by E. J. Noyes
“I see. Why do you like romances so much? You’ve always struck me as more like the fantasy or nonfiction type.” I’d read the odd romance novel myself but reading just didn’t form much of my leisure time.
“I like all books.” She tilted her head back until it rested against the couch. “But everything in romance always feels so much better and more fantastical than real life. And it always works out in the end, people always have their happily ever afters.” Now her smile was slow, contented. “It makes me feel all squishy inside.”
“Fantastical, hmm. Yeah that sounds right with everyone’s perfect body and face and hair and job.”
Brooke snorted out a laugh. “Yeah. But I happen to think your body and face and hair and job is pretty perfect.”
“Very good answer.” I leaned down and kissed her. “I kind of think our little piece of reality is pretty nice at the moment.”
“I kind of think it is too, and I feel like it’s only going to get better.” Carefully she placed her feet outside mine with her legs slightly parted. “And our sexy bits are way better than anything in fiction.”
“I think I’d have to agree with you.” I knelt between her legs, pushing her knees even farther apart. “So it only makes you feel squishy?” I asked innocently, trailing my index finger up the inside of her thigh.
“Among other things…” Brooke lightly cradled my face. “Other things I’ve been feeling all night whenever I looked at you.”
“Mmm.” I carefully unfastened her jeans. “Lift your butt.”
She braced a hand on my shoulder and raised up an inch so I could slide her jeans off. She wasn’t lying about her other feelings. The crotch of her panties showed evidence of her enjoyment of whatever she’d been reading. I couldn’t help myself. I leaned in, burying my face between her thighs and inhaling her. “I’ve never been like this before.” I kissed the junction at the top of her thigh. “I love the way you smell. I’m like a fucking addict.”
“Just the way I smell?” she asked coyly, the hand now massaging my shoulder.
I drew her underwear aside, and after indulging myself further in her intoxicating scent, slowly ran my tongue through her heat. The hand on my shoulder tightened until her fingertips dug in as I swirled my tongue around her clit. I sucked lightly, the now-familiar excitement tightening my gut and making my own clit tingle. “Not just the way you smell. Everything about you. The way you touch me, the sounds you make. Your taste.”
Brooke let out a long, low groan when I sucked her again and suddenly all I wanted was her naked on top of me. My fingers deep inside her. Her mouth on me. Abruptly, I stood and my voice was rough with lust. “Bedroom, now, please so I can thank you for tonight.” At her blank expression, I elaborated, “For being so chill about it, for not pushing, for being generally amazing.”
“Jana, you really don’t need to do that. I don’t expect it.”
“I know. And that’s why I want to. Well, part of the reason why…”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It took until almost midnight for me to thoroughly express my appreciation to Brooke for being such a wonderful, sweet and understanding girlfriend. In the morning, she left at the same time as me, but not to go to work. She’d declared she was taking a mental health day, citing both wanting to put the final touches on the commission for Sabs and Bec, and that she was so drained after a drawn-out argument with both a builder and her father yesterday that she couldn’t stomach going in to the office. I’d been sent off with the lunch she’d made, a kiss, and an almost shy promise that she’d miss me.
Mary Elvins was appropriately contrite at both the lateness of her document and the shit she’d tried to pull, and I managed to keep my polite and professional above the eighty percent. A winning morning all around. I busted my butt for the rest of the day, managing to keep my head in the game, except at lunch when I saw the adorable note wedged in beside a sandwich bag and a container of dip, carrot and celery sticks.
I’ll be thinking about you every minute. Hope you’re having a good day. See you after work xo
“Oh, Brooke,” I murmured. Pretty soon my I’m falling in love with you was going to tumble into I’m hopelessly in love with you. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. She said she was close, but what if she changed her mind? What if something set her on another course? What if she never caught up to me? Could I keep going as we were, just hanging out, enjoying spending time with her and sleeping together? I mused over the question every free moment and couldn’t find a firm answer, though my gut said no—I couldn’t keep going, not feeling the way I did about her, if she never found the courage to be with me fully.
