Crazy Thing (The Brighton Family #5)

Chapter 20

20

ZIGGY

D on’t ask me to explain myself.

What I’m doing makes no sense.

But I’m kissing Darius Brighton. I’m kissing him and I’m pulling him closer and I’m kissing him some more.

This was his plan all along, wasn’t it? He lured me here to this starlit rooftop so he could fuck me. Fuck me and forget me by the morning. And here I am, basking in the trap he set for me.

Because no man I know kisses like this. No-one has ever touched me like this. My body has never responded this way to anyone else’s.

He grips my waist with firm hands, pulling me flush against his solid body with possessive ferocity. My attention zeroes in on the part of his anatomy that lays heavily against my belly. Thick and long and rigid. I press closer to him, needing a better feel, and his cock juts out, twitching against me.

Oh god. He’s rockhard. For me.

I moan, melting instantly, and his tongue delves into my mouth. The kiss is desperate, messy, unapologetic. I kiss him like I’m searching for something I’ve never had before. He kisses me like I’m the only one who can give him what he needs in this very moment.

His hands glide down the slope of my back in a slow, agonizing movement before finally nestling the curve of my ass.

His heart is pounding as he touches me. I can feel the way his ribcage rattles against my own. I can feel the hesitation in his fingertips. “Do you want me to touch you like this?” His deep, low voice shakes.

Letting my head fall backward, I respond with a pleading sound that rises up in the quiet air.

With my head tilted to this angle, Darius has full access to my neck now. His lips find my throat and he nibbles a path from my jaw down to my clavicle. “Say it, Ziggy. Tell me.” His quivering words lash hotly against my pebbled skin.

Shit—is he as nervous as I am?

“Yes…Touch me…” I tremble under his hands. “Touch me like that.”

He splays his fingers and he delicately squeezes my ass in his palms. Then he gives one cheek a solid smack. My flesh jiggles in his hand, sending ripples to my pussy. A moan flows from me.

Growling quietly, his kisses trail back up to my face and his palm soothes the place where he just swatted me.

Little rockets of arousal shoot through my system, some exploding in my breasts, the rest detonating at my core. “Yes…” I breathe out again. “Yes…Yes…”

Darius takes my shameless moans as consent, and his hesitation falls away. He allows his hands to roam more freely .

My back. My hips. My breasts. My thighs.

He squeezes and massages and strokes my body as his mouth sucks and kisses and nibbles on my skin.

“So goddamned sexy.” There’s a reverent note in his low rasp. “I want more of you.”

A little whimper leaves my throat. It’s embarrassing, really. But it only stokes Darius on. A beam of lust twinkles in his eyes one second before his lips greedily cover mine again.

Tangled up in the electricity between us, I fling my arms around his neck, holding him against me. The kiss is forceful and delicious and passionate, causing a lightning storm to gather at my core.

Darius urgently walks me backward until my spine is pressed against the terrace’s concrete railing. The cold seeps through the flannel shirt that he wrapped me up in earlier.

With my body caged against the wall, Darius pulls out of the kiss and he stares hungrily at me. I shiver again, my breath getting hitched in my throat. There’s so much lust in his eyes. It’s absolutely terrifying.

It’s terrifying because I want him just as ferociously as he seems to want me.

His massive hand curves around the back of my neck, the tip of his thumb tracing my bottom lip as he stares at my mouth in awe.

“Fuck, Ziggy,” he groans huskily.

His strong thigh nudges its way between mine, grazing against my core. It’s a natural instinct, the way my hips bare down, the way my pelvis rocks against his thigh, chasing contact and friction.

Meanwhile, his big hands smooth up the curve of my back. “You have no idea what I want to do to you. I can’t…I can’t even find the words…” When he reaches the knot of my b ikini top, his fingers grab hold of both ends of the string and he hesitates again.

My chest heaves. My breasts ache. “Show me…” I whimper. “Show me what you want to do to me…”

The instant I say that, his lips are on me again, licking and sucking on my neck as his impatient hands struggle with the strings of my bikini top.

