Page 92 of The Breaking Point
He was shaking his head at me. “Dammit, Grace.” He lifted me up and kissed me so hard that it almost felt like he was angry with me.
Or maybe he was just angry with himself.
“Fuck it. We already broke the rules tonight. I’m not going to let you go home without my mouth on you,” he said.
He carried me to his bedroom and laid me on his bed. He stripped off my jeans and panties with alarming speed. If I weren’t so desperate for him, I might’ve been afraid.
He parted my thighs and gazed at my pussy for so long that I squirmed. “What are you staring at?” I asked.
“You’re beautiful.” He parted my pussy lips and groaned. “You’re dripping already. Did sucking my cock turn you on, baby?”
I nodded. He sighed and then leaned down to lick me from taint to clit.
I squealed. I’d never had a guy go down on me before. I’d imagined it, dreamed about it, wondered what it would be like, but nothing could compare with the real thing.
Brady buried his face in my pussy and went to work. He licked and sucked at my clit as he pushed a finger inside me. I writhed, the pleasure nearly unbearable.
“Oh God, I’m going to come too fast,” I complained.
Brady’s eyes crinkled. “Is that a bad thing?”
I didn’t get a chance to answer. He just kept licking and sucking until I couldn’t breathe. When he hooked his finger upward inside me, my eyes flew open at the burst of pleasure.
“Oh my God,” I moaned. I was humping his face to the point that he had to use his arm to keep my hips on the bed.
“Come all over my face,” he commanded. He increased the pressure of his fingers against my G-spot. “Come for me, Grace.”
I didn’t have to be told twice. I came with a scream as my body was wracked by the intensity of my orgasm. Brady growled, holding me down harder as he kept my orgasm going for as long as he could.
I was panting when Brady took me into his arms. I vaguely heard the sound of a phone ringing.
“Ignore it,” Brady said.
But his phone kept ringing, and ringing, and then it started ringing again. Brady swore and pulled his phone from his pocket, answering the call with a gruff, “What is it?”
He was silent for a long moment. I sat up, concerned, watching a variety of expressions move across his face.
After he hung up, he said, “It’s my mom. She’s dying.”
BRADY
When Grace told me she was coming with me to Las Vegas, I didn’t have the strength to tell her no. And as we drove to the hospital, I couldn’t help but be thankful that she was with me.
Mom’s nurse said she had only days left. When I’d called the nurse after we’d gotten into town, the nurse had told me that Mom was hanging on.
“I think she’s waiting for you to say goodbye,” the nurse had said, her voice kind.
I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t want to believe that this was truly the end.
How many times had Mom gotten so sick that the doctors had thought this was it? Too many to count.
Then again, there’d always been the hope that if Mom turned her life around, she would recover. But now that wasn’t the case.
It was too late for her to get over the addiction that had destroyed her life.
“Am I a bad person?” I asked Grace. “Because I don’t want to go to the hospital at all.”
Grace looked surprised. “You’re not a bad person. Of course you don’t want to see your mom sick.”