L. A. Witt - Rules 1 - Rules of Engagement (5 page)

“You’re going to make me come right here if you keep doing that,” I said through my teeth, struggling to breathe, to stand.
“I know,” he said.
Furrowing my brow, I tried to figure out what he was saying, tried to understand the words.
“This time,” he whispered, leaning in close enough to let his lips touch mine when he spoke, “I want to
watch
you come.”

As soon as he said it, I came, and I came hard, a groan lodging in my throat as he kept stroking me, kept squeezing me, as he said, “Oh fuck, I want more of that.”

I let my head fall against his shoulder as the tremors subsided, and he kissed the side of my neck, raising even more goose bumps on my skin. It took a minute for the world to stop spinning around me. When it finally did, I lifted my head and looked at him. As soon as our eyes met, the world shifted again. Never in my life had I seen an expression so full of ravenous, insatiable lust.

He kissed me gently, touching my face. “My place.
Now
.”

I
FOLLOWED
Brandon to his apartment. He had said it was only ten minutes away, and the clock on my dash concurred, but I was sure we’d been driving for hours by the time we pulled into the parking lot.

My hands shook as I put the car in park. Getting the key out of the ignition might as well have been brain surgery. I started to get out, but something pulled me back, and I cursed as I reached down to unfasten my seatbelt.
Jesus Christ, man, get it together
.

When I finally managed to get out of the car, I caught Brandon’s eye. The corner of his mouth pulled up, taking my pulse with it. My heart was pounding in my ears as I followed him across the parking lot, and the gentle pressure of his hand on the small of my back made me stumble.

“Sorry,” he said, grinning at me in the low light.

I smiled. “What can I say? You’re making me trip over my own feet.”
He licked his lips as he pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket. “Then I guess you would be safer off of your feet, wouldn’t you?” He put the key in the door.

Every nerve ending tingled. I knew why we were there, but hearing him say that just before we crossed the threshold into his apartment was unsettling. Arousing. Terrifying. It made perfect sense. It confused the hell out of me.

I followed him down the hall, praying that my feet would stay under me.
The click of the bedroom door closing behind us put me on edge. The entire drive over here couldn’t have gone any slower. I wanted this, I wanted to be here, but now that I was here, my heart wasn’t just pounding with excitement.

Putting his arms around my neck, he kissed me. I put my hands on his hips and drew him to me, not sure if I was more afraid of being too far away from him or too close to him. His fingers ran through my hair, and I sucked a breath in through my nose.

His hands trailed down my back, pausing just above the waistband of my jeans. Cool air hit my back as he slowly pulled my shirt up, but it was the sudden warmth of his palms on my skin that made me gasp. My head fell back and his lips were instantly on my neck.

A moment later, he lifted my shirt off and kissed my neck as his hands explored my back and chest. His fingertips trailed along the edge of one of my tattoos.

“I had a feeling you had ink,” he whispered. He sucked my earlobe between his lips, making my breath catch.

 

I swallowed. “What made you think that?”

“Just a gut feeling.” He turned his head and flicked his tongue across my shoulder. I brushed his hair off of his neck and kissed the exposed skin, shivering as he released a soft, almost inaudible moan.

A hint of ink peeked out beneath the back of his collar. I drew a small circle with my tongue at the base of his neck, then said, “So you have some too, I see.”

He raised his head and kissed me. “Want to see them?” My heart thudded. My mouth was dry, so I simply nodded. He stepped back, pulling my breath with him.

When his shirt was gone, I couldn’t decide what mesmerized me more: the elaborate, colorful tattoos on his biceps, or the hairless, perfectly toned chest and abs. In any other situation, the professional side of me would have been thoroughly impressed by how fit and sculpted he was. At that moment, though, all I could think of was how badly I wanted to touch and taste his skin.

He turned around, pulling his hair out of the way so that I could see the full tattoo, an elaborate dragon that covered most of his upper back and shoulders. I ran my fingers across it, not sure if I were more intrigued by the grooves and ridges of the tattoo, the powerful muscles beneath, or the heat of his skin against mine. I flattened my hands against his back and ran them down his sides. Grasped his hips. Before I realized what I was doing, I pulled his hips back against me, pressing my erection against his ass.

He gasped. So did I. I held him against me and he leaned back, sliding a hand around the back of my neck and turning his head to kiss me. The warmth of his back against my chest made me dizzy.

Without separating from me any more than he had to, he turned around in my arms and pulled me closer, kissing me passionately. I put my hands on his hips. Then his back. Then his face. Then his back again. I just couldn’t get close enough to him.

Breaking the kiss, he was breathless and shaking when he looked at me. His tongue swept across his lower lip as he released an unsteady breath. The look on his face, that desperate, lustful look, and the knowledge that it was
me
that turned him on like that, was the most arousing thing I had ever witnessed.

He reached for my belt and I reached for his, both of us cursing as we struggled with the buckles.

 

As his belt jingled free and I went for his zipper, I froze.

Brandon stopped. Looked at me. Scrutinized me the way he had when he’d sized me up before challenging me to that fateful game of eight ball. His brow knitted with concern. “What’s wrong?”

I dropped my gaze.

He touched the side of my face. “You’ve never done this, have you?”
“I, um.” I chewed my lip. “Not with….”

“Not with a man?”

My cheeks burned. Looking anywhere but at him, I laughed in spite of—or maybe because of—my sudden nervousness.
Touching my chin, he turned me to face him, forcing me to look him in the eye. His expression was completely serious. “Do you
want
to do this?”