I’m not cold anymore. In fact, I’m sweating. The heat of this lust between us is burning me up. I’m shrugging my shoulders, letting his flannel shirt fall away.

As soon as I’m free of all that fabric, Darius is devouring my breasts, worshipping my nipples, scraping his stubble along my sensitive flesh.

He squeezes my spheres together, pressing his face into the valley and breathing me in. “Perfect…” he mumbles against my chest. “You are absolutely perfect…”

My brain struggles to process what that word means. It tries to remind me of the way this man hurt me in the past. If I’m so damn perfect, why did he treat me the way he did?

But I shut that noise down. Instead, I sink my fingers into his hair, holding him against me. Dropping my weight against the concrete railing, I toss my head back and groan. Long and loud, not caring who might hear me in the distance.

I’m arching my breasts up to his face. Moving my hips in rhythm with his. Grinding my pelvis on his leg. Making my clit sing. All the while, my need for release climbs. I’m an absolute mess.

“Yeah. Ride my leg, Fairy Girl. Rub yourself on me.” He guides my rolling hips as he fucks my breasts with his mouth. “You must be so damn wet. I want to feel how fucking wet you are.”

“Yes,” I moan senselessly into the air. “Yes, I want that. ”

His hand grasps the hem of my skirt, dragging the fabric up around my waist. Then I feel his fingertips trail along the edge of my upcycled spandex bikini bottoms.

His lips are warm and soft when they sweep along the lobe of my ear. “Let me touch you… there. ” His palm cups my mound.

My eyes roll into my head at the half-command, half-plea. “Darius…” I cry quietly.

But suddenly, I’m not sure that I want to let him get so close to me. He’s going to destroy me again. He’s going to devastate me. And what about my pledge to not give a man access to my body unless we’re both on the same emotional wavelength?

Just do it. Just this once. Just one time. Because although I’ve refused to admit it to myself, I’ve craved Darius’s hands and lips on me for so long. Do it, just once.

His tongue sweeps along the sensitive skin beneath my ear. “I can make you feel good, Ziggy. I can make you come on my fingers, on my mouth.”

I whimper and writhe at the promise.

“Say yes, Fairy Girl. Let me touch you and give you at least one reason not to hate me so much anymore.”

I’m just about ready to combust.

It’s blindingly clear that I don’t have the self-control to refuse his offer. I spread my knees wider, grabbing his hand and guiding it between my legs. “God. Yes, Darius. Touch me there.”

Grinning, he tugs on the strings of my bikini bottoms and the soaked fabric falls to my feet.

Time slows to a halt when he slips his finger along the crease of my pelvis and ventures further between my legs. Every nerve ending registers the gentle sweep of his fingertip as it grazes my pussy lips, as it skates through my folds, as it sinks that first delicious inch into my hole.

“Darius!” I grip his thick, strong shoulders and gasp his name.

He groans low and primal.

“More…” I beg, widening my stance to give him better access.

“Fucking hell…” he whispers as if awestruck, and he sinks his finger deeper inside me, knuckle deep.

I writhed some more, feeling the way my temperature rises and my wetness flows out.

Darius lifts his face, locking his honey eyes on mine. “Another finger?”

I’m panting now, my breaths coming out in hot, quick bursts. I nod.

The man obliges, stuffing me with a second long, thick digit. I buck my hips, losing my rhythm, losing my dignity, losing my self-control. I’m still gripping his shoulders, my fingernails sinking into his solid muscles now.

He alternates between kissing my lips and sucking on my breasts with his skilled mouth. And even with all the fabric bunched up at my waist, even with the awkward position he’s holding me in, Darius manages to apply pressure to my clit with his thumb while he drills into me with two confident fingers.

His lust drunk eyes find mine under the starlit sky. He studies my every reaction. So intent. So focused. Like my body is a new language he’s eager to learn.

He’s handling me with such reverence, watching me like I’m beautiful. But I won’t fall for this ruse. Because I know the truth. He’s just lost in the heat of the moment. And when it’s all over, he’ll put distance between us again. We’ll be strangers just like before .

