Avoiding Brooklyn’s advances was close to impossible.
It was harder than resisting my own desire to take her. The only reason I
kissed her in the first place was to wake her nicely from her disturbed sleep.
I didn’t plan on getting that close tonight, and I wouldn’t have woken her at
all otherwise. Not only have I given mixed messages, but I’ve made her feel
rejected – that was never my intention.
Now I don’t even know why
the fuck I thought what I’d planned would work in the first place.
“I’m not tired of you. I
just wasn’t sure enough about how you feel after last night. I saw the look on
your face. Not only when I told you, but today also. I thought it would be
better if we didn’t go there until you had time to really know how you feel
about it, and if you still want this.”
“But I was here when you got
back tonight. You told me the truth, and I’m still here. What was there to be
unsure about on your side?
You
avoided being with
me
. I still
wanted you, didn’t that tell you enough?”
Damn it. Leave it to
Brooklyn Scott to keep pushing. “I didn’t want to touch you in that way for you
to then realize you couldn’t take it. I wanted us to be together in the other
ways we’re good at – ways I haven’t been with anybody else. I wanted to make
you feel different. That was the plan. You haven’t exactly given me the
chance.”
“You weren’t going to have
sex with me to show me we’re different?”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“No, I … I know it’s not the
same between us to how you were with all the others. I know there’s more to us
than sex.”
“You don’t act like it,
Brooklyn. You doubt me so easily. You decided I was tired of you after one
night – not even a whole night – of keeping a little distance between us. I
didn’t hold you or kiss you the way I usually would because I was finding it
hard enough already. I don’t expect you to have known that, but you still
concluded the worst.”
The silence that follows
feels way too apparent in the darkness, but there isn’t much more I can say
right now. Whether she realizes it or not, Brooklyn doesn’t have a lot of faith
in me.
It’s still early days for us,
but, even with the uncertainty of where we’re headed and the longevity of this
thing, if she was really paying attention she’d know she matters to me.
“I’m sorry for jumping to
the wrong conclusion ... I was having second thoughts earlier today,” she says,
carefully.
“I know.”
“I’m still here.”
“I know.”
She slides out from between
me and the door, takes off her jacket and hangs it up, steps out of her tennis
shoes, and walks back into the bedroom.
When I enter the room,
Brooklyn’s taking off her shirt and jeans. I watch her in the dark until she
moves to the bed and gets under the comforter. I get in alongside her. She’s on
her back, in the middle of the bed.
Lying on my side, I turn her
head my way so I can see her face, even in shade. “I’m sorry if I made you feel
bad. I get how my distance could’ve been perceived as unusual, but try not to
jump to the worst conclusion with things. It wasn’t easy for me staying away
from you like that.”
I see the movement of her
lashes as she blinks a couple times. “Good, it shouldn’t be easy for you. I’m
sorry for doubting you. It seems I have a tendency to read things wrong with
you. You did frown at me, though, Dane.”
I smile to myself, at her
response and her sweet, but determined manner. It’s crazy that something so
simple to me – a frown – could mean so much to her. “It wasn’t on purpose, you
just happened to make something that was already difficult a whole lot harder.
That’s all it was.”
“Really?”
“You shouldn’t need to ask
me that, you said it yourself – nothing other than adoration exists for me when
I see your naked body. The same thing applies when you’re clothed. I feel like
I could spend a week in your head and I still wouldn’t completely understand
some of the ways your mind works. You seem so unnecessarily insecure
sometimes.”
“Doesn’t everybody have
their moments?”
“I’m not all that interested
in everybody else, sweetheart. Only you.”
A genuine smile graces her
face. All her relaxed, happy moments, like this one right now, are when
Brooklyn Scott is truly at her best. Those moments make this all worthwhile.
Brooklyn needs to be more
aware of what’s going on around her. She’s paying attention to the wrong
things. An idea comes to mind. “Hey, come with me.”
