Brazen Mistakes (Brazen Boys #3)

52. RJ

Chapter 52

RJ

I ’m weirdly nervous when I knock on Clara’s door after my shower. Despite this day going to shit, I still want to take her out on that date I’d promised her. If she’s not up for it, that’s totally fine. But I won’t know unless I ask.

I’m asking a girl out on a date, and never having done it before, I know I’m going to mess it up somehow. Thank God I know she already wants this, wants me, so I don’t have to worry about rejection on top of it.

The door opens, her brows furrowed as she looks up at me. “RJ, you’re back! You don’t have to knock, you know. You can just come in.”

Nodding, I follow her into her room, the tape job on the curtains almost humorous if it weren’t so necessary, the staples glinting in the harsh ceiling light. “I just want to be polite. Everyone deserves a place to themselves, and the chance to relax without wondering who’s going to just walk in. ”

She plops back down onto her desk chair, and I pull up one of her other chairs beside her.

“I guess that makes sense. But you know you’re welcome, right?”

“Yeah. I know that, sugar.”

“Good.”

“What are you up to?” I ask, warming up to my real question.

She looks over her shoulder, a little sheepish. “I’m watching poker tutorials. I tried some online chess earlier, but it turns out I’m terrible. My mastermind street cred might be lacking.”

I chuckle, and she snaps the laptop closed.

“It’s such a dumb item on my to-do list, but it’s one of the few things I actually stand the chance of learning solo.” She crosses her legs, and I’m momentarily distracted. “So what’s up?”

My throat closes up. Shoot. I can’t do this.

She gives me one of those smiles that makes me feel like I personally plucked the sun out of the sky and gifted it to her, and now I can’t talk or breathe. Oh no.

“RJ?” she asks, worried by my obvious discomfort.

Get your shit together, man. Forcing my lungs to work, I try to get the words out, and instead, I inhale my spit, choking on it like a goddamn fool.

It gets so bad, Clara rushes away to get me a glass of water. Definitely not what you wanted, and freakishly uncool, RJ. Good job.

Taking a few sips of the proffered water, I close my eyes, focusing on getting the words out without further mishap. “If you’re feeling up for it, I was wondering if maybe you might want to go on that date with me?” My voice gets higher and screechier as I go, and by the time I’m done, I’m coughing again, the water sloshing down my chin as I try to stop the disaster I’m making of this.

I cough for so long I’m worried about myself, and Clara’s practically ready to call for an ambulance. “Sorry,” I croak out between coughs, “I’m not suave.”

This confession has her going from panicked to giggling, dropping to her knees in front of me. “RJ, you don’t need to be suave. You just need to be you,” she says, tears in her eyes from laughter, not fear or sadness, and it’s almost enough to stop my coughing fit.

Almost, but not quite.

Still unable to say anything, Clara takes my hands in hers. “I would love to have that date tonight. Just don’t tell Jansen. He wants to take candid photos and send them to your family in ‘celebration,’ or more likely, to embarrass you.”

Wheezing, I nod, trying to smile.

The longer we stay like this, me coughing, but with her on her knees in front of me, the more I’m reminded of the last time she was on her knees before me, and my breathing gets ragged for an entirely different reason.

And it’s not just me. Clara grows flushed the longer she’s there, her hands moving to my thighs, palms flat, her own breaths shallow. She swallows, and blood floods my dick. It grows hard enough that there’s no way she could miss it, sitting the way she is. Licking her bottom lip, she peers up at me. “We don’t have to do things in a particular order, do we? You know, dinner, movie, kiss at the door? There’s no reason we can’t move the last part of the date to the beginning of the night.”

I finally take a full drink of water and keep it in my mouth. But I’m nodding, agreeing without words, hoping she gets it.

When she stands up and strips off her cardigan and dress, leaving her in her underwear and long socks, it’s obvious that I made sense. Setting the glass aside, I cradle her face as she falls back to her knees in front of me, her eyes dark with intention as she runs her hands up my thighs.

“Sugar, you don’t have to,” I choke out.

“And if I want to?”

Dear God. “Then I’d be having the best first date ever.”

Her smile is equal parts joy and enticement. “Lucky man. Blow job on a first date. Skipping that awkward kiss on the doorstep altogether.” Her fingers loop on my belt buckle, waiting for me to give a nod, then I’m stripped of the clean jeans and underwear I put on for this date. My first. Which is apparently starting at the end.

I hold up a finger, diving across the room for one of her pillows and tossing it down on the floor. “For your knees,” I croak, and the look she gives me, you’d think I’d just bought her a mansion full of running shoes and problems for her to fix. She drags me back to the chair, her hands slipping up the inside of my thighs, and I know I’d get her a pillow any day. And maybe someday a mansion full of all her favorite things on top of it.

