by Brandi Evans
Famine.
Disease.
Starving children in Ethiopia.
Ambushes.
He conjured image after image, anything that might check his mounting desire, but it was like trying to put out a five-alarm fire with a water gun. Luckily, fortune was being merciful, and Soph and her lava-hot mouth moved away.
She pushed to her feet and sat on his lap again, this time in reverse. Her back against his chest, she ground her ass against his dick, his erection caught between her cheeks. Fuck, he was about to blow.
She hooked an arm around his neck as if she were about to pull him down for a kiss. The position gave him a spectacularly unobstructed view of her breasts. Her nipples pointed to the ceiling, begging to be fondled, and damn, he wanted to touch them.
Touch her.
But he couldn’t.
Damn it. He’d never wanted a lap dance to end this much in his life.
Soph’s husky voice tickled his ear as she sang along with the fading music—only her whispered words didn’t match Peggy’s. “You know how to make me burn…”
The pressure in his balls rocketed to DEFCON 1, and he lost it. He palmed his best friend’s breasts. And squeezed. “Fuck me, Soph?”
Shit.
He realized his fuck up the instant it happened—the words and the action—but taking either back was impossible.
He dropped his hands to his sides and clenched his eyes shut. He didn’t want to see the rejection on her beautiful face. Couldn’t see it was more like it. To ruin things between them in an instant of uncontrolled hunger…she’d hate him for the rest of his life.
Her breath caressed his ear. “I thought you’d never ask, my love.”
His eyes popped open.
She didn’t just say…?
Did she?
The last strains of the music faded away, replaced by the swelling cheer of the crowd, and Soph pushed to her feet. With one hand, she waved to the audience. With the other, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him backstage in much the same fashion a bratty kid might pull his mom to the toy section of Walmart. His heart—not to mention his cock—pounded with possibilities.
Sex.
Soph.
Shit!
As soon as they were backstage, Bret wedged his friend into a corner. Her dark eyes glowed with the same need echoing in his body.
He drew his index finger down her dark cheek. “Soph?” Dozens of questions resonated in that single word, and she answered them all with a searing kiss.
Chapter Two
Sophia kicked her office door shut and all but slammed Bret back against it. Or maybe they fell against it. Who knew? Their bodies were so intertwined, she could hardly tell where she ended and he began.
How could she have gone so long without this, without him? The simple answer was that she was an idiot. The complicated answer? Well, that was a combination of the fallout from her attempted rape six years ago and the venomous she-bitch who’d swooped in and stolen Bret when Sophia had pushed him away during the long dark months after her attack. But that gloom was in the past. She’d gained control over her life since then. The dark ghosts couldn’t touch her, especially not with Bret wrapped so deliciously around her.
Right now, nothing existed but her and Bret.
His kisses devoured her, his hands seemingly everywhere at once. “You feel so damn good,” he mumbled into her mouth.
Right back at ya.
She was practically naked from her dance and still not naked enough. She needed the feel of Bret’s hands against her skin, no barriers between them. She tugged the ties of her top, and her breasts spilled free.
Bret wasted no time covering the mounds with his palms and squeezed hard. Maybe a little too hard but that was okay. This was Bret. He’d never hurt her.
Never.
Her nipples hardened against the rough lines of his calloused palms, and she moaned into his mouth. “Bret…” She dipped her hands beneath the hem of his shirt and explored the contoured skin she’d fantasized about for years. His beautiful toned back felt incredible beneath her fingers, just like she’d always thought it would. Hard and soft at the same time, a tantalizing combination.
She wished they were at home so they could spend every minute until he left completely naked, physically and emotionally, but getting home was proving to be difficult. Bret was on the verge of losing it. Good thing she knew a tried-and-true way to put a raging hard-on in check.
“Don’t move,” she whispered and dropped to her knees. She had his pants unzipped and his cock in her hands before he even reacted to the fact she’d moved.
“Soph…”
“You might want to hold on to something.” And with that said, she sucked his length to the back of her throat. No teasing. Just wham. Full penetration.
“Ah fuck.” Bret sliced his fingers through her hair. “Soph.”
She let him guide the depth and tempo of the blowjob as she tugged on his jeans until his balls hung free. She palmed his sac and massaged the orbs in time with his thrusts. He mumbled unintelligible nonsense—at least it sounded like nonsense—and drove his cock deeper into her mouth, stroking in and out faster, harder. She lavished him with her tongue, loving the way he felt, the way he tasted, the way the veins of his erection collided with her tongue, the way his tip tapped against the back of her throat, almost gagging her.
“Soph. Babe.” His hands tightened around her hair, and he forced himself deeper still. “So close. So—”
His body went rigid, and hot cum splashed against the back of her throat. Fuck yea. She could handle choking on cock or cum, just not both, so wrapping her fingers around the base of his length, she took control again.
Again?
Had she ever really had control?
His climax was the most intense aphrodisiac she’d ever experienced. With each spurt of cum against the back of her throat, her sex descended into erotic freefall. It was as if the shock waves of his orgasm were directly stimulating her pussy. The desire to reach between her legs and stroke her clit was almost too much to resist, but she did resist. She wanted Bret to bring her to climax. Lord knew she’d given herself enough orgasms while dreaming of her best friend.
