by Niki Green
Growing up, Peyton had been more into sports than into anything else. Her participation in athletics had left her with long, trim and firm legs, arms and everything else in between. She had never been skinny, and Brent was glad of that. Perfectly fit and round and lush was just how he liked his women—how he liked Peyton.
Brent’s mind was lost in thought and his hands were lazily toying with her silky smooth skin. He didn’t realize that she was watching him.
“What?”
She smiled slightly and shrugged her shoulders at his question. That was when Brent and his body noticed she was totally naked beneath the thin, white sleepwear she had on, except for a slight outline of a pair of panties. When her shoulders lifted in the shrug it brought her breasts and her nipples against the front of the material. He could see everything.
He repositioned her legs without giving himself and his response to his newfound knowledge away. He wanted Peyton. Wanted her more than he wanted his next breath, but now wasn’t the time. Now was the time to show her that he was here for her—and Carter wasn’t.
“Nothing. I was just thinking how messed up the last few days have been.”
“How’s that?” He had stopped his hands, but when she closed her eyes and scooted down farther into the couch and farther into his lap, he couldn’t help but touch her.
“A week ago, everything was normal to the point of boring, and then everything is just turned upside down. You and I—”
“You and I what?” He pressed.
“If you had told me a few days ago that you would be sitting on my couch tonight, acting all concerned and interested in my wellbeing, I would have called you a liar and slammed the door in your face.”
“And today?” As he asked, his fingers traveled past her knee, up her thigh and grazed the hand resting on the flat of her stomach. He smiled to himself when he felt her muscles flex and jump under his own.
“You’re here, aren’t you?” She never moved her hand from under his touch, but she didn’t return it either. That little fact gave Brent hope and took it away at the same time.
“I’m here, but do you want me here? I can leave if it will make you feel better.”
“Do you want to leave?” she questioned, but spoke to her hands instead of him directly.
“No.”
Her eyes remained downcast as she posed her next question. “Do you want to stay?”
“Do you want me to stay?” It was a true game of cat and mouse, but Brent wanted to know that she wanted him here. He wanted to be here, the proof was in his presence. He just needed to hear her say the words. He hoped she would pick the right ones.
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
Those few words seemed to comfort her more than any he had said previously. Once again the two sat in silence—him watching her, her watching him. He wanted nothing more than to pull her from her position and huddle her in his arms, but he held back.
Days from now, when her world was all right as rain and everything was back in place, he didn’t want her to be able to say or think that he had made the decisions concerning their current relationship solely on his own. This was a joint effort.
After what felt like hours had passed, she finally spoke. “What are we doing?”
He narrowed his eyes as he watched her and turned her question forty directions in his mind before replying. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you and me, me and you. Sitting here having a civil conversation with each other, you trying to comfort me, you trying your best to care for me whether you want to or not. What are we doing?”
“I want to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been through hell and back the last few days, and if I’m right you walked most of the way by yourself. There’s no sense in you walking back all alone if I can help. Is there?”
“So you feel sorry for me? Pity is the reason you’re sitting here? I don’t want your pity.” Her back was starting to get up and Brent had to do whatever he could to unruffle her feathers. He didn’t pity her, not by a long shot and he told her so.
“Pity for you is the furthest thing from my mind and the furthest reason from the truth as to why I’m here.” Brent very rarely felt lost in his life, but this conversation had him turned in different directions and none of them pointed in the right way.
“What do you feel then? What do you feel for me?”
His entire life and its new direction depended on his next few words so he knew he best choose them wisely. “I know it’s not pity.”
“What is it then?” She pressed him. His instincts made him reach across her body and stop her fingers and their idle movements.
“What do you think the reason is?”
“I need to know that you don’t pity me. I need you to tell me what comes next? What comes next for me? For you? For us?”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because however this ends up, this thing between you and me, I want you to be able to say that you made up your own mind without any persuasion from me. I don’t want you to ever wonder ‘what if’ about which way you decide to go. If you decide to kick me out in the next minute, I want it to be your decision and your decision only. If you decide you want me here tonight, in whatever fashion, I want it to be of your own free will.”
There. He’d said it. Whatever happened next was totally up to her. No ifs, ands or buts about it. He just hoped her decision involved him and her wrapped around each other in the near future.
“If I asked you to do something for me, would you?” Again, she spoke to her hands and not to him.
“I’ll do what I can.” Which was the truth. He didn’t know what she wanted, but he was determined to make her see that any wish or wishes she had he would attempt to grant.
“Would you hold me?” Timid was far from what Peyton was, but the words that fell from her mouth were wrapped in shyness.
“Scoot over.” He caught the flash of surprise in her eyes just before she rolled to her side and gave him her back. Maneuvering gracefully was a difficult feat, but he managed as best he could. When his chest touched her back her body formed to his own without pause. He used one arm as a makeshift pillow and wrapped the other one around her stomach. It took all the strength and willpower he could conjure not to touch her anywhere else. It was fucking difficult to have Peyton in his arms again and not get hard, but he was proud of himself and his dick at the current moment.
