Reveal (A Wild Nights Novel) (17 page)

Squealing and laughing, I noticed Cori over his shoulder as he moved through the crowd while carrying me backwards. She waved without taking the camera away from her face, so I waved back, rising with each step Brad took, until I found myself blinded by a stage light.

Lowering me onto his surfboard, he told me to lie flat on my back. I obeyed like a good girl and stared up at him as he hovered from above, his body illuminated by lights, his face hidden in shadow. And that was when he dived toward me, hands landing on in either side of my head, his brute strength and control preventing his body from crashing onto mine.
Shit-fucking-fuck! Did he just worm me?

His arms were poised, locked tight, our faces centimetres apart. I blinked and glanced down between our bodies where his hips rolled above mine to the music.
Yes! I’m being wormed.

Being wormed? Ew.

I seriously needed my head to shut the fuck up, so I mentally shook away all thoughts of invertebrates before raising my hands and placing them on his pecs, gliding them down his chest until they were placed firmly on his arse.
Hello, Mr Bottom, pleased to feel you.
Damn, he had a great arse. Firm. Tight. Hard.
Yum.

Brad lowered his legs to kneel and sat upright—straddling me—then reached back to remove my hands from his arse.
Wait? What? No!
He leaned forward, pinning them above my head, his boardshort-covered cock within licking reach.
Oh, okay. This is good, too.
Now, if I could just raise my head a little …

I tried. I really fucking tried, to the point of near pulling a neck muscle, but his cock was out of my licking range. Brad knew it, too, and teased me, rolling his glorious hips toward my face over and over.
You evil, sexy son-of-a-worm.

I glared.

He laughed sadistically.

I tried to break free.

He held me firmer.

We stared at each other for what seemed like minutes on end before he lowered his face next to mine and murmured in my ear, “I’m going to let you go, sexy pixie. But you have to be a good girl.” The tip of his nose dragged from my ear across my face and to my other ear. “Do you think you can do that?”

I outright lied, “Yes.”

He laughed. “You’re lying.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

He blinked.

I blinked back.

“Trust me on this. I’m gonna let go of your hands. I want you to lay them by your side.” Brad quickly kissed the tip of my nose before letting me go and swiftly moving to his feet. He walked around the surfboard once and stepped over my head, this time facing the same way I was. I tried to peek up his shorts, but they were black and too dark.

Stupid evil black shorts.

It didn’t matter though, because he lowered to his knees, and the stupid black shorts covered my face. I tried to raise my hands, but he grabbed them as he shuffled forward, slowly pulling me upright until I sat with him on my lap, my cheek pressed to his back, my hands underneath his and placed on his chest.
Oh, I like this position.

I flexed my fingers, and he guided my right hand south over his abs.
Bump.
Two-pack.
Bump.
Another two-pack.
Bump
. Last of three two-packs.
Please keep going. Please. Keep. Going.
My fingers found the waistband of his shorts and dipped underneath, soon skating over warm bare skin and …
Oh. My. Fucking. God!
  

Monster.

His monster.

His hard, long monster.

I clamped my hand around it like a God damn Atari joystick, ready to play Ping-Pong, and tried desperately not to begin stroking.

I failed. Miserably.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Em. Don’t do that,” he murmured, as he covered my hand with his and attempted to coax it away.

He failed. Miserably.

“Em, let go!” This time he turned back toward me before smiling at the crowd, teeth gritted.

They laughed while cheering me on, so I shook my head and smiled greedily for them. “No can do, Surfer.”

“I’m serious. The song is ending. I need to stand up.”

The struggle was real. My hand was happy. I was happy. His monster was happy. We were all happy. Why end the happiness?

“Em!”

Sighing, I gave him one last slow stroke then reluctantly let go, allowing him to remove my hand from his shorts and stand.

He glared at me, but his glare wore humour quite well. “Ready?” he asked, raising his eyebrow and offering me his hands.

I nodded, but had no idea what I was ready for until he pulled me up with the speed of light, propelling me into his arms just as Beyoncé sung about being drunk in love for the final time. I wrapped my legs around his waist and threaded my fingers through his hair, gripping it just mildly while staring into his eyes.
Fuck. I really like this guy. I like him a lot. More than any other guy I’ve dated.

But Brad seemed different, more intense without being restrictive or suffocating, which was good. Air was good. Extremely important. Especially as were both breathing it heavily, silently drinking each other in as the music faded and the crowd cheered.

Brad paid no attention to their praise, instead devoting himself entirely to me. “How was the ride?” he asked, his voice breathy and low.

“Good.” My response was just as breathy. “But I’m not done riding. I want to ride your other surfboard now.”

His eyes widened. “Now?”

“Yes. Now!”

Brad quickly bent forward, supporting me from falling with one arm and holding out his other, bowing for the audience. I giggled and held on tight but was only dipped for a split second, because the next thing I knew we were backstage behind the backdrop curtain and headed down a small flight of stairs past the rest of the guys.

“Where are you goin’?” Chief asked, turning his head as Brad walked us past them.

“Close the show without me.” Brad’s intense stare never diverted from my lips before he slammed his against them.

