When the Storm Ends

by Jillian Anselmi

  “Everywhere.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Brody gets up and walks to the foot of the bed. Starting at the arch of my foot, he trails kisses up the inside of my calf, stopping at the knee. Repeating the process with the other foot, he works his way up my body, alternating between nipping and sucking. His skillful tongue moves effortlessly across my skin. “You did say everywhere, right?”

  “Oh my God. Yes, everywhere.”

  Chuckling, he says, “Well, I’ll need to remove this first.” Brody places his hands on my hips, hooking his fingers in the straps of my thong. I lift my ass in the air so he can pull it down my legs and off. Tossing it over his shoulder, he places his hands on my knees and spreads my legs, never taking his eyes off mine. My body is on high alert and I’m soaking wet, desperate for his mouth on me.

  As if he could read my mind, his head disappears as he moves in between my legs. Plunging his tongue deep, he swirls it around the inside of my pussy. Finding my clit, he teases it with his teeth, grazing it as he sucks. I moan without any self-control, my hands splaying outward as my fingers grip the sheets underneath me. Going in small, clockwise circles, Brody finds a rhythm and doesn’t stop. My body arches under his touch and my breathing becomes harsh and erratic.

  “Fuck, Brody! I’m gonna come.” Squeezing my eyes shut, my body sways with the movement of his tongue. My legs begin to twitch as my body’s being taken to new heights. With one last flick of his tongue, he pushes me over the edge. My orgasm overtakes me, spiraling me higher and higher as I cry out in immense pleasure.

  I lay on the bed panting as I ride out the aftershocks of one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever experienced. No one has ever made me feel this amazing. If he can make me feel this way with his tongue, I can’t wait to see what his cock feels like.

  Brody puts on a condom, then lays on the bed next to me. “I want you on top,” he commands. “I want you to have all the control.”

  I crawl over and straddle him, his rock hard cock resting in between my ass cheeks. “You want me to have all the control?” I purr as I kiss his stomach.

  “All of it,” he repeats. His breath hitches as I move my ass up and down, feeling his cock sliding between my crack.

  Brushing my lips against his, I thrust my tongue inside his mouth. He places his hands on my thighs as our kiss deepens, gripping them like his life depends on it. Needing to know what it feels like to have him inside me, I shift so his cock is underneath me. Moving back and forth, his erection rubs against my clit, sending waves of desire through my body.

  “This is fun,” I murmur, “but I want you inside me.” Grabbing his cock, I line it up with my entrance and slide down, slow and steady. I groan as he fills me, the feeling exquisite. His head jerks back, a guttural moan coming from deep within his throat.

  Then, I start to move. Leaning back, I ride him hard and fast. His hands move to my waist, forcing me down harder on his cock. “Oh, fuck, Brody,” I cry on a moan, the feeling bringing me higher and higher.

  “God, Lani. You’re so tight,” he grunts through gritted teeth.

  “Oh God. Oh God,” I repeat as a litany, slamming down on his cock harder and faster. My pussy starts to contract around his cock, my legs beginning to twitch.

  “Lani, I’m gonna come,” Brody cries out, his back arching as he pumps from underneath me. Grinding on him harder, I use his body to chase my orgasm. I throw my head back and scream, just as Brody groans, his orgasm overtaking him. Thrusting one final time, he explodes inside me.

  I collapse on his chest, completely worn out. After everything, I didn’t think I would enjoy sex again. Brody’s proven me wrong. “You all right, baby?” Brody pants, stroking my hair as I lay across him.

  “Yeah,” I answer, my breathing heavy.

  “That was amazing. You’re amazing,” he murmurs between breaths.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?” he asks, confused.

  “For making me feel like me again.”

  “BRODY, WAKE UP,” I whisper in the dark. He grunts, but doesn’t move. “Brody,” I say a little louder, “what’s that noise?”

  “Huh,” he says, still half asleep.

  “I thought I heard something in the other room.”

  His head flies off the pillow and he turns his ear toward the door, listening intently. Reaching under his pillow, he pulls out a gun.

  “You sleep with a gun under the pillow?” I ask, horrified.

