by Misti Murphy
“Come again.” She gawps at me. Cupping a hand to her ear, she says, “Can you repeat that last bit? Because it sounded like you said you can’t get any.”
“It’s not about that.” I start fiddling with the coffee machine. I like Bree because she’s funny and opinionated and sweet. And because she can make cookie metaphors and eat a burger in three bites and always dips her fries in her shake. I like her kisses and the skirts she wears. I like the way she feels in my arms while we watch movies. “It’s more than that.”
“What is it then?” Jeanie asks.
“She makes me happy,” I admit. Really happy. “I can’t remember ever feeling like this.”
“It’s been a long time since what happened with Cassie.” She gets up and comes over to hug me. “I didn’t know if you’d ever get over it. It’s nice to see this guy again.”
“Yeah,” I say. Cassie screwed with my heart in a big way. After she left I swore I’d never get involved again, and I’ve done a good job of keeping my word. The last few years have been a blur of meaningless sexual encounters. No getting to know the women I sleep with, no commitment. Only fucking, not being fucked over. None of it has satisfied me, or even come close to making me happy. Not like spending time with Bree does.
“I’m letting you off the hook tonight. I have a couple of girlfriends I’d like to catch up with anyway. You should go and see your girl.”
“Are you sure? I can see her tomorrow,” I say. “If you need me, I can stay. We can go dancing. Whatever you want.”
“No, no. You should go.” She turns me around and pushes at my back to get me moving. “I bet she’s missing you too.”
“Okay, okay.” I roll my eyes and put my hands up in surrender. “I’m going. I just need to shower and shave.” And maybe, just maybe jack off a little because being around Bree puts me in a constant state of arousal, which is fun but also fucking ouch.
After I shave any trace of stubble from my jaw, I turn on the water and undress at warp speed before stepping under the spray. It’s fucking hot and I take a second to get accustomed to it before grabbing shower gel and soaping up.
I should probably message Bree again and make sure it’s okay to come over, but she’s been a bit weird with messages since this afternoon. A little evasive. Like something is going on that I don’t know about. My gut tightens at the idea she’s avoiding talking to me. So I’m going to see her, and I’d rather she didn’t tell me not to in a text message.
I shove shampoo through my hair, tip my head under the spray. Grin as I imagine Bree smiling at me when she opens her apartment door. Her gorgeous tits perking up in welcome, the tight little buds shoving at her top like they need my hands on them. That plump mouth that I could barely touch the last time I saw her, giving under my lips.
Wood thickens between my thighs, the ache that’s built over the last week making my balls feel like bowling balls. Definitely need to jack off. Dispersing another dollop of gel into my palm, I grip my cock and stroke the length. Fucking ouch. It’s been a long while since he’s been out of commission like this. Totally worth it. Dragging my hand up and down, well lubricated by soap and water, I recall her hands on my chest. Grab onto the little details; the way her short pink nails tickled my skin, the warmth of her palms as they slid over my pecs, my abs, lower. Lower still. Her tongue thrust against mine and her fingers digging into the waist of my jeans, tugging on my belt.
Yeah, this is exactly what I need. I pick up the pace, flesh wrapped around flesh. Bree’s sweet body straddling mine; her knees at my hips, her thighs brushing against mine as she grinds on me. My memory turns to imagination; my hands skimming her thighs, my thumb pressing against the seam of those cute cotton pajama shorts she was wearing and finding her wet for me. Slipping my fingers inside them, digging under her panties to rub her clit. Her harsh little cries do it for me. Her sweet moans and whimpers are pleasure rippling under my skin. The pressure building in my balls is a Muhammad Ali punch. It shoots up my cock, pearl streamers jetting all over my hand and torso.
Feels like half my weight just exited my cock. My head swims. I put a hand to the tiles to find some steadiness as the spray washes my cum away. Take a couple deep breaths before I shut off the water and reach for a towel. If this is my life for the next few weeks while we give each other time to get to know one another, I can fucking handle it.
