By the time everyone leaves, it’s already well past dark. It’s still Georgia, though, so the night is hot and sweet, the stars sparkling overhead. It could be high noon, it’s so warm.
Most of the men decide to continue the party at Abernathy’s. I even get a couple of invitations to join them, so they must be in a good mood. No doubt, they’ll be good customers. You’re welcome, Nathan.
I watch them lurch off to their cars, studying them carefully to make sure no one’s too drunk to drive. Within minutes, all of the cars have pulled out, leaving the quiet night behind.
“Want some help?”
Of course she stayed. I turn, taking in Andrea from the light of a few torches Rory set up earlier. Her hair has lost most of its curl; it now hangs down around her shoulders, the tips curling slightly around her breasts. I inhale deeply past the lump lodged somewhere deep in my chest.
She looks so soft. So feminine. Her dress is the exact shade of a lemon popsicle. If I licked her, would she taste as sweet? As delectable as she did in the bar?
“Axel?” she asks when I say nothing.
“Help me bring everything inside?” I say, voice embarrassingly hoarse.
I grab some of the dishes and flee to the house, but it does little to avoid her, because she’s right behind me with her own load.
We work in silence for a few minutes. I hear her breathing, smell her perfume, watch her push a strand of hair behind her ear as she grabs another pile of plates. There’s an effortless grace in her movements, an unstudied air more attractive than any kind of deliberate sultriness.
I want her with the kind of physical need reserved for divers coming up after a long dive. It’s ridiculous and unwanted and unexpected. And, I think, it might be inevitable.
“So Noah left early,” Andrea says when we’ve returned outside for another load.
I tense. “Uh-huh.”
“I invited him to make up for the other night.”
I whirl on her. “Now why the hell would you do that?”
“Because I ditched him last time! It was incredibly rude.”
“No, incredibly rude is poaching your brother’s girl,” I grumble under my breath.
“Am I?”
Shit fuck. “What?”
“Your girl. Am I?”
I say nothing. I have absolutely zero idea how to dislodge my foot from my mouth.
“You know the date on Tuesday was planned before.”
“Before what?” I say, my voice sharper than it should be.
“Before your bedroom. Noah’d already asked me out when you walked in on me. The whole thing was just bad timing.”
“Oh, is that what it was. Simply bad timing. Good to know.”
“No, that’s … I don’t mean it like that. Noah asked me out a while ago. A couple times, actually. I resisted at first, but we were similar, and I thought we would do well together. We have so much in common. I didn’t intend for anything of this to happen.”
“You didn’t plan to date my brother or kiss me?”
“You kissed me!”
“Same thing.”
“It’s not, and you know it.”
“You returned that kiss. We went over this. We both admitted we liked it, I told you I can’t afford to ruin our relationship as it currently stands, and then tonight you show up with Noah. Again.”
“You ignored me all week!”
“So did you! I thought we were in agreement that we’d made a mistake at Abernathy’s?”
Andrea places the bowl she’s been holding on the picnic table. I pick it up, as if it might shield me from whatever she’s about to say next.
“Then it would be better if I did go out with Noah, wouldn’t it?”
My teeth grind together as I force myself not to shout that I don’t want her to even contemplate that, let alone actually do it.
She smiles slightly in triumph. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. I regret what happened with Noah. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to Abernathy’s with him. I don’t know. We’d already made plans. It would have been rude to cancel, right? At the time we arranged our date, I thought our similarities were enough. I thought we’d have enough in common to start something. But then—”
“Andrea,” I say in warning, not wanting but still needing to hear what she intends to say.
“But then it wasn’t enough. Not after your bedroom. Not after the bar. Not when … you were more. It changed everything.”
The bowl clatters to the ground. I don’t know if I reach for her or she flies to me, but the only thing that matters is that I’m threading my hands through her hair and kissing her like she’s the last source of oxygen in this world.
“I’ve been having crazy erotic dreams about you,” I say between kisses.
“What?” Andrea gasps.