  “It’s not loaded,” he retorts. He reaches for the nightstand drawer, pulls out a clip, then places it in the butt of the gun. As he swings his legs off the bed to the floor, a muffled bang comes from the living room. “Stay here,” he commands, extending his arm out toward me.

  Brody tiptoes toward the closed bedroom door, opening it with a slow, controlled motion. Peeking out with his gun pointed forward, he slides through the small opening, closing the door behind him. Jumping up from the bed, I stand with my ear plastered to the door and listen.

  Seconds tick by like hours as I wait with extreme impatience. I want—no, I need to know what’s going on. I crack the door open just a touch and it swings the rest of the way. Losing my balance, I fall forward and scream.

  “Jesus, Lani!” Brody yells as he catches me.

  “You scared the crap out of me,” I squeal, pounding him on the chest.

  “You were supposed to stay put. Why would you open the door?” Brody’s brow creases as he runs his fingers through his hair. “What if that wasn’t me?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, biting my lip.

  “You need to listen when I tell you to do somethin’.”

  “I’m sorry.” His frown lessens as he inhales through his nose. Closing his eyes, he looks down at the floor. “Someone was here. I caught the door closin’ as I rounded the corner from the bedroom.”

  Gasping, I ask, “Did you see who it was?”

  “No. By the time I cleared the rest of the apartment, the perp was gone.” His expression is cold, hostile. “Look around the apartment. Let me know if anythin’s missing.”

  As I turn on every light possible, Brody clings to me like a wayward dryer sheet, never leaving my side. I look over the entire apartment, but nothing different stands out. “Everything looks okay,” I mutter.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, pretty sure. I don’t have a mental catalog of everything I own.”

  “But nothin’ obvious.”

  “No,” I repeat on a sigh.

  Brody pulls out his cell phone and makes a call, walking outside out of earshot. As I double check the apartment, I think about who could have been here. No one knows I’m here except Dominic and Taryn, and Cole, but I don’t think he’d be stupid enough to come back.

  Brody comes back in, his expression dulled. “Well, you have two choices,” he says on a sigh.

  “Oh, really?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

  “Don’t test me tonight, Delani. Either I place a squad car outside the apartment or you come home with me,” Brody says, his jaw tightening and brows drawing together. Shit, he’s serious.

  “I really don’t think—”

  “The only things up for discussion are the two options I gave you. Don’t make me drag your ass out of this apartment kickin’ and screamin’,” he says, an edge to his voice. “You know I’ll do it.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary,” I moan.

  “Although, I would be more comfortable with you at my place,” he adds, his mouth twitching.

  “Yeah, I bet you would,” I murmur under my breath as I turn to grab a bag. “Fine. I’m kinda weirded out that someone was here anyway. How did whoever it was get in?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’d be happier with you at my place—at least until we know who it was. You locked the door, right?”

  “Yeah. I’m from New York, remember? We lock and double lock everything.”

  “I didn’t see any tool marks to indicate a break in, and I didn’t hear an
ythin’,” he says, still scanning the apartment.

  “I couldn’t hear a bomb go off in my living room. That’s what happens when you live in a city that’s never silent. Between the police sirens wailing and cabbies leaning on their horns all night, there’s never any quiet in Manhattan,” I shout from the bedroom. “I guess I’ve gotten used to the quiet here, and that’s why I heard what I heard.” As I finish throwing random clothing in a bag, Brody appears in the doorway.

  “I’m a really light sleeper. The fact that I didn’t hear anythin’ bothers me,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes.

  “Why?”

  “A normal person would make some kind of noise—any noise. This tells me it was a professional,” he answers, frowning.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meanin’ nothin’. Never mind. I don’t want to scare you.”

  “Ummm, it’s a little late for that.”

  “I just don’t think it was some random stranger breakin’ in to your apartment. I think it was someone who knew what he was looking for. Or who.”

  “Okay, don’t you think you’re being dramatic?”

  Brody looks directly into my eyes, his expression solemn. “No, Lani. I don’t.” His forehead furrows as he sighs.