I’m scrubbing my hair dry when someone knocks on the door. Probably one of Jeanie’s friends. I tuck a towel around my hips and fold the other over the rack. Whoever it is knocks again. Jeanie’s probably got her headphones on, so I wander out to let her friends in.
“Hold your horses,” I say as I pull the door open.
Bree stands in the hallway, breathless. Her hair is a little wild, probably from the wind tonight. Fuck, she’s cute in a ruffled top and denim skirt. And her heels. Kill me now. They look like ice cream. With sprinkles and a cherry on top. I wanna lick something and it isn’t her shoes. Though she can leave them on. I’ll peel her legs apart and turn her into a banana split, then I’ll eat up every damn inch if she’ll let me. “Babe—”
“Please don’t call me babe,” she says.
“Okay.” The back of my neck prickles. I don’t like the way her gaze wanders around me and to the floor. Anywhere but me. “Do you want to come in, Bree?”
CHAPTER NINE
Bree
Hugging my arms to my torso, I step inside Parker’s apartment. I haven’t been here since we met to talk about insuring his brand. I didn’t think anything of it. After all until Saturday, our dates were somewhat accidental. But maybe he doesn’t want me here if he is seeing someone else.
And like a stalker I decided to confront him at his apartment anyway. Good work, Bree.
“Hey.” He tucks his fingers under my chin and lifts my gaze. Up, up, up. A towel hugs his hips. His bare torso confronts me. Dark hair still damp from a shower fluffs up around his head. There are deep lines around his eyes and mouth, as he searches my face. “What’s wrong?”
I clear my throat. I have no right to expectations when it comes to him. It’s too early to think we have anything at all, but I want... I want these things that I’m feeling between us. “I-I need to know what we’re doing? Is this, are we...dating?”
The lines around his mouth soften and his eyes lighten. “Yeah, Bree. Yeah, we’re dating.”
“And are we, uh, dating each other?” The warmth of his body is thawing the uncertainty in me. It’s tantalizing like flames, dancing prettily before my eyes. I want to reach out and touch it, but I’m still scared of being burned.
“I think so,” he says. “I hope so. I want to date you, Bree. And I hope you want to go out with me.”
“I mean...” I suck in a breath and let it out slowly. “Are we dating each other only, or are we allowed to date other people?”
His fingers tighten at my jaw, and a muscle pops near his ear. His voice is gruff. “Do you want to date other people?”
“N-no.”
“Good,” he says. “Because I don’t think I could handle that. I want to be exclusive with you, Bree. No other guys in the picture. Although I’ll make an exception for Tim.”
“And girls?” I ask, my voice barely there. But this is important. I can’t date him if he’s going to keep seeing other women. The idea is a vise, squeezing the air out of my lungs. “Does that mean you won’t see anyone else either?”
His brows pinch together at the bridge of his nose. “You are the first and only woman I’ve dated in five years, so no I’m not going to see other women. Where is this coming from?”
“There were pictures,” I say, aware that I’m probably an idiot for allowing myself to get worked up over them. “Online.”
“What pictures? There are a lot of pictures of me out there, Bree. It comes with the career. And some of them will be with women. There are plenty of unflattering images of me on the internet. I hope you can tell that’s in the past, though.”
I take my
phone out of my purse and fiddle with the screen. “What about these? They were taken two days ago.” I hold it up so that he can see. “She’s gorgeous, Parker, and she clearly cares about you. I can see why you would date her. I just can’t date you too.”
“Hey, Jeanie, can you come here please,” Parker calls out.
She’s here? In his apartment, right now? I’m about to meet the beautiful woman with the face of an angel. While he’s wearing nothing but a towel. I’m interrupting. Oh shit. I don’t want to meet the woman from the pictures, the one who clearly adores him, and she won’t want to meet me. Whatever is going on here...I shouldn’t get involved. “I-I should go.”
“You should stay,” he says, gripping my wrist and threading our fingers together. I have to admit that makes the situation a little better.