I trail my lips down the column of her throat. “Every goddamn night. I can’t stop them. Ever since I saw you naked in my bedroom. Christ, the things you’ve done to me in my dreams. Hell, the things I’ve done to you. I can’t stop fantasizing about you, how you taste, how you feel. It’s just too much. I can’t resist you another second, not one more instant.”
Andrea pulls me closer. “Then don’t. Don’t resist me. Not anymore.”
Her plea, those words tinged with raw vulnerability, are my undoing. Our bodies collide, mouths sliding fiercely against each other. My hands slide up her waist, pulling her as close to me as two people can ever be.
Andrea pulls away from my mouth and whispers, “I’ve been fantasizing about you since I saw you in your bedroom. The instant attraction, the fucking need came out of nowhere. God, you stood there in nothing but your briefs. Absolutely filthy dirty, and I didn’t even care. I couldn’t stop staring at every glorious inch of you, so clearly aroused by the sight of me. I’ve wanted to taste you since. And I did, for a minute in the bar. It wasn’t enough. That’s why I invited Noah here today. I needed to tell him in person I couldn’t date him because I was interested in you.”
I don’t even attempt to resist the desire to claim the woman who’s just confessed that to me. My shaking hands slip under her dress, sliding up her soft legs so that I can lift her off the ground. I place her on the picnic table behind her, gently pushing her thighs apart so that I can step between them.
“Axel …”
I kiss down the column of her throat, lingering at the base of her neck as the scent of peaches hits me. She smells just like this farm. Everything about her reminds me of this farm, this place. My life. How have I never noticed that before? How blind can a man be?
My hands trail down the front of her dress. Thank you, Lord, it’s one that knots in front. I pull the tie, watching heat flush across Andrea’s face as she lets me unwrap her like a sexy little present. Slowly, never breaking eye contact, I pull her dress aside. Her lips part as the summer night air hits her body. My eyes drop, then widen. Oh, sweet fuck.
Her lingerie is the same exact shade of yellow as her dress. I mean, exactly. Her breasts are wrapped in such delicate lace. If I were to tug even slightly, I’d rip it clear away. Andrea arches her back in offering. My mouth waters in need.
“Shit,” I growl, running my fingers over that perfect lace.
“I wore it deliberately.”
My eyes leap to hers. “What?”
“The lingerie. I matched it to the dress on purpose. If you weren’t going to initiate anything tonight, I was. I don’t care about work; we’ll figure it out. It’s just a job. I want more of what we did in that bar. I want that more than any work we might do together.”
For fuck’s sake, how am I supposed to resist that? Any lingering resistance I have crumbles. My mouth dips to the pink nipple visible through the sheer material of her bra. I suck her through the garment, arm sliding under her body when her back arches in response. I hold her to me, tearing her bra away so I can taste her, the garment falling to the ground.
Andrea moans, the sound loud in the calm night. She trails her hands down my body, care
ssing, squeezing, pulling me closer to her. A moment later, her nimble fingers undo my jeans. Before I can move, she frees me. Smiling, she strokes me firmly as I make some embarrassing noise halfway between a growl and a moan. My hands land on either side of her as I force myself not to come like a fucking teenager. Her grin widens lazily as she strokes harder.
“You like that, don’t you?”
“Andrea …”
“Yes?” she smiles, her words a wicked taunt.
Enough teasing. I yank her underwear down her thighs, over the bend of her knees, all the way to her pair of yellow heels. Those are definitely staying. My eyes trail back up her body. She’s already wet. My cock twitches, aching to be thrust deep inside her.
“Spread your legs wider,” I order. Andrea complies, but I spread them even wider, pushing them up so the heels balance on the edge of the picnic table. I freeze, stunned stupid by the sight of her spread for me. When I’m old and wrinkly, weak and senile, I’ll still remember this moment. It’s forever burned into my brain; not even a lobotomy could erase it.
