Walk the Line: Brent and Elena (Man of the Month Book 12) Page 6

  “Is that what you want, Elena?”

  “Yes.” The answer came without thought or hesitation. “But not yet. First I want—”

  He pressed his fingers over her lips. “Let me play,” he said. “And if I don’t get it just right, you can set me straight, okay?”

  She nodded.

  “But first, I think we need to move our venue. I don’t want to be interrupted when I have you naked and writhing beneath me, do you?”

  She swallowed. “No. But you’re teasing me.”

  “Of course I am. But I’m still telling the truth.”

  She thought of that. Tried to anticipate the pressure of his body on hers. The feel of his cock pressing against her core. The power of the thrust when he found a rhythm and drove it home. She wanted to wake up tomorrow with her thighs aching from being spread so wide, and she wanted to be able to close her eyes and remember what it felt like to be filled by this man.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked as they walked to his bedroom.

  “That I want you inside me,” she said boldly.

  “Well, then. I guess it’s both our lucky days.”

  He closed the door, then turned to her. “Take off your clothes.”

  She lifted a brow, then lifted it higher when he sat on the foot of the bed his mouth cocked up in a grin. “Go on,” he said. “I want to watch.”

  Instinct told her to decline. But desire made her comply. She wanted to strip for him. Wanted to see the heat build in his eyes. Most of all, she wanted to see the breaking point when he couldn’t take it anymore. When he went from watching to touching to taking.

  Her heart fluttered. Yes. Oh, God, yes. That’s what she wanted. To be taken by this man, claimed by him. Worshipped by him.

  She lifted her hands to her shoulders, then moved them down, lower and lower as she grazed her fingertips over her collar bone, over the swell of her breasts, over her nipples.

  She gasped from her own boldness. From the exotic caress that he was witnessing. But she didn’t hesitate, and she didn’t close her eyes. And when she finally reached the hem of the shirt, she grasped it between two fingers and gently tugged it up.

  It was more awkward than she’d anticipated to take off a shirt slowly, but she never lost control, until finally she stood in front of him in only her bra. That was when she took one of her fingers, slipped it into her own mouth, then slid the slick finger down inside her jeans, biting her lower lip as she got closer and closer to her core.

  “No,” he said, and for a moment she thought that he wanted her to stop. Then she realized that she’d started to close her eyes. “Look at me. Eyes right on me.”

  She did as he said, then saw when the break came. The moment when he couldn’t merely watch anymore. When he had to touch her.

  She saw it—and she felt the power of it, too. Knowing that she’d compelled him. That his desire for her had propelled him toward her so that now he was on his knees in front of her, his hands at her hips as he drew her jeans down, slowly revealing the tiny pair of cotton panties.

  He bent forward, then closed his mouth over her core, sucking her through the cotton and making her gasp from the wildness of it all. “I have to taste you,” he said. “All of you.” And before she knew it, he had her on her back on the bed, the jeans pulled all the way off, so that she was laid out like a present, wrapped only in a bra and panties.

  “Tell me what you want,” he said. “Should I get undressed? Or should I undress you?”

  She looked at him, still in the jeans and button down he’d worn to work. He looked sexy as hell, and she couldn’t wait to see him naked, the hard planes of his chest and abs. And, yes, the hard length of him, evidence that he wanted her.

  She wanted that. But she wanted more to be his. Only his. Unwrapped like a present for his pleasure.

  She licked her lips, unsure what answer he would prefer, but then she took the plunge and said, “Undress me, Brent.”

  His slow smile proved to her that she’d made the right choice, and when he bent forward and whispered in her ear, she thought she might just come right then.

  “Babe,” he murmured, “you have no idea how hard you just made me. But I promise I’ll show you soon.”

  She was so damn beautiful. So damn responsive. And when she’d told him to undress her, Brent had feared that he was going to come right then.

