“You sure do like, um, stuff.”
That didn’t exactly sound complimentary. “You don’t approve?”
“How can I not?” She looked over at him and gave him a wicked smile. “My cabin’s kind of shitty compared to yours.”
“I’m the boss,” he said easily. “You’re the employee.”
He could have kicked himself for saying something so ballsy and rude, but she only laughed and turned back around again, then moved to the ladder of the loft, going upstairs. He watched her pert, rounded bottom flexing as she moved up the ladder, and then he frowned and followed her up. “Brenna? Where are you going?”
She smiled at him from over her shoulder and then kept moving toward his bed. “Checking out the digs for tonight.”
“Tonight?” He followed her up the ladder, puzzled by her comment. What exactly did she mean, tonight?
“I gave your sister my blanket and pillow. We’re going to have to bunk together.”
Grant stared at her in shock. “You what?”
“We have to make this look good anyhow, right?” Brenna pressed a hand on the edge of his mattress, testing it, and then flopped down on the corner with a grin. “I gave your sister my blanket and pillow. It’s going to be cold tonight, so I thought I’d bunk in here, with you. That okay?”
What was he supposed to say to that? Her bunking with him would mean he’d have a hard-on the entire night. But he couldn’t exactly kick her out, either. So all he said was, “Why don’t we have more blankets?”
“Because we’re a survival school? Duh. Besides, the other guys raided our stash when Beth Ann and Miranda moved in, and Pop took the last ones. I’ve been meaning to get some more but . . .” She shrugged. “I forgot.”
Brenna pretty much forgot everything that wasn’t tattooed on her forehead. He gave her a frustrated look. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
Her playful expression turned wounded. “I don’t snore, Grant. I’m a very good roomie. Now come and unzip me.” She jumped up and turned around, presenting him with her back. When he didn’t get up right away, she bounced in place. “Come on.”
Was this another one of Brenna’s torments? Had she guessed at his erection and decided it was time to antagonize him a bit more? She did love to harass and annoy him. This could definitely qualify as torture. Cruel, sweet, sadistic torture.
He moved forward and grasped the tab of her zipper and then paused. Did he want to do this?
She wiggled again, prompting him.
And he was suddenly stricken with the desire to see her unclothed. It was odd to think of Brenna in that way, but he wanted to see what she looked like without the dress, without all the shapeless, cast-off clothing she normally dressed in. So he unzipped her.
And sucked in a breath when the dress fell to the floor.
The panties she wore were a mere white scrap of lace between her firm, rounded buttocks. Over her left buttock, a trail of stars curved around her hip. On the right hip, it was a trail of small red hearts. More tattoos to match the bluebirds on her shoulders.
She turned to look at him, hands on her hips. Her breasts were cupped in girlish white lace, but the sight of it mixed with those tattoos was enough to make him groan with need.
“Grant?” Her voice was low and husky.
“I think I’m going to touch you now, Brenna.”
He watched in fascination as a shiver rippled over her skin. Her lips parted and she licked them, her gaze fascinated. “I wish you would.”
His hand moved to the side of her neck and he pulled her closer, drawing her in for another kiss. Her lips parted under his and the kiss deepened, highlighted by a flicking of tongues against one another. It wasn’t his imagination, then. She wanted this as much as he did. He drew his arm around her waist, holding her against his body, feeling her warm skin under his hand and pressed against him. She felt small and fragile in his arms, which was strange given that she was such a forceful, vibrant personality.
Her kiss became hot, hungry, her tongue stroking against his. She pulled away to catch her breath and whispered one quick word, “Condoms?”
Grant groaned in dismay. “I . . . no. It’s been five years.” He was an idiot. A complete, unprepared idiot. Of course he should have condoms. “I didn’t think—”
She patted his chest in a comforting motion. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Brenna stepped past him and moved down the ladder. She grabbed the decorative throw off his couch and wrapped it around her body. “When I come back,” she said playfully, “I want to see some skin.”
And she stepped out his front door and into the night.
He stared at the door for a minute, dumbfounded. Was this really going to happen? With wild, annoying Brenna? Except she hadn’t been so wild and annoying tonight. She’d been vibrant and funny and charming, and if she was a little offbeat, it hadn’t bothered him. And she hadn’t harassed him once.
He didn’t trust it. Was this another game with her, then? Maybe she’d gone back out to her cabin to have a good laugh at him. What if this was another one of her pranks, all designed to make him look like an ass when she told the others about it in the morning? Yeah, Grant sat there with a boner all night and I never went back. Isn’t that funny? His scowl darkened and he crossed his arms over his chest, sitting on the edge of his bed and waiting.
Just to see if she was really going to come back.
A moment later, she returned, holding up a strip of condoms. “Success. And you’re not nearly naked enough.”
Relief shot through him. It wasn’t a joke. “You keep those in your cabin?” He never heard anything and she was next door to him. Maybe she was having wild dates that he didn’t know about. A bolt of jealousy shot through him. To disguise it, he pulled off his jacket and began to neatly fold it on the edge of the bed.
