Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series) Page 18

  This was the first time that I’d been with a man who enjoyed having a bit of fun in the bedroom. The few men I’d been with in college had been young, serious, and diligent lovers. Without much foreplay, they just got down to business and tried their best to get the job done, generally within ten minutes. None of them had every fully satisfied me. But they also hadn’t fully disappointed me, if only because all of my experiences with men had seemed indistinguishable from the last and the next. Sex had always been a quick affair that had left me wanting, for what I didn’t know.

  But I knew now, because now I was Brock. Already the difference was there, and it was not only seismic, but I could tell that having sex with him was going to be something of an adventure. His touch was light but assured. It’s not that he lacked aggression—far from it. Aggression seemed to fuel his every move. The difference is that his aggression was backed with a sense of intensity and also a sense of humor that underscored his confidence in the bedroom.

  “You are ticklish,” he said.

  “I’m literally biting my tongue right now,” I said.

  “Well, don’t go and put welts on it,” he said.

  “Not a choice if you intend to keep that up!”

  Brock hummed in pleasure when I said that, and then he slid up the length of my body and gave me a kiss that was so deep and meaningful, it was clear that he wasn’t only enjoying himself, but that he also was a skilled lover. Intuitively, he seemed to know exactly what to do and which areas of my body were the most sensitive. He was as talented and as sensuous as I thought he’d be, and it showed in ways that my lack of experience had probably already revealed itself to him.

  Was that a mark against me? I wasn’t sure. Perhaps he saw my lack of experience as something that just needed a serious bit of home-schooling.

  At least I hoped that was the case.

  And it was. The more that he touched me—and the more that I responded to him—the less nervous I became. He was in control of the situation in ways that I wasn’t, and he seemed thrilled to be in that position. On one level, it was as if I was his student, and he was about to give me one hell of a lesson in love-making.

  And because of that alone, I remained in a blissful kind of delirium.

  “Your legs,” he said, as he scooted down and lifted my right leg high in the air as he began to massage my calf. “They’re beautiful. Why can’t I wait to have them wrapped around my ass? To have them pressed against me as I thrust into you? Do you know the answer to that, Madison?”

  When you talk to me like that, I know absolutely nothing, Brock.

  I didn’t respond because, in truth, I was speechless. Not that that deterred him. He had already moved on to other parts of my body—specifically my breasts.

  “May I?” he asked as he hooked his fingers around the sides of my bra strap.

  With my eyes now fully adjusted to the dim bedroom lighting, I could see his face clearly—as well as the desire stamped upon it.

  “Do you really need to ask?” I said. “Do what you want with me.”

  “Anything I want?”

  I wanted to bite my lip when he said that, but I didn’t. A part of me wanted to start challenging him as much as he was challenging me.

  “Anything,” I said.

  With a quickness that startled me, his hands deftly slid behind my back and unhooked my bra with ease, and when he removed it, there was delight in his eyes when my breasts were exposed.

  “You’re perfect,” he said.

  My breasts were the best part of my body. Despite how thin I was, God had nevertheless decided to grant me with one hell of a rack. But still I said nothing, because I knew that, given the models he’d slept with, certainly he must have seen better than mine.

  “But you don’t know that, do you?” he said, his face hovering just above mine. “That’s one of the things that drives me crazy about you, Madison. Your modesty. The idea that you don’t know how fucking sexy you are. Take my hand,” he said, holding it out to me.

  I took it, and he pressed it against his heart.

  “Do you feel that?” he asked.

  His heart was pounding in his chest—of course I could feel it.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I’m as turned on as you are right now,” he said. “And it’s not just because we’re about to make love. It’s deeper than that. And I can’t explain it. But I have to accept it for what it is, because I already know that what’s happening between us right now is as rare as it is special. I’ve never felt this way for another woman. And that’s the truth.”

  “Brock,” I said.

  “I can feel you trembling,” he said in my ear. “And I understand why. But why don’t we just let go of everything in our pasts, all of our disappointments, and enjoy this for what it is—an amazement. This isn’t just sex, is it? No, it isn’t. Not for me, and I can see by the look in your eyes that it isn’t for you. Both of us know that we’re taking a risk, but we’re worth that risk, aren’t we? I think that we are—so let’s not hold anything back.”

  How did we even get here? Was I actually falling in love with this man? After only a week? That seemed impossible to me—wholly ridiculous to me—but I would be a liar if I said otherwise because right now I felt that something profound was occurring between us. Something that I would indeed remember for years to come, which is what I wanted from him when I agreed to this in the Park.

  Wordlessly, I wrapped a hand around his neck, pulled him in close to me, and we kissed so heatedly, it seemed as if the bed disappeared beneath me and I went into a free fall.

  “Make love to me,” I said.

  “I need to get you ready first. . . .”

  “I’m ready now.”

  “You’ll enjoy it more if I first tend to you properly, Madison. Trust me on this.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He blinked at me.

  “I told you that I’m ready,” I said.

  “I don’t think you are.”

  “But I am.”

  “Give me your hand again.”

