So Much More (Made for Love #3)

by R. C. Martin

  I can’t say what may or may not happen tonight when we’re all alone. I’m not sure whether or not I’ll be brave enough or bold enough to follow the moment wherever it may lead us. All I know for sure is that I cannot wait for him to get here. Simply being in the same space as him makes me happy.

  I have to force myself to concentrate as I hurriedly apply a bit of makeup, wishing to avoid impaling myself with my mascara brush. What I manage in five minutes isn’t glamorous, but it’s better than my five a.m. efforts, which will have to suffice. I contemplate doing something other than nothing to my hair, but after I run a brush through it, I decide down is good enough. Just as I’m headed back to my room to pack, there’s a knock at the front door.

  Time’s up.

  THE T-SHIRT THAT HUGS his chest reads: Real Men Eat Cupcakes. The grin that spreads across my face is for two reasons. First—because I love how his sense of humor has found its way into his sense of style. Second—because I love how he can make a t-shirt look hot as hell. He’s matched the charcoal-gray T with a pair of fitted blue jeans and army green, high top boots that hang open around the top.

  It isn’t until my eyes meet his that I realize I totally just checked him out from head to toe—and he saw every second of it.

  “Right back at ‘cha, Sunshine,” he says with a wink. Before I can find my words, he surprises me by revealing a bouquet of flowers he’s hidden behind his back. They’re beautiful and I immediately step forward to catch a whiff of their delectable aroma.

  “Thank you,” I tell him. “They’re gorgeous.”

  “You’re welcome.” He leans down and gives me a quick kiss. “Why don’t you put them in water and I’ll grab your bag.”

  “Oh. About that.” He straightens up before I can finish, worry tugging at his brow. I quickly reach for his hand before I assure him, “I’m going to pack one, I just haven’t yet. I ran out of time. So, how about you find a vase and put those in water and I’ll go gather my things. Anyway, you’ll have just as much luck finding a vase in there as I would,” I say, nodding back at the kitchen.

  “Okay.”

  I reach for a kiss and he responds without hesitation. As he heads to the kitchen, I hurry to my room. Assuming that we’ll be headed to church and then brunch with Row in the morning, I search my closet for the appropriate attire. When I find an outfit that satisfies me, I grab a few things from the bathroom and shove them in my bag as well. Just before I zip it closed, I spot the shirt Brandon gave me to sleep in the other night. I think about bringing it with me, but I’ve been wearing it to bed all week. It probably could stand a wash—and if I need something to sleep in tonight, I’m not above swiping another T from his collection.

  “I was looking for that,” he says softly, slipping his arms around my waist.

  I jump, startled by his silent approach, but then relax against him. “Looking for what?”

  “My shirt.”

  I hum a laugh, turning around to face him. “It’s mine now.”

  “Is that right?” I nod and the grin that makes his hazel eyes sparkle brings about my goose pimples. “Good to know. Are you ready?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  He reaches around me to zip up my bag and throws it over his shoulder before taking my hand. I weave my fingers between his, wishing to be locked to him, and grab my purse as we head out for the night.

  We end up back in Old Town and he takes me to a jazz bar that I’ve never been to before called Spades. It’s a hole-in-the-wall place shrouded in dim, romantic lighting with a piano, a drum set, and a bass fit snuggly into the far corner of the room. Right now, there’s no music playing, but Brandon tells me that they must be on a break. He snags us a booth near the band. When he slides in next to me instead of across from me, my stomach tingles, in love with the fact that he doesn’t want to be too far away from me either.

  “Are you a big jazz fan?” I ask.

  “I’m not a connoisseur or anything, but I like this place. What about you?”

  “When I was in college, I lived with my best friend and her twin. Avery is a cellist—”

  “Right, Daphne’s friend.”

  “Yeah, that’s her. She got me into that genre of music—classical and jazz. I don’t listen to it as much anymore, but I definitely appreciate it.”

  “Well, I’ll admit, I didn’t really bring you here for the music.”

