M A D I E

November Sixteenth

Four

Do you remember the first time you saw the sun?

What about the stars?

They burn in the sky for us,

But we don't even remember when we came to

Know their brightness so well.

—

As soon as we paid the dinner bill—the wholly outrageous and overpriced bill—I hopped up from the table, ignoring the jolt that always happened in the back of my head when I moved too quickly. Hiding a grimace, I grabbed Bren's warm hand and dragged him toward the stairs that led to the lower level.

Once the clock had hit ten, music started flowing up into the intimate dining room, harshing the vibe. But most diners had cleared out by then, anyway.

Handing over the cover charge to the bouncer at the door, we slipped into the dim, cavernous room. Just like Bren had said, there was a DJ at the front of the space, a bar at the back. It was already packed, and I wondered if there was a backdoor that people were flooding in from.

Bren grabbed me around the waist, halting me. I jumped a bit when I felt his hot breath on my neck, his soft voice in my ear. "Do you want anything to drink?"

I nodded and led him wordlessly over to the far end of the room, where we ordered some mocktails and settled into a small space between occupied stools. There wasn't enough room for us to stand side-by-side, so Bren had me caged in his arms, pressed between his chest and the bar.

He lifted his drink, presumably taking a sip. I couldn't see his reaction, but I heard a cough of distaste. "This could really use some alcohol."

I laughed. "I bet you could flirt with that blonde bartender, and she'd give you a shot without checking IDs." I pointed to a busty woman a few feet away, pouring two kinds of liquor into a glass with one hand. Then I glanced back at Bren and tilted my head to the side. "You can pass for twenty-one, anyway."

He rolled his eyes, ignoring me. Then he brought his head down so I could feel his breath on my neck as he spoke. "I mostly need the alcohol for what I know you're going to ask me to do."

I was momentarily confused, feeling a little dizzy from the music and how close he was to me.

"Did you still want to dance?" he breathed.

Leaning back into his chest, I looked up at him with a sly grin. "Yes."

Bren slammed his glass down on the bartop. "Screw it. Okay."

With a light touch, he circled my wrist with his fingers, towing me out onto the dance floor. I had to skip a bit in my wedges to keep up. "What are you doing?" I called up to him.

He checked back at me. "I'm getting this over with."

I scoffed beneath my breath as he found us a spot squished between the other dancers. They didn't notice that we'd bumped up next to them, though, too lost in a song I didn't recognize and their woo-girl friends and the sloshing tequila that my heels kept slipping in.

Turning into Bren, I smoothed my hands up his chest. He froze, and I worried he was going to drag me back out of there. But then my fingers reached his neck, circling around the back of it, and he coasted his palms to the small of my back. I lifted my mouth to his ear. "Stop making it such a big deal. Pretty much all you have to do is hold me like this."

When I pulled away, his brown eyes glittered down at me, his jaw clenching. An array of colors flashed across his face from the DJ's strobe light, each new hue somehow changing his expression, making it hard to read.

But then Bren snatched me tighter, flush to his chest. I felt him move—slowly, so slowly—rocking against me to a seductive beat. His hands lowered then, mimicking what he'd done to me in the ocean that day, sliding down my hips.

He didn't have to lean forward anymore to reach my ear. We were already so close. Heat rolled off our joined bodies; I was instantly flushed, hot. Bren laughed, low and throaty, in the crook of my neck. "All I have to do is hold you? That's the problem, baby."

It was my turn to breathe in his ear. "It's not a problem, Bren. Why do you keep resisting? What are you afraid of?"

I suspected I knew the answer, but I couldn't help but ask. Bren didn't reply. I pulled back again, just enough to tilt my forehead against his. We stayed like that while we danced in a sultry sway. Bren's hands couldn't seem to stay still, his chest heaving as he continued to explore, skimming along my bare skin wherever he could find it, sending shivers up my spin.