  He’d called on depths of control he didn’t even know he had. Anything and everything to keep himself together until he was ready—until they both were. He wanted them on edge. Right on the precipice. And then, yes, he wanted to take her to the stars with him.

  All in good time.

  Right now, he wanted to taste her, and he started by climbing onto the bed, then straddling her, knowing that the sensation of his clothes against her bare skin would tantalize her, taking her even closer to the edge.

  Slowly, he bent forward, then brushed a kiss over her lips. “Close your eyes,” he murmured, and when she complied, he gently kissed each eyelid. “Keep them closed,” he ordered, then slowly explored the planes of her face with his lips and tongue. The sweet curve of her ear. The texture of her hairline. The elegant curve of her jawline.

  Christ, she was lovely.

  He nibbled and licked his way down, running his tongue over the curve of her breasts and watching with delight the way she arched up into his touch. Gently, he unfastened the front clasp of her bra, then spread it open, freeing her breasts. Her nipples were hard as pebbles, and she cried out when he closed his mouth over one, sucking hard and then grazing the tight nub with his teeth.

  At the same time, he slid his hand down inside her panties, finding her core. “Spread your legs for me, babe,” he demanded, and she complied, her hips moving in small circles as if trying to find just the right spot.

  But that was his job, and he stroked her slick heat, teasing her clit as he sucked her nipple, his own cock growing rock hard as he played with her, taking her close and making her whimper.

  “Please,” she murmured, though that was all she said. As if she wanted everything and expected him to deliver.

  He intended to.

  Without warning, he thrust three fingers inside her, then watched in an erotic haze as she arched up, her body silently begging for more even as her low moans filled the room and teased his cock. He thrust again, slower this time, but deeper, and she rocked against him until they were moving together in the rhythm of sex, and he was growing harder by the minute.

  He slipped his fingers free long enough to tug off her panties and toss them aside. Then he closed his hands on her breasts, thumb and forefinger squeezing her nipples as he closed his mouth over her sex. His tongue flicking over her clit, then slipping inside her, tasting her juices, teasing her entrance.

  She cried out, begging him to stop, to keep going, to never stop. She rocked her hips, pressing down on him, as if she wanted his tongue deeper, harder. As if she simply wanted him.

  That thought was borne out when she cried his name begging him with cries of please and now but never saying what she wanted.

  “Tell me,” he ordered. “Tell me what you want.”

  “You. Please, Brent. I want you.”

  “Tell me,” he repeated.

  “I want you inside me. I want your cock. Please, Brent. I want you to fuck me.”

  “That’s my girl,” he said, wanting it at least as much as she did. Hell, he didn’t remember ever being so hard in his life. And the truth was, though he wanted to prolong the pleasure, he didn’t think he could last much longer. He needed to be inside her, and in one swift movement he slid up over her body so that he could reach his bedside table, then pulled out a condom.

  He didn’t bother getting undressed, just unzipped his pants, took his cock out, and sheathed himself. She was spread wide for him, her core slick and ready. He went slowly, excruciatingly slowly since all his body wanted to do was slam into her, hard and fast. But she needed to be ready, and so he moved slowly and delibera
tely, building speed and sinking deeper as she grew more ready, until finally she was screaming for him to go faster, to fuck her harder.

  And, of course, he had to comply.

  She arched up, moving with him, their bodies coming together hard and fast, a desperate coupling as they tried to lose themselves in each other as they exploded into the stars.

  “Brent! Oh, God, yes, Brent. Please. Come with me. Come with me now.”

  He felt the tremors run through her body along with the tightening of her core, the rhythmic spasms that milked him, taking him all the way over the edge with her, until they both shattered, their bodies breaking apart to join the stars, then burning bright before falling slowly, gently back to earth.

  He drew in a deep breath, his body limp and spent. But as he drew her close and breathed her scent, he felt the tremors of awareness begin. His body coming back to life. “God, what you do to me,” he murmured, reaching around so that he could stroke her as well.

