Lies On The Lips

Part Eighteen/2 of 2

Cope

It's only breath, but it's his breath. Deep, hot, breathing. Unease settles in my gut as Brett slides off the bed. I watch him carefully, as though he's a viper that might strike when I least expect it. My heart rate skitters like crazy. This man is going to give me a heart attack one day, is what I thought.

His dark brow lifts in a slightly challenging way that used to antagonise me. Now, it sends a thrill surging through me. He's so fucking hot. From his deep brown eyes to messy as fuck hair all the way to his perfectly sculpted chest to his impressive dick that's straining in his boxers.

That damn dick is about to rip me in two, I just know it.

He pulls his boxers down freeing his erection, it bobs in a very real and frightening way. Yet, my mouth waters to have his sweet yet salty taste on my tongue. I like sucking dick, who knew? I sure as hell would never have assumed it would have been something I'd try, much less love. But with Brett, I love it, I love it all, I love him.

A calmness settles over me.

This is right. This is us. It's time to come together in this final way. I feel it'll seal us together as a real couple. In all the ways. Of the flesh, of the heart, of the soul.

I'm drowning in Brett Cooper.

He's pulling me under and it's a descent that makes me crazed with excitement.

Into the unknown. 

Together. 

Forever.

It's right then I realized what I wanted on his chest. Immerse yourself in love. It's a phrase, the same phrase, written twice to signify the two of us, drowning in love.

Brett catches my eyes searing into his chest. "I'll come by tomorrow, you can do it tomorrow."

The trust he gives makes my chest ache. I've been working and practicing at Inked. Lennox says I'm a quick study and is already letting me take on clients. I can't wait to get my hands on Brett and mark him up permanently. Kind of like I wear his purple love marks on my neck continuously for all to see. This will be permanent and a representation of us.

I shove off my boxers and sit up on the bed, my eyes tracking his movements as he grabs the lube and condom. Will he make me hold onto my headboard as he fucks me like I've done many times with him? Will he take it into the bathroom so he can see me in the mirror? Will he do it on the floor? My mind runs a million miles per hour as I try to predict how this will go. "On your back, Cope," he orders, his brown eyes burning with lust.

I frown at him. "You're going to suck me off first?"

He shakes his head at me, motioning with the bottle of lube to lie on my back. So I did and propped my head up with a pillow. Lifting a brow as if to say 'what now' I wait to see what he has planned.

Tauntingly he crawls onto the bed.

"Spread em," he asks, running his knuckles along my hip bone.

"You're not going to fuck me like a girl."

He rolls his eyes at me. "I'm not going to fuck you, Cope."

So he's going to make love to me like a girl. I grit my teeth. Heat burns across my cheeks. Shame has me tearing my eyes from his as I wrench my thighs apart. "This is stupid," I grumble.

"What's stupid is you shooting something down before we've even tried it. Look at me," His firm words have our eyes locked in a heated battle. "You had your fantasy of our first time together, now let me have mine."

Guilt fills me. I'm such an asshole sometimes. A rush of air escapes me, but I nodded at him, trying to get rid of this jittery feeling inside me.

He opens the cap on the lube and pours some onto his fingers, instead of going straight for my ass, he wraps his hands around my dick, stroking in a deliberate way that has a moan tearing from me. Fuck, it doesn't matter how he touches me, each touch better than the last. With each tug of my cock I can't help but lift my hips, seeking out the pleasure. Just as I think he might make me come, he lets go and slides his hand over my balls. I groan at the sensation. Then, his slippery fingers glide past my ball to my ass. From experience I know it'll burn at first. But instead of pushing inside, he barely brushes my hole.

I clench out of habit, but he doesn't enter me. Letting out a frustrating breath, I give him a challenging glare. The bastard simply grins at me, teasing me. When I'm about to tell him to quit fucking with me, his fingertip presses just hard enough to breach me. The familiar burn sends excitement through me. "Tell me what you want," he utters, his voice husky.

"You,"

His lips lift on one side. "And where do you want me?" He teases more, pulling his finger in and out of me.

"Right, there."

"Right where?"

"In my ass," I growl.

"My fingers?"

When I narrowed my eyes at him, he flashed me a smile and pushed his finger all the way in. I clenched my jaw, ignoring the sting. "I want your dick in me," I rasp out, desperate for what he's offering. Blindly I pat the bed beside me for the condom and grab it, tearing it open and handing it to him. For someone who's technically never had to use a condom in his entire life, he certainly rolls it on like he's a seasoned sex god. I watch with rapt attention as the condom sticks to his veiny dick. It makes me want to peel it away with my teeth so I can suck him off.

"That's it," he murmurs, urging another finger into me. "You're going to feel so damn good, Cope."

His words ignited a fire in the pit of my stomach. I want him to burn me with his words, with his dick. I want him so badly I can hardly stand it. "Now, please," I plead.

"You say stop, and I'll stop," he whispered, pulling his fingers from me. "Ready," he asks, coating his dick with lube.

I nod, fully trusting his vow. "Go. Right now, I'm begging you to go."