Heat pooled within me and exploded, travelling to the surface of my skin and setting me alight with need. I had to have him. I was done worrying about the
what if
s. They were pointless barriers, probable improbabilities that held us back under a false sense of security. They were pussy-blocking me, and enough was enough.

“What? You’re shitting me, right? Surfer, get your arse back here,” Chief called out.

“Gone, he is. Bother, I wouldn’t,” Noah piped in.

“Maybe … you … should … stop,” I tried to say between kisses, but Brad wouldn’t let me finish.

“No. You and me. This. It’s happening right now. I want to fucking taste you. All of you. And I want you trembling all over my cock. I’m not waiting any longer.”

Oh my God! Okay. You don’t have to tell me twice.

He went to continue but I wouldn’t let him finish, cutting his ability to do so when I reached down between us and slid my hand inside his shorts.

Damn, he felt good. Warm. Hard. Thick …

“Fuck, Em!”

“Hurry up,” I groaned. “Walk faster.”

His lips found mine again, kissing me with such passion that I had no choice but to let go of his cock because I almost went limp. Brad stopped and pressed me against the door to the change room, his delicious tongue continuing to assault my mouth as he fumbled with the door handle, which was when I heard a familiar voice.

“Here. Allow me,” Johnno offered.

My eyes widened and Brad’s smiled, our mouths still connected. The handle was turned and the door opened, a cool breeze travelling up my spine as Brad rushed us both inside.

“Thanks … mate,” he mumbled, our tongues twirling wildly. “Don’t … let … anyone in.”

Johnno didn’t answer, but he did huff. It was a loud huff. It was also a parting huff as he shut the door behind himself.
Oops.
I couldn’t help but laugh, but I did feel sorry for the poor guy. God only knew the type of things he’d seen or was required to do while on security for the revue.

I swallowed my laugh and nearly choked on it when Brad wrenched the front of my dress down. His sudden action was desperate and hot, almost barbaric. Concern over the welfare of my little black Bettina Liano passed by fleetingly, because I was more consumed with the glorious things he was doing to my chest.

“Do you always go braless?” he murmured with my nipple in his mouth.

I gripped his hair tight and moaned. “No. Not always.”

“I think you should.” He gently squeezed my other breast. “Definitely.”

I shuddered. Brad’s touch was perfect, the right amount of cruel and kind, and the right amount give and take. He left my body sated yet greedy and hungry, craving more.

Stepping up to a table, he swiped the contents clean with his arm before setting me down. Bottles of oil, towels, costumes and props went flying onto the floor. One rolled away, I grinned mischievously, leaning back on my hands, my chest rising and falling as I unhooked my legs from around his waist to rest my heels on the edge of the table.

His sight dropped between my legs, his eyes darkening when they found my panty-covered pussy. The way he focussed, his unblinking stare, the subtle lick of his lips … the almost unrecognisable twitch of his cheek. It had me clenching everything that could be clenched in anticipation of what he’d do next.

But he just stared. Stared and prepared, his scrutiny so lecherous that my pussy pulsed delightfully.

His eyes met mine.

“You see that?” I asked, clenching again for him. “She wants your cock. Don’t make her wait any longer.”

He moved closer without looking up, palming my thighs and rubbing gentle circles on my skin with his thumbs. The contact was torturously exquisite and had me sucking in a breath and angling my hips toward him, wanting more of his touch—wanting more of him.

Snaking his right pointer finger along my thigh, he hooked my G-string and pulled them aside, the material damp and sticky as it left my skin. A low rumble sounded in Brad’s throat.

I smiled.

“What are you smiling at, wet pixie?”

“What do you think?” I bit my lip and smiled even bigger.

His eyes shone with appreciation, and he licked his lips, dragging the tip of his finger over my clit and down to my pussy.

“Oh, God!” I breathed out, closing my eyes and dropping my head back.

Warm lips met my neck while his finger slowly circled my opening. I swallowed. His wet tongue licked my skin while his finger circled my opening again.

Another swallow.

“Brad,” I begged, rocking my hips. “Please just give me what I want.”

His mouth grew hungry, nipping a trail to my chin and then my lips, swallowing my cries of pleasure when he inserted two fingers into me fast and sharp.

My eyes sprung open and I devoured his mouth with my own, bucking against his hand as he pulled his fingers out and then plunged them deep again, tickling the roof of my pussy with delicate but quick strokes.

“Oh, fuck yes!” I cried out.

Sliding them back out again, he brought them close to his face, inspecting how they glistened. “Mm …” he hummed, placing them in his mouth and sucking them clean. Brad slid them back inside me, pumping a few times before removing them and performing the same inspection and taste-test. “Fuck, you taste good.”

My arms gave way and I fell back onto the table, covering my eyes with my hands because the pleasure he was crafting was just so damn incredible. I’d been finger-fucked many times before. Fast. Slow. Long and hard. But holy shit this was hot.

Brad tore my G-string down my legs, grabbed my hips, and lifted them toward his face, positioning me like a Pilates bridge. I was familiar with the technique so tightened my core and elevated my feet to rest on my toes, which was when he threaded his arm underneath my arse for support and dipped his head to lick my clit.