  “Looks like you do the same to me,” she said, then rolled over and moved him onto his back before straddling him. “I want to go again,” she said with a mischievous smile. “And this time I want to ride you.”

  She got her wish. Two times, actually, which was a damn miracle considering the intensity of their lovemaking. But he was spent now, exhausted with sleep pressing down around him.

  This was the point when he usually told a woman it was time to go home. But that’s not what he said to Elena. Instead, he pulled her close. And all he said was, “Stay.”

  And, thank God, she did.

  Chapter Ten

  Somehow his request that she stay on Sunday night had expanded all the way to Tuesday—or, technically, to Wednesday morning, as it was now four in the morning, and she was curled up naked and satisfied next to Brent, who was idly stroking her bare breast with his fingertip.

  “Careful,” she teased. “You’re going to get me all worked up again.”

  “Wouldn’t do you any good,” he said. “I think you’ve broken me.”

  She laughed, then lightly bit his chest. “That’s what I get for sleeping with an older man. No stamina, and—aaah!”

  The last came out as a strangled squeal when he flipped her over with one quick move, then straddled her, closing his mouth over hers to silence her surprised cry before Faith heard them. But that utilitarian kiss turned immediately wild and deep, and she writhed beneath him as he reached between them, his fingers finding her wet and slippery.

  “Never challenge a competitive man,” he whispered as he shifted over her body, then slowly entered her.

  “I don’t know,” she managed, the words breathy as her body opened to him, her hips moving in time with his. “I kind of like the consequences.”

  He laughed, but the sound quickly died as the heat between them built. They clung together, moving slowly at first, then faster as their grip on control faded. She arched up, feeling her body break apart, then clamped her mouth shut and swallowed the scream of ecstasy as a fast, bone-shattering orgasm ripped through her, leaving her breathless and limp, and one-hundred percent convinced that challenging Brent was now her new favorite pastime.

  “Careful or you’ll kill me,” he said when she told him so moments later when he was beside her again, holding her close.

  “Can’t have that.” She rolled over to face him, then sighed with pleasure. “I really should go,” she finally said. “I know Faith is wondering why you haven’t let her in here before taking her to school the last two days. And as much as I’m enjoying every moment of this, I’m getting shockingly little of my school work done.”

  “Are you saying I’m a bad influence?”

  “The worst,” she said, then laughed when he smiled.

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “Ha.” She started to slip out of bed, but he took her wrist. “Brent, I’m flattered, but I pay a lot in tuition. I really do have to get my money’s worth.”

  “Not disagreeing. But why don’t you come to the bar tonight? It’s the Man of the Month contest. Mr. November. We’ll have to keep up the just-friends pretense, but it would be nice to see you there. And I’m sure Tyree would love to run his ideas for getting involved in the historical awareness campaign by you.”

  She sat up, the sheet pulled up over her breasts, which was silly as he’d seen, tasted, and touched every single part of her, with particular emphasis on her breasts. “That sounds like fun. I haven’t been to The Fix in days. But unless I pulled a Rip Van Winkle and slept through a decade or so, Faith isn’t old enough to stay by herself.”

  “Which is why she’s sleeping over at Kyla’s tonight.”

  “On a school night?”

  “Teacher work days tomorrow and Friday, so the kids have holidays. Which means that tonight we have the house to ourselves.”

  “Oh. Oh.” She tossed him a grin, then released a sigh that she hoped sounded suitably exasperated. “Well, I guess that sounds like a good plan.”

  “Guess? Hmm. Maybe I should give you more of a rundown of the evening’s plan. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve been spending most of our time behind a locked door. And tonight, we have the whole house.”

  “Do we?”

  “I thought we’d make a late dinner. And I thought I might park you naked on the countertop, spread your legs, and have an appetizer.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed, squeezing her thighs together in response to the heat his words had generated between her legs.