“Absolutely,” I breathed. The only thing stronger than my uncertainty about what I was doing was my certainty that I wanted to do it.

He smiled. He drew my face to his with his fingertips and kissed me gently. “I’m glad you told me.”

My cheeks were on fire now. “So you would know why I was being so clumsy?”
“No.” Grinning against my mouth, his lips barely left mine as he whispered, “Because now I’ll be sure to take my time and make it memorable.” His tongue parted my lips, and his hands went back to my belt.

Willing my own hands to stay steady, I unbuttoned the top of his jeans and found the zipper pull. The front of his jeans was stretched tight over the thick erection beneath, and I let the backs of my fingers follow the rigid outline of his cock as I drew the zipper down. His mouth silently encouraged me, his kiss intensifying each time I touched him through his clothes.

Hesitant, uncertain, I slid my hand through the open fly, and when my fingers closed around his cock, he gasped hard enough to pull the breath out of my lungs. I stroked him slowly, gently, as curious and fascinated as I was aroused. A moment later, his hand was on my cock as well, stroking me just as he had in the parking lot.

He broke the kiss but didn’t pull away, just breathing against me. Finally, he swallowed hard and said, “Why don’t we get the rest of these clothes out of the way?”

Need trumped uncertainty and I nodded, ignoring the nervousness in my gut as we released each other and quickly got rid of the rest of our clothes. Together, we lay on his bed, the slow, tender kissing and touching completely belying the feverish desire that sizzled between us.

Perhaps I’d just never given it much thought, but it surprised me how sensual and gentle we were together. I’m not sure exactly what I expected. All I knew was that this surprised me. Everything about it surprised me.

I was on my back when he raised his head and said, “Nervous?” “No,” I said. He raised an eyebrow, and I laughed. “Yes.” He smiled. “Just tell me if you want me to stop.”

“That’s the one thing,” I said, pausing to kiss him, “that I
don’t
want you to do.”

“Good.” He kissed my neck, then my collarbone, and then down the center of my chest. When his tongue circled my nipple, sending delicious chills up my spine, I suddenly understood why women liked that so much. He paused to do the same to my other nipple, his eyebrows lifting as he looked up at me with an unspoken “Is this okay?” I smiled, and he flicked his tongue across my nipple.

I ran my fingers through his hair as he trailed soft kisses down my abdomen, letting the tip of his tongue run between the grooves of my six-pack. Everywhere his mouth touched—my abs, my sides, the groove between my hip and my thigh—reacted as if it were an erogenous zone, as if merely being touched by Brandon’s mouth
made
it erogenous.

He ran his hand down my thigh while his lips lingered on my hip. I held my breath, gripping the bed sheets as my body tensed.

He sat up and looked at me as he trailed his fingertips down the shaft of my cock. It was the lightest, softest touch imaginable, and it nearly brought me up off of the bed.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, closing my eyes as each slow sweep of his fingers sent electricity up my spine. Every reaction to everything he did, no matter how gentle, was more intense than the last, and I was completely unprepared for the barrage of powerful tremors that shivered through me when his tongue touched the head of my cock.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, simply surrendered as he held the base of my cock in one hand and slowly,
so fucking slowly
, took it into his mouth. He deep-throated me; then he ran his tongue up and down the shaft and around the head before deep-throating me again. This wasn’t a means to an end for him, a step he grudgingly took to get to the real action—he devoured my cock like he’d waited all his life to do it.

I grasped his hair gently, not pushing him or impeding his movement, just needing to touch him, needing to feel every perfect motion as he sucked me. It was so intense, so overwhelming, that tears welled up in my eyes.

More than anything, I wanted him to feel the same thing. I’d never gone down on a man, hadn’t the faintest clue if I could even do it, but I needed him to feel what I was feeling.

“Come up here,” I whispered.

He slowed his motion and looked up at me, still stroking me with one hand. Licking his lips, he didn’t question me but came up to kiss me. I put my arms around him and held him close. Then, holding him against me, I rolled us over so that I was on top.

He didn’t seem the least bit surprised as he grinned up at me. “Taking charge?”
I shrugged, kissing his neck. “Maybe.” The dusting of stubble on his throat was smooth, as if it hadn’t been long since he’d shaved, but it was still just rough enough to be tantalizingly foreign against my lips. It gradually gave way to the smooth skin above his collarbone as I worked my way down to his chest, circling his nipple with my tongue, just as he had done to me. I glanced up at him for reassurance or guidance, I wasn’t sure which. In spite of the number of times I’d done that for a woman, I somehow expected to do it wrong, to be clumsy and uncertain, but when he closed his eyes and moaned, my doubts evaporated.
Kissing my way down his sides and his abs, I took my time, lingering here and there to savor his moans and the taste of his skin. Every time he tensed and shivered, every time he released an unsteady breath, my cock ached with need for him. The more I turned him on, the more he turned
me
on. By the time I flicked my tongue across his hipbone and started toward his cock, I was close to coming myself.
Trying to push my doubts and uncertainties aside, I closed my lips around the head of his cock. I was cautious, hesitant, watching and listening to the way he reacted to my every touch. Just as the lightly stubbled skin of his neck had fascinated me, so too did every inch of his cock. I explored it all, marveling at the way the textures of his skin felt different against my lips and tongue. While my lips registered the more pronounced ridges and contours, my tongue found the minute contrast between the smooth shaft and the softer skin of the head. The rhythmic pulsing against my tongue made my mouth water; it was like I could taste his heartbeat as his body responded to my touch.