  “No?”

  “No,” he says with a smirk. “They’ve got this cake—” I gasp, suddenly excited, and lean in closer to him. He laughs, wrapping his arm around my shoulders before planting a kiss in my hair. “I love that about you.”

  “Love what about me?”

  “How excited you get about baked sweets. You don’t even know what kind of cake it is.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I gush. “I love cake!”

  “Good. I promised I’d wine and dine you—so we’re here to wine and dine.”

  Cake. It’s our first date and he decided to bring me here so that he could feed me cake. I think I just might be the luckiest girl in the whole world!

  We order one slice of cake and two glasses of wine. Twenty minutes later, it’s more cake she wants. I’m happy to indulge her craving and a second helping of cake is consumed while we sit huddled together in our booth, talking over the loud hum that surrounds us.

  We talk about nothing in particular, jumping from one topic to the next. Music. Movies. Books. The places we’ve been. The places we’ve always wanted to go. Family. Friends. As if we’re both tuned into one another, we steer clear of any conversation that will dampen the mood. When I see her expression cloud over with a bad memory, I say something that makes her laugh. When she senses that I’m being tugged back into the dark recesses of my mind, she kisses me and changes the subject.

  For two hours, it’s just her and me.

  The longer we sit together, the closer we get. I know we’re the epitome of what irritates me when I see other couples all over each other—as if it’s impossible for them to tone it down while they’re out in public. I know this—but I don’t give a shit about it. Now, as we sit quietly listening to the music, she’s got her head resting on my shoulder and her hand against my thigh. My arm is wrapped around her waist and I’m tracking lazy circles against her side with my finger.

  When she tilts her head back, her lips graze against my skin and my dick stirs. She kisses the space just below my ear before she whispers my name. I lean down so that I can hear what she has to say.

  “Would it be alright if we went home, now? I’d like to kiss you for a while as my way of saying thank you for this perfect date.”

  She pulls away from me, searching for my answer in my eyes. I nod in response, but the thought of waiting to taste her sweet mouth seems outrageous. Instead, I bring my hand up and around her cheek before I press my lips against hers. I feel the way she melts at my touch, her body relaxing against mine, and my head fills with images of all the things I’d like to do to her when I get her out of here.

  She teases me, flicking her tongue between my lips, and I feel my self control slipping away. I deepen the kiss and pull her closer. When she hooks one of her legs over mine, her thigh grazes my cock and I know that if we don’t get out of here right now, I’ll have my hand up her skirt, indecent exposure be damned.

  “We’ve got to go,” I rasp, forcing myself to pull away from her. She nods, biting her lip as she does so, and I accept the fact that I’ll be walking out of here sporting a hard-on.

  I reach for my wallet, pull out a wad of cash, and deposit it on the table before I slide out of the booth, taking Sarah with me. Her hand wrapped tightly around mine, we waste no time getting back to the Camaro. Once she’s in, I make my way to the driver’s side and we’re gone. It isn’t until I reach for her hand again that I realize—

  “Shit! I never asked you how it went at LB tonight.”

  She laughs, bringing my hand up to press a kiss against it. “I’m so incredibly proud of you for waiting so lon
g to ask! I could have sworn you were going to start peppering me with questions the second I answered the door.”

  I shake my head at her, a smirk curling the corner of my mouth. “I’m not the one you should be proud of. Be proud of yourself for being so damn gorgeous that it’s distracting.”

  “You flatter me,” she says airily.

  “Only because it’s true,” I assure her with a wink. “I really do want to know how it went, though.”

  “Well, there was a small fire.” My heart skips a beat. “And we were short two hundred dollars in the till.” My palms start to sweat. “But other than that—” She cuts herself off when I chance a look at her to see if she’s being serious.

  “I’m kidding,” she laughs once more, pressing her fingers against the side of my face, encouraging me to focus on the road. “It was fine. Nothing went wrong. Easy as pie—and I can say that. I make a mean peach apple pie.”

  “Don’t do that to me, Sunshine. I almost had a heart attack.”