Then his hands disappeared, and I frowned at the absence. But they came back up, clutching both sides of my face. Tilting my head back, so it no longer rested against his, he ran one of his thumbs along my jawline. His eyes remained downcast, though, not seeking mine.

"Nothing, Madie." It was hard to hear him over some Beyoncé house remix. But I could feel the words spoken against my lips, alarming me to how close we were. "I'm not afraid of anything," he said on a warm, moist exhale.

Our parted lips were barely separated, our breath mingling as the throbbing bass matched my heartbeat. Bren licked his lips. It was slow, purposeful, and his tongue skimmed along the bottom curve of my mouth, too. Without thinking, I darted my own tongue out, meeting his in a hot, wet touch. As if scorched, Bren ripped himself away, seizing my waist and spinning me around.

I almost fell, my feet slipping on the wet floors, but he held me tight. I found myself being pressed into Bren's erection again, just like last night. Except for this time, we were in public.

"I'm not afraid," he repeated in my ear, his voice husky. "I'm just trying to take it slow." He chuckled. "It's not really working."

And then he held me there, rocking against me. I hated that he wanted to take his time, but I knew I was breaking him down. And what he was doing felt too good to be bothered about anything right now.

I let go, deciding to simply enjoy this moment where I could grind into his hard body and feel him groan into my hair. I wasn't sure how much time had passed or how many songs had played by the time Bren tugged me off the dance floor.

"We should get you some water," he said. Sweat rolled in little droplets down his temple. I was just as sticky, but it had felt so exhilarating just to move after weeks of lying about. I knew I would pay for it with a killer headache later, but I wasn't thinking about that yet.

I nodded, and Bren stepped away to fish out waters from the busty bartender. Eyeing an open cushioned chair in the far corner, I went to claim it. I settled onto the armrest and waited for Bren to look up so I could wave him over. But it took him a few moments of spinning in a circle before he glanced in the right direction, and he strode over with a glower.

After sinking into the black leather, he shocked me, plucking me up onto his lap. "You fucking scared me."

"Sorry," I murmured with a small smile, readjusting my legs to straddle him, my dress fanning out over his legs.

Still scowling, he handed me a glass. I gulped the water, greedy for something to soothe my throat, before discarding the cup and peeking up at Bren. He was staring at me, lids heavy, eyes bright. He'd clearly raked a hand through his sweaty hair. It stuck up in all directions, and the urge to run my fingers through it was embarrassingly strong.

"Do you feel drunk?" he asked, bending forward.

I laughed. It was airy, breathy. I always felt drunk when I was with him. "It's probably dehydration."

"No, that's not it." Reaching around me, he gripped my ass and jerked me closer. A gasp slipped through my lips before he brought his hands back to my thighs, splayed out on his.

Luckily the entire bar was dark, and this corner was the shadiest part. No one paid us any attention. We certainly weren't the only couple getting cozy beneath the hazy lights.

The whites of Bren's eyes cut through the din as his fingers inched beneath the hem of my dress.

I held my breath.

"Tell me to stop," he demanded, squeezing my thighs as if in effort to resist.

I wiggled on top of him, feeling his erection press into me again. Pleasure shot like a bullet through me, completely disarming my senses for a moment. "No," I retorted after my brain had cleared.

Seeing my expression, Bren's lips curved, and god, I wanted to kiss them. But that was something I needed him to give in and do. His voice dropped when he said, "Just tell me this, because fuck, I need to know."

I rested one of my palms on his chest, my fingers grabbing at the hem of his v-neck. "What?"

He swallowed, his fingers digging into my thighs. "Are you as wet as I am hard?"

Something—my uncontrolled freedom, probably—possessed me to lean in and whisper to him. "You tell me."

He groaned, and his hands slipped entirely beneath my dress, his caresses covered by black fabric, favorable lighting, and the closeness of our bodies. "I can't stop touching you."

I tried to catch my breath so I could respond. "I never asked you to stop touching me."