After leading Brooklyn
through to the living room, I position her standing at the side of the coffee
table and loosen out her hair. With the blinds open I can make out the
furniture and see what I need to. I power up the stereo, the neon blue glow it
emits providing a faint illumination, and select a song.
As the spoken words sound in
an unhurried, deep voice and the slow beat strikes, I pad back to Brooklyn.
Grasping her hips, I draw her to me. “Dance with me.”
Sliding her hands up over my
chest and around my neck, she embraces me with a tightness I suspect is almost
equal to my hold on her. As we move, in sync with each other and the music,
what I’m hoping is that she’ll realize there’s a reason I picked this
particular song. If not, then the least I hope for is that she’ll escape
with
me, rather than from me.
I’ve never considered myself
to have an addictive personality, not beyond Tetris, but I damn well feel
addicted to the woman in my arms.
We’re in the 1990s with this R&B group
. Feenin’
–
I’ve always loved this song. I’ll love it even more from here on.
As we dance, my body melting
into Dane’s, those hands I already know so well stroke slowly up and down my
bare back in a way that feels urgent, yet tender. The way he’s holding me,
caressing me, moving with me, I could so easily believe he’s feeling the words
beyond simply liking them. More like connecting with them, relating to them.
Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but one thing’s for sure, I definitely feel
this way about Dane; like I have to have him, like I’m addicted to him.
Transferring my arms to
around his midsection, I press my cheek to the left side of his chest. I
tingle, close to bursting, when his fingers slip into my hair at the base of my
skull and he fists my hair passionately, holding me tighter to him as the music
hits a crescendo with lyrics expressing need and joy
.
It’s like we’ve
all become one; me, Dane, the rhythm and the words, the way we’re moving,
closed off from the outside world. I want to keep these few moments forever.
When the music fades, I’m
not even close to ready for this to be over. I request another dance, curious
about what the song choice will be. I watch Dane’s perfect, naked physique move
through the faint blue glow as he goes to select another track. I smile with
recognition of the ultra smooth, male voice and the slower, sexier beat.
Dane rejoins me, picking up
from where we left off.
Do you mind if I kiss your lips a thousand times…
We’re more intimate and suggestive in the way we stroke each other this time.
Come
with me to a place where no love has gone before…
Half way through, the tip
of his forefinger raises my chin and he presses a kiss to my lips. I welcome
the wet stroke of his tongue around mine.
With his lips moving to my
neck, he travels down the center of my body and drops to his knees, hooking my
right leg over his shoulder. He secures my position with one arm around my hips
and a hand at the thigh I have draped over him. I let my head fall back as
circular sweeps of eager tongue caress my clit, the most intimate of French
kisses. So, so quickly he has me close to the edge, the pleasure rapidly
intensifying, and my thighs start to shake. I erupt, unable to hold in the
scream that accompanies it or the pressing of my nails into his shoulders. I
hear myself as the music silences for a moment. Another sensual R&B beat
starts, layering over my panting breaths. Throwing my upper body forward, I
curl over Dane and pull my hips back to break his contact with my sensitive flesh.
I’m standing only because he’s holding my quivering body in place.
He brings me down to join him, kneeling on the floor,
and his arms encircle me, his chest to mine. Slowly, he starts moving us again,
a slight sway from side-to-side. Dancing on our knees to a song that offers
blatant sexual intentions, there’s no denying where this is going. I know we
won’t be sleeping anytime soon…
****
I’m at a pool hall with Leona, Dane and his friends.
I’m seated against the back wall, watching the remainder of the game Saffron
and Adam are playing.
On his chair, next to me,
Dane sits relaxed back with his knees turned out to the sides and his arms
folded loosely across his chest. Beside him sits Joe and Gerard, the three of
them in conversation. On the other side of me are Leona and Su, who I’ve met
twice before. She’s a gorgeous girl, close in height to me, and she has a
horizontal fringe and her entire hair is dyed blonde with thin black
highlights. I like her style, and she’s lovely to talk to.
