Big Hammer: A Second Chance Romance ((House of Stars- Book 2))

by Ried Reese

  I’d also talked to the girl a couple of times in the hallway—if you can call brushing off her polite attempt at conversation ‘talking’. I was a football star. I was a popular kid. And, I was black. I couldn’t talk to Taylor.

  Taylor wasn’t a sporty girl. She hung around with the nerds. And, she was white. She couldn’t talk to me because I wouldn’t let her.

  Now, I understand. I’m painfully, painfully aware why she wants to know if I’ve changed, or if I’m still that egotistical, immature, peer pressure-driven asshole I used to be.

  “Taylor.” Her eyes hover somewhere over my shoulder. I grab her hands and pull her forward, closing the distance between us on the couch. “Taylor, please. Let me talk?”

  She nods, searching my eyes. I notice that she’s wearing contacts.

  “I haven’t been that person from high school since I dropped out of training to be a Navy SEAL.” The admission still twists a knife in my heart, even though it happened years ago. “Anaja—that girl from high school—I was supposed to marry her. When I couldn’t make the cut and enlist with the SEALs, she broke it off. Even tried to tell me, to my face, that her father was making her do it, which was just a lie. I don’t think she ever really loved me, just wanted the prestige of being a Navy SEALs’ wife. My dad didn’t say anything when I came back from California, just kind of… looked at me differently. I disappointed everyone, including myself.”

  She looks me straight in the eye. “It’s not all your fault. My dad would have kicked me out of the house two years earlier than he did if he’d found out I was dating a black guy.”

  “And I would have become the laughingstock of the entire football team if I’d dated a white girl,” I agree. “I realized after I dropped out of training that I couldn’t live like that anymore. Vegas is a lot more accepting than our little town was, especially back then. I guess that appealed to me and my business plans, so… here I am.”

  Neither of us mentions anything, and neither of us takes the issue further. Family, friends, and circumstances held us back then, but now, we’ve escaped that kind of pressure.

  “Here we are,” Taylor agrees, and she looks like an enormous weight has lifted from her shoulders. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was for so long, I just….” She suddenly throws herself forward and wraps her arms around me, burying her face in my chest. “I just didn’t want things to change,” she murmurs, her warm breath pooling in my T-shirt against my skin.

  She looks up, her soft eyes glistening. But then they seem to swirl and darken. A smirk begins at the corner of her mouth, and she pulls herself up until her lips are even with mine. She hovers, just an inch or two away, marinating in the electricity between our bodies. I grip the cushions and cross my brows, expelling only a fraction of the tension. In this moment, I’m nothing more than putty in her hands. The heat of anticipation builds in the air, in our bodies, and in my cock.

  She lurches forward and our mouths collide. She throws a leg across me, straddling my waist. I grab her ass with both hands, kneading the plump flesh with my fingers. Her tight jean shorts ride up, exposing half her cheeks. Damn, that ass! I stretch an arm out and then bring it down hard. The slap is loud, and she moans into my mouth.

  I slap her ass again, harder, and hold my hand against her hot, swollen skin.

  “Oh God!” she pants. Her eyes are closed and her face is pained.

  I tap my fingers across the aching spot, waiting. She opens her eyes and chews on her lip, searching my face. I smirk and give her a knowing glare.

  “Please,” she whimpers. She wiggles her ass side to side, shaking her thick flesh in my hands.

  “Good girl,” I say. I slap her ass, harder still. My palm stings against her skin.

  She yelps and moans, pulling my shirt into her fists. I lift my hand and let the cool apartment air waft across the tender surface. The sting must be lingering because her eyes are still closed and her gasps are still fast.

  I grab her with both my hands under her ass and lift her as I stand. She wraps her legs around me, and her breasts press against my chest. I can feel her hard nipples through both our shirts.

  I stand still for a moment. She clings to me with hungry blue eyes. That cute girl from the football field bleachers, that girl with the perfect GPA, that girl with the dorky glasses and milky skin - all my desires, successes, regrets, and failures of the past decade flood my mind as we lock lips and entangle our bodies.

  Everything behind us lead to this moment, and now none of it matters. This girl is… no, we, are perfect.

