One More Time (Bremmy 1)

Chapterish 59

The desire is in his eyes, crawling out from the depths where he tried and failed to suppress it. He craves me like he's trying to escape starvation. I feel his fingers come out and his hands grip my waist. It would hurt if it were normal circumstances –if my nerves weren't already blazing –if the endorphins weren't already coursing through my veins.

My lips are sticky from the heat, from his lips, from his fingers. The red haze and the perfumed candles have suddenly made the library feel very confined.

He lifts me into him and carries me to the open curtains –to the French doors. A click and they open; the cold air is fresh air.

The library must be on the backside of the house. This is my first thought for the balcony does not overlook the back courtyard. There is no teeming fountain or glow of bulb string-lights. I can hardly hear the music anymore. Instead I hear the trees whispering their harmonies on the wind. The air is chilled, welcoming us with smells of snow and smoke.

The moonlight casts tall shadows over the empty ground below. Brooks drops me against the ivy-riddled wall, cornering me like some ravenous predator.

The way he looks at me like that drives me wild. My palms glide down his chest to his pants. I can't undo his belt fast enough. His fingers flip the hem of my dress. Brooks lifts me again, pressing me against the wall, into the wall. Shaking, his hands grab in the stone groves on either side of our little alcove. I'm pinned to the wall with only our waists holding me up –with only him holding me up.

"Jay," I whimper into his hair.

I can hardly breathe, but I welcome the suffocation. Maybe it's not suffocation at all. Maybe I've just always been breathing wrong.

We move like you see in the movies. Not the shitty rom-com movies from the 2000s with the exaggerated sex scenes, but the true movies. The classics. It's like I'm experiencing him for the first time. And I want to savor every second.

The beads of sweat shimmering on his bare chest.

The way his hair turns deep raven under the moonlight.

The way it cascades over his forehead with every push into me.

His deep breaths and hoarse voice when he says my name.

Everything we are saying without words.

The unspoken promise we are making to each other.

I want to savor it all.

My legs are locked around him, keeping myself perfectly in place. I can feel him pressing on every side of me, moving in small circles, groaning into my ear.

"Em, Em," He sighs against me.

He grips the stone tighter. He moves deeper. Deeper than I thought was possible. I think for a second I might burst. I might break open and seep all over the wall.

"Fuck," I pant, breathing hard against his ear.

He nuzzles into my neck and kisses it, almostbiting. He's starving again. I bite my own lip to keep from screaming.