  “Have a little faith in your girl, boss man.”

  “I do,” I tell her, giving her fingers a squeeze. “Or I never would have left you in the first place.”

  Because she’s amazing, Sarah spends the remainder of our car ride walking me through what she and Rachael did for the rest of their shift. It calms me down, knowing she did everything that’s on the nightly checklist, not forgetting a single step. The fact that she narrated each detail, just because she knows how hard it is for me to break routine, just because she wanted to reassure me that everything went fine, and without any prompting from me, it gives me one more reason to add to the list of why this girl could be no one else's but mine.

  Her heart is so damn big, and I want it all.

  As soon as I lock us in my apartment, she excuses herself to the bathroom, claiming she needs a girl moment. I can’t say for sure what that means, but I sure as hell hope it doesn’t take too long.

  I MAKE MYSELF COMFORTABLE on the couch, kicking off my boots as I wait for her. When she comes to join me, it’s not a moment too soon.

  “Hey,” she coos as our eyes meet.

  “Hey,” I echo, leaning towards her to graze my mouth against hers.

  She reaches for my face, cupping her hands around my beard as she parts her lips and invites my tongue inside. It’s not long before we lose ourselves in this kiss and I pull her on top of me. I know I promised her earlier that we wouldn’t do anything she didn’t feel comfortable doing, and I know we should take it slow, but I’m not feeling very patient just now.

  I’m feeling insatiable.

  I’m feeling greedy.

  I’m feeling reckless.

  I skim one hand up her leg, reacquainting myself with her silky smooth skin. I keep going until I’m under her skirt, then I palm her ass, pulling her even closer to me. With the other hand, I slide my way up her side, anxious to feel her wonderfully full tit. When I rub my thumb over one of her breasts, I can feel her hardened nipple through her bra. She hums a pleasant sigh into my mouth at my contact and I’m so turned on that I know I’m not going to be very good tonight.

  “Sarah,” I grumble, dragging in a breath, reaching down to tug up her shirt. “Tell me when to stop. Just say when—loud and clear. Do you hear me?”

  “Yeah,” she breathes with a nod.

  When I free the bottom of her shirt from the confines of her belt, she lifts her arms above her head and allows me to inch the fabric over her stomach, over her pink lacy bra, then finally over her head. Her hair falls in waves all around her and I gather her thick silky mane into one hand, gently tugging until she’s titled her head back. I leave a trail of opened-mouth kisses along the length of her neck, descending all the way down and in between her cleavage.

  “Brandon,” she murmurs.

  “Yeah, baby?” I reply as I nibble and lick my way back towards her neck.

  “I want to touch you.” Her fingertips find their way underneath my shirt as she says the words. Together, we make quick work of the undesirable garment and then her palms are exploring my chest.

  And then her lips.

  Her tongue.

  Her teeth.

  Fuck—does she have any idea how much she’s killing me right now?

  She swirls her tongue around my nipple and then grazes her teeth over the hardened flesh. My dick is so stiff, if I don’t get out of these jeans, it’s going to get downright painful.

  I coax her head back up until her mouth is in reaching distance of mine and then I crush my lips against hers, locking my arms around her before I stand. She clings to me, wrapping her legs about my waist as I carry her towards the bed.

  “Hey,” I manage between kisses. “How about—we make—a deal.”

  “What—deal?”

  Before I can answer, her tongue is twisted around mine. I ease her down onto the bed, settling myself between her legs, and my dick strains against my pants, begging to be set free.

  “Dammit, woman,” I gasp, severing our kiss. “You’re going to kill me.” I pull away from her, reaching for the top button of my jeans. “You lose yours, I’ll lose mine,” I tell her, sliding down my zipper.

  She stands with me and unhooks her belt, letting it fall to the floor. I keep my eyes trained on hers as I push down my jeans and she keeps her eyes trained on mine as she wiggles out of her skirt. I kick my ankles free and slide out of my socks as she steps out of her skirt and slips out of her heels.