  I walk down the hallway towards the bedrooms. Taylor claws my back and writhes against my chest. Her damp hair sticks to our faces and fills our noses with the hint of a light jasmine wind.

  I mumble against her eager mouth, “Hey, hey…”

  She leans back, worried.

  I smile. “Which room is yours?”

  She turns beet red and giggles into my neck. “The left one!”

  I kick the door open and toss her onto the bed. We don’t take our eyes off each other as we peel off her clothes. My cock springs forward, finally unstrained. She chews her lip, watching it, and slowly spins over onto her knees with her face down on the bed.

  “Taylor,” I drool. “God, Taylor, your ass…”

  Multiple bright red handprints glow across one of her cheeks. She wiggles her ass, taunting me and giggling.

  I smirk. “I’ll teach you to tease me.”

  I grab her hips and snatch her to the end of the bed. I reach across her arched back and tuck a piece of hair behind her ears. “ ‘Yellow’ to slow down, ‘red’ to stop, okay?” She nods, wiggling beneath me. Damn, she really wants it.

  I stand behind her, admiring her every curve. I reach out with one finger and graze one lip of her glistening pink vulva. She shutters and gasps. I slap her bare, untouched cheek hard. She grips the sheets and moans from deep in her core. Her ass ripples and waves as it surrenders to the force of my hand.

  “Good girl,” I say.

  I reach out with another finger and brush the wet valleys between her folds, back and forth. She shakes and lifts her torso up onto her hands, gasping. I pull back my finger and slap her marked ass with the same hand. Her juices leave a glistening outline of my fingers on top of blistering shades of red. I reach forward and push her face back down into the mattress. “Face down, ass up,” I demand.

  “Yes, sir,” she moans.

  This time I kneel by the bed. I press my tongue between her folds, pushing slowly towards her vagina and clit. Her pussy is hot and wet. I find her entrance and dive deep, lapping. Her canal is tight, even for my tongue. I feel her dripping down my chin. She tastes exotic and sweet, like a luscious dessert I can’t afford, but can never get enough of.

  Taylor is on edge. She hasn’t stopped moaning and gasping since my tongue touched her sensitive lips. I feel her fingertips graze my chin as she reaches underneath herself to play with her clit. I grab her wrist with my left hand, pinning it to the bed, and whack her ass hard with my right.

  She hisses as the sting takes hold of her. I rub the seared skin gently and watch her face soften as the sharp pain melts into a deep, thrilling, satisfying bliss.

  “Don’t touch yourself unless I tell you to.” I’m nearly growling as the pressure inside me builds. I’m gonna have to fuck the hell out of this girl, but I want her to ache for it first.

  She groans in frustration, but whimpers, “Yes, sir.”

  Both her ass cheeks are bright red now. The insides of her thighs are glistening as she drips all over me, herself, and the bed. A clear, damp circle has pooled on the sheets between her knees.

  “Damn girl, you are so fucking wet.”

  “It’s for you,” she whimpers, wiggling her hips. “It’s always been for you.”

  Her words send a hot bolt through my body. I imagine her masturbating to her memories and fantasies of me ever since we left school. I imagine her plunging her fingers inside herself as she calls out
my name…

  “Brandon!”

  Every muscle in my body tenses at the sound.

  “Brandon, please!”

  I snap back to reality. She’s here now, kneeling in front of me, and she’s begging.

  “Brandon I can’t take it anymore. Please, please, fuck me!”

  Her body was shaking, longing for my cock.

  “Don’t worry, baby,” I growl, crawling onto the bed behind her. “I’m gonna give you want you want, and what you’ve never even dreamed of.”

  I rub the big head of my dick across her vulva, parting her labia. She moans and slams her fists against the mattress. My precum mixes with her juices, and I slather it down the full length of my shaft. I line the head up against her vaginal entrance and press forward.

  “FUCK you are so god damn tight!”

  She pants and winces. “You’re so big! I want you to fill me up.” She pushes her body back slowly, engulfing my cock in a hot, pulsing channel until her ass touches my hips. She shakes and circles her hips, twirling my dick inside her.