Wow! Just wow!

Arched, spread, and completely at his whim, I felt exposed in the best possible way. Raw, dirty, and oh-so nice.

Pulling back, Brad clamped my clit between his thumb and forefinger and rolled the sensitive bud back and forth before dipping his head again, sliding his tongue inside me and licking while his fingers gently pinched and teased.

“Shit, Brad. That’s so good.”

He didn’t say anything, just repeated his actions, intensifying them each time, until he pulled back and twitched my clit as fast as he possible could.

“Oh. Fuck. Me!” I screamed

I was going to come. Hard. No doubt about it. Possibly even squirt in his face.
Shit! Was he a squirting type of guy?

“Oh … oh … ohhhh fuuuuuck!” I moaned, closing my eyes and seeing twinkly stars as my orgasm hit and pulsed through my body. It was an intense motherfucker. The very best kind. A giant
O
.

The heat of his contact left me, so I opened my eyes, wondering why it had gone and wanting it back. I was ready to voice my complaint, which was when I looked up and found him standing over me.
Damn!
He was about the hottest thing I’d ever laid eyes on, and my eyes had settled on some rather spicy friggin’ things in their time. But this … him … fuck me, he was a walking, talking climax. Lips, coated in me. Hair, sweat-dampened. And his eyes … they read me with an intensity that I could barely describe, scanning my body and face from side to side as if I was a page in a book.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Em, but when you come? Fuck … I have no words.” He guided my hips back to the table then took one of my hands and helped me sit, owning my mouth with his as soon as it was close enough to do so.

I reached for the cord on his shorts and tried to untie it as we kissed, the taste of my arousal strong on his tongue. Delicious. “Aren’t these supposed to just rip off like a magic trick?” I mumbled, frustrated.

He laughed. “No. Not these ones. These are normal shorts.”

I growled playfully and tugged at them anyway, breaking the Velcro and loosening them enough to fall down his legs. His cock sprung free, bobbing delightfully before I clasped it in my hands and appreciated its beauty.
Hello, monster. We meet at last.

The cock matched the man—virile and mouth-watering. I sighed happily, gliding my fingers up his length and circling one of them over his smooth crown. He twitched in my hands and hissed, tilting his head back and tensing the muscles in his neck. I appreciated the sight. He had extremely sexy neck muscles, and I wanted to reach up and lick them. But I also wanted to lean down and lick his cock, his pink, hard, shiny cock.

Struggle town. It was a sucky place to be for someone like me who was greedy and wanted two things at once, but I chose the monster, knowing that I could nibble on his neck whenever I wanted.
And I would.

Placing one hand on his chest and pushing him back just slightly, I kept it there for balance as I bent forward and wrapped my lips around him. A mixture of sweet and salty filled my mouth. He was sweet coconut oil and salty pre-cum, and it was truly yummy.

“Mm,” I hummed around him. “Oes evwey par of you aste ike ohohnut?”

He chuckled and threaded his fingers through my hair, gently pulling me away from him. “What?”

I let him go with a pop and licked my lips. “Does every part of you taste like coconut?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Brad guided me back to his cock, and I went happily, kissing his tip and trailing my tongue down the length of him before sucking his balls, and trailing my tongue back up to his tip.

He groaned and flexed his fingers, massaging my scalp, so I took him back in my mouth while I worked the rest of him with my hand, slurping and making a shit-ton of awful sounds.

Guys liked the sloppy sounds. They were weird like that.

“Hurry it up in there,” Johnno yelled. “Show is finishing up.”

The thumping at the door had me frozen like a deer in headlights—cock in mouth, eyes wide open.

“Fuck!” Brad pulled out of my mouth and performed a 360-degree turn, appearing to look for something. “Where the hell is my wallet and jeans?”

“Why?” I asked, wanting him back within reach so that I could touch and taste him again.

“Condom.”

“Oh. Whose wallet is that?” I pointed to the black leather square sitting on the ground next to a pair of runners.

“Slick’s, I think.”

“Well, your brother is bound to have one. Use his.”

He palmed his cock and smiled. “Good thinking,” he said, before he hurried over to the wallet and opened it up. “Bingo!” he said happily, pulling out the foil packet and holding it up as if it were the Holy Grail.

It kinda was.

Placing it in his mouth while leisurely stroking himself, he tore the packet open and pulled out the little rubber circle, sitting it on the tip of his cock and rolling it down his length. I watched greedily. Blushed, even. Because seeing a man put on a condom was one of my favourite things. There was just something hot about dick pride.

Brad slowly stalked toward me, cock in his palm, a hungry look in his eyes. He stopped when he was between my legs and his hands were on my hips. “This ain’t gonna be soft and slow. You know that, right?”

I nodded and grasped his arse cheeks, pulling him as close as he could get. “Yeah, so give me what you’ve got.”

Lifting me up and carrying me to the wall, something cracked under his foot and something else was kicked, but we didn’t give a fuck. The only fuck we gave was the one about to happen, and as he pressed me against the wall and ravished my mouth, neck and breasts, there was no doubt in my mind that it was going to be hard, fast and intense.