When I was done for the day, I drove directly to her place. Navigating around the side, I was greeted by the grind and clang of her working in the shed. The sound triggered a strange sensation almost like a reverse déjà vu—instead of having done this before, it was something I would be doing over and over in the future. I hung back for a minute, simply enjoying the sight of her, the easy confidence with which she worked until my need to be near her overwhelmed my enjoyment of watching her.
The moment I appeared in the open shed door, Brooke shut off her power tool and held it away at arm’s length. When it’d stopped whirring enough for her to be heard, she greeted me with an enthusiastic, “Hello, gorgeous.”
“Hello yourself.” I stepped carefully around assorted metal and workshop things to kiss her, careful not to get too close to the tool. “This is looking really good.” She’d been working on the Amazonian sculpture and had added more steel, shaped the curves of thighs and breasts.
Brooke set down her power tool, and pulled off her protective goggles and earmuffs. “Thanks. I finished that piece for Sabine and Rebecca, and my brain went straight back to this one. Did you want to see your commission? It’s in the house ready to be packed up.”
“Sure. When we go in.” I gestured to the freestanding sculpture. “What are you planning for this one? Someone would pay ten grand easy for a sculpture like this.”
Brooke studied her project, eyebrows drawn together. Her mouth was lifted in a barely perceptible smile. “Probably, yeah. But I can’t sell this one. She’s too special.”
“What are you going to do with it then?”
“Not sure. Might rustproof her and put her out on the front lawn.” She flashed a wicked grin. “Cause a neighborhood scandal with the nudity. Or move her inside. I really don’t know.”
I touched a section of smooth metal. “It just seems wasteful, almost like the whole world should see her. But I’m not an artist person, so you know, opinions and grain of salt and all that.”
Brooke caught my wrist, pulling gently until I faced her. “You dope. Remember how I said I tripped over the inspiration for this piece? You’re my inspiration, Jana. I told you, I’ve wanted you from the instant I saw you. After I’d bumped into you, as the elevator doors were closing, I saw you standing there with a hand on your hip and your chin up and that sexy as hell take no bullshit expression.” Brooke fanned herself. “Holy shit, I nearly melted right there. I’ll never get rid of this work, I love her too much.”
“Oh. It’s me?” I squinted, trying to see myself in the curved lines, full breasts and soft shaping of the figure.
“Inspired by you, yes. I’ve had a lot of inspiration since we met…”
“Oh, well in that case I need to revise my estimate upward by about a hundred grand.” I pulled off her leather work gloves and set them down. “I have an overwhelming urge to kiss you right now.”
“I think you should listen to that urge.”
“Well, I think we’ve already established that when it comes to you, I’ve given up trying to control myself.” I wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her closer, but she resisted. “What?” I asked.
She smiled self-consciously. “I’m sweaty and dirty, and you’re wearing very nice clothes.”
“I don’t care about any of those things. I like you every way in
cluding sweaty and dirty. Plus, you may have heard of this thing called a dry cleaner?”
She laughed and acquiesced, but when I kissed her, she still carefully kept everything except her mouth and hands away from me. The heat of her mouth was enough to scorch me but I wanted more. I unbuttoned her coveralls to the waist, noted with pleasure that all she had on was a crop top, then slipped my hands inside to clutch her waist. I pressed myself against her. “Your argument about cleanliness is now moot.”
Her response was a muffled sound of agreement.
I trailed my fingers down until I encountered the waistband of underwear, and nothing else. I brushed my lips against hers, lingered close. “Ms. Donnelly, are you practically naked under these coveralls?”
“It gets hot in here,” she mumbled.
“Well now I feel overdressed.” Very gently, I bit her lower lip.