“Just until I fall asleep,” she whispered into the room.
“Just until you don’t need me anymore,” he whispered into her ear. They lay there silent and snuggled for only a short while before her breaths became level and deep. The rhythm rocked Brent into drowsiness and before he could stop them his eyes fell closed.
All thoughts stopped.
All questions vanished.
The only thing left was him and her—the way it should have been all along.
Chapter Fourteen
She came awake in a flash. Her body levered away from the couch and away from the warm form wrapped so closely around her. She didn’t realize it at the time, but she had brought him awake with her.
“What?” he asked with a little frantic note attached to his tone. “What is it? You okay?”
He was sincere. He was concerned. He was here.
It was now or never. Peyton could either take the bull by the horns or have the bull take her. Turning slowly, she removed her body from his and dropped her feet to the carpet. Her legs were steady as she stood and leaned in the few inches to face him where he sat. His eyes questioned her for a minute, but he didn’t speak.
Swallowing the last of her reservations, she brought one knee up and placed it next to his thigh on the couch. He shifted his position just a bit to accommodate her actions. As he moved his body he gave her other knee room to take a place on the outside of his other leg.
Peyton moved her body so that her knees supported her frame. From this angle she looked stra
ight into those eyes she dreamed about.
Moving slowly, her lips brushed over his. He seemed surprised. It made her smile. She did it again, this time adding more pressure. The second time their mouths fused his opened beneath hers. She let her tongue stroke and play over his the way she had always loved to do. She relished in its texture—smooth, strong and sexy. As her mouth and tongue dance as it pleased, her hands found his shoulders and she curled into the bulges of his biceps she felt flexing ever so lightly beneath her fingertips.
Tingles ran through her fingers. Feeling the heat radiating beneath the soft cotton material of his shirt made her yearn for more. She slid her fingers along his shoulders and they grazed the flesh of his neck. She felt the muscles contract and release accordingly. One hand made its way around his neck to glide though his hair while the other feathered his chin and jaw. One thing she didn’t allow herself to do was break their kiss. Not yet. Not until all the inhibitions were gone could she look at him.
Peyton deepened their kiss, letting her tongue flirt with his. She teased the tip, stroked the sides and drew it into her mouth, sucking on it ever so slightly. That seemed to be Brent’s undoing. His hips arched to meet hers as his hands gripped her waist, bringing her body down completely against the bulge in his denim.
He was hard, so amazingly hard.
The force of his movement caused a jolt of bruising pleasure to course though her body. The gown she wore offered no protection against the ridge his cock created. She could feel the length of it growing and moving underneath her. He broke their kiss to ask, “I take it you want me to stay?”
“Yes,” she explained, breathless and wanting more. He gave it to her. Brent’s hand fisted in her hair before he pulled her mouth back to his. Peyton couldn’t have stopped the moan that flowed from her if she wanted to.
It felt too good.
Her hands found his chest and she pushed herself back. Tugging, she pulled the material of his shirt away from his body.
Brent helped.
He moved his back away from the couch so she could remove the shirt with ease. Raising his arms allowed Peyton to view his bare chest for the first time in forever.
His stomach was flat and hard. A light dusting of hair swirled across his chest and feathered into a glorious trial down his stomach that disappeared into his jeans. Peyton licked her lips at the thought of what those jeans held.
With his shirt finally discarded, she trailed her fingertips across his shoulders, down around the flat brown nipples and farther. His breath hitched, or she thought it did, as she toyed with the waist of his jeans and the trail she couldn’t take her mind or her eyes off of.
She leaned forward and flattened her tongue against one of his nipples. She lapped once, then twice before moving to the second. It beaded and budded beneath her moving tongue. She heard what sounded like a moan. It encouraged her, and she sucked lightly before easing toward the middle of his chest. Her position on his lap only allowed her to go so far, so she moved. He moaned again. As gracefully and seductively as she could, she let her legs sink to the floor. Her position gave her more room to roam and play like she wanted.
She risked looking up at him and liked what she saw. Brent’s back was against the couch, his head resting on the cushions, hands fisted at his sides. Peyton smiled before she could stop herself. Caution was thrown to the wind and all of her inhibitions flew away as she worked the buckle on his belt loose. It came apart easier than she thought it would have.
The button of his jeans was next.
She popped it easily and saw his stomach quiver. She licked the spot where the quiver had started and then licked the spot where the quiver had stopped. When she did, Brent sucked in a deep breath and the zipper released on its own.
Peyton realized at that moment that he wore no underwear. He was bare. There was nothing else separating his cock from her. Desire fueled her movements. With ease and care, she ran her fingers across the hardened flesh she could see. She took his jeans by the waist and pulled.
They didn’t move.