  “Yeah baby,” I moan. “You like my big black dick in your little white pussy, don’t you?”

  “God yeeessssss,” she squeals as I thrust even deeper inside her. She begins rocking back and forth on my cock. Her ass slaps against my hips every time, pressing against the sore hand prints, still vibrant and red on her cheeks.

  She finds a balance of momentum and uses the weight of her own ass to swing her hips against mine.

  “Yeah, baby, ride that dick.” I can’t speak loudly, because my body convulses every time her pussy consumes the full length of my cock.

  I feel her slow, and her breath is strained. She collapses her weight into the mattress, nearly limp.

  “Fuck me, Brandon.” Her pleading voice is muffled in the sheets and pillows. “Please, I want it so bad!”

  And she does. She really does. Her arms quiver and her thighs shake. Her voice is tortured and starving.

  I arch myself across her back and straddle her torso with my arms. I bite the back of her neck and I thrust into her, hard. Then again. Then again. I fuck her fast, ramming into her with the full weight of my body.

  I’ve never felt a pussy so tight, warm, and soft. I can feel her vaginal muscles tighten as I go deep inside her. Taylor’s pussy was made to milk my cock.

  I feel pressure building in my balls as they slap against her inner thighs. I push down on her back, lifting my torso and pressing her entire upper body into the bed. Only her hips arch slightly upward, naturally hungry for the most cock I can possibly give her. I grip a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back and sending her moans and screams towards the ceiling.

  “I’m gonna cum, baby,” I pant as I quicken my thrusts even more. “I’m gonna cum deep inside you.”

  “Please, yes, fill me up, please!” Her pleading moans are barely coherent. Her tone rises and falls each time I thrust into her.

  “Play with your pussy,” I order. “Play with your clit. I want you to cum all over my dick while I fill you up.”

  Her hand moves furiously beneath her. My cock swells with a pressure I didn’t know was possible. I growl and moan as all my senses blur together. My world shifts as I explode inside her. She trembles with her own orgasm, screaming into the pillows. Our climaxes pulse back and forth through our bodies as if they were one.

  I pull out of her and watch my cum drip down her pussy. Her panting begins to slow.

  “No,” I say. “You don’t stop cumming until I tell you to.”

  I flip on my back and push my head between her legs. I pull her down onto my face by her hips and thighs. I suck on her clit greedily. She grabs the headboard and bucks her hips, riding my face instinctively. I feel her body tense as I rescue her waning climax and rebuild it with every lap of my tongue.

  Her delectable juices mix with my cum in my mouth, creating a sweet and salty nectar. I press two fingers into her as I keep sucking her clit. I remember exactly where her g-spot is, and her back arches as the tips of my fingers rub against it. She leans back further and grabs my thighs with both her hands. Her nails dig into my skin and I moan into her.

  “God, Brandon… ah! I can’t… I can’t stop cumming… ohhhh!”

  Her volume builds as I suck harder and plunge my fingers deeper. She leans forward and her thighs tighten around my head. She grips my short hair with both hands, pulling my face even further into her.

  She reaches a place where all her words and sounds are trapped in her throat. Her body goes rigid and still. I hold her clit at the top of a wave of suction, pulling it continuously into my mouth. She peaks for nearly a minute before collapsing backward with a massive release of tension and air.

  She falls to the bed on her back. Her legs still draped across my torso. Her chest heaves hard, and I can feel her breath against my leg. I turn my head and gently kiss her soft calf.

  “Just breathe, baby,” I whisper. My lips trail up and down her lower leg until her breaths become even.

  We lay there, our heads at opposite ends of the bed, sighing at the ceiling. It’s that perfect, comfortable silence again. We know how each other feels, how both our bodies are on fire, and we surrender ourselves to the sensation.

  Chapter Thirteen: Taylor

  A sea of clouds has opened a pathway, sending gentle gusts of sparkling wind to carry me aloft. My body is light as a feather and I’m spinning and spinning, constantly under threat of being swept away by the fickle, beautiful world below me.

  Luckily, the sizzling of the eggs in the pan is enough to keep me from floating too far in my daydream.

