So fucking hot,” Brock grunted. One of his hands left my hip to grab my breast, his thumb teasing across the nipple before pinching it between his fingers.
“Fuck!” My entire body jumped at the jolt.
“Hmm, sounds like you liked that.” He pinched me again as my fingers pressed against my clit, rolling and pressing to increase my pleasure.
This time, electricity shot straight through me, a bolt that cut right down into the building inferno, connecting those two points in an explosion that made me cry out. I sank my teeth into my bottom lip, stifling the name I had almost called out, realizing it didn't belong to the man who was still fucking me. I rode out my orgasm, bringing my focus back to the moment, to this man thrusting in and out of my body. I watched his face as he gazed down at mine, his struggle to hold back his own release. He couldn’t. One thrust and then another, he came.
His body dropped onto mine and I gasped as he weight pressed heavily down on me. I felt a moment of panic. I couldn’t breath and tried to push against his shoulder to get the dead weight off of me. After a minute, he sighed and rolled onto his back, sliding out, leaving me empty. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about how, even when I'd been experiencing an amazing climax, I'd been unable to completely stop thinking about Reed.
I rolled onto my side so I could face Brock. He turned his head, his eyes meeting mine.
My eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
“Move back to Philadelphia,” he said. He rolled toward me and propped himself up on an elbow. “I want to be with you.”
I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. He couldn't be serious. He'd seen how his parents had been at the wedding. There was no way he could tell anyone we were dating. I was already Reed's dirty little secret, I didn't need to be anyone else's. It didn't matter if I thought he was sweet. I'd be a joke, and then I'd be something worse.
I had no doubt the Michaels family would hire a private investigator who wouldn't have to look far to find out what I was. Once they did, it'd all be over. Just because he knew what I was didn't mean he wanted anyone else to know.
“Hey.” He brushed the back of his hand across my cheek. “I don't care what anyone says or thinks. I want to be with you.”
“I don't know,” I said, uncertainty in my voice. How could someone like him want to be with someone like me?
A determined light came into his eyes as he correctly read the reason behind my hesitation. “Then I'll prove it to you.”
“Say that again?” I stared at Brock.
He was propped against a stack of pillows, stark naked, and grinning down at me where I was stretched out, recovering from our second round of vigorous sex. I tried to move, and felt the aching in my muscles. I was definitely going to be sore tomorrow.
“We're having a family dinner tomorrow evening to welcome back Reed and Britni. I want you to come with me.”
Part of me wanted to ask why two very wealthy people had only gone on a short honeymoon, but I refrained. It wasn't any of my business, and I really didn't want Brock getting the idea I was overly interested in his brother-in-law. So, I focused on the part of those two statements that concerned me.
“Why in the world would you want me to come to your family dinner?”
Brock moved so that he was laying on his stomach, his feet on the pillows and his head next to mine. His face was uncharacteristically serious. “I told you, Piper, I want to be with you. Part of that means I’ll want you to come to boring family functions and keep me company so I don't go insane.”
I gave him a skeptical look.
He reached over and took my hand. Raising it to his lips, he kissed my knuckles. “Piper, what's it going to take for you to believe I want us to be together?”
I didn't answer because I didn't know. All of this was happening so fast. It was supposed to be a simple weekend. Let Brock apologize for something I didn't remember, buy me some things, get some money, enjoy making Reed squirm and then go back to Vegas. Nothing was supposed to really change. And I certainly wasn't supposed to end up staying longer to hang out with Reed's brother-in-law.
Brock's fingers tightened around mine and for a moment, I had the crazy thought that he knew what I was thinking. I leaned forward and brushed my lips across his.
“Look, it's all just a lot to take in.” I moved closer so that the lengths of our bodies were touching. “You asked me to come out here as a date to apologize for...” I let my voice trail off for a moment. “I wasn't expecting this.”
“You weren't expecting me to like you?” Brock asked.
I shook my head. “I wasn't expecting me to like you.” I flushed. He was asking a lot of me and deserved to know at least this part of the truth. “I thought you were...”
“Like every other guy who hires strippers for bachelor parties?” he finished the sentence. “Or like the assholes who come to The Diamond Club?”
I hesitated. How was I supposed to tell him that's exactly what I'd thought?
“I was one of those assholes who went to The Diamond Club,” he admitted. “And when I asked you to be my date, I did it because I was sorry. Also because you're gorgeous and we'd look good together at the wedding.” He gave me a childish grin. “It didn't hurt that I knew it'd piss my sister off that I brought someone I met in Vegas. She keeps trying to set me up with Rebecca.” He made a face. “That's weird, right?”
I nodded. “Definitely.”
He grew somber again. “Then we hung out together and I realized I was enjoying spending time with you.” He brushed hair back from my face, letting his fingers linger on my cheek. “And our little encounter in the janitor's closet proved we have great sexual chemistry.”
“So that automatically means I should come to dinner at your parents' house?” Now I was getting nervous. When he said everything like that, his actions seemed completely logical and my brain wanted to know why I was arguing.
“No,” he said with a smile. “That means you should move back here so we can be together. You should come to dinner for two reasons. One, it'll annoy the hell out of my sister and Rebecca. Two, I told you I'd prove to you that I wanted to be with you. What better way to do that than for me to introduce you to my parents as my girlfriend.”