I’m still no more than
polite to Gerard. It isn’t easy sometimes, because he makes me want to laugh. I
do my best to fight it. Somehow talking to him or laughing with him feels like
a betrayal to Kayla. She doesn’t expect me to keep my distance, but I feel I
should.
The other side of that is
the connection the four guys and Saffron share. They’re family, like close
siblings, and, as I’ve observed so far tonight, Su seems to form a solid part
of their group too. For that reason, I’ll never disrespect Gerard, because I’d
feel like I’m disrespecting Dane, as well as Saffron, Adam and Joe, who’ve been
nothing but nice to me every time I’ve seen them. It’s a shame, because I’d
like Gerard if I didn’t dislike the fucked up shit he does.
As Saffron and Adam finish,
it’s decided that Leona and I will play against Dane and Joe. I’d have been
happy with the arrangement if they weren’t the stronger players. Why we’ve been
paired against them makes no sense to me, but our protests were ignored. They
said they’d go easy on us. Help us out. Fuck that. They’ve only encouraged us,
so we’ll be giving it our best, even if we are destined to lose. I’ve spent
many nights playing with my brother and his mates in our local pub back home. I
haven’t played in a while, though, so I hope I’m not too rusty.
On deciding to make the game
a little more fun, I’ve just put Dane’s mobile on silent/vibrate and instructed
him to keep it in the pocket of his jeans. Mine is on the same setting, in my
back pocket.
I watch Brooklyn prepare to break. As she bends over,
setting up her position, I can see right down the V-cut of her tight, red
shirt. Even being an ass man, I can more than appreciate nice tits and
Brooklyn’s are exceptional. This’ll be an entertaining game.
As she draws back the cue,
she looks confident and quite skilled. With her break shot two balls pot, a
solid yellow and a red stripe.
“Fuckin’ hustlers,” Joe
says, impressed.
I’m not sure about Leona,
but Brooklyn looks as though she can play. The friends grin at Joe’s response
and they decide on playing stripes.
“Looks like these boys might
finally get their asses kicked,” Su says, sounding certain about that.
“That’s a little optimistic,
Su,” I tell her.
“Well, now, that was a
pretty good break,” she gloats.
“Did you know she could
play?” Joe asks me, discretely.
“No. I was hoping for some
competition, though. Let’s do this.” I would’ve gone easy on them, but not now.
Pulling my cell out from my
pocket, I start a text. I suspect I’ve just beaten Brooklyn to her own idea.
Leona takes the next go, looking as confident as her friend did, and pockets
the yellow stripe. Right, so it seems they can both play.
“Fuckin’ hustlers,” I say
this time. All that fuss they made about playing us.
Brooklyn’s crimson lips
shift into a smirk as she takes the next shot, narrowly missing. It was a
tricky one, which she almost made.
I finish my message, as Joe
lines up the cue, and hit ‘send.’
[You make me wanna own a
pool table purely for the purpose of fucking you on it!]
I don’t look Brooklyn’s way,
but I’m aware of her gaze on me. She’s standing, leaning against the wall. Joe
pots a green and an orange.
Brooklyn is up again. She
positions herself, this time arching her spine just a little more, perking up her
butt just a little higher. Those tight, black flared jeans are very effective
for that pose she’s putting on. She pockets an orange stripe and misses her
second.
I’m up. I aim for the blue
and pot it. I succeed with my next, so intentionally, but not obviously, I take
the risk of missing my third shot, in the hope of prolonging things and giving
the girls a better chance.
Leona gets up, debating her
aim. My cell vibrates.
[Watching you and all that
delicious masculinity take those shots is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever
seen. I’m wet. I’m empty and achy. I want you.]
I tap out my response as
Leona misses and Joe prepares for his turn.
[If you win, I’ll make you
come before we even leave this place.] I reply.
Joe pots and aims for his
next.
[And if I don’t?] She gets
up to take her go.
[I’ll be fucking that
crimson lipped mouth of yours before we leave.]