I slide my hand down her thigh and stroke her like she did me, thrusting one, then two fingers inside her, my thumb circling her clit. Andrea grips the edge of the table, hips thrusting upward. Her breasts bounce with the movement.
“That’s it. Thrust against me,” I say, voice dropping three octaves. Andrea’s eyes flutter closed, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. I want to be the one to bite that lip, but I’m too busy losing myself in her slick heat to move an inch higher. Her cries are intoxicating, exhilarating. I increase the tempo, my free hand pinning her to the table as she grinds against my fingers.
“Axel …” Andrea tightens around my fingers. My own breath exhales in harsh pants as I feel her moving closer, closer. Any second now she’ll come from just three fingers.
“Look at me.”
Andrea slowly opens her eyes, barely able to focus on me.
“Look at me when you come.” I thrust one final time, sliding my entire palm against her clit. Andrea screams, writhing against me as she pulses around my fingers. She isn’t quiet. She doesn’t care that we’re outside, completely visible to anyone who might come up the drive. I’d spend the rest of my life making her come so I could hear her scream like that.
I continue stroking her until she falls still, her only movement her heaving breasts. My dick throbs painfully. Andrea’s orgasm is the most glorious thing I’ve ever witnessed. I’m going to set her off again from the slide of my cock alone.
I rip my shirt over my head. I don’t bother removing my jeans, just shove them down over my hips after I remove a condom from my wallet. Andrea stares in delight as I slowly, deliberately roll it down my length, stroking myself.
“Come here,” I say, voice thick. Her heels drop off the table as she leans up. I slide the long sleeves of her dress down her arms, leaving it on the table behind her. And there she is, that naked body I only briefly glimpsed once before. My entire body screams at me to fuck her like some animal, but I refuse to let that happen. I’m going to take my time screwing her, linger riding this wave between us until we’re spent from the sheer force of it.
Andrea purrs slightly as I wrap her legs tightly around my waist. “Axel.”
I glance up. Her eyes are impenetrable, vulnerable, magnified by her thick glasses. I could lose my soul in those eyes. Perhaps I already have.
“What?”
She drops her gaze between us. “I need to watch you enter me.”
Fucking hell. “That could be arranged.”
I lean back, putting precious inches between us and lowering my gaze as well. We both watch as I slowly enter her. She’s gloriously wet, wonderfully warm. I groan, resisting the urge to pump furiously. Andrea grabs my shoulders.
“Jesus,” she says.
“Fuck. Fuck yeah,” I say, sliding in another inch, two. Andrea’s nails dig into my shoulders, her body trembles. She’s visibly holding herself back, just as I am. A moment later, I’m fully inside her. She clenches around me once, twice, taking me completely. We’re both frozen, hovering at the precipice of what we both know will change everything.
“God, fuck me now,” Andrea suddenly cries, dragging me flush against her. I snap, hands clutching her ass as I jerk back and thrust into her hard. I tilt her slightly so that I’m grinding against her clit as I thrust over and over, fast and hard, completely unable to slow myself.
“Fuck, Andrea.”
“Like that. Don’t stop. Don’t stop!” She buries her head in my neck, moaning as her hips jerk in time with my thrusts.
“Christ, that … that’s so good. Jesus.”
Andrea’s breasts bob against my chest, our bodies slick with sweat from the hot air. “Faster. Harder.”
I comply with a groan, hips jerking wildly. I’m beyond sexual finesse. There’s just me and Andrea and how much I want her to come again on my cock.
“Oh, Andrea, fuck. I’m going to … you better come soon. I want to feel you squeeze me.”
Andrea’s entire body shudders. “Close. So close.”
I suddenly move, taking her with me so I can lean back against the table. I bring her down hard on my dick, grinding into her from a newer, deeper angle. And that’s all it takes. Andrea throws her head back with another scream. I last another thrust before her scream sends me over the edge. I groan a single, low moan as I come, my hips jerking, unable to stop as wave after wave of pleasure hits me.
