Originally, when I was writing Brutal Secret, Reid said too much too soon. After writing it, I realized it wasn't the right timing, but I still love the scene so here it is:
(This scene would have taken place after New Year's Eve, when Reid and Lina spent a few days together secluded in his apartment, between chapters 23 and 24)
Play here for the audio version, narrated by Vanessa Edwin
Lina
Despite my best attempts to keep it at bay, an orgasm starts gathering like a brutal storm inside me.
Panicking, I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “What do you call a beehive with no exit?”
Reid’s rhythm slows, and his brows crease in confusion. “Uh…what?”
“Are you asking what as in what’s the answer or what as in what am I talking about?”
“The last one.”
“It’s a joke. Guess the answer.”
His new speed does nothing to ease the build pleasure inside me. It turns out I’m very responsive to his dick. Two full days of orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. Sometimes, I swear, he barely has to touch me, and I’m skyrocketing. I know how hard it is for some women to “get there”, and I’m not complaining or taking this ability for granted. Truly I’m not.
It’s just that too many O’s in a row sends me into a coma for several hours, and I don’t want to sleep through today. Not when it’s potentially the last day we have together.
So I’ve turned to an old familiar standby for distraction—dad jokes.
“Um, okay. What do you…?” He wipes a bead of sweat off his brow. “I don’t even remember what you asked.”
“What do you call a beehive with no exit?”
“Okay, tell me.”
“Unbelievable.”
Though he’s banging me from behind, I can see the confusion on his face in the reflection. A little bit of adoration, too. Or maybe that’s me projecting.
Either way, it’s a fantastic position—I’m leaning over the back of his living room armchair, which is in front of a full-length mirror, and he’s plowing into me from behind. Both of us are gloriously naked. Glorious because naked Reid is my new favorite thing.
Correction, it was my new favorite thing until just a few minutes ago when I discovered watching his dick pull out and disappear inside me is my new favorite thing. I mean, it’s really fucking hot.
Probably why I’m so close to orgasm, even without any clit stimulation.
“Unbeelievable. I get it. That’s…that’s…funny.” He doesn’t sound amused. “Jesus, how are you still so tight?”
“I’m currently doing kegels. Can you feel me squeezing?” Another reason I’m probably so close to exploding, but hey. I want it to be good for him.
“Very…yes. Keep doing that.” He rubs my ass with his palm. “You feel so good around my cock right now, baby girl.”
Oh, God. When he says shit like that, I’m a goner.
My brain isn’t at optimum working power, but I wrack it for another wisecrack. “Why are balloons so expensive?” I squeak out, fighting hard to ignore the bliss that is Reid’s cock.
“I…nope. No idea.”
“Inflation.” I’m concentrating too hard to add the ba dum ching out loud, but I sure as hell think it in my head.
“Is there a reason you’re telling jokes right now?”
“Reidgasm prevention.”
“I don’t even know if I want to ask.”
It’s obvious, as far as I’m concerned, but I explain all the same. “Distraction. So I don’t cum. I’m trying to hold out.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone try to avoid an orgasm.”
“Too sleepy. Don’t want it.” He changes his angle, and that almost does it right there. “Fuck. Why are you so good at sexing? It’s a real problem.”
The way his pelvis rocks against me with his laugh should be illegal.
I tighten my grip on the armchair and let out a deep breath. It doesn’t feel good. It doesn’t feel good. It doesn’t—
“Reach back with your left hand,” Reid commands.
I do it, but I’m a curious girl. “Why?”
He twists my arm so that my forearm is resting across my lower back. “I need to see your tits.”
I glance over at the mirror, and sure enough, now I’m opened up and my breasts can clearly be seen bouncing in our reflection as he pounds into me. It’s porn-level filthy.
“Shit. I’m going to come. Uh…uh…” Why is it so hard to think while on the edge of bliss? “Oh! What do you call a cow that’s rude?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
I realize all of a sudden that using bad jokes to distract me from coming might have the unexpected side effect of also distracting Reid from coming. “Never mind, never mind. Forget I asked. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
For the next full minute, the only sounds are our heavy breathing and the slapping of his pelvis against the back of my thighs.
And I know that it’s a full minute because I decide to silently count seconds as a substitute diversion.
“Goddammit,” he mutters on second sixty-one. “Now I have to know. What do you call a rude cow?”
“Beef jerky.”
Another laugh. Full belly this time. “Fuck, Lina. I love you.”
My heart jumps out of my throat, and just like that my orgasm is poof, gone.
I turn toward him, letting his cock fall out of me. “No. Absolutely not.”
He has the nerve to look like he has no idea what I’m talking about. “What?”
To be fair, maybe he doesn’t.
Suddenly feeling vulnerable, I cross my arms over my chest, not that it hides much when I’m literally naked. “Look, in the heat of the moment, things are said. I get it. But this is a boundary for me. The L-word cannot be thrown around lightly. It’s just too…too…” I try to articulate what it is that I feel about the word and why I feel it, and I’m smacked with the realization that I think I’m falling in love with Reid.
But hell. I can’t say that.
“It’s just too real,” I say. “With real consequences. And we haven’t even had our talk yet.” Mentally, I’ve scheduled it for after dinner, which gives us another eight hours or so to live in ignorant bliss.
Reid leans against the wall, trying to catch his breath. “Okay.”
“Sorry to be a hardass. I’m just…”
“Being smart.” He nods. “I get it.”
“Okay.” Half a beat passes, and I wonder if he hates me now or thinks I’m high maintenance. I’m not just new to sex, I’m also new to relationships—if that’s what this is—and I’m afraid I fucked it up.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I’m being delicate.”
“Nope. It makes perfect sense. No L-word until it’s intentionally declared.”
“Right. Thank you for understanding.” The mood has probably passed, but I turn back to the armchair, peer over my shoulder, and give a suggestive smile. “Wanna…?”
“I love you.”