The tips of his fingers had found my underwear, and I sucked in as he dipped past the soaked lacy lingerie and skimmed along the edge of my wetness. His touch was so light, but somehow I felt it in every nerve of my body.

"You're a good dancer, Madie," he muttered, blinking up to meet my gaze just as his touch dove deeper.

I tried to school my reaction, aware that someone might be watching us. But I couldn't withhold a gasp when Bren slipped all the way in, filling me like he had last night. I also couldn't restrain my body from moving—swaying just barely to feel the way he hit me.

Bren bit his lip, and I wondered what he was holding back this time. When he released the hold his teeth had, he pressed into me. His lips flirted with my ear as his hoarse voice said, "Now dance on my fingers."

Those words alone were nearly enough to do it for me, pleasure filling me with every stroke of his voice—and his fingers as I swirled around them. I hardly moved. No one else would have any idea of what was happening. But every tiny tilt of my hips was enough to send me reeling.

Bren lapped in the sight of me, adoration evident in his eyes. I reveled in it. I would never get enough of the way he looked at me, making me feel wanted. Free.

It only took a few brushes of his touch against my clit, and I was shaking, coming hard. I tried not to fall onto him, and he must have noticed, his other hand coming to grip my waist, holding me up as he murmured, "That's my good girl."

It was different from last night. But that passionate exploration had spurned this hazy, drunken lust for each other. All I wanted was to touch him back, but I knew this wasn't the place.

Bren's hands slipped away from me, leaving me feeling empty. "The answer to my question is yes," he said, a sly smile in place on his lips.

I blinked, my brain fogging over after the intensity of the moment. "What?"

He sat back, clearly pleased with himself. But he didn't answer my question. Instead, he cocked his head to the side. "Do you want some more water?"

I shook my head, still struggling with the aftermath of what had just occurred to say anything. I was ready to leave. To go home with him. "Let's head back."

I didn't have to ask twice before Bren pulled me out of the club, back up the stairs, and out into the chilly air. The LA lights twinkled on our way back down to the beach, and I threw my hands in the air, just like I had on our way here. I was sated and happy and alive.

As we pulled up to the dark beach house, I flung my head back, looking at the stars. They weren't that bright, but what could you expect in the city?

"Let's get you to bed," Bren said, noticing how I was just lying there despite being parked in the driveway.

I wrinkled my nose. "I'm so sweaty. I don't want to go to bed like this."

"You can rinse off in the shower first."

I groaned. "That sounds like a lot of work."

Bren laughed, his voice light, floating over me. "What about a bath, then?"

"That sounds perfect." I sighed, and it was overdramatic.

He dragged me out of the car, encouraging me with a little murmur when I finally stood. I kicked off my heels and padded into the echoing beach house. Bren was right behind me, his hands ghosting over my hips like he was afraid I was going to fall.

I didn't waste any time, filling the gracefully curved, marbled tub in the master bathroom. I'd meant to do this for days, and my body couldn't thank me enough when I sank into the hot water, bubbles rising up around me. I rested my head back, soaking in the feeling, losing track of time. But as good as it felt, it wasn't the only thing I wanted to feel right now.

"Bren?" I called as bubbles popped and faded across the surface of the bathwater. "Are there towels out there?"

There was a rustling of movement. With a thud, a pile of towels landed by the door—on the opposite side of the huge bathroom.

"Oh come on, Bren. I'm gonna get everything all wet."

I could hear him grumbling even before he came into the bathroom. He bent down, swiping up the towels. His hair was wet; he must have showered in the other bathroom. Without looking at me, he dropped the fluffy white masses near the side of the tub. But before he could turn around, I grabbed his wrist.

"What are you huffing about?"

Bren looked down at me, his gaze glued to my face. But mine only stayed on his handsome profile for a moment, because I couldn't help but take in the rest of his shirtless self.

"I'm huffing because I just took a freezing shower to try to expel all thoughts of you. I've been hard all goddamn day. And now—" He threw his hands up in the air before waving over my nakedness, gesturing wildly at me in the tub. I'd never seen him so flustered, and I grinned.