Chapter Thirteen
By the time Andrea and I untangle ourselves from each other and finish cleaning up from the party, it’s far too late for her to go home. So she stays over. I fuck her through the night, which leads to breakfast in bed the next morning, followed by an entire afternoon of additional screwing. When Andrea finally leaves Sunday evening, dazed and walking a little funny, I fall almost instantly into an exhausted, satiated sleep.
I awake Monday morning, thoroughly screwed in the best sense of the word. I haven’t had such a long bout of sex in years. I want a hell of a lot more of that. I haven’t even had my morning coffee yet and I’m already fantasizing about what I’ll do to Andrea after work. I require a repeat performance on that picnic table.
I spend the morning sitting at my desk, attempting to understand the provisional financial statements Andrea finished on Friday, but the only thing my mind wants to focus on is the image of Andrea on her hands and knees, moaning as I fuck her from behind. Or Andrea digging her nails into my shoulders as I thrust into her against the shower wall. Math is the furthest thing on my mind, not when I can ponder the next time I’ll grind into her.
“Axel! The southwest quadrant is on fire!”
For a moment, I simply stare at Morris. “What?”
“Someone was smoking and set the refuse pile on fire with their cigarette butt. It’s spreading fast!”
I launch out of my seat. “Call the fire department!”
“We already did; I don’t think they’ll get here in time.”
I sprint out of the house, throwing myself into the Gator. Morris lands in the seat next to me and I push the pedal to the floor, flying toward the southwest corner of our property. A second later, I think again, and whip back around, barreling back toward the barn.
“What are you doing!”
“Getting the hose.”
After the flooding debacle, I removed the industrial hose to the barn and ordered the men to use our smaller hoses instead, which allow for barely a tenth of the water output that this one can handle.
We haul the hose into the back of the Gator. Black smoke billows up into the sky. Nausea roils through me; how many trees have gone up? Are the men okay? Will we manage to get the fire under control before it destroys my livelihood?
We stream past the door to the barn’s office when Andrea steps out. “What’s wrong?” she screams as we shoot by her. In the rearview mirror, I see her turn to watch us and notice the smoke instead.
Every second, every moment feels like five eternities.
I’m moving, flying across the property, but I might as well be immobile, it feels so slow. By the time we finally screech into the area, great flames billow up from my poor trees. I feel as if I’ve aged a decade.
My men are running around, frantically pulling the hoses from the rest of the farm in order to combat the flames. Someone stands in the corner, phone pressed to his ear, relaying information to the fire department.
I immediately take stock of the situation. Two entire rows of trees are ablaze, and if we’re not careful, it’s going to spread the rest. God help us if it spreads off the property. This summer has been drier than usual; there’s a lot of dry brush out here that could go up real fast.
The fire department is a good thirty minutes away. They’re probably fifteen into the drive. For now, we’re alone, horribly alone, and everything we do in these next moments could potentially dictate the rest of my life and that of this community.
“Get over here and help me with this hose!” I roar, dragging the thing off the Gator’s truck bed. A group of men run over and we haul it over to the nearest hookup to the water line. “Crank it all the way.”
“But I thought the pressure—”
“Do it! Then get behind me to help secure the line.”
Morris’s face twists in skepticism but he complies. A moment later, a torrential burst of water flies out of the hose, nearly throwing me back from the force. The men behind me tighten their hold as I direct the spray toward the nearest tree on fire.
This can’t spread to more trees. I have to make a choice: put out the flames that have been burning the longest, or direct the water to the trees that have just gone up and could still spread to the next row. The former means attacking the fire from where it originally began, but the latter means sacrificing those trees.
I glance at the first row again; they’re already gone. Dead. I know it instinctively. No matter what we do, no matter how hard we try, no fruit is ever going to produce on those trees again. So, even though it pains me terribly, I direct the hose toward the second row of trees, many of which are only slightly ablaze, but could still spread to the rest of the orchard. If I can just set out the fire there quickly, I might be able to salvage some of the other trees, and hopefully stop the fire completely.
Devil (King Brothers #2) Page 8
