“You like it. Don’t lie. Even if it’s what you expected, you’re enjoying this right now. How often did that douchebag make you feel like fucking wasn’t a one-sided chore?” That hit me hard, square in the chest, and seriousness roughened Bruiser’s tone as he released my wrist. Grunting in triumph, he sat back heavily to nod to himself, the shadows in his eyes darkening. “You’re worth more than what’s between your legs, but getting off is pretty important, too. Don’t do yourself a disservice by denying that just because some douchebag didn’t appreciate what came out of your mouth, only what went in it.”
Bruiser was so crass, so blunt, that it was almost uncomfortable. Surely, this wasn’t a conversation to be had at a coffee shop, even though there wasn’t anyone else here but the staff. And that’s not a bad thing, either. He didn’t dance around my input, didn’t brush me off, or act like I was a baby saying words I didn’t understand the meaning of. My mind flung back to the last time I’d had sex with Tom, and Bruiser was right. It was one-sided. It was a chore.
Tom initiated things, but I had to work far too hard to keep it going. And when we were done, he thanked me. You don’t say ‘thanks’ for that. You compliment me, and we cuddle, and maybe, just maybe, if things were that damn good, you’d go back for round two, three, or four. God, that’s the type of relationship I deserved.
“Tell me the truth. At the gas station, what’d you think of me?” It seemed kinda redundant to say that. Bruiser would tell the truth regardless if I explicitly asked for it. That was the kind of man he was. He flexed his hand into a fist, the slivers of scar tissue glistening under the sunlight streaming through the window.
“I didn’t think anything of you, Nicole. Judging strangers is for people with fragile egos. After helping you down the mountain, I told myself if I saw you again, I’d take it as a sign and ask you out. Three’s too many for a coincidence, you know?”
“I wouldn’t take you as a person that believes in fate or whatever,” Bruiser rolled his eyes at my probing, but I couldn’t deny that his explanation was flattering.
“Fate’s a stupid concept, and the religious shit just isn’t for me, not with the things I’ve seen in this life. But I got no problem using either as an excuse because the only other option is . . .” A slippery, shit-eating grin stretched Bruiser’s cheeks as he trailed off. Pointing at me, his smirk cut through the dense atmosphere. “You must’ve stared so hard at my ass you saw my name on a debit card through my wallet and back pocket, and you’re stalking me. I know I’m not stalking you, so . . .”
“Well, I’m not . . . stalking . . . you either.” I sputtered a little, and Bruiser threw back his head and laughed heartily. His deep, shoulder-jerking mirth rattled my teeth, and flame engulfed my face and threatened to melt my cheeks off my skull. Clamping my thighs together as need twisted my abdomen. I covered my face with a clammy palm when Bruiser shot me a playful look. “Y-you’re insufferable, Bruiser.” The only thing I failed to say was just how much I liked it.
Chapter Eleven
Nicole
I gasped when Bruiser’s hard body pinned me against the wall just inside my apartment, and he gripped my shoulder to whirl me around. Hard muscles rippled against me, and I tensed when he wrapped a calloused hand around my throat. Tilting my chin up, Bruiser caught my eyes, his own narrowed and shimmering with ravenous desire.
“Spread your legs.” Bruiser’s demand rolled down my sternum on a hot breath, and my own caught in my throat. Gulping against his palm, my need dribbled down my inner thigh, and embarrassment stained my cheeks scarlet. His eyes flashed, the lines around his mouth deepening as expectation lit up his face. “I said . . . spread your legs.”
Tightening his hand around my neck, Bruiser brushed my jaw with his thumb, and icy prickles raced down from my shoulders. Lifting my leg, I couldn’t breathe past his grip, and his jeans scraped my sensitive skin. My knee brushed his belt before he grabbed my thigh with his free hand. He breathed down my cheek, sending a shiver to lodge between my shoulder blades. Dragging his palm leisurely up my thigh, he reached under to finger my drenched panties.
“Ah.” Sucking in a sharp breath, I clenched my core, and Bruiser grumbled deep in his chest as he stroked my pussy through the fabric. I quaked, my pussy lips throbbing as he closed the distance between us completely. Pinning my hips with his, he released my throat to hike up my other leg, knocking stale air from my lungs. “B-Bruiser . . .”
“That’s right, baby . . . fucking drip that pussy juice.” I almost choked at his vulgar growl, and I shuddered as Bruiser pulled aside my panties. Hoisting me off the floor completely, he finally broke eye contact to glance around, and a light sparked in his eye. “Your living room is almost a hoard of art shit. There’s barely a path.”
“Oh r-right . . . sorry. I didn’t tidy up.” Snapping out of the pink haze, I blushed fiercely as Bruiser smirked broadly. “It’s just the living room. I promise.”
“Uh-huh.” Bruiser made a show of stepping through my living room, hands tight around my thighs, and I wrapped my arm around his broad shoulders. He carefully inched around the canvas protecting the hardwood, and concentration knit his brows.