  I gave it to him—and when I did, he lowered it to the erection jutting from his boxer briefs, and at that moment, I understood completely. Brock was heavily endowed. If he wasn’t careful with me, he could split me in half with what he had between his legs.

  “Oh,” I said.

  He grinned when I said that, and then he kissed me on the mouth again. “Now, just let me take over, OK? I promise that I’ll be gentle with you.”

  “I’m pretty sure that you’re going to have to be.”

  “And I will.”

  Without missing a beat, he snaked his way down from my breasts to my belly, glanced up at me as he parted my legs, and then with a quick tug, he pulled off my panties and spread my thighs wide.

  Cool air brushed against me, quickly erased by the warmth of his breath. His head lowered from sight, and then his tongue plunged inside of me, which made me want to scream out because it felt so good. He covered my clit with his mouth, sucked on it and swirled his tongue around it, and while he licked and tasted me, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could wait for him to enter me.

  “What are you doing to me?”

  “Anything you want me to do to you. Isn’t that what you asked?”

  “It’s too much.”

  “It hasn’t even begun.”

  And it hadn’t. For what felt like at least ten minutes, he took his time preparing me, first with his mouth and then with his hands. First one finger—and then another, and finally another—until I felt so full and wet and horny that he quickly and unexpectedly pushed me toward the edge of climax.

  When I came the first time, he caught it just before it happened, raced up the length of my body, and took one of my nipples in his mouth, biting it just hard enough to lift me off the bed and into his arms as my climax shuddered through me. He held me as I pulsed against him, but he didn’t hold me for long. Instead, he lifted me up, I hooked one arm around his neck, and re
ached out and placed my free hand against his taut stomach and those incredibly corded abs. Only when I was lying back on the bed again did Brock get on top and mount me. And when he did, I took a sharp breath that caught in my throat.

  My first thought was that he was too big, but as he moved inside of me, filling me with his impossible length and girth, it was desire that shot through me, not the pain I’d been expecting, because Brock knew exactly what he was doing. When we were one and he bent his head down to kiss me as he rocked into me, I knew in my soul that this man was meant for me.

  “Are you OK?” he asked me.

  “Oh, yes.”

  With slow, rhythmic strokes, he drove into me. With my eyes locked onto his, I felt myself open up to him without ever once looking away. As our pace quickened, I saw his lips part in desire as my body soared to heights I’d never experienced before. And only when it was clear to him that I was ready for something more aggressive did he even dare to go there.

  Gradually, he dominated my body and my soul.

  He slid me down the length of the bed, grabbed me by the ankles, and kissed each of them before he entered me with a quick thrust that caused me to cry out in pleasure—not pain—as the moment escalated between us.

  I touched his muscular, slightly hairy chest, tweaked his nipples between my fingertips, and because I wanted to see what he could take, I pressed them as hard as I could, which caused his head to rear back. He let out a primal moan that not only delighted me, but also seemed to excite him even more as he started to pound into me. With our bodies now covered in sweat, our skin was slick as he bucked and reared against me. I turned my head to the left and right as I felt myself growing close to orgasm again.

  “Brock,” I said.

  “Come for me, Madison.”

  “But I want more. I don’t want this to end so . . .”

  “Come!” he commanded.

  And I did. And when I did, I screamed out as my body shuddered against him. With a quickness that surprised me, he scooped me into his arms and sat me on his lap, and he continued to drive into me until he also came with a ferocious growl that echoed in the room and turned my body into a silo of heat.

  As we paused to catch our breath, my face slumped against his shoulder—wet, slick, and feverishly hot.

  And yet this wasn’t over. Somehow, he was still pulsing inside of me.

  “Take me again,” I said.

  “You want more?” he said with a grin.

  “I want all of you, Brock.”

  When I said that, time seemed to stand still between us. The grin faded from his face and his expression changed into something that was more intense than I’d anticipated.

  “All of me, Madison?”

  I knew what he was asking, and before I spoke, I considered my response. Did I want this man? All of this man? With everything that implied?

  “Yes,” I said with only a moment’s hesitation. “I want all of you, Brock. Everything you have to give.”

  When I said that, he kissed me in such a way that stole my breath away. We had yet to part, and with his erection still throbbing inside me, he started to lift me up and down on his lap with his hands gripping my ass, his mouth covering first one nipple and then the other while I rode him.

  The feelings of ecstasy that consumed me were so strong, I didn’t know where or who I was as he maneuvered me around the bed like a puppet, into more positions than I thought possible.

  The Kama Sutra, indeed, I thought at one point. And I delighted in all of it. I let him have his way with me—and at moments, I had my way with him.

  In my gut, I knew that this was right. I knew that I was his and he was mine. And I also knew that as he made love to me and whispered things to me that were at once erotic and loving, that there was no turning away from this now.

  As fierce as he was in bed—and as hard as he claimed me for his own—never once did I regret trusting him. He seemed to intuitively know exactly how to position his body so I would receive the maximum pleasure. And so for the next several hours, each of us just gave ourselves over to the other as Brock proved true to his word—he’d told me that he was going to make me come so many times, I’d soon forget any doubts I might have had about us.