Brooke groaned softly. “Not for long…” She knelt and reached under my skirt to brush her fingertips up my thighs before she carefully pulled my panties down, slipped them off one heel-clad foot at a time and placed them in her pocket. She caressed my calf, palm gliding over my skin, gently kneading the muscle as the other hand pushed my skirt up. Her lips joined in to place open-mouthed kisses on one thigh then the other as she kept up her massage of my calves. “Mmm, I love your legs,” she said against my thigh. “Heels are a crime against comfort, but the way you wear them is so fucking hot.”
Her careful attention had made my libido sit up and take notice, and it was all I could do to answer. “Likewise.”
She stood, gripped my hips and pressed into me for a bruising kiss. As our tongues danced, Brooke maneuvered us around the sculpture, scrap metal and all the neatly ordered piles. She paused, her eyes wild as they swept the space, then dragged me over to a bench in the corner and pressed me back against it. She didn’t unzip my skirt, simply pushed it up further and helped me up onto the waist-high bench. Despite my earlier reassurance and demonstration that I didn’t care about her being work-dirty, she still stepped back and shucked her arms out of the coveralls, shoving the garment down so it hung at her waist.
Then she went incredibly still, staring at me with lust and awe. Her expression quickly turned to one of scrutiny so intense I almost felt as though she’d already stripped me naked and spread me open.
I gripped the edge of the table. “What?”
“You. I, uh…give me a minute?” She reached around me for a draft pad and pencil. After flipping quickly through the pages, she got straight to work, her hand flying over the page. Without stilling her frantic sketching, she explained, “You look so fucking hot, I want to paint this.”
I stayed as still as I could, watching her intensity, the swift and skillful movement of hand over paper. Her concentration was so sexy that instead of cooling from the interruption, my desire heated to boiling point.
Brooke glanced up for a second. “I swear you’ve turned into my muse.” She dropped the pad and pencil onto the table behind me and stepped between my thighs again. “Sorry, where were we?”
I hooked a finger in the crop top, pulled her closer and bent my head until our lips were a breath away. “I think somewhere about here?”
Brooke groaned before taking my mouth in a deep, lingering kiss. Her hands roamed to delicious places, exploring and teasing until I was almost melting with desperation. When she moved to suck the skin along my collarbone, I licked the salty skin of her neck. “I’m pretty sure I had a fantasy about this.”
“What? Getting fucked in a hot, dirty shed by an equally dirty woman?” Her hand made a quick sweep up the inside of my thigh, heading straight for my arousal.
“Yes. And you forgot the second hot.” I gasped when her fingers slipped over my clit, the touch featherlight and maddeningly teasing.
“I did? What do you mean?” She repeated the movement, but slower and firmer this time.
“Hot dirty shed, hot dirty woman. And the fantasy was you, fucking me just like this. Do that harder please.”
“Do what?” she asked, all innocence.
“You know what.” I spread my legs wider, trying to draw her in.
But she ignored my plea and kept up her sweet torture. Despite the growing pressure and undeniable arousal, I wasn’t in the mood for light and easy. I wanted her to take me rough and hard. I barely suppressed a frustrated groan. “I swear, I’m going to jump down off this bench, go inside and finish this myself in a minute.”
“I doubt it. Now be quiet,” she murmured against my neck.
“Make me be quiet,” I said, fully intending for her to kiss me to shut me up. Which she did. Her tongue played over mine, teeth grazing my lower lip as her fingers maintained their teasing between my legs until I was squirming. Okay, maybe the light touch was also effective.
By the time Brooke let me come up for air, I’d changed my mind. “Actually scratch that.” I sucked her lower lip. “Make me scream…”
Brooke curled an arm around my waist, holding me in place and with a knowing smirk, entered me so slowly that I nearly went into orbit. She thrust gently, turning her fingers to stroke my favorite spot. “Tell me about this fantasy you had.”
“Pretty much this,” I managed to say around a sharp intake of breath. “Except you licked me until I came in your mouth.”
“Oh. I think I like the sound of that,” she said, her voice thick with lust.
“Me too.”
