He didn’t have to be told twice. He knelt between her thighs again, lowering his face toward the sweet tangle of curls, and he felt the tension rising in her body. He wanted to make this good for her. For some reason, it was important that he not fuck this up.
Grant placed a hand on one of her thighs and slowly lifted it to his shoulder, then repeated the motion with her other leg, until he was cradled so close to her damp flesh that he could practically breathe in her scent. Then he grasped her hips with his hands and tugged her the rest of the distance, bringing her to his mouth.
She was delicious. Salty and wet, her pearly skin flushed with heat. He nuzzled through the curls and searched out that piercing with the tip of his tongue again. When he found it, he began to roll it back and forth over his tongue in sweeping strokes, paying attention to her clit, and making sure that his movements set the little ball rolling over it, back and forth.
He barely heard the sounds of her moans, lost in his own world between her thighs. That piercing fascinated him, and he couldn’t resist playing with it, flicking it with his tongue, and then using the hardened tip of his tongue to seek out the nub of flesh underneath. Her fingers dug into his hair and she yanked, but she wasn’t telling him no, so he continued to tease her. Her hips bucked with need and the piercing banged against his teeth, startling him.
“Need you inside me,” she breathed. “Deep.”
But Grant wasn’t done playing. He’d give her a little more of what she wanted, though. He continued to tongue her clit and her piercing and placed two fingers together at the entrance to her core and thrust.
She jolted, keening her desire. The hands in his hair became more frantic. “Yes,” she moaned, the sound almost triumphant. “Oh God. Please, Grant.”
He thrust again, and then began a slow and steady rhythm, working his fingers in and out of her pussy, feeling the excited little quivers running through her. He changed the rhythm of his tongue, moving to slow little circles around her clit, then lapping at it again. Then circles. Then more tonguing.
Brenna was writhing in his arms, breathing his name over and over again, her hips trembling against him. He felt a spasm jerk through her body, and then she clenched around his fingers, sucking them deeper and holding him as her body stiffened in an intense orgasm. She made a soft choking sound, as if she’d lost all the air in her lungs, and her hips rose off the bed, pressing hard against his constantly working tongue, milking the orgasm. He watched her even as he continued to pleasure her, fascinated by her reaction. She was so incredibly abandoned and unselfconscious. It was stunning to watch her lose control.
And when it was over, she stiffened and collapsed on the bed, gasping and panting heavily. “Oh. Wow. Just wow,” she laughed, the sound breathy and satisfied. “That was a fun game. Fun for one of us, anyhow.”
He had to agree with that. While it had been pleasurable for him, too, his cock was so hard that it was almost painful. “I’ll get the condoms.”
She grabbed a handful of his shirt before he could move away. “Not yet, naughty boy. It’s my turn to play a game.”
He groaned and moved back toward her, kissing her fiercely. “I’m about past the time for games, Brenna. Feel how hard I am.” He took her hand and guided it to his aching cock, resisting the urge to start grinding against her hand. “I need this.”
“Oh, I plan on satisfying you, Grant Markham,” she said in a throaty, pleased purr. Her fingers tugged at his shirt, and she found a button still in its hole and ripped it free. “But now it’s my turn to play Guess the Piercing.”
“I don’t have any piercings,” he said, his voice rasping and harsh.
She shrugged. “Half the fun is the game. Don’t ruin it for me with spoilers.” And she gave his shoulders a push, indicating that he should lie back on the bed.
He was in agony, his cock so hard that his entire body ached. But he was fascinated by how self-assured and take charge she was in the bedroom, and damn it all if he didn’t want to play this game, too. The thought of Brenna exploring his body with her mouth? He almost came in his pants just thinking about it. “I’ll come if you touch me. It’s been too long.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t jerked off in five years?”
“Brenna.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“What do you think?”