  “Fine. Let’s go, but this is only for tonight”

  IT’S A SHORT drive to Brody’s place, and although it’s dark, I can make out the shadows of large farms. He pulls up a long driveway leading to a ranch style house. “You own a house?”

  “Yeah, although I’m never here,” he says, chuckling.

  Opening the door, I’m led through the living area toward the kitchen. Looking around, you can tell a bachelor lives here. The room is completely empty with the exception of a worn leather chair and a TV. The kitchen isn’t much better—dirty dishes in the sink and empty bottles of beer on the counter. “Nice,” I mutter in disgust.

  He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s not like I’ve been home recently,” he explains in defense.

  “This place definitely needs a woman’s touch,” I murmur, looking around. Not one stitch of color.

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “Are you kidding? It’s a disaster area.” Dusting off a chair, I take a seat.

  “Want a beer?” he offers as he walks into the kitchen.

  “No thanks,” I answer, scrunching my face.

  “Look, whoever broke into your apartment is smart, and obviously a professional, so I’d much rather have you here. I know my way around this house better than your place, so you’re just gonna have to make due,” he says, popping off the top to a Coors Light.

  “Fine. It’s three in the morning and I’m really tired. Can you show me where your bedroom is, please?” I sigh, exhausted.

  Brody takes me to the back of the house to a large bedroom and I stop in my tracks, casting a glance his way. The room is spotless and the bed’s made. It doesn’t look like he’s been in here in days, maybe weeks. “Have you even slept in here?”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he says, “Um, no.”

  “Couch?”

  Gazing up at the ceiling, he answers, “No.”

  “Do you sleep?” I question, glancing from the bed back to Brody.

  “Sorta.” A sly smile appears across his lips, but quickly slips to impassive. He’s not telling me something.

  “Brody,” I say, my voice stern.

  “Well, before we got physical, I’d been sleepin’ in my truck.” He pauses for a few seconds. “Outside your apartment.”

  “Wait, what?” Pressing my lips into a firm line, I narrow my eyes.

  “Although, I wouldn’t really call it sleepin’,” he confesses. “More like a stake out.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Brody!” I blurt. “The goddamned car?”

  “Yeah, well . . .” he starts, but knows there’s no answer.

  Rolling my eyes high to the heavens, I mutter, “Whatever. We’ll discuss this another time. Right now, I want sleep.” Pulling back the comforter, I slip underneath the covers.

  “You sleep. I’ll join you in a bit.” Leaning down, he pulls the comforter up to my chest and kisses me on the forehead. “Get some sleep, darlin’.” As he turns off the light, I drift away into dreamland.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Brody takes me for breakfast at what he calls his usual place. We take our seats in a booth by the window. That same pretty blonde waitress from the last time we were here drops two empty mugs in front of us and asks, “The usual, Brody?”

  “Yup, thanks, Lucy. How ‘bout you, Lani?” He’s all smiles this morning, his eyes dancing when he speaks.

  “What’s your usual?”

  Lucy answers, “He gets three fried eggs with sausage, bacon, and grits. Side of white toast.”

  “No, that’s too much food, even for me. I’ll have an omelet with sausage, peppers, and onions please.”

  “Home fries or grits.”

  “Home fries, thanks. And can I have tea instead of coffee?”

  “Sure, darlin’.” She pours Brody a coffee, then appears with a glass filled with some dark iced liquid.

  “I’m sorry,” I question Lucy, “I asked for tea.” Brody bursts out laughing and Lucy gives me a puzzled look.

  “This is tea,” she says.

  Brody laughs harder. I glare at him from across the table. “Oh Lord, Lani. You do make me laugh,” he exclaims.

  “What’s so funny?” I snap. “All I want is a cup of hot tea.”

  “Oh,” Lucy exclaims, “I didn’t know y’all wanted hot tea. We don’t get much call for that here,” she says as she scurries away.

  “Sorry,” Brody says, still chuckling, “I forgot to tell you about the sweet tea.”

  “How convenient,” I mutter under my breath.

  “I totally forgot, really,” he says, smiling. “Sweet tea is the official drink of the south. You order a tea, that’s what you get.”