Sitting up on my knees, I let the water trickle over me as I emerged from its warmth. The bubbly surface hovered around my waist now, everything above it exposed. "Ah, fucking hell," Bren moaned, his dark, watchful eyes finally zeroing in on my body.

"Let me help you then," I murmured, tracing my fingers along the waistband of his shorts. Before he could dart away, I tugged them down with a quick jerk, his erection popping free before me. My mouth ran dry at seeing how hard he was, at seeing him so close.

"Jesus, Madie." I couldn't tell if he was urging me on or protesting. But I raked my fingers over his chest and abdomen, loving how quick his breathing was coming now, how much he responded to me. "What are you doing?" he gasped.

I spoke the only truth I could at the moment. "What I've wanted to do for far too long, Bren." I braced one of my hands on the edge of the tub, drawing closer to him. The other hand gripped his hip as I flicked my tongue out, licking along the bottom curve of his dick. A long, low moan emitted from him. Glancing upward, I saw him watching me, transfixed.  "I didn't realize it at the time, but I was jealous that night when I saw you in my room," I said. "With Nessa." Getting back to the task at hand, I covered his tip with my mouth, sucking the silky skin.

Bren fell forward a bit, bracing himself against the wall next to the tub as a throaty growl slipped out. The action pushed his length further into my mouth, but I wasn't complaining, a thrill spinning through me at feeling him this way.

"We still—" Bren was trying to talk, trying to say something, but he was struggling through his breaths. "We should talk, Madie. We never finished...conversation earlier."

I moaned on his dick, and then he moaned in return. Sliding him out of my mouth, I muttered, "If you wanna have a conversation, maybe I'm not sucking hard enough." My lips wrapped around him again, swift to find his pulsing beat and matching it, his heat spreading through me, too.

I heard a loud thud, and I thought Bren might have smacked the wall that he was braced against. He fell silent then—well, relatively—as I continued, feeling him continue to tighten in my mouth.

Just when I thought he might be getting close, I licked along this ridge and glanced up. His mouth hung open, his eyes rolled back. I smirked. "Am I still your good girl, Bren?"

Blinking down, his swirling brown eyes trapped mine. His free hand lifted, his palm cupping my cheek as I sucked him in again. A noise rose from deep within him. "Always," he panted, then. "My good girl. My good fucking girl."

His fingers trailed over my skin before tangling into my hair, keeping his grip light as he did. Meanwhile, he was melting me with his eyes, watching with so much intent that it enflamed me. Hot water caressed my skin, but I could have sworn it was him touching me. "Madie," he gasped. "I'm going to come, baby."

I don't know if he thought I was going to let up, but it only spurred me on, and soon, Bren was tipping his head back with a cry. But I didn't stop until I was sure he was done and dry. With one final lick, I pulled away from him and picked up a towel from the floor. Standing, I wrapped it around me. "Thanks for the towel, Bren."

And then I left him in the bathroom and climbed into bed.

It wasn't long before he joined. His arms found their place around me. "Holy hell, Madie. I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do with you." He paused. Three heartbeats later, he asked, "Jealous, huh?"

I sighed. "I didn't really understand it at the time. But I hated that Nessa had a part of you I didn't. And it hurt me because I thought you were using me to get to her."

Bren laughed, and it was muffled by my hair. "Everything about that is silly." I snuggled deeper into the pillows and him and the crashing sound of waves.

As I was about to slip off completely when I heard Bren's soft voice again.

"You have so many parts of me, Madie."

—

November Seventeenth

Four

A million burning stars,

And they're all for us.

🖤
Ayyyee!
Look, I didn't split it up this time.
This chapter brought to you by 2am whiskey-cokes (minus the coke after the first one), cold pizza, and throwback hits from the high school.
Important question: pineapple on pizza, yay or nay?
*me making awkward conversation after posting dirty things on the internet*
HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND!
xoxo
A