She tossed the blanket on the couch, down to her lacy white bra and thong, a sight that made him hard all over again. “Nah. I knew there were extra condoms in the main cabin. I had extras when I was prepping the survival kits. Your sister says hi, by the way.”
He turned and gave her a horrified look as she climbed up the ladder. “Elise saw you?”
“Well, yeah.” Brenna shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly quiet. It just adds a bit more cement to your story, doesn’t it?”
Grant stared at her as she reapproached him. “Is that what this is? Cement for the story?”
She rolled her eyes at him and put her hands on the front of his shirt, then tugged hard enough to make buttons pop off. “It can’t be because you’re a good kisser and I really want to get laid?”
Was that how most women thought? He’d only known Heather, and while she’d been adventurous, it hadn’t been adventurous quite like this. Her adventurous spirit had been saved for mountain climbing and challenging sports . . . and meeting other men in clubs. When they’d first gotten married, their sex life had been pleasing, but tame. Later on, it had changed. Still, she was the only yardstick he had to judge by. “And you want to have sex with me?”
“No,” she said in a sarcastic voice. “I thought I’d rip your shirt off and then force you onto the bed and make you watch while I fingered myself.”
Even as she said the cutting words, her hands stroked under his loose shirt and over his chest, and her gaze went there, as if fascinated.
She was still entirely too lippy. He grabbed her and hauled her against him, enjoying the widening of her eyes. “Is that so?” His voice was low and dangerous. Grant rather liked that mental image of her fingering herself, but he thought he’d turn the tables a little. He pushed forward until her legs were pinned between him and the bed, and leaned in to kiss her again, bearing her down onto his mattress. Then he lifted his head and glanced at her, enjoying the soft, dazed look in her eyes. “I have you in my bed. Does that mean you’re going to finger yourself now?”
He groaned at the gentle touch of her hand. “God, Brenna, don’t—”
She pulled away as if scalded. “You okay?”
“Just . . . it’s been a while.” He looked down at the smooth, pale skin under him, highlighted by her delicate lacy underthings. “Let me be in the driver’s seat.”
She grinned and raised her arms up over her head, clasping her hands together. The motion made her breasts high and firm, and almost popping out of her bra. “I’m all yours. Do what you will.”
He leaned in to kiss her again.
“Be gentle,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes. “It’s my first time . . . with you.”
“Are you ever serious?”
“Rarely ever. Serious is no fun.”
Grant kissed her lightly, tasting her full lips, and he felt the tremble that moved through her body.
“I know,” she said when he raised his head again, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She pulled his glasses off his face and tossed them aside. “We can play a game.”
“Game?” he murmured, kissing along her jaw toward her ear.
“It’s called Guess Brenna’s Piercing. You can explore me until you find it.”
She had a piercing somewhere? His thoughts went wild, picturing that. Holy fuck, his dick was so hard that he’d nearly come in his pants just then. Grant groaned, burying his face in the curve of her neck, trying to find the willpower to make this last longer than thirty seconds. God, she was sexy. “Piercing?” he managed to choke out.
She gave a bit of a wiggle underneath him, her body rubbing against him, her voice breathless as she answered. “Guess where.”
Grant leaned in and nibbled on her bare earlobe, his cock growing harder with every passing moment. She kept making these breathy little gasps when his tongue touched her skin, and it was driving him wild. “No earrings,” he observed.
“Nope,” she replied with a small sigh. Her fingers went to his hair and raked through it, messing it up and digging into his scalp. “Keep guessing.”
He leaned over her face again and lightly kissed an eyebrow, playing along with the game. “No earring here.”
She pinched his arm. “You knew that already.”
“Hush. You quit talking. This is my guessing game.”
Brenna made a zipping her lips motion and went silent, watching him.
He leaned down and lightly licked at her closed lips. “No piercing here.”
She shook her head, her eyes dancing.
His fingers went to one of the tiny white shoulder straps of her bra. Very slowly, he lifted it off her shoulder and skimmed it down her arm, glancing over at Brenna to see her reaction. Her gaze was intent, riveted to his fingers on her skin, as if fascinated. As if nothing else in the world existed.
Lovely. She was lovely. Tattoos, purple bangs, even the girlish white lingerie—they were all completely and utterly Brenna. He’d never noticed before how totally arousing the package could be.
He tugged the bra cup down on one side, exposing her nipple. Small, pink, tight. With one hand, he massaged the globe of her breast, then tweaked the nipple between his fingers, rolling it back and forth.
She moaned in response, arching under him. Her fingers dug into his scalp and then raked down his arms in response.