The thought of it almost throws me off-balance and snaps me out of my haze.

But I can do this. If I just set my emotions aside, I can do it.

“You like that?” Darius asks, his hand moving faster now.

I swallow. I nod.

“Yeah. Just like that,” he mutters when I start rocking my pelvis, squeezing down on his digits. “Yeah. Ride my hand just like that, Ziggy.”

His stare is too intense. His touch is too intense. Even the labored way he’s breathing, like he’s barely holding himself back. I can’t take it.

If I read anything into the way he’s handling this moment, I might start feeding myself lies. Lies about feelings. I might start attaching an emotional meaning to the physical act that’s unfolding between us tonight.

I whimper again, my eyelids falling closed.

“No,” he rasps out firmly, and my eyes quickly flash open. “No, don’t close your eyes. I want to see your pretty face when I do this …”

He curls his fingers. Right against my G-spot.

And my entire world unravels.

The flash of arrogance that bolts across his face tells me that he knows. Before I can even make a sound, he knows that I’m coming apart.

My cries become erratic and Darius covers my mouth with his, greedily swallowing my sounds. And I ride, ride, ride his hand as a devastating orgasm shakes its way through me.

My eyeballs roll. My toes curl. I break out into a hot sweat. And euphoria sparks at my core.

Darius keeps going and going and going until I collapse, limp against his chest .

And then, I’m vaguely aware of him pressing kisses to my lips and scooping me up in his arms. Startled by his sudden movement, I brace my noodle-like arms around his neck as he moves toward the couches on the other side of the rooftop, carrying my dead weight like it’s nothing.

I’m trying to make sense of the strange turn this night has taken. I’m trying to remember how I ended up topless and sweaty, wearing nothing but my favorite peasant skirt as Darius caries my orgasm-riddled body across a secluded terrace under the moonlight.

A tiny part of me is suddenly terrified. Is he already done with me? Now that he’s had his way with me, is he about to close the door between us and shut me out again?

Shit—this is what I get for breaking my promise to myself. I swore I’d never again give my body to a man who’s not interested in a meaningful connection with me, a connection that goes beyond physical pleasure. Tonight, I did the exact opposite, and now Darius is about to discard me again.

When he sits me down, I feel the rough fabric of the couch beneath my ass. I prop my weak body against the arm of the couch and try to recover my senses.

“Darius…” I whimper, my head still fuzzy from my orgasm.

He crawls over me, a million stars shining over his broad shoulders. “Can you take another?” he’s whispering to me.

I try to make sense of his words in my blurry mind. “Wh-what…?”

Pulling off his T-shirt and carelessly tossing it aside, his eyes remain focused on me. Only me. “I want to make you come again. Can you handle that?”

Without thinking, my hands are on his body, exploring the muscular planes of his sculpted chest. Oh, god—the man’s body is glorious. Toned and tattooed. Bronzed and so, so smooth.

The sound I make is completely unintelligible so I settle for nodding my head. I don’t think. I don’t analyze. I don’t let my brain drag me off into the uncertain future.

I stay in the now. And in the now, I want Darius all over me again.

With the grin of a winner, he tugs my skirt down my legs and finally, I’m completely naked.

Kneeling between my open thighs, Darius spreads me wide and slowly drags a finger through my aching seam. “Dammit—look at these pretty pink petals, all silky and wet for me.”

He unbuckles his jeans, unzipping them before sliding his hand into his boxers and slowly stroking down the length of his erection. My mouth waters, curiosity prodding me, reminding me how much I want to discover his body, to explore.

But right now, Darius is intent on exploring me.

The cushions dip under his weight as he kneels between my open thighs, gazing at my needy womanhood, teasing my folds with his fingers.

“Get over here.” Grabbing my waist, he falls onto his back, pulling me along with him. He drops his head against the other arm of the couch and yanks me up the length of his body. “Sit on my face,” he commands.

I’m not sure how it happens, but the next thing I know, my pussy is hovering above Darius’s mouth and he’s leaning up to lick along one edge of my labia. Then the next.