  I flip the eggs, humming to myself, then twirl my way to the fridge for shredded cheese. A little jump brings me back to the pan, where I manage to stay still long enough to sprinkle salt and pepper on the two eggs. I smile benignly at the eggs as I flip them.

  I also smile at the bag of cheese as I sprinkle some onto each egg, then I smile at the bread as I pop it into the toaster. My smile grows wider and wider until I laugh outright when I accidentally flip an egg in half instead of over on its other side, and I continue chuckling as I rectify my mistake.

  Knowing Gemma was home, Brandon had opted not to stay for breakfast—but that didn’t matter. I woke up this morning staring at the broad plane of Brandon’s sculpted chest and feeling his strong, protective arms wrapped around me, holding me close.

  I regularly wake up thinking everything is going to be okay. Today, I woke up thinking that everything is okay right now. Snuggled up against Brandon, feeling him against me, holding me, felt perfect. Felt right.

  My skin remembers. Sometimes, I feel a tingle ghost down my shoulder or along my leg, mimicking Brandon’s touches.

  My heart remembers too, especially our talk last night. Finally free, my heart can soar with the knowledge that Brandon knows who I was, and who I remember him as— and he doesn’t care. He finally convinced me of something I’ve been trying to decide about him since I saw him in House of Stars.

  He convinced me that he’s a changed man, one who can and will listen to me, talk to me, and make me feel safe. Years ago, we lived two different lives plotted on two different courses with no chance of crossing. Now, he’s an electrical contractor and I’m an accountant. We’ve both made mistakes and struggled to bounce back and find a new way in life, and that way has led us both to business-related pursuits and, by extension, each other.

  Gemma walks in, rubbing her eyes blearily. “I think I have a hangover.” She parts her fingers and opens her eyes for a moment, then shuts them again with a groan. “This is why I don’t drink.”

  “I’m making you an egg and cheese toast,” I console her, making a show of wafting the scent from the pan toward her. “Yowch,” I mutter as I snatch the toast out, trying to go fast enough to avoid burning my fingers. Two expert flips, and the eggs and cheese land neatly on the toast. “Ta da! Order up.”

  I hand her a plate. She takes it with one hand and feels her way around the counter into
the living room with the other.

  Picking out two tall bubbly glasses, I open the fridge. Cold air hits me, but not as hard as Gemma’s next words. “I wasn’t drunk enough not to see the two glasses of wine on the table last night.”

  Making a show of finding the orange juice, I decide just to go with the truth. It’s not like Gemma will care. “Yeah, Brandon came over last night.”

  That’s enough to get Gemma to crack open an eye. “Ooh. And?”

  “We drank, we talked, and we had sex.” The smile returns, pulling the corners of my mouth upward. I don’t bother hiding it as I join Gemma in the living room and hand her a glass of orange juice.

  “And?”

  “And what?” With Gemma, that can be anything.

  “What’s the takeaway? You should see how happy he makes you, Taylor.” Gemma blinks an honest eye at me.

  “I don’t need to see it. I can feel it. I….” I shrug. “I’m really starting to feel like I can trust him, you know? He knows every geeky, nerdy thing about me, and he just likes all of it. It’s like I can be myself and know he’ll never judge me for anything.”

  “He’s a lot like you.” Gemma drains half her glass in a few big gulps. “I don’t know him very well yet, but I think he’s good for you, Taylor. I think he’s really good for you.”

  And I agree. Not wholeheartedly, not yet, but I truly believe that finally, after years of dating men who just wanted to use me for one thing or another, I may have found one who wants nothing from me but feelings I’ll willingly give him.

  “You might be right.” I pick up my new laptop and grin widely at it, remembering how Brandon immediately sensed something was wrong and insisted on bringing me the laptop just to make me happy.

  For a tiny second before the laptop boots up, I can see my tank top, collarbones, and just a hint of cleavage reflected in the dark screen.

  Sexy accountant. I had meant that as a joke, of course— I’d explained to Brandon before that I owe Cullen. Still, the idea is intriguing. Our financial and work-related goals align so closely that I can easily have fun imagining us in business together, even if such a reality was distant or never came to pass at all.