“What’s up? My friends will be here any minute. And I wanted to finish the last few paragraphs of this chapter I’m working...Oh.” Her face splits into a huge grin that makes her dark eyes sparkle and she bounces on the balls of her feet before lunging at us. “You must be Bree. You’re...wow, you’re gorgeous.” She grasps my arms, tearing me away from Parker, and air kisses my cheeks before stepping back. She doesn’t let go of my arms as she studies me. “Look at you. Smoking body. Amazing hair. And totally tying my brother up in knots. You belong in one of my novels.”
“Jeanie, you’re scaring her,” Parker mutters.
“N-no. That’s...” My pulse slows back to normal as it hits me. “You’re Parker’s sister? It’s lovely to meet you.” I glance at Parker. I’m such an idiot. I know that magazines are engineered to sell. That they make stuff up and a picture doesn’t tell the whole story, and still I let it eat at me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
He shrugs. “You’re not intruding.”
“Come on,” Jeanie says, looping her arm through mine. “I have to go out soon, but we can have one drink while Parker puts some clothes on, and we can get to know each other.”
Jeanie hops onto the counter, glass of vodka in hand, while lean against the cabinet and sip coffee. She tells me about the naughty romance novels she writes, and how her hobby turned into a business that allows her to travel all over the world. I’m almost jealous. Her life sounds so exciting. She asks me how I met Parker and I dumb down the fact that I had to insure his penis. I don’t know how much she’s aware of when it comes to his brand, but I’m not going to be the one to tell her.
“We should be friends on Instagram,” she says, jumping down from her perch and putting her cup in the sink when Parker joins us. “Or Facebook.”
“Careful,” he warns, though his affection for her is obvious in his smile. “If you give her an inch she’ll take a mile. You’ll never be able to get rid of her.”
Jeanie sticks her tongue out at him. “And who would want to get rid of me? Other than you, so you can be alone with Bree, who by the way seems far too sweet and nice for you.” She throws her arms around him. “I really like her.”
“I really like her too,” he says, staring at me over her head. “Now don’t you have some friends to meet?”
There’s a knock on the door, and Jeanie squeals. “Perfect timing.” Turning to Bree, she says, “I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon, so we’re going out for lunch. You’ll join us, won’t you?”
“I’d love to,” I say, watching Parker for any clue that he wants me to say no, and only finding warmth in his gaze.
“Great, that’s settled. I’ll see you two tomorrow.” She flits through the living room, picking up her clutch, before she disappears out the door.
“So...” Parker says, crossing the kitchen. He’s only partly dressed. He didn’t bother with a shirt, leaving his granitelike torso visible, probably because he was worried about what his baby sister and I were conversing about. Dark jeans sit low on his hips and cover his muscular thighs. A sparse trail of hair divides his abdomen right down the middle of those diamond hard lines and dips below the waistband.
My mouth waters. I don’t know where to look. There is so much of Parker Kent that I want to see. So much that I like. “So?”
“Do you wanna tell me why you got so worked up about a photo in a magazine?” he asks, picking me up until I’m seated on the counter. “I know it didn’t look great, but you could have messaged or called me. Although I’m glad you came over.”
“I dated this guy a long time ago,” I explain. “I was seventeen. He was older, a friend of my brother’s. Cal tried to warn me about the guy, that he was just fooling around with me, but I thought it was more. I mean we were together for a year before I found out he was dating my best friend and another girl at the same time. I was a mess for a while after. I like you, Parker, but I don’t want to be hurt like that again.”
“Fuck, babe.” He clasps my face between his hands. “Can I call you that now?”
“Uh-huh.” I whisper, trying to calm my racing heart.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“I’m so sorry I jumped to conclusions,” I whisper back.
He presses his forehead to mine, our noses touch. “I’ve done a lot of things that I’m not really proud of right now. But trust me when I tell you that since I met you I haven’t even looked at another woman.” His hands skate up and down my sides, and my knees fall open. It’s almost a relief when his hips press to my inner thighs. “I want to be with you, Bree. Only you. I want to take you places and make you laugh. I want to hold your hand, and see you smile. I want to kiss your pretty mouth and hold you close. When I say I want to date you exclusively, I mean it. I don’t see anyone else but you.”
My vagina wants to throw herself at him, my ovaries want to make little Parker Kents by the millions. You can have my cookie. It’s all yours. Take my fucking cookie!