She gave him a sultry look and ran a finger down his cock. “I think it’s a no, because you usually seem like you need to loosen up. I guess we need to take the edge off then, hmm? Because I know I’m not done playing.” She rubbed him again and then grinned. “What’s your recovery time been like in the past? Does your cannon normally fire a single shot?”
He stared at her, almost speechless.
“You don’t know? That makes you a single-shot kind of guy after all. Pity.” Her fingers wrapped around his cock, flexing around the hard length. “I bet we can break that record for you.”
He was about to come in his pants if she kept touching him. And she was talking but he was having a hard time following the conversation.
But then she unzipped his pants and hauled them down his thighs, dragging his boxers with them. His cock sprang free, engorged, the head dark red and wet with pre-cum.
“Mama like,” she said again in that breathy, pleased tone that made goose bumps move down his arms. He was literally a hair-trigger away from coming. The smallest touch and—
She leaned down and grasped him firmly, wrapping her fingers around the length of his cock and sucking the head into her mouth. She stroked once, hard.
He came. A hoarse groan ripped from his throat and his entire body clenched with the force of his release, his eyes squeezed shut. He was suddenly spurting into her mouth, unable to stop the flood of come as his body jerked and shook.
Embarrassing. He was as bad as a teenage boy. She’d never let him live this down.
Brenna stroked him again, her movements slow, and he felt her mouth rise off his cock. He slowly opened his eyes to see her swallowing the last of his release, and then she daintily wiped the corner of her mouth and gave him a sensual smile. “All better?”
“Sorry.” He felt fucking stupid.
“I’m not,” she said easily, tugging his pants down all the way to his ankles and then tugging at one of his shoes. “Now I get to explore you at my leisure.”
Her pose as she leaned over the side of the bed raised the curved moon of her bottom into the air. He was fascinated by that sight, watching it flex as she removed his shoes and socks, and then tugged his slacks off. Her fingers ran up his calves and then over his thighs. “You’re in good shape,” she said, sounding impressed.
“I exercise when I can’t sleep.” Which was just about every night. “It helps quiet my mind.”
“Mmm. Rock-hard legs.” She sat up and moved to his arms, running a hand along his bicep. “Are these hard, too?”
He flexed to show her, and she grinned at the sight, leaning down to bite the muscle. “Very nice. You’re just as built as Dane and Colt. You should be out there doing trainings with them.”
“I don’t belong in the field,” he said in a curt voice. Just the thought made him anxious. He wasn’t worried about himself inasmuch as he was worried that he’d be a danger to Dane and Colt. And speaking of those two . . . when was she checking out Dane and Colt, damn it? She’d never looked at him twice until tonight. Had she been ogling the other men the entire time?
Her exploring fingers lightly trailed over his chest, tugging at the light sprinkling of chest hair and then dipping to his belly button. “No piercings,” she said playfully, grinning up at him.
His cock stirred at her smile, as if he hadn’t just come mere minutes ago. “Keep looking,” he told her, and was surprised to hear the command come out of his mouth.
It wasn’t like him to play back.
But it had been the r
ight thing to say. She lowered her mouth to his chest, leaning in to nip lightly at both of his nipples and then kissing a path back down to his belly button. “Still nothing here. Perhaps I should go lower.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed, reaching to twine his fingers in her hair and pulling back at the last moment. It seemed too intimate a gesture. She might have been comfortable with the new immediacy of their relationship, but he was still reserved in some aspects. Too much history in his head, maybe.
She brushed her lips down the trail of hair that led to his cock, which was half-erect again. Her playful touches and smiles—plus the skimming graze of her limbs and breasts against him when she moved—were making him hard already. Her fingers gently cupped his sac, and she lightly rolled his balls back and forth, watching his reaction.
He groaned and his head fell back to the pillows. Damn. She knew how to touch a man.
“No piercings here,” she whispered. Her fingers skimmed over his half-erect cock and then moved down, delving between his thighs and stroking the skin there.
To his surprise, she slid a finger lower, moving between his buttocks to press at the pucker of his ass. “Anything here?”
