Brooke Parker glanced at the mirror in the ballroom of the Goldclaw ranch with a sigh. It was as if the bride knew that particular shade of apricot would make her bridesmaids look ill. Of course she did. Since the bride was marrying Brooke’s ex, Brooke couldn’t even put it down to imagination. Sultry, dark Chelsea looked gorgeous in her cream silk wedding gown and her apricot silk accessories, namely blonde Brooke and the other unfortunate bridesmaid, brunette Rachel, a receptionist at Style. Rachel’s skin had a sallow cast that the gown didn’t help one bit.
When Chelsea had asked Brooke, it was as if she was doing her the greatest favor imaginable. “After all, the world’s press will be there,” she’d said. Chelsea was one of their own after all, a magazine editor of one of the few fashion mags to still have relevance in this post-internet world.
Brooke sighed. Chelsea could have everything she wanted, and she’d wanted Peter Aldridge. So she’d taken him. Brooke had kept her job, though. She kept telling herself that was what mattered but it was hard when she stood behind the bride in the most expensive wedding she’d ever attended. Weddings at Goldclaw Ranch didn’t come cheap.
“Brooke.” Talk of the devil and she appears—wasn’t that what they said? Chelsea, resplendent in a deceptively simple ivory silk sheath stood before her. How had she managed to marry, eat and drink in that gown without even creasing it?
Brooke tried so hard not to be jealous, but she wasn’t doing very well right now. Well enough to force a smile, and say, “Chelsea, what can I do for you?”
“When you’re on your vacation next week at the ranch, do me a favor and take some pictures. I want an assessment.”
Brooke sighed. She had the next week off, and she’d made plans to do exactly what she wanted. Fuck, now Chelsea had managed to make Brooke’s precious week off into work. “You mean for a shoot?”
“Yes. Western bondage, maybe. Not the usual cowboy spread, but some twist.”
“We featured bondage a couple of months ago,” Brooke pointed out. That particular fashion spread had created a sensation, with its designer blindfolds and handcuffs.
“Yes, I know. Try to think of something else. See if you get any ideas.”
Then Chelsea would claim the credit. Brooke was well aware that Chelsea garnered opinions and ideas from her staff. When it was Brooke’s turn to run the magazine, she’d probably do the same. She suppressed her sigh, smiled and said it was a great idea and she’d do her best.
“I know you will. I’ll see you soon, Brooke.” That was more of a warning than anything else.
Peter strode across the floor to his bride. He’d rarely let Chelsea out of his sight the whole ceremony, as if afraid she’d run away. Laying his hands gently on Chelsea’s shoulders, he dropped a kiss on her exposed neck. “Dance, darling?”
His glance at Brooke didn’t betray him for a moment, didn’t even hint at how close they’d been before Chelsea saw him and decided she wanted him. She nodded coolly at him, refusing to give anything away. If he thought that little of him then she was well rid of him. He nodded back, and whisked his bride on to the dance floor, bestowing the look of love on her that he had given to Brooke until recently.
Everybody said the ceremony had been beautiful, so Brooke did, too. She even managed to kiss Chelsea on both cheeks to congratulate her. At the time, when Peter told her he’d fallen for her boss, Brooke told herself she didn’t care, that her job was the most important thing in her life. That was a month ago. A stupid fucking month, no more. A month ago, she’d thought her life was heading in the right direction. A man she liked and fucked regularly, the job of her dreams and a place to lay her head at night.
Now she knew she was wrong. Something was missing in her life. What it was, she had yet to discover, but she would. Watching herself in the myriad mirrors Chelsea had festooned all around the place, Brooke recognized her miss-step, but not where she’d gone wrong. Because she had gone wrong, and it was dawning on her just how much.
She had no real friends, just people like her who she socialized with from time to time. There was no permanence in her life. If she died tomorrow she might merit a short obit, but that would be all. Somebody else would move in to her cute and stylish apartment in Manhattan, and that would be all. Nobody would miss her, except for a brief “What a pity.”
Chelsea had got this far by drive, talent and employing the right people. Brooke did most of the research that Chelsea turned into sassy, opinionated prose. She dealt with what Chelsea called the ‘boring stuff,’ talking to photographers, scheduling, the bedrock that kept the magazine on the right track. It wasn’t enough anymore.
Not that Brooke would make all her decisions immediately. The sense of dissatisfaction that had started with Peter’s announcement had increased, but not solidified. Maybe this week she’d splash out and forget everything else except having a good time. Since Chelsea would be away, Brooke had scheduled time for herself. Yes, she’d definitely be kicking over the traces, in more ways than one.