  “And of course there’s the living room. I thought we’d settle in front of the TV and I’d watch you naked and straddling me, riding me hard as I finger your clit. Unless you’d rather just pop in a movie?”

  “Brent…” She squirmed, his words doing naughty, magical things to her body.

  “Do you want me to tell you my plan for the backyard? The shower?”

  She shook her head. The part of her brain that made words had gone on strike. Her body, however, had not, and she felt raw and tingly, as if he only had to touch her, and she’d explode right then. Her breasts were heavy, her nipples hard. Her sex felt swollen and needy. She wanted his touch—craved it. But when she shifted toward him on the bed, he just moved the opposite direction.

  “Sorry, babe. We have to save that for later. You have to get to school.”

  “You’re being incredibly unfair.”

  He grinned. “I know. I want you thinking about everything I said all day. And tonight after the contest, we’ll come back here.” He leaned forward to lightly kiss her. “Wear a dress,” he ordered. “Because the first thing I’m going to do when we walk through that door is slide my hand between your legs and see how much you want me.”

  Elena was giddy when she reached The Fix on Wednesday night. She was running late—she’d gotten stuck on the most amazing phone call—but she was in a fabulous mood.

  But the moment she walked stepped over the threshold, giddy morphed into confusion. Griffin stood shirtless on the stage holding a microphone as Beverly stood beside him, looking a little shell shocked. And why not? Griffin never, ever revealed his scars. But he had tonight.

  “Buy the calendar if you want to see more,” Griffin said, and the unnatural silence that had filled the room was broken by the sound of nervous laughter followed by genuine applause.

  “What on earth?” she asked finding Brent, who had a wide smile plastered on his face.

  But Brent just shook his head. “He must really love her. Because that was one hell of a grand gesture.”

  As Jenna bounded onto the stage to announce that Griffin had won the title of Mr. November, Elena cursed softly, hating that she’d missed the actual contest. Then she remembered the reason, and grinned at Brent. “I just had a great meeting. That’s why I’m late.”

  “That’s wonderful.” She saw him reach for her, then pull his hand back. Her heart twisted, because as much as she was enjoying their time together, it wasn’t enough. More and more, she was thinking that she didn’t want a secret, temp
orary thing. She wanted to figure out a way that they could truly be together.

  But she also feared that if she told Brent as much, everything would come to an end, including their secret relationship. And she just couldn’t risk that.

  “Let’s go find my dad,” she said, using the words as a diversion. “I want to hear about the Food Fair preparations, and make sure he’s invited all the historical center big wigs and the local planning commission folks.”

  “I saw him earlier with Easton,” Brent said. “He didn’t look happy.”

  “Bar business?”

  “Not sure. I caught his eye, but he didn’t call me to the back. But your mom’s with him.”

  “Huh.” She frowned, thinking. Easton was a lawyer, but what would her parents need a lawyer for? And if it was about the bar, surely he would have pulled Brent into the conversation.

  “Agreed,” Brent said when she voiced her thoughts. “Which is why I’m going to go knock on his door. You with me?”

  “Should we wait for Reece and Jenna?”

  He shook his head. “If it’s none of our business, that would look overwhelming and pushy. And if it is about the bar, we can catch them up later.”

  “Okay,” she said, holding tight to the way he’d said we.

  They maneuvered their way through the bar, then both stopped short when they reached Tyree’s office. The door was cracked, and his harsh words slammed into them. “This is bullshit. Total garbage.”

  “It is,” Eva said, her voice soothing. “But let’s listen to Easton.”

  Easton turned, his eyes meeting Elena’s through the crack. He gestured for her to come in, though she had to admit that she was no longer certain that she really wanted to walk through those doors.

  “Hey,” she said tentatively, catching her father’s eye. “We didn’t mean to eavesdrop. We came to see what was going on with the plans for historical awareness. You know, like we talked about. To get on the Center and the commission’s radar.”

  Tyree snorted. “Oh, we got on their radar, all right.”