“Don’t you dare.”
She wiggled her finger against his skin, daring him.
He sat up and grabbed her, bearing her backward down to the bed again. Brenna fell with him, her laughter pealing through the room.
“You think that’s funny, do you?”
“I guess a prostate massage is a bit much for a first date?” Her voice was sweet and innocent.
“Don’t you have any boundaries?” he growled, reaching forward to cup one of her breasts simply because he couldn’t help himself.
“Very few.”
“Let me guess, boundaries are no fun.”
“Something like that,” she said, and sucked in a breath when his thumb grazed her erect nipple again. “How’s your cannon?”
“Getting harder with every moment,” he told her, leaning forward and pressing his cock at the wet junction of her spread legs to prove it to her. She rose her hips against him in response and tilted her face for another kiss. He licked and sucked at her full lower lip, knowing that she liked that, and every time she gave one of those sexy, breathy little gasps, he got a bit harder.
When she rocked against him again, it was his turn to groan. He tweaked her nipple again, pinching and rolling the tip between his fingers as he rocked against her pussy once more, the head of his cock sliding between the slick folds and then rubbing up against the piercing he’d almost forgotten about, which left both of them gasping.
“Condoms?” she asked, her hips raising again.
“Condoms,” he agreed, and moved to the edge of the bed to grab one, ripping it off the strip and tearing open the packaging. He fumbled with it for a moment, and then he was rolling it down his engorged cock, as thick and throbbing with need as he had been before.
He turned back to look at her and she raised her arms, her eyes glazed and wild with passion.
She was beautiful.
Grant moved over her, kissing her with languid expertise, savoring the feel of his tongue thrusting slowly into her mouth, mimicking the stroke of his cock. He slid a hand between them, deliberately skimming it down her pussy before taking his cock in hand and guiding it to her opening. She was scorching hot, wet with need, and her fingers were digging into his shoulders in encouragement.
He sank into her, one hand clenched against her shoulder, pinning Brenna against him. She was tight around him, the walls of her pussy sucking him deep, holding him within her.
Brenna made a little whimper in her throat, biting her lip. Her fingernails dug into his back again, and when he didn’t immediately move, she smacked his shoulder blade. “Go, go.”
He’d stopped because he was savoring the feeling of being buried deep inside her far too much. His entire body ached and throbbed with pleasure, and she was clenched around him, the sensation exquisite. Five years had been too long . . . and somehow not long enough.
A mental image of Heather flashed in his mind and guilt suddenly flooded him.
Brenna wrapped her legs tight around his waist, squeezing with her knees. “This is the part where you’re supposed to move inside me, Grant.”
He leaned in and kissed her again, and she responded with a sexy, needy flick of her tongue. She arched her chest, letting her nipples skim against his chest. Any thoughts of Heather vanished and he was lost in Brenna again. She was so abandoned. He’d never met anyone like her.
Grant thrust, hard. She gave a triumphant shriek in return and rocked her hips, egging him on. He thrust again, the motion hard and rough, their bodies sawing forward with the force of their movement. Her groan of response was thrilled, and he continued to thrust into her—not quick or steady, but hard and brutal and lacking rhythm. Primal. Wild.
Fierce.
“Oh God, yes,” she breathed in his ear, and he felt her pussy clench around him, rippling around his cock. “Fuck me like that.”
A dirty talker? That was sexy as hell. He thrust even harder, not noticing when the pillows went flying to the side. Her pussy clenched around him again, and she gave a little gasp, as if surprised. He pounded into her, his entire body shoving forward with the motion, and she clung to him desperately.
“Yes! Yes! Fuck me just like that. I’m so close.” Her voice broke in a tiny sob. “Keep . . . please . . . keep going.”