“Does that answer your concerns?” he asks, begging me with his warm chocolate eyes to believe him and jump right in.
And I want to. His warm breath tickles my lips, until all I can think about is his lips and what they taste like and how they move on mine. And how much I want to kiss him, and touch him, and be touched. My breasts ache and my clit throbs and I’m probably leaving a wet patch the size of the Atlantic on his counter. “That was a very good answer.”
“Good.” The fine lines at the corners of his mouth deepen. “Do you think I could kiss you now? It’s been four days since I’ve been able to touch you or kiss you, and I am dying for a taste.” He groans. “Your sweet scent is killing me.”
“Please.” I wind my arms around his neck and tip my lips to his.
His full, warm lips move against mine, creating a delicious friction that makes my pulse rise. Soft and gentle he takes ownership of my mouth, parting my lips with his tongue and licking inside me. Opening me up to his exploration so slowly I think I might die if he doesn’t kiss me harder. Every muscle in my body is trembling with anticipation.
He draws back until I can see his eyes. Rubs the pad of his thumb across my wet bottom lip. “Fuck, I missed being able to do that.”
“Do it again,” I say breathlessly. “Don’t stop doing it.”
“That was just a taste,” he assures me as he dips into my mouth again. This time he takes my breath away completely. Teeth clash and tongues war. My hips are in his hands and he’s scooting me to the edge of the counter, right up against his body where I can feel how turned on he is. Erect and pressed to the ache between my thighs. His torso is hot and hard under my palms, his happy trail downy under my fingertips, the waist of his jeans rough.
He picks me up, my ass balanced in his grip. Our lips locked and desperate, he carries me into the living room to the couch. Leather groans under our weight as he does what equates to a one-handed plank above me, gripping the cushioned back with one hand while his other roams down my side to hike my top up over my midriff. His fingers tickle along the underwire of my bra. Little charges of electricity spark under his touch.
I’m a wildfire, burning only for him. I have been since the day I met
him. One glance was the match. His kiss sealed my fate. I tried to douse it with his past, put it out with uncertainty, but I can’t.
He nuzzles a spot at the side of my neck that makes me whimper. Thick fingers wrap around my nipple and toy with it, making me arch under him while my thighs squeeze his hips. I’ve done things before. Things that involved fingers and tongues and getting so close one slip would have changed everything. I’m not entirely innocent. But Parker’s touch is like nothing I’ve experienced before. It’s consuming.
He stops kissing me to kneel between my thighs. Eyes dark and heated with lust match the wolfish grin on his sensual mouth as he scrapes his palms up to my knees and down to my ankles.
“I like these shoes,” he says, lifting my leg up to his shoulder and kissing the curve of my ankle. His fingers wander over the sprinkles and cherry. If those red fruits aren’t a euphemism for the situation I’m in I don’t know what is.
“Oh no.” I gasp, and clasp at my chest in mock worry. “You’re a shoe fetishist, aren’t you? That’s a deal breaker for me.”
“Funny.” He growls as he pounces, my leg sliding over his shoulder as he kisses me sharply.
Oh my God, this is some kinky pre-sex stretching. I’m practically doing the splits. Me, a woman who has never been particularly good at sports, is suddenly world class. I could probably win the Olympics. Or at least get bronze in sex-pretzel-ing. Okay, I’d have to qualify first. I’d have to actually do the deed.
“Parker.” His name bursts through my lips more a moan than any chance of starting a discussion on the state of my cookie as his hand slides under my skirt to trace the wet heat of my panties.
“I want to spread you open, Bree.” His low guttural tone against my ear makes my skin prickle with need. “I want to take off your panties and spread your gorgeous thighs wide, so I can put my mouth on your cunt.”
“You want to eat my cookie?” I whimper, my insides clenching.
“Fuck yeah.” He exhales the words as he runs a circle with his thumb over my clit. “I want to nibble and lick and suck on your fucking cookie until it crumbles for me. I want to lick the cream from your center and devour every last crumb while you scream from how good I eat your cookie.”