I was pretty sure I looked like a deer caught in headlights. How had we gone from wedding date slash apology to girlfriend? Okay, we'd fucked, but somehow Brock didn't strike me as the type who required someone to be his girlfriend before he'd have sex. According to Anastascia, he preferred not to have any strings attached.
“Or I could say we're dating and leave the label alone.” The look he gave me said he understood what I was thinking. “Either way, I want them to know that you aren't some one-date fling.”
I sighed. He was being very persistent and charming, a dangerous combination. I threw out my last protest, which, now that I thought about it, I probably should have used first since it was entirely practical.
“I don't have anything to wear.” I realized how whiney that sounded and clarified, “I brought a couple changes of casual clothes for the trip and the outfit I wore to the club. The only other thing I have to wear is the dress from the wedding.”
“Well then.” He grinned and sat up. “I guess that means we're going shopping.”
I didn't really believe he intended to take me shopping until we were walking into Macy's. I'd been there before, of course, but only to stare at the elaborate architecture and imagine what it must be like to be able to shop there. I'd heard the pipe organ play once and had never forgotten it, the sheer number of pipes surrounding the upper floor still astounded me.
“This way,” Brock sounded amused.
“I forgot how amazing this place was,” I said as we walked toward the section of the store that would have the appropriate clothes. Though I wasn't entirely sure what constituted appropriate for meeting – or re-meeting – the parents of the guy I was sleeping with but not exactly dating even though he wanted me to move back to Philadelphia so we could be together. The run-on sentence made my head hurt.
“How can we help you?”
A pair of women approached us as soon as we were within a few feet of the right section. The one who'd spoken was a tall blonde. The other was a shorter redhead, though her hair was more auburn than mine. Both of them were staring at Brock like he was something good to eat. It was on the tip of my tongue to confirm that he was, indeed, delicious, but something stopped me.
This was a chance, I thought. An opportunity to see if what Anastascia had said was true. If Brock was the kind of man my friend said he was, his behavior here would show it.
“My girlfriend needs something for our dinner tonight with my parents.” He pulled me closer and slid his arm around my waist. “We want it to be something special.”
The women both turned toward me, the expressions on their faces thinly disguised jealousy. It took me a moment to realize they were jealous of me, of the fact that Brock hadn't given either of them a second look. Something warm and pleasurable squirmed in my stomach. I'd never had anyone be jealous of me before, especially not over a guy.
“Let's get you some things to try on.” The blonde offered me a fake smile.
I nodded, then glanced up at Brock, a mischievous streak rising up. “Do you want me to model them for you?”
He gave me a roguish grin. “In that case, can we get some lingerie too?”
I playfully smacked his arm and followed the women to the dressing rooms.
What followed felt like something out of a movie montage, minus the bubbly pop song and quick intercuts.
The saleswomen gave me snazzy business suits that would've been great if I'd been trying for a job interview. Those were followed by dresses that screamed jail bait, and even a couple that would've been more suited to a cougar than someone in their twenties. Each of these poor choices was met by scoffing laughter from Brock and a demand that they try harder. I wasn't sure if I was the only one who thought they were deliberately trying to make me look frumpy in front of Brock, but what I did know was he didn't respond to any of the subtle or not-so-subtle flirting being sent his way.
When they finally started giving me good outfits, I noticed a minute change in their approach. They were no longer trying to make me look bad, but rather asked questions about Brock and me. How we'd met. How long we'd been dating. Was it serious? I could sense their frustration when I kept my answers intentionally vague. I'd spent too much time over-hearing the girls at school talk about how they would get friendly with a crush's girlfriend, using her to find out information they'd then use to steal the boyfriend away. If they were going to seduce Brock, they would do it without my help.
I came out of the dressing room in a cute little black dress, feeling like this was the one. When Brock's eyes lit up, I knew I was right. He stood and came over to me.
“I don't know, babe. I might not be able to make it through dinner without tearing that off of you.”
I smiled. “If that's the case, I might need to get some lingerie after all.”
“No modeling,” he said as he pulled me toward him, his hands on my waist. “Not here anyway. Let's save that for when we're alone.”
His gaze was fixed on me, lust and desire burning in his eyes. I didn't see a trace of deception on his face and he hadn't even looked twice at the saleswomen. Maybe, I thought, just maybe, this could work.
I wasn't regretting that Brock wanted to bring me to family dinner, and I certainly wasn't thinking about how Reed and his new bride would be there, all aglow and shit from their strangely short honeymoon. But I was nervous as hell when Brock opened the door to the town car we were taking to his parents' place. I was still asking myself why I'd agreed to this when we pulled up in front of a huge house that looked like it had been around since the city's founding. I didn't need anyone to tell me that it cost more than my entire building in Vegas. Brock took my hand as we walked up the front steps, but he didn't say anything and I wondered if he was as nervous as I was. If he was, he didn't show it.
He greeted his parents with a warm hello and asked if they remembered me. When they were too shocked to answer, he walked right past them, taking me with him. The Stirlings were already there, with the exception of the guests of honor, and they didn't look any more happy to see me than the Michaels had been. Rebecca looked downright put out, which pleased me and made the anxiety worth it.
We made small talk as we waited, but Brock always made sure it steered clear of anything I might be uncomfortable answering. I waited for Rebecca to get in a few pointed barbs, but she appeared to be saving them for later and contented herself with glaring at me while she sipped on a glass of wine.