I’m painfully hard with the first teasing dance of her fingers on me. Then her tongue strokes me from base to tip, and I feel like I’m choking again, so much pleasure coursing through me. Last time, her attention was divided, and I barely survived those lips wrapped around me. Now, I don’t know how long I’m going to last.

With a smirk, she laps around the head, then feeds my cock into her mouth. And oh. My. God.

I might be cursing, I don’t know, but she’s taking her time, one hand at my base, the other teasing my balls, and I push the chair back so I can perch on the edge, giving her space to do what she’s doing. My fingers dig into the arms of the chair, afraid to touch her, to lose it and force her past what she’s willing to give. But then I feel her throat press around my head as she swallows, and I realize what she’s willing to give is so much more than I’d dreamed.

My hands shake as I sink them into her curls, heavy as I comb them back from her face so I can see. And it’s gorgeous. She’s gorgeous.

She circles her tongue like I’m her favorite lollipop, and goddamn it. My hands tighten around her hair, my hips twitching, and what might be a muffled laugh escapes her as she pulls me deep, so fucking deep, her tongue coaxing along the bottom of my shaft, her lips now past where her fist had held me, her eyes watering as she looks up at me with so much trust and excitement, my balls tingle.

She pulls back once more, but I stop her before she swallows me again. “Sugar, you keep doing that, and I’m coming.”

“Maybe I like the feel of you coming on my tongue.”

Fuck. I twist the ponytail I’ve made, and her eyes darken. “And if I want something else?”

“Then I’m thrilled to find out what it is. ”

My heart pounds as I pull off my shirt, realizing how dumb I probably looked, but not worrying about it when Clara looks like she wants to lick every inch of me, not just my dick.

Although just that was already heaven.

I walk back until I tumble onto her mattress, pulling her down with me, kissing her as soon as she’s close enough. She sprawls across me, grinding against my cock as I kiss her, the cotton of her panties too much for how close I am.

Wasting no time, I strip them off her, her bra following a moment later, but leaving the long socks on. I run my palms over the stiff points of her nipples, and she moans, rolling her hips against me. Then she mirrors me, and it’s my turn to groan. The pleasure zings out from her exploratory touches, and I blink through it to find her inspecting me, like she can’t believe we’re here, doing this, now.

I’m on the same boat, and so ready to be out for the ride.

Wanting to give her pleasure too, wanting to prove to her and myself that I know what I’m doing, I slide down the bed and press an exploratory kiss between her breasts, her ribs expanding as she runs her fingers between my braids. I can’t wait until I get to feel her pulling my hair like I’ve pulled hers, damage be damned.

Every touch of hers is worth whatever the fuck happens after.

We roll so she’s flat on her back, and I lap at one nipple, then the next, enjoying the way she squirms, the little noises she makes that tell me what I’m doing is working for her.

It’s working for me too.

So well, I have to clench her waist to keep from touching myself and ruining it .

Trailing my tongue down to her bellybutton, I draw a damp circle, and when she groans my name, my damn dick twitches.

Sinking lower, I get to the sweet heat of her, her arousal practically pooling as I lap that up too, humming with delight as she rocks against my tongue.

I don’t tease her for long. I can’t, I’m too close, but I lap at her clit until she’s making strangled noises, her thighs clenching under my palms. Then I inch back up her body, finding her panting, eyes half open as she drags me to her mouth, our kiss burning with need.

She pulls back, head tilted. “Are you sure?” she asks, a hint of worry on her brow.

“Completely.”

The worry vanishes, and I sit back on my heels, cock in hand as I stare at her, hair sprawled across the mattress, panting because of what I’ve done to her. Me.

Feeding my cock into her heat is the best torture, hot and wet and so goddamn tight that I forget to breathe, only able to take tiny shifts in and out as I brace myself above her.

Her fingers dig into the muscles of my back, her pelvis rocking, pulling me deeper with every movement, and it’s all I can do not to come before I’m all the way in. But I make it. Barely.

Pausing, I stare down at her, and she seems to know I need a moment, her hands cradling my face, something soft and hopeful about her gaze. She traces my lips, my cheeks, and if I weren’t working so hard not to move a single muscle, I’d do the same to her, becoming intimately familiar with the creases of her lips, with the smattering of dark freckles under her ear, the whimpers she makes as I twitch inside of her.

“I want you, RJ. Don’t hold back on me.”

A humorless laugh burbles up in me. “I want this to be good for you.”

“And I want this to be good for you .”

After a pause, she gives me a look that might make me nervous if it were anyone besides Clara. “I can get myself off. Don’t worry about me.” Her hands stroke down my chest, and I press into her, not able to keep still as they slide lower. She feathers soft kisses across my skin. “Then you can focus on you and not worry about me.”