“No piercing here,” he said in a low, husky voice, and released her. “I should probably double-check, though.” And he leaned in and lightly licked the tip of her breast, sending a breathy moan through her again. He liked that reaction, so he continued to nip and kiss that tiny, tight little peak, making it stiff and slick and leaving her hopefully as aching with need as he was. His cock was so hard at the moment that he thought he’d bust in his pants at any moment. He could feel the pre-cum on the head of his cock, soaking it and making his clothing stick. She was driving him mad with need, but he wanted to savor this. Savor her.
“Grant,” she whispered. “Please.”
“I should check the other breast, just in case,” he told her, and very slowly repeated the action. He could do this. He could keep control. It was simple. Slide the bra strap down the arm. Tug down the bra and reveal her pretty breast. He was in charge, not her. Her nipple was already stiff and pointing, and when he slid down to take it in his mouth, her choked cry of response sent a bolt of lust rocketing through him. “No piercing here, either.”
“You’re pretty good at this game,” she panted, then mewed as he bit lightly on her nipple. “Keep guessing.”
Oh, he was far from done. He’d only gone to her breasts and she was quivering in his arms, his dick hard as iron. Of course, he was running out of known areas for piercings. Maybe she had one of those wild ones that he’d never expect, like between her toes or some such.
Because if it was anywhere below the belt? He’d probably come at the sight.
His hands continued to massage her breasts in time, rolling her nipples against his thumbs with each motion. Her eyes closed in ecstasy and her lips parted as she gave herself over to him completely, the look on her face utterly abandoned. He knew she’d be like this in bed—somehow, he’d known. Brenna wasn’t someone who went through life half-asleep. She was wild and fierce, and in bed she was completely and utterly responsive.
Grant’s gaze went to her bare belly button. No piercing there, but he had to taste it anyhow. Lifting his hands, he slid down the bed to press a kiss there.
She made a pleased sound in her throat, and then chuckled. “No piercing there either, huh? Maybe I was lying about the whole piercing thing.”
“Mmm. I’ve still got plenty of ground to cover.” He slid an exploring hand down the gentle curve of her belly, then laid it flat above the waistline of her tiny panties. “Should we take these off?”
“We should,” she said in response, and lifted her hips off the bed so he could slide them down her body.
He did, fascinated by the reveal. Her tattoos were exposed to him and he paused to examine each one more closely. The stars were a sprinkle of tiny dots that started small mid-thigh and got bigger as they spread across her pelvis in a scattered fan. On the opposite side, the design followed the same subtle design, as if someone had spilled drops of brightly colored paint across her legs. “Do they mean something?” he asked, lightly tracing wondering fingers over her hips.
“No,” she told him. “They’re just pretty and they make me happy.”
They made him rather happy, too. They were completely invisible in normal clothing, and it was like he was peeling away layers to find a secret Brenna underneath, who was just a bit more unique with every passing moment.
His fingers stroked over her hip bones and then slid toward her apex, to the dark vee of her pussy. And he hesitated, because even though he was leading this exploration, he wanted her approval first.
“Don’t get shy on me now, Grant,” she said, teasing. “We’ll never finish our game if you do.” She spread her legs for him in invitation, knees bent, and that sight would go down in Grant’s mind as one of the most mind-blowingly sexy moves he’d ever seen.
He groaned, his cock jumping at the sight. He wanted to bury his face in her thighs and make her scream and come in the next moment, but he had to keep playing this tantalizing, maddening game. So he took his hand that was resting on her belly and lightly stroked his thumb down the wet slit of her pussy.
And his fingers touched something hard and metallic.
He froze.
She made a low sound of pleasure, flexing her hips.
“You’re pierced . . . here?”
“Ding ding ding,” she said breathily. “Give that man a prize.”
He had to get a closer look. Grant parted her flesh with his fingers, staring down at her p
erfect pink pussy. Nestled below the dark curls, in the hood of her clit, was a vertical silver piercing with a tiny ball on the end.
Now that was the fucking sexiest thing he’d ever seen. “Damn. I . . .” He didn’t know what to say except the obvious. “Does it hurt?”
She laughed and rolled her hips a bit, as if trying to rock against his fingers. “If it hurt, it wouldn’t be in. It just makes everything more . . . sensitive. In a good way.”
Well, now he had to test that. He touched the piercing with his finger and stroked the flesh around it.
Brenna sucked in a breath.
He dipped a finger to the well of her pussy and felt how slick and wet she was. He took some of that wetness and moved back up to her piercing and began to press with gentle fingers, rubbing the ball of the piercing against her clit.
She groaned, her eyelids fluttering shut again, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Use your tongue.”
The visual of doing that to her nearly flattened him and he ran his other hand over the hard ridge of his cock. He was barely aware that he was still in trousers and wearing most of his shirt. Meanwhile, the woman beneath him was naked and wriggling and slick with need.
He stood up, intending to strip out of his clothing, and was gratified by her disappointed whimper.
“Save that for me,” she told him breathlessly. “We’re not finished with our game.”
The Expert's Guide to Driving a Man Wild Page 5