  And he was right.

  We went on so late into the night that I saw morning break through the windows. And after I came again and again and again, there was a point when my body couldn’t take anymore. Brock sensed my exhaustion. He pulled out of me, turned me on my side, came up close against my back, and wrapped his arm around my waist as he kissed my neck while I fell into a deep, satisfied sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The next morning, Brock decided to extend our stay at the Plaza for an additional night before he went back to his apartment to rewrite his report for Alex, which he needed to complete on Sunday since it was due on Monday morning.

  Even though I hadn’t packed with any of that in mind—and despite the ridiculous cost involved in securing this room—Brock continued to brush all of that away as if none of the expense mattered.

  “We’re worth this shot,” he said to me when we had coffee in the suite’s living room the next morning.

  We were both sitting next to each other on one of the sofas and wearing the luxurious robes the hotel provided. Brock’s massive chest was nothing short of a distraction. The robe couldn’t conceal it, and it revealed itself to me in ways that made me want to go back into the bedroom again, despite the fact that I was a bit sore after last night’s marathon.

  “And besides, we’re young now—I’ll pay off the credit card in time. It’s not a big deal. As far as I’m concerned, this is the tipping point in our relationship—at least for the interim, because I believe in my heart that it’s only going to get better. But just as you said in the Park yesterday, it’s this moment that we’ll remember most, isn’t it? If we don’t leave this hotel knowing that we should take that next step—”

  “What step is that?” I asked. I knew what that step was for me, but I wanted to hear him say it. I wanted to know if he was feeling what I was feeling.

  He hesitated before he spoke, and I saw a sudden sense of vulnerability come over his face that endeared him to me even more. “A commitment between us,” he said firmly. “I know that all of this has happened quickly, but I’ve said it before. I’ve never felt anything like this, Madison. I don’t believe that you have either. So, I’m thinking that if we’re on the same page, and if we’re both feeling strongly about going forward with a relationship, then we should make that commitment to each other.” He shook his head. “But maybe I’m way too far ahead of myself, and if I am, I apologize. At least you now know how I’m feeling. I hope it doesn’t freak you out.”

  “It does, and it doesn’t,” I said.

  “And I’m right there with you. But if we don’t give ourselves another full day to spend time with each other, to be with each other, to get to know each other more than we do now, then we’ve only wasted our time. Because I can tell you right now that I’ve long been over having one-night flings. I want more than that. I deserve more than that. I want a real girlfriend in my life—a serious relationship. And I believe that you want the same thing. The question is whether you want that with me.”

  When I didn’t answer, it wasn’t because I didn’t have an answer. It was because he’d just rendered me speechless.

  He sipped his coffee.

  “There’s something special between us,” he said. “And to be honest, I don’t want to put my finger on what it might be because I already know that it’s beyond definition. What’s happened didn’t happen by chance. In fact, I think your friend Rhoda might agree with me on this. I think it was destiny.”

  At that moment, he seemed almost embarrassed by admitting how he felt. “Anyway, it’s not my job to persuade you. You need to make your own decisions when it comes to us. All I’m hoping is that you’ll give us a chance.”

  I knew that if we were going to become serious
with one another, we had to at least let this play out for another day and see if last night was nothing more than a mere show of initial fireworks, even though I already felt that it had been much more than that. At this point, we now knew each other intimately. The experience we’d shared last night had been so powerful, it had overwhelmed me at times—and also him. Each of us had gone so long without any kind of intimacy that neither of us knew whether last night had only been an evening of unbridled passion. So now, if only to see how we were together after fully revealing ourselves to one another, Brock was correct. We had to spend a second day together, as lovers and potentially something far more profound than that.

  With those expectations in place, I agreed with him. We’d spend today and a second night together, and then we’d see what came of that.

  “I think that we deserve this,” I said to him.

  When I said that, Brock wasted no time with me. He took me by the hand, led me into the bedroom, and made love to me again. This time, for whatever reason, the experience was even more intense.

  He was a fierce and attentive lover, and as he came to know my body, he learned what truly ignited me and used that information to send me over the edge time and again.

  How could I dismiss any of this? How could he? The bond that was searing between us was so preternaturally real, it seemed at once surreal and absolutely real.

  As we made love that morning and throughout the day and deep into the night, I felt a part of me giving more and more of myself to him—layer by layer, bit by bit. I did things sexually to him that I’d never done with another man—and it came naturally to me, with no reservations. But I did them with Brock because, for whatever reason I still couldn’t come to terms with, it was easy for me to give myself completely to him.

  Was this really happening? Were we falling in love? Could only two days together even answer that question? Or was this only the fling that Blackwell had suggested it might be?

  As with any budding relationship, I couldn’t be sure. I’d made my share of mistakes with men in the past. But with Brock ? Somehow I knew this was different, perhaps only because I was older, wiser, and more experienced when it came to being a better judge of people. I sensed a deep connection to Brock. I felt that he was as invested in me as I was in him.