He went still, and his fierce grip on her hair turned soft, caressing. And he sighed. Still, she kept him in her mouth, kept sucking him. Couldn’t stop sucking him was more like it.
She watched him from her kneeling position. His forehead was wrinkled, his eyes clenched shut. His mouth was a thin line as he seemed to rein himself back in. She’d done that to him, made him lose control. Talk about a turn-on.
After a long moment, he finally opened his eyes, and his glossy gaze fell on her. Not-quite-fulfilled desire painted his face. The blowjob might have given him a bit of control, but he was not a sated man by any stretch of the imagination. Thank god for that.
He brushed flyaway hair from her face. “You have no clue how fucking sexy you look right now.”
Oh she had a clue. Unfortunately, she did “fucking sexy” a bit too well.
He slid his semi-flaccid cock from her mouth and knelt in front of her. For a long moment, he searched her eyes. “Should I be worried about, ya know, the fact I just had my dick in my best friend’s mouth?”
She shook her head, reaching for him and hooking her index fingers inside his front pockets, and pulled him closer. “I enjoyed having it there.”
“So I noticed.” He ran the pad of his thumb around the corner of her mouth and, when he pulled it back, semen moistened the tip.
Smiling, she drew the cum-covered finger into her mouth and sucked it like she’d just sucked his cock. “Mmm.”
His nostrils flared, and he cradled her face between his hands. Not soft but not rough either. Urgent? Yes, with great urgency.
A thousand questions darkened his blue eyes. Did she regret this? Where did they go from here? What exactly did the blowjob mean? She didn’t know the answers to them all, but she did know the answer to the most im
portant one, the only one that really mattered tonight.
“I didn’t let this happen, ya know?” She kissed his nose. “I wanted this to happen, Bret. I have for a long time. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Same here.”
Bret wanted her too. Overwhelming emotion clogged in her throat, and she crushed her mouth against his. It was that or cry, and tears would only slow things down.
Bret pushed her backward onto the carpet, and she pulled him along with her, wrapping her arms and legs around him. But he pushed away from her grip. No, not away.
Down.
He clamped his lips around her nipple, sending rivulets of pleasure shooting straight to her core. She needed release and she needed it now, but more than that, she needed him inside her.
She tugged on his shirt until he unlatched from her nipple and she could pull the material over his head. “I hadn’t planned on doing this here,” she whispered. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but—”
“I don’t want to wait any longer, Soph. I need you too much.” The passion saturating his voice was gasoline on the fire in her core. To know he wanted her as much as she’d wanted him…
Shit, those pesky tears returned and pushed against the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not now. There’d be plenty of time for tears once he was gone.
He slid lower, his tongue slithering over her belly, and impatient hands pushed her thighs wide. “Hold your legs open for me, Soph.”
She obeyed without hesitation, putting her own spin on his order. After all, she used to be a super-flexible stripper. Sitting forward slightly, she locked her hands around the inside of her ankles, her elbows resting against the back of her knees. The position pulled her legs so wide her ass lifted off the ground.
“How’s this?” she asked, using the emotion lodged in her throat to her advantage. The result was a 1-900-number-sexy drawl.
“Damn, that’s a sight, Soph.” He peeled the crotch of her panties aside. “But this is even better.”
He traced the tip of his tongue along the outer lip of her pussy, and she jumped. So much sexual energy charged her body she feared she’d come the second his mouth made full contact with her clit. A hard and fast freefall into pleasure because—she smiled to the ceiling—because it was finally Bret.
He sucked one side of her labia into his mouth and worked the flesh between his lips. The wet, heat overwhelmed her senses the same way a tsunami would a shoreline. With total devastation. And her pussy gushed in apprehension, her inner muscles clenching.
“Mmm, Bret. I need you inside me.”
“Soon, sweetheart.”
Not the words she wanted to hear. Something along the lines of “Don’t worry, Soph, I’m about to fuck your brains out” would have been ideal.
“Please, Bret.” Shit, she’d been reduced to begging. She’d sworn years ago never to give a man this kind of control over her again but… “Please.”
“Not until I make you come too.”
She shook her head, quick almost out-of-control jerks. “Not without you.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Keeping her panties securely pulled to the side, he slipped a finger—two fingers?— inside her. Sophia ground her head into the carpet, her inner muscles clenching around his invading digits as Bret rubbed and manipulated and—
“Oh shit!”
“There it is.” He pressed and released, pressed and released the pads of his fingers against that sweet spot on the front wall of her pussy. She’d been fingered before but never like this.
She dug her fingers into her ankles. “I can’t. Too intense.”
“Of course, you can.” He worked her G-spot with slow, steady strokes, milking pleasure from her womb, and heat filled her belly. The need for release was so strong she could hardly see straight. Or breathe.
Her grip faltered, and her legs fell to the floor. “Bret…please.” Her back arched, and she clawed at the carpet. Damn it, she needed to come. “Fucking fuck me!”