Her gaze traveled the length of his body until they reached his face. When their eyes met Brent lifted his hips, letting Peyton ease his jeans down his thighs. When she looked back down, she swallowed—and almost choked.
He was huge.
Beautifully so.
His cock was long and thick and perfect in shape and size. How could she have forgotten such an intimate detail about his body? Maybe she hadn’t forgotten. Maybe she had blocked it out for her own good.
Veins ran the sides leading to the bulging head that was swollen and dark. She could feel herself getting slick and slippery as she looked her fill. But she wanted to do more than look.
She wrapped her hand around him, or tried to, then slowly moved her fingers and head at the same time. When the head of his cock met her tongue she heard him hiss a curse. She didn’t know what he had actually said, she didn’t even know if it was English, and she really didn’t care.
Peyton flicked her tongue across the bulging head of his cock more than once. She was rewarded with a salty pearl of moisture from the opening. With her free hand, she moved her hair away from her face and took him into her mouth. As she slid her mouth down, covering as much of his girth as she could, he lifted his hips.
It took Peyton a second to notice he was pumping gently into her mouth. This time she moaned. The vibrations from her throat must have felt good because Brent moaned and pumped deeper. She took as much of him as she could, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Her hands stroked the flesh underneath her seeking lips as she worked her mouth farther down on him.
“Harder.” His muffled request brought her eyes to his. He was watching her. Watching her as she worked her mouth and tongue over his extended length. She drew him into her mouth once more, held the pressure and sucked. Her efforts were rewarded with a moan. Her own throat copied the sound.
Moving up and down, keeping a constant rhythm and a consistent amount of suction, she adored his cock with her tongue and mouth.
Peyton willed herself to keep her own hands away from her begging body, but it was easier said than done. Each time his hips moved, bringing him closer and deeper into her throat, she felt the muscles of her pussy tense.
She was so consumed by what she was doing and the sensations running through her she gasped and squealed when Brent’s arms surrounded her waist and pulled her beneath him on the couch.
Those perfect lips of his seized her own and fused them together. His kiss was always domineering and demanding, but this kiss was different. It was carnal. Peyton’s eyes flew open when she felt the heat of his hand against her hip slip underneath her gown.
She whimpered in the back of her throat when she felt the material pass her hip and then her waist until it rested just below her breasts. The only thing separating them now was the thin white lace thong she had pulled on after her shower. Why she’d put underwear on she didn’t know. She didn’t bother with wearing a bra. Why the thong?
Because the things made her feel sexy. They made her fell feminine. They made her feel wanted and desired—and Brent loved them. He always had. It seemed he still did.
Brent made quick work of disposing of her gown. It ended up in a ball next to his shirt on the floor. He pushed his body away from hers and supported his weight on his extended arms. Peyton watched as the cords of muscles played beneath his skin.
She watched as his gaze raked her body, and the look in his eyes sent shivers from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. He leaned down and kissed her once more, a quick kiss without pressure or play. He returned to his original position and said, “My turn.”
Chapter Fifteen
Brent took a second to calm his breathing and control the lust driving his body. He wanted nothing more than to rid her of the little scrap of material she wore as panties. The white against her tanned flesh was intoxicating enough. When you added in her legs, her lips and her mouth she had the whole package.
> When she’d sucked him into her mouth it had taken all of his control to keep from coming. He wanted to—what man wouldn’t? But not yet. First he was going to see if she tasted as good as he remembered. He wanted to see if she tasted just as sweet as she did in his dreams.
Placing a hand on each of her hips, he pulled her farther down into the softness of the couch. With her back flat and her legs wide there was no stopping him from licking and tasting to his heart’s content. His hands played along the lines of her legs and caused goose bumps to form beneath his fingertips.
He inched back, moving his body away from the junction of her thighs. When his fingers reached for the lacy band just below her bellybutton she stopped him. Moving his hands away, she let hers take their place. She slowly moved the material down her legs and let the lacy scrap fall to the floor beside them. While she stripped for him he was awestruck by the perfection of her body.
Toned, honey-tanned legs, lean waist, flared hips and more. Brent’s eyes traveled her body until they landed where he wanted his mouth to be. Her pussy was bare, devoid of hair, and he could see her glistening softness begging for his touch. He gave the lady what she wanted.
Bending at the waist, he let his tongue travel and trail the slick line of her pussy lips. Her hips bucked against his mouth, making him smile into her flesh. His tongue glided farther and farther until he found the center of her heat. God, she tasted sweet. Honey. That’s all he could think. She was just like honey.
Brent brought his hands to rest on the insides of her thighs and gently pushed them apart. The action caused her to open completely for him. His breath hitched and his cock begged to be closer. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet.
With an open mouth and utter enthusiasm, he licked and lapped at her. The grinding motion she was making with her hips brought her closer to his seeking mouth and then farther away. His thumbs rested on each side of her opening and he separated the folds and brought his tongue against her. She moaned—deep and low. Her hips thrust toward him and he let them. He savored her delectable taste.