“Ah! Damn!” I gasp at the startling pleasure.

Darius grins smugly before sucking my clit into his mouth. That first little tug of his lips is a shocking sensation that makes me cry out. I squirm. When his tongue joins the fun, I scream again. Darius grabs my ass, pulling me closer, seating my pussy on his face and he begins to feast.

All I can do is grab the back of the couch with one hand and grab a handful of his hair with the other. I hold on as if for dear life and I ride. Sensations I’ve never felt before course through my body.

Physical sensations, of course. The tingle of my aching breasts, the fire growing steadily at my core, the fog inside my head. But it’s the growing feeling inside my chest that scares me the most. What is this man doing to me?

Meanwhile, Darius is busy groaning into my pussy like I’m the one doing him a favor. Like the pleasure is all his own.

“Darius…” I murmur his name, scraping my nails across his scalp when his tongue traces a reckless path through my folds, from my clit to my opening all the way to my rear hole.

Oh my god.

I get hypnotized by the ravenous look in his eyes, the feral smirk on his face as he devours me like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

My legs are shaking, one wedged against the side of the couch, the other foot planted on the floor. His big hands squeeze my thighs, holding them apart as he works.

“Oh, Darius!” My fingers lock tighter in his silky hair.

“Keep saying my name,” he encourages me. “Keep rocking those gorgeous hips. Keep making those sweet little noises for me, Fairy Girl.”

This is such a bad idea. For a million and one reasons.

Darius and I have nothing in common. We’re complete opposites. We don’t hold the same values or believe in the same things. He worships money. He puts success on a pedestal. Meanwhile I try to focus my life around the intangible things that money can’t buy.

Plus, he’s my boss. I’m his assistant. Could we be more clichéd?

But most importantly of all, our history has already proven that things could never work out between us. He’s already hurt me. Am I just setting myself up for heartache in the long run?

The future seems to be the last thing on Darius’s mind, though. He seems perfectly content to enjoy the here and now. He takes his time between my thighs, tasting and touching and driving me mad.

His mouth is moving faster now. He’s stimulating my clit with long, hard, greedy sucks.

“Oh…Oh, Darius. It’s…I…”

I hear the confidence in his voice. “I know. You’re about to come.” His eyes twinkle wickedly. “Now, scream my name. Scream my name like a good girl.”

Gripping my thighs to hold me in place, he buries his face between my open legs and finishes me off. With his lips and his tongue and his fingers.

I’m coming again, riding out my pleasure on his lashing tongue. “Darius!” I cry out into the night. “Oh, Darius. Fuck. Yes. Darius-s-s-s-s!”

“That’s it…” he groans into my pussy. “Atta girl…”

My cries are his fuel, giving him determination and stamina. He keeps going and going and going. He doesn’t stop eating me, letting me get every little bit of the friction that I need. Every bit of self-control that I had is gone as I howl his name up at the moon.

When I’m completely spent, I fling myself to the other end of the couch, propping my skull against the back cushion. I blink up at the sky, trying to come back into my body .

Darius shifts so he’s sitting beside me. Wiping his wet lips with the back of his hand, he stares at me with the self-satisfaction of a pirate who just discovered a lost treasure chest at the bottom of the sea. His expression is smug and contented and awestruck at the same damn time.

“That was…you were…that was fucking amazing, Ziggy.” Grabbing my face in his hands, he kisses me softly. I taste myself on his tongue. It’s so sensual. So erotic.

As floaty as I am, somehow having his lips on mine brings me back down to earth.

The fairy lights twinkle overhead like fireflies dancing in the dark and my head is spinning.

And my heart is wide open. Oh, shit .

I just allowed this man to use my body. I went against the things I believe in.

Venus and Mars dance in the distance, surrounded by a scattering of stars. The moment feels quasi-divine.

But it’s not. It’s nothing. We’re nothing. And I won’t delude myself into thinking otherwise.

“Darius…?”

Smiling drunkenly, he strokes his hand up and down my back. “Yeah, Fairy Girl.”

I hold my breath. “We shouldn’t do that again.”