Page 55 of Proof Of Life
“I didn’t realize I was wasting my time.” He runs his finger along the inside of the waistband of my sweats, making the simple gesture look sexy. “I've been having so much fun.” He drops his lips to my neck and sucks on my collarbone. “Doesn’t feel like a waste of time at all.” Shivers dance along my skin, and I bare my neck to his mouth for more.
He tugs my sweats down my hips and slides them off my leg, and my heartbeat kicks up, anticipating his touch. Maybe he’s going to blow me again. His hand lands on my thigh, the short one, and instantly I’m in my head, feeling self-conscious. Nothing takes me out of the moment faster than reminding me of my disability. His lips find my nipple and suck hard, and my brain is warring with my libido for top spot. But when his fingers skate over the bundle of scar tissue, I shove his hand away.
“Don’t pull away from me,” he warns, his lips and his voice soft in my ear. “I’ll touch you if I want to.” Brandt massages my thigh, his strong fingers digging into the touch-starved tissue and muscles of my leg, relaxing my inhibitions one by one.
“Fuck, that feels good.” With a sigh, I tip my head back and close my eyes, soaking up his touch.
“See, don’t be such a stubborn ass.”
He’s stealthy, though, moving back toward the tip, away from my cock. This is more intimate than sex with him. Letting my guard down, allowing him to touch the most ruined part of my body, the one that triggers me most.
Look at him. You know he’s looking at you. Look at him.
Sure enough, when I open my eyes, I find Brandt’s gaze hot on my face, like he was waiting for me to open my eyes. He strips out of his sweatpants without ever looking away and grips his hard cock. Brandt gives it several strokes, and I watch because lately, I can’t not look when he does it. Why is that suddenly so hot to me, watching him stroke himself? I’ve seen him do it dozens of times, but now it makes me hard.
But my hungry, curious gaze turns to horror as he brings the head of his cock in contact with the end of my thigh. I’m speechless. I have no words as I watch him grind his dick against my limb. He smears drops of his cum over my skin, over my scars, and, although I’m shocked, I can’t deny that the sight of it is making my dick harder. But when he looks at me, all hot and heavy, I lose my nerve.
“You know I can’t feel that, right?”
“Do you have eyes? Do they work? I can see your dick works, ‘cause it’s nice and hard.” He reaches for it and swipes a drop of pre-cum with his thumb, trailing it down my shaft. Brandt continues to paint my skin with his cum, humping my limb, and the sight of his rolling hips, his thrusting, has heat building low in my stomach. Why do I find this so incredibly hot? He’s pushing into my thigh while tugging on my cock, and the back-and-forth feels like he’s fucking into my body, fucking me, without actually penetrating me.
Again, I push at his hand, feeling exposed and vulnerable. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“I said, I’ll touch you if I want to.” He leans in to tease my ear with his hot breath. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”
“You’re a sick fuck.” My voice catches on the lump in my throat.
“You fucking love it,” he returns with fire dancing in his eyes.
I’ve known Brandt for twelve years. How did I not know he was so sick and twisted? He is one filthy motherfucker, and I can’t seem to get enough of him. I lean back with my weight braced on my arms, and Brandt practically crawls over me, taking charge. I've never been one to give up control before, but when it comes to submitting to Brandt, he can have it.
“Stop thinking about me with women and start picturing me with you.”
He crawls over my thigh and pushes his dick against mine. The hot, hard length of him is a new thrill I can't get enough of. How have I never noticed how velvety soft and warm his skin feels? Why has my mouth never watered at the thick veins bulging in his shaft before? The head is plump and purple and I'm dying to suck on it, but I'm such a fucking coward. But right now, I’m more afraid that he’ll stop if he sees me up in my head, and that he’ll rob me of the toe curling orgasm I know he can deliver.
“Feels so good when you do that,” I say in a breathy, porn-tastic voice.
“You like that?” I can tell from his satisfied grin that he likes it just as much, if not more.
Brandt focuses on our cocks, stroking them in his fist, and he parts his lips in ecstasy. When he looks back at me, pleasure is written all over his face. He’s riding a wave of lust. He takes my lips roughly, shoving his tongue inside my mouth and rubbing it with mine, sucking on it until I’m a dizzy mess.
It takes me a moment to react when he says, “Turn over.”
“W-what for?”
“‘Cause I told you to. Turn over.”
Shit, my dick likes it too much when he tells me what to do. I’m the team leader. I outrank him. It’s supposed to be the other way around, but I could get used to this bossy side of him.
Bossy Brandt.
Badass Brandt.
Balls-to-the-wall Brandt.
Reminds me of how he got his nickname, the Grim Reaper—by being a bossy, badass, balls-to-the-wall motherfucker. Yeah, I’ll turn the fuck over for him. He can do…Whatever.
He nips my shoulder blade, and his teeth work a trail down my spine, making me writhe. Then he bites my ass cheek before sucking the pain from my skin. I'm sure he’s left a dark purple hickey on my ass, not that I care. I kind of like the idea of wearing his marks. But nothing prepares me for what he does next.