  In this moment, both of us keeping our hands to ourselves, I remember that she gets to set the rules. We’re only going to go as far as she’s willing. I’m not going to push her. “Tonight does not have to be about sex,” I tell her. “That’s not why I want you here.”

  “I know,” she whispers, taking a step closer to me. When she rests her hands against my sides, I feel her trembling.

  “Sarah?” She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she looks down at my erection and takes another cautious step towards me. “Sarah?”

  I watch as she draws in a deep breath, licks her lips, and then looks up at me. “I want to see it.”

  I can’t explain it—this yearning I have. It’s like the princess is starving. Only I’m not thinking about food. And it aches—my insides are being torn apart by this raw desire. In this moment, I can think of nothing else. Nothing. All I want is to touch him. Except—I don’t want it to be about me. I want it to be about him.

  I want to make him come.

  I’m fascinated by his cock. It’s definitely up and most certainly intimidating, but above all else, it makes me feel powerful. I’m the reason he’s turned on right now. Me. I have no idea what to do next, how to handle him or how to figure out what he likes. I’ve read scenes just like this one too many times to count—but real life, Brandon, its not the same.

  “Sarah?” His voice calls to me, calls to that all consuming feeling in the pit of my stomach. I take a step closer to him, willing myself to be brave. “Sarah?”

  I draw in a deep breath, lick my lips, and look up at him. “I want to see it,” I confess. “I want to feel it. I want—I want you to show me how to touch you.”

  “You want to stroke my cock?” I nod my reply. “Then say it,” he insists as he slides his hand down into his briefs. “I need to hear you say the words. Tell me what you want. Exactly what you want.”

  As he doles out instructions, he runs his hand slowly up and down his shaft. Suddenly, I’m short of breath.

  “Say it. If you can’t say it, you’re not ready, sweet girl.”

  I watch as he works himself and I can feel my panties growing wetter by the second. I need to touch him—I want it more than my next breath. “Your cock,” I tell him, reaching to pull his briefs out of my way. “I want to touch your cock.”

  I gasp when he takes my hand and wraps it around him. He’s hard—so hard and long; and his skin, my god, his skin is unbelievably soft.

  “It’s okay. You can squeeze and you won’t hurt me.” I do my best to grip him tighter. He places his ha
nd over mine and guides my fingers up and down his length. “Just like that. Yeah—just like that, baby.”

  I’m confident that I’m getting the hang of it when he pulls his hand away and reaches up to tangle his fingers in my hair. I squeeze harder and he rests his forehead against mine. “Oh, Sarah.”

  The sound of his enjoyment takes away more of my nerves. When I see a bead of moisture at the tip of his cock, I use my free thumb to smear it away.

  “Fuck,” he cries out, his whole body jerking.

  “You like that?” I ask with a triumphant grin. Before he can respond, I do it again. The growl that rumbles out of him kicks up my arousal to another level. When he starts to move with me, pumping in opposition with my hand, I know I’ve got him right where I want him. I use both hands now, and I can feel him starting to pulse against me.

  “Oh, baby, you feel so good. Harder—hold me tighter, sweet girl.”

  I do as he says, completely taken by the sight of him giving in to his pleasure.

  “Ah—fuck, yeah. Sarah.” He moves a little faster. I squeeze a little tighter. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna come, baby, I—” He pulls his hands away from me and reaches for a tissue from off of his bedside table. He covers himself just as he starts to spill his release. He eases my hands away and finishes himself off, soaking up every last drop. He crumbles the tissue and carelessly tosses it aside before he pulls up his briefs.

  Then, without warning, he’s devouring my mouth. I wrap my arms around him so as to keep my balance, but he catches me before I fall. Better yet, he hoists my legs up and around him as he places me back onto the bed.

  “God—you’re amazing,” he proclaims as he begins kissing his way down my body. “I shouldn’t have let you do that.”

  “What? Why?” I mutter, trying really hard to focus more on what he’s saying as opposed to where his lips are descending.