With a devilish grin, Brooke backed up, bent her head and put her mouth on me. She took me skillfully, and it was barely two minutes before I spiraled into release with one hand in her hair and the other gripping the table so tightly I thought I might leave dents in the wood. When I could finally breathe again, I mumbled, “God you know how to press my buttons.”
Brooke laughed as she straightened up again. “Just the one that matters.” She let out a long contented sigh, kissing my neck softly. “I love fucking you. You’re so controlling and bossy, demanding that I do this and that and touch you here and with this exact amount of pressure and at this precise speed and rhythm, and it’s so goddamned hot. Then all of a sudden it’s like you just surrender and you make this little whimper, like a desperate please and yes that feels so good all in one. And you turn from a lioness into a kitten.”
“A kitten?” I arched an eyebrow, trying my best harsh school mistress face on her. It was less than effective, probably because my whole body felt boneless.
“Mhmm.” Carefully, she helped me from the worktable and pulled my skirt down. But she didn’t return my underwear.
I took her hand, and led her out of the shed. “Let’s go inside so I can surrender some more. And if you’re lucky, I’ll show you just how kittenish I can be.”
After we’d taken a long, hot shower together—made longer by our slow, sensual lovemaking—Brooke and I cooked dinner, then curled up on the couch. She leaned into me, an arm wrapped around my waist while the other hand worked the remote. Once she’d settled on a Grey’s Anatomy rerun, she pulled me even closer.
She talked quietly during the show the way she always did, but she seemed distant, as if her mind were elsewhere. I stroked her arm. “You okay?”
“Oh. Yeah, just thinking about stuff.” In the next breath she elaborated, “Today was pretty much perfect. Waking up with you this morning, then me staying home to work on those pieces all day, doing something I love and that I wanted to do. No work stress or anything. Then you being here after work and we’ve had the hottest missed you all day sex. I mean, it sucked not seeing you for sneaky coffee breaks during the day, but I knew I’d have you after work.” Brooke shrugged. “It was amazing, and I guess it’s kind of bumming me out because I know tomorrow I have to go back into the office and have a miserable workday.”
“True, and that part of the day will be shit. But I’ll be beside you all night in bed, wake up with you, then we’ll drive in and see each other again for coffee before work and during the day. When all the work stuff is done, we’ll leave together an
d do pretty much what we’re doing now.” I reached out and brushed her hair behind an ear. “Maybe you could talk to your dad about changing your work hours so you can focus more on your art?” Her professional relationship with her father seemed a safer topic than their personal one but I still held my breath.
Brooke snorted derisively. “No. I wouldn’t waste my time.”
“Even if it’s something that’d make you happy? Not to mention your insane talent. Why wouldn’t he come on board with something like that?”
“Because he just won’t, Jana. He doesn’t get it, just like he doesn’t get the other thing, and thinking about having to talk to him about how much I despise my job makes me feel sick. How am I supposed to tell my dad that I don’t like working with him, working for him.” Though her posture was relaxed, the clipped tone made it clear she wasn’t. “Can we please drop this? I’m not in the mood to talk about it and I really don’t want to have an argument.”
“Sure, of course.” I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed her palm. “I’m sorry, really I am. I know I have no right to push you about this. It’s just that I’m a pushy bitch.”
She curled her fingers to lightly cup my face. “Yeah, you are. But I like having such a badass on my side. I like knowing that you care about me enough to want me to be happy, but it’s utterly pointless to try to make him see my point of view with both work and personal life.”
Her personal life was a whole other issue that I couldn’t even begin to unpack. But as for her job, it was just a job. I had no idea what held her to her father’s side this way, why she was so afraid of moving away from his company when she could start her own firm, work for another company, or even do something else entirely. The only explanation I could come up with was based loosely on watching my sister join the military when I knew she didn’t want to.
Expectation.
No matter which way I turned the puzzle to examine it, I still couldn’t understand how Brooke could give up so much of herself for a father who didn’t even accept her. And I wondered if I’d ever know. Or if anything would ever change.