His laughter tickled over her clit moments before his lips closed over it. He sucked the engorged bed into his mouth, and she was gone.
A scream ripped from her throat, so loud she feared those in the main club might hear her and come rushing to her aid. And wasn’t that just what she needed.
She spasmed around his fingers as pinpricks of pleasure goosefleshed her skin. The orgasm fucking rocked her to her core. She’d wanted this, wanted him for so long, but she hadn’t been prepared for the intensity threatening to drown her. Time stopped, morphed at its edges until reality blurred, and only she and Bret remained.
When she had rudimentary brain function back, she extricated her fingers from the carpet and cradled his head. His Army-short hair scraped over her palm. “Just so ya know, you could have snuck into my bedroom at any time over the past year to do that. I would not have minded.”
“Good to know.” The words were garbled, his lips still playing over her folds. “I like the way you taste when I make you come. The way you smell. It’s fucking incredible.”
Fighting back tears, she smiled and, millimeter by millimeter, relaxed her tightly wound body. Her back burned. She wouldn’t be surprised if she had rug burn. Carpets just weren’t designed for sex with Bret.
“I wasn’t prepared for this,” she said. “The intensity of being with you. Ya know, naked?”
“And to think, we haven’t even made it past third base yet.”
She touched his cheek. “Speaking of which…”
Grinning, he lifted his head from her sex but left his fingers where they were, sliding in and out, in and out. “We’ll get there. As soon as I get you home and we have access to an actual bed, I’m gonna rock you so hard you won’t be able to move tomorrow.”
A smile tugged her lips. Home was the quaint cabin she’d shared with Bret since he’d returned from his last deployment. After his she-bitch of an ex-wife Janet had mailed him divorce papers while he’d been in a warzone, he’d needed a place to crash while he put his affairs in order. The living arrangement was supposed to have been temporary, but somewhere along the way, temporary had turned into permanent. Hell, he’d even set up his carpentry business in the previously unused shed in her backyard.
“Then again…” Grinning, he slid his fingers from her pussy and played with her supersensitive clit. “Why wait when I’m this close to completing my ultimate fantasy.”
She’d been his ultimate fantasy too?
Ultimate?
Uneasiness mixed with elation and expanded in her chest. Maybe telling him about her feelings right before he shipped out was a mistake, especially considering what the she-bitch had put him through during his last deployment. Sophia had only been thinking about her emotions. She hadn’t taken into account what a relationship might mean for him. She didn’t want to send him overseas with any distractions—distractions got soldiers killed. But could she really stop this train now that it was racing down the track? More importantly, how was she supposed to deny him something he’d wanted for so long?
Plastering on what she hoped was an erotic smile, she whispered, “Take off your pants and go sit at my desk. I’m gonna give you the lap dance I really wanted to give you onstage.” But first, she needed a moment to rein in her emotions.
Something had changed.
Bret tossed his jeans and boxers onto the leather sofa across from Soph’s desk and then sat as instructed. He couldn’t quite put his finger on his sudden unease, but he’d bet his left testicle Soph had been about to cry moments ago, and not in the I-just-made-love-to-the-man-of-my-dreams-and-I’ve-never-been-happier kind of way.
Had she been lying about how much she’d wanted this to happen, as opposed to letting him fuck her? He hoped not. He’d rather be celibate the rest of his life than hurt Soph in any way. But if she really wanted this to happen as much as he did, what was with the mood change?
He wished he could read her mind. She was positively glorious as
she moved about the office in all her naked glory. She checked to make sure the door was locked, the candles she loved to decorate with were all lit, the radio was playing the right music. In other words, she was procrastinating. And it was obvious too. Why else divert the sexual convoy when the destination was in sight? It was as if she didn’t really want to fuck him but was unwilling to be the one who backed out. Like playing chicken, but with sex instead of cars.
Finally, Soph found whatever she’d been looking for on the radio and headed in his direction—and his dick took over.
He loved the way her hips swayed as she walked. Hell, there wasn’t much he didn’t love about her amazingly flawless body. She had the kind of physique not even the finest plastic surgeon could duplicate. No lumps or sags. Breasts capable of making grown men weep. Long, lean legs that seemed designed to wrap around a lover’s waist. Curvy hips with the perfect amount of flair, ideal for grabbing onto while slamming into her over and over and over…
Was it any wonder she hated her body so much?
Her Brazilian appeal could give a man an instant hard-on, something she considered a curse. And he concurred. Well somewhat. Her cock-hardening good looks had caused her problems in the past. People caught in the tractor beam of her beauty sometimes lost the ability to make rational decisions, tried to take from her without permission—
He pushed the thoughts away. They had no place here. Not tonight. Not when Soph had put that part of her life behind her. He should know. He’d helped her wield the shovel that had buried that dark part of her past. The incident might have shaped the woman she’d become, but it didn’t own her.
Nothing owned her.
When she stopped in front of him, he traced his thumbs over her reddened nipples before tugging her close, wanting to taste her again, but he stopped himself. He needed to make sure this was truly what she wanted before they went any further, but then Soph knelt between his knees, grabbed the base of his semi-flaccid cock and nearly shattered his good intentions.