  Lucy places a mug filled with hot water, as well as a few different tea bags in front of me. “Wasn’t sure what y’all would want,” she admits.

  “This is fine,” I mutter. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be right back with your breakfast,” she sings as she walks toward the kitchen. Ripping open one of the wrappers, I dunk the tea bag into the scalding water.

  “I thought you order coffee?” he asks, confused. “What’s with the tea, anyway?”

  “Yeah, my throat’s sore from the dust and I’m feeling tea today,” I say as I add honey and stir.

  Shaking his head with a sideways smile, he mutters under his breath, “You think you’ve got ’em figured out.”

  As we both pick up our mugs to take a sip, a harsh female voice comes from behind me. “Well, well. Look who we have here.” Brody’s beautiful face goes from smiling to cringing.

  Without looking up from his mug, he says, “Hello, Miranda.”

  “I heard you had a new tramp, and bless her heart, here she is.” Miranda’s voice is shrill and annoying.

  She moves so she’s standing at the edge of the booth. Turning my head, I get a better look at her. She’d be pretty, if she weren’t staring me down like she was about to stab me. Her dark brown eyes are narrow and burn with rage. She twirls a strand of her long blonde hair that falls in waves down her back. Her petite frame is taut and looks like she could snap any second. “I prefer to be called Delani,” I say, looking up, a fake smile plastered across my face.

  “Lani, this is Miranda. Miranda, this is Lani,” Brody says, his tone cautious and uncomfortable.

  “Well, Delani, you should know you’re just another notch on his bedpost,” she says, tapping her long manicured fingers on the table. “If you’re lookin’ for long term, he ain’t it. We call him the manwhore of Dayton.”

  Placing my hands in front of me, I cross my fingers, sitting straight and composed. “First of all, why would I listen to you? You’re obviously jealous. I mean, look at you. Going out of your way to talk shit.” Moving so my elbows are on the table, I place my chin on my stee
pled fingers. “Second of all, who says I’m looking for a commitment? Maybe I just want a good fuck.” Out the corner of my eye, I catch Brody smiling, but he quickly covers it up.

  She snorts. “You won’t get it with him.” Her bitter tone says it all.

  Leaning toward her, I whisper, “Just last night, he made me come four times,” I hold up four fingers, “in a row.” Her face falls, her mouth gaping just a bit. I go in for the kill. “And his tongue is pure magic.” I place my tongue in between my index and middle fingers to give her a visual. Brody chokes on his coffee, sending it clear across the table.

  Glaring at Brody, she huffs, “You never went down on me.” People in the restaurant who were watching now stare down at their menus or plates in an attempt not to be obvious. Brody’s eyes are wide, but a trace of a smile crosses his lips.

  “Oh, darlin’,” I say, mocking her thick Texan accent, “you don’t know what you’re missin’.”

  “Well . . . well,” she stutters, her face turning bright red, “fuck you both.” Turning, she stomps out of the restaurant and our waitress arrives with our food not five seconds later.

  “Damn, Lani. I’ve never seen her tongue tied before.”

  “That?” I ask, laughing. “That was nothing. She’s just a lonely girl who’s obviously in love with you.”

  “Nah,” he chuckles.

  “Or she’s just a cunt,” I say, taking a forkful of omelet.

  “That’s more like it,” he agrees.

  “So, the manwhore of Dayton, huh?”

  “It appears so,” he says, shaking his head, shoving a piece of sausage in his mouth.

  “Nothing ever stuck?”

  “What do you mean?” he asks, sipping his coffee.

  “I mean, a long term relationship. She seems to think you can’t hold one.”

  “Well, she’s right. I haven’t dated a girl longer than a couple months.”

  “Really?” I ask, finding that hard to believe.

  “It was never intentional. I just never found that spark—that zap I know exists.” Putting his fork down, his eyes lock with mine. “I want to be able to wake up thinkin’ about her, go to bed and dream of her. I want her to be the oxygen I breathe, an all-consuming love. That’s never happened until—” he’s abruptly stopped by Lucy, who brushes his shoulder.