With a primal roar he didn’t know he had in him, he hammered into her, his thrusts suddenly as quick and frantic as they were wild. She screamed his name in his ear, and he felt her entire body clench, her pussy tight around his cock with the force of her orgasm. Grant roared his own release, coming so hard that he nearly saw stars, slamming his body into her own and feeling her shuddering underneath him. When he’d finished coming, he fell on top of her, panting and wet with sweat.
She gave a long, breathless sigh of sated pleasure, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Mercy,” she breathed. “You win the game.”
Through the haze of exhaustion, he chuckled. “Are you conceding defeat?”
“For now,” she said thoughtfully. “You may have won the battle, but you did not win the war, sir.”
And then she yawned.
He yawned, too, feeling tired for the first time in a long time. Probably all the sex that did that to him. He rolled off her and moved to the bathroom, taking a few minutes to dispose of the condom and then toweling himself off. He grabbed a fresh towel for her and moved back out to the bed. “Did you want—”
She was fast asleep, hugging his pillow, her purple bangs stuck to her forehead.
Sleep was probably a good idea, he thought, eyeing the way she was hogging his bed already. He leaned over the bed and carefully moved her sprawled limbs over a few feet, giving himself enough room on the bed, and then pulled the covers over the two of them.
He turned off the light and curled around her body, satisfied.
For the first time in five years, there was a woman in his bed. For the first time in five years, he’d made love to a woman until they were both sweaty, exhausted, and utterly sated. It felt right. No, better yet, it felt like coming home.
Who would have thought that Brenna, of all people, would be the one to wake him from his emotional coma?
Grant brushed a lock of hair off of her shoulder in an affectionate gesture and pressed a kiss to one of the bluebirds on her shoulders.
FOUR
When Grant awoke, sunlight was streaming through the window onto his face. He squinted at the light and shielded his eyes, then turned to his alarm clock. 7:17 AM. Damn. This was early for him. What had woken him up? Normally he had trouble sleeping and worked out until late, then fell into bed, only to wake up sometime around ten in the morning, groggy and exhausted.
Last night, though, he supposed he’d
been distracted. Flashes of last night with Brenna made his morning wood a little harder and he rolled over, reaching for her.
The bed was empty.
Grant wiped the sleep from his eyes and sat up, surveying his room. The bedcovers hung off the side of the mattress, as if Brenna had crawled from bed and not bothered to fix them. Her pillow was on the floor, next to a scatter of buttons from his shirt. Clothing was strewn everywhere. His dresser drawer hung open, shirts spilling out onto the floor.
She was obviously awake. He wrapped the sheet around his nakedness and moved to the edge of the loft, standing near the ladder and peering down to the floor below. Brenna was seated on one of the barstools at his kitchen counter, dressed in one of his oversized T-shirts, her legs bare. She was flipping through a magazine and eating what looked like a piece of toast.
This was a picture he could wake up to for the rest of his life.
Grant grabbed his boxers from the floor and threw them on, then descended down the ladder and moved toward her. “Good morning.”
She glanced up and nodded. “Hey.”
He leaned in to kiss her cheek, arms going around her waist. Her hair was wet—she must have showered already.
Brenna stiffened in his arms. “What are you doing?”
He pulled away, surprised at her reaction. “I was just greeting you.”
She looked confused. “Yes, but why are you kissing me?” She took another bite of her toast and gave him a puzzled look, as if he’d just done something ridiculous. “You feeling okay?”
“I’m trying to kiss you because I want to kiss you.” He leaned in again, and when she took another bite of toast, her brow wrinkled in consternation, he sighed. “That’s what couples do, Brenna.”
She coughed, thumping her chest as if the food had gone down the wrong pipe. He waited for her to catch her breath and, after a moment, she choked out, “Couples?”
Now he was starting to get annoyed with her again. “Yes. You know. People who date and have sex together. People in a relationship.”
She put down her toast and slipped away on the other side of the stool, crossing the kitchen back to his refrigerator. “We’re not in a relationship, Grant. At least, not a real one. That stuff was for show, remember?” She opened the door and studied the contents of his fridge. “You have any orange juice?”