“This is not a conversation I wanted to have right about now, Clara.”

She rocks into me, her hand slipping between the two of us, two of her fingers bracketing my cock and squeezing so gently, but I groan, as it’s almost too much.

“I don’t see it that way,” she says, teasing where the two of us are joined. “How are we going to have excellent sex if we don’t figure out how to get there? I want you to come so hard you pass out. And apparently you want the same from me. So let’s make that happen.”

“Fuck,” I groan, the back of her hand brushing against me.

She lets out a sigh, her legs falling farther open, and I end up staring at where we’re joined, her fingers making slow circles of her clit. “I don’t want to come before you,” I mutter.

“Then wait. And if you can’t, let me know.”

I swallow, nodding, transfixed by watching her get herself off while I slowly move inside her. And it’s better than anything I could have imagined. We continue like this, my bare movements keeping me right at the edge, her tempo of strokes picking up. Then whatever muscles she has in there clench, and I have to close my eyes, the view plus the sensation overwhelming.

“I’m close,” I bark out, and when I blink my eyes open, she’s gripping one breast, pinching her nipple just the way she’d described on the phone, so hard it looks like it should hurt, but then she moans, her muscles squeezing me so hard I can barely pull out at all, and slamming back in is a fight that throws me over the edge with her.

Curses and praise come in equal measure as I unload into her, both of us seeming to feed off of the other, my arms shaking, barely able to hold myself safely above her.

Then she’s wrapping her arms and legs around me, collapsing me on top of her, kisses trailing up the side of my neck as I almost black out from how fucking good that was.

It seems to last forever, every clench of her muscles making my dick jump, and each spasm from me causing a corresponding squeeze from her. Blinking against the darkness pulling me under, I press my lips to her cheek before giving in to gravity and letting her and the mattress take all my weight. And instead of complaining, she sighs, drawing patterns on my back.

Quiet hums as we both return to something more normal.

More normal, but somehow changed.

Right now, I’m closer to her than I’ve ever been to anyone. And as shitty as it is to even admit in my head, closer to her than I ever thought I would be with any woman. And instead of freaking out like I’d figured I would if I ever had sex, I just feel like I’ve turned into a contented, boneless cat .

Eventually, I’m able to open my eyes, and the motion stirs Clara from where she was, nose pressed against my skin, limbs spiraled around me. “Hey, handsome,” she says, running one hand down the side of my face as she checks on me, eyes bright, happy, sated.

I nuzzle into her hand, not ready for this moment to pass. Instead of answering, I kiss her lightly, hoping that I can somehow say thank you without actually having to say such a stupid thing out loud. But I mean it. This could have been a night I looked back on with embarrassment. Instead, she made it good for both of us. Better than good. Amazing.

I feel amazing. I hope she does too.

She shifts her hips and I hiss, the change in position lighting up nerves in such a way that I can’t tell if it feels good or terrible. Good seems likely. Either way, she freezes. “Sorry, my hip’s cramping. But this is nice, so we can stay like this as long as you want. If you want, that is. Whatever you want. Or need. We’ll do that.”

Grinning, I press a kiss to her lips again to stop her from freaking out further, then pull out, the friction leaving me panting, my dick debating getting hard again.

Then I’m stuck, transfixed by what happens next, my cum slowly pooling onto the sheets. Part of me knows that watching silently is creepy and weird, but I can’t help myself.

I feel Clara’s eyes on me, and she spreads her knees wider, offering me exactly what I inexplicably want.

I did that. To her. Me.

How dumb that I care, but there it is. I glance at her, and she’s watching me, something that looks like a dare on her face. So I take it, plunging two fingers into the mess, listening to her groan as I coax her to a second orgasm, the slickness against my skin created by the two of us. Together.

She shatters quickly, moaning and quaking around my fingers, and then she does the hottest and most inexplicable thing. As I pull out my fingers, she sits up, catching my wrist. Then staring me in the eye, she sucks both of my fingers into her mouth, licking them clean.

I shudder, but I stay half hard, my body apparently needing a break after my best ever orgasm.

When she shifts farther, her tongue sliding along the crease of my lips, I let her in, the combined taste of us making my heart race. “Clara,” I mutter, everything so much, so big, so amazing.

She ducks her head into my neck. “Was that too much? Shoot. It was too much, wasn’t it?”

Awkwardly, I scoop her up and knee walk with her to the other side of the bed, away from the sticky puddle we just made. “Perfect, sugar. You’re perfect.”

She just burrows deeper. “Not perfect. I don’t want to be perfect. Perfect fucked me up.”

“Amazing, then.”

“Amazing I can live with.”

There are probably better words. Fancier ones. But amazing is close enough. So fucking amazing.