She’d start by finding a few partners for the bedroom. A few men to fuck who would put some much needed space between her and Peter. She needed to get the bad taste of his betrayal out of her mouth, and her bed, for that matter.
She wouldn’t snare many potential bed partners in this dress. She needed to get out of this dress and into the slinky little silk number she had stashed upstairs. Somehow.
A deep voice came from behind her. “Don’t think so hard. I can see the cogs moving.”
With a shriek, she leaped around to face the man she hadn’t even noticed.
She clasped a hand to her heart, which was threatening to leap out of her chest, and glared up at him. Immediately, she lost her breath.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were so far into your own world.” He held his hands up, palms out in a gesture of surrender.
Oh, mama. She gaped at the gorgeous male.
He kissed her lavishly, plunging into her mouth, their tongues dancing together in perfect harmony. Without breaking contact, he tucked his hands under her ass and lifted her. Brooke wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing her cunt into perfect alignment with his cock. He lifted her higher, and the nature of their kiss changed. When she opened her eyes, she found him watching.
She did what she’d longed to do from the moment she set eyes on him. Plunging her fingers into his hair, she let the strands wind around her fingers as he brought her slowly down.
He laughed as she tugged at the thick, wavy mass. She pulled away from him enough to stare into his eyes. “Do it. Fuck me.”
Watching her, he curled his fingers right under her and touched her cunt.
Sliding down her slit, he grazed her clit, making her moan. “Gotta make sure my girl is ready,” he murmured.
“Brooke. My name is Brooke.”
“Yeah, I remember. I can’t tell you how glad I am to make your acquaintance.” He touched her pussy briefly and then growled low in his throat. “You are so fucking wet.”
“You’re surprised?” She glanced up at the showerhead.
“The wetness I’m feeling doesn’t have a damn thing to do with the shower.” To prove it, he pushed a finger inside her, but withdrew as fast. “Oh baby, you are so ready.”
He brought her down. She could do nothing to stop him thrusting into her cunt, even if she’d wanted to. The water created an extra slickness so her body slid down his with hardly any friction.
The tip of his cock slid into her, widening her for his possession. A thread of fear added an edge to her arousal. Could she do this? This man was fucking big and she was wide open to him. She couldn’t do anything to stop him fucking her to the point of pain.
Oh yeah, she wanted that. Wanted that edge, the sting. While she wasn’t into full-blown torture, a little nip of pain went a long way. Especially with her. Either her partners were into it or they called her kinky and ran. She wouldn’t do anything to make this man run.
She wanted that giant dick inside her.
He lowered her carefully, exploring her with tiny thrusts, then swiveled his hips, swirling around inside her.
“Fuck, you have to have some control to hold me like that!”
He grinned. “You’re a little thing. You weigh practically nothing.”
“I weigh plenty. People don’t call five feet ten ‘little’” she replied indignantly.
“They do when they’re six feet three.”
He pushed further into her and she groaned. He’d reached her sweet spot, and he was hitting it just right. When he slid past, she shivered in a mini-orgasm. “Oh yesss!” Her words ended on a hiss of sheer delight. “More! Don’t stop!”
“What kind of saint do you take me for? Stop?” He groaned. “Fuck, baby, you are the hottest thing this side of the Alamo!” Turning around, he shoved her against the slick tile wall behind them. “Hang on, because I am going to fuck you until you beg me to stop!”
Like that would happen. Tilting her head back, she reveled in the sheer delight of his cock powering into her, then pulling out and doing it again. He pounded her while she pushed her shoulder blades against the wall behind her and ground down on him. Breathless pants came from them both, until he bent and pulled one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking hard, grazing his sharp teeth against her.
If she hadn’t known he was a tiger, she’d have guessed it by now. This man was fierce. When she tugged on his hair in response to his sucking, he growled a warning, or a promise, she didn’t know which. The sheer power of him took her breath away.
He fucked her until she came, her body a mass of orgasmic delight, and while her pussy was still gripping his cock, he powered deeper into her, ramming her down on to his cock.
She screamed and then again, the sound coming out of her in a staccato rhythm, punctuated by his hard drives deep inside her. She gripped his waist, curled her legs around him, and dug her heels into his buttocks, urging him on, demanding more without words.
Lifting his head, his lips wet and swollen, he sought her mouth and found it. Synchronizing his kiss with his thrusts, his tongue fucking her mouth as his cock fucked deep into her pussy, he held her tight, and groaned, the vibrations reverberating deep in her throat.
He consumed her. Brooke loved every minute.