Page 21 of Cocky Brutal Sinner

Five years and I've never been caught. Not once. Not by Luke, not by my mother, not by the gossip mill or at any of the four restaurants we've fucked in. There's a part of me—a part I'm not proud of—that thinks I'm the kind of man who gets to keep this.

Who gets the girl and the friends and the family. I should know better. I'm half Italian. I grew up Catholic. I know only a cocky sinner thinks the rules don't apply to him.

I’m that kind of man anyway.

6

BRINLEY

Beau kicks my bedroom door shut behind him and grabs me by the hips, pulling me against him and setting his forehead against mine. I reach for the hem of his shirt, ready to pull it over his head, but he captures my wrists.

“Wait,” he murmurs. “Just—give me a minute.”

He pulls my hands up to his chest. Feeling the swell of his muscles under his tight shirt, I’ve got no complaints. His eyes flutter shut and he takes a long, slow inhale.

“Fuck, Brinley baby. I wish I could bottle up your smell and carry it around with me.”

Warmth spreads through my chest. “You can always get a bottle of my perfume. Much more portable.”

His full lips raise into a smile. “It’s not the perfume. It’s you.” His hands roam up my sides. God, I love how big his hands are—how big he is. Beau isn’t just taller than me. Between his obsessive gym sessions and all the time he spends lugging crates around industrial kitchens, his body is a work of art. It makes me feel tiny being folded up against him.

He walks me back toward my bed, our breath mingling as our lips brush lightly against each other’s. Not quite a kiss, not yet. Like he wants to know he can kiss me, but he wants to save the moment.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” Beau says, his hands tracing the edges of my breasts through my shirt. My nipples pebble through my bra, aching for his touch.

“Me too.” I reach for the hem of his shirt again, but Beau stops me again by taking a step back.

“You first.” His deep brown eyes are thunderstorm-dark as his gaze travels over my fitted jeans and snug T-shirt. It always steals my breath, the way he looks at me like he’s starving for me, even after all these years.

I make a show of slowly tugging my shirt up over my head. Beau’s gaze follows every inch of exposed skin, and his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip as I reach back for the clasp on my bra. Heat rises in my cheeks as Beau palms his hardening cock through his pants while he watches me.

His gaze gets hotter when I unbutton my pants and shimmy my jeans down my legs. There was a time when I was self-conscious about my wide hips and thick thighs, but Beau’s made it clear from the beginning they’re his favorite parts of my body. I run my fingers along my bare legs while he strokes himself.

“Panties now, Brinley baby,” he says, his voice ragged.

I grin wickedly and turn around, showing off my ass as I drag my panties off and step out of them. The sound Beau makes is somewhere between a moan and a growl.

“Fuck, that’s a beautiful sight,” he mutters, and I glance over my shoulder at him.

“Your turn.”

He pulls his henley off slow. Like he's giving me a show. Like he knows exactly what watching him strip does to me and he's going to make me earn every inch of it. From his cocky grin, he absolutely knows it.

“Take a good long look, baby,” he says, low. “I worked hard for this body.”

His pants follow, leaving him completely bare for me. His cock stands up, hard and proud, pre-cum glistening at the tip.

He sits back on the edge of the bed and spreads his legs. “Come here,” he says, extending a hand.

Happily, I straddle his lap, reveling in the heat radiating off him. He reaches for my messy bun, tugging out the pins until my hair hangs loose around my shoulders. He plunges his fingers into it and drags my lips to his.

Beau’s familiar taste makes my blood sing, my body immediately anticipating what’s coming—heated touches, breathless kisses, teeth scraping, the thick cock under me finding its way home.

I dig my fingers into his shoulders, feeling the ripples of muscles. He grabs my hips and pulls me tighter against him, the hard line of his cock grinding against my core. Hot wetness seeps from me as a fire ignites low in my belly. I rock my hips again, chasing that fire. Stoking it.

Beau’s hands move everywhere, twisting in my hair, then clutching my ass, then playing with my breasts. The whole time, our tongues move against each other in a slow, practiced dance. My blood burns with desire. I want to sink down on his cock at the same time I want Beau to keep playing with my body, touching and torturing me.

Then he turns, flipping me back down on the bed like I weigh nothing. He hovers above me, gazing down at my face. I raise my head to kiss him, but he stops me again with a thumb on my lower lip.