He smiles as he lines himself up to my hole. The moment he starts pushing inside me, panic rises through me. "Eyes here, Cope," he commands, jerking my attention to him.

With incredible patience, he slowly pushed all the way in. My body was on fire, sweat started to glaze my skin. "Ahh, shit…" I clenched out.

"You, want me to stop?"

I smiled and brought my fingers to his face. "Never, never stop." With that he was all the way inside me. "So, full…" I was already breathless and dying for him to give it to me.

"I'm...sorry," he said hushed, bringing his lips to mine. "I'm already on edge, Cope. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Now do it and make me come." All seconds turn into minutes. He grips my hips and pulls out to slam in, I moan out. The burn was still there, but so was something else. A feeling of ecstasy. It rushed through me with each push then pull. My hands grabbed his back, tight as he gave me everything. Everything he is, poured into me. Love. Adoration. Trust. Warmth. Forever.

"Fuck…" He hissed out, then slammed his lips over mine. He's going to come, I'm going to come.

He grabs my dick and with that my orgasm washes through me and I come, at both ends. Like fireworks in my dick and ass. I can't contain myself and grip onto him with such force I felt my fingers scrape at the skin on his back which encouraged his pace. Then a roar left him, his body shook and he came. Fuck! I thought. I wish I could feel his hot come inside me, then he stills between my legs and buried his face in my neck. "I'm...sorry, Cope. I couldn't stop."

"I love you." He lifts up slightly and smiles. "Really love you."

"I love you, forever," his voice breathy. "That was the best moment of my entire life," he breathes hotly against my skin.

I turn away from him, smiling because it tickles, and my stare locks on the open door. A chill settles in my bones. We shut the door.

We shut the door.

We shut the….

Crash!!!

Brett jolts upright, his eyes darting to the door. "Who the fuck opened the door?"

Another crashing sound.

Neither of us waits around. Both of us scrambled out of bed, fumbling for our clothes. With a pinch at his tip he ripped the condom off and rushed into the bathroom and shot back to me and pulled on his sweatpants. We both rush from the room.

When I made it into the kitchen first, to the source of the sound, my chest hollows out.

Dad.

He's not on his flight to London.

No, he's here and he probably just saw...I can't even finish that thought.

His arm swipes out knocking the coffee pot on the floor, coffee exploding everywhere.

"Dad!" I bellow. "Calm down!" Brett's right behind me as my dad rages in the kitchen.

Dad swivels round, his face beet red with anger. "You," he says and points a finger our way. "You sick mother fucker."

"Leave him alone," I snap.

Dads lips curl in disgust as he rakes his eyes down my chest. "I wasn't talking about you, Copeland. You're the sick mother fucker here."

I tense, feeling the impact of every single one of his words. Brett pushes past me and squares his shoulders with my dad's.

"Bryan," Brett growls. "You're out of line."

My dad sneers at him. "Me? I'm out of line? My flights canceled and I come home to find the neighbor fucking my son. No, I'm not out of line. I'm disgusted."

Dread washes over me, like the many times when my dad spits hateful words at me, I'm left tongue tied and upset. I'd most probably think of a million comebacks when I'm upstairs, but in his face, there's nothing at all.

"W...what, w...we did…" I stuttered, trying to explain what just happened.

"You know," dad interrupts. "When I thought you'd knocked up Leah. Like my son was sticking it to those assholes," his lip curls up. "But you're just a whore, like your mother. Fucking everything in sight. I bet if you still had that dog, you'd fuck that too."

Brett shoves dad that hard he stumbled over, just missing his head with the kitchen counter. He recovers quickly, face red with anger. "He's not a whore," Brett defends me, his tone icy.

Dads turns his stare on Brett. His features soften for him. Pity gleams in his eyes. "You're throwing your life away for my son, Brett. When this gets out…"

Bretts stiffens, his back muscles Flexing. "My dad doesn't know."

"See it remains that way," my dad says to him coolly. "I'm disappointed that you let my son get into your head and corrupt you."

"He didn't corrupt me," Brett spits out. "If anyone corrupted anyone, it was me who corrupted him."

Rage burns in my gut. "He didn't corrupt me. I love him," I tell my father bravely. "I always have," the moment the words leave my mouth I feel braver, stronger, taller.

Dad's head cocks to one side. "Get the hell out of my house."

"What?" I hiss.

"You heard me, get out of my house and leave the damn car. Take the clothes on your back and get the fuck out." His face reddens to the point I think his head may explode. Then he turns his attention to Brett. "If you knew what was good for you, you'd run, son. Get as far away from my fucked up son as you can get. Marry that damn girl for all I care, but don't let my son take you down a path you'll never come back from."

With those words, he storms off.

Fire burns in my chest. A cacophony of shame, fury, relief. Then, Brett launches himself into my arms, hugging me tight.

"Everything's going to be okay," he reassures me, kissing my neck. "I fucking promise."

I swallow the huge ball of emotion in my throat. My dad may have made me cry when I was a kid, but not now. Not ever again. "He can take away everything," I mutter. "But as long as I have you, I know everything will be okay."

That's the damn truth, I've never felt surer of anything in my life, Brett is all I ever need and want.