So Much More (Made for Love #3)

by R. C. Martin

  “Hey, are you alright?” I ask, tangling my fingers in her hair as I gently squeeze the back of her neck. “What’d he say to you?”

  “His wife left him,” she sniffs.

  “So, what? He thought he could get you back?” She nods as she slides her arms around my waist. “Fucking asshole.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she cries, titling her head up to look at me. “I’m sorry that he called and ruined—”

  “Hey—I don’t want to hear it, Sunshine. I don’t want to hear you apologizing for his behavior. It’s done, it’s over. It’s not your fault. Don’t be sorry for anything.” I wipe away her tears before I grip her face between my hands and lean down to kiss her lips. “And you sure as shit better not be crying over him,” I tease, using her line.

  She frees an airy, halfhearted laugh as she shakes her head. “He just made me really angry. I don’t miss him, I don’t want him.”

  “I know you don’t,” I state, propping my forehead against hers. “Can I tell you something?” She nods, moving my head along with hers. A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth before I continue. “Hearing you call him on his shit…it was kind of sexy.”

  She chuckles as she reaches up to wrap her arms around my neck. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

  “Want to bet?” I ask, tugging the sheet from around her body. She absentmindedly runs her tongue across her bottom lip when I press my hardened length against the bare skin of her stomach. “You’re mine,” I mutter, my mouth grazing hers. “Now he knows.”

  She pushes herself up onto her tiptoes and kisses me fiercely.

  “Brandon?”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  She pulls away from me, reaches for my hands, and backs her way to the bed.

  “I’m ready to fly.”

  “ARE YOU GOING TO Brandon’s tonight?” asks Aria as we make our way out of the gym. I’m surprised either of us can still walk at all.

  Well—I suppose she must be used to it now. As for me, four weeks in Josh’s class and he’s still kicking my ass. On the flip side, though, I think I might be able to do some ass kicking myself, now that I’ve got a few moves under my belt.

  “You know what? Don’t answer that,” she says, holding up a hand. “I already know you are. Have you been home at all this week?”

  I grin at her as I shake my head. Aside from the pit stop I made on Monday night after class, I haven’t been at home. I would say that I’ve been happily living out of my bag, but that’s not true. When I got off of work on Tuesday—Brandon finally surrendered to my insistence that I close without him three nights a week—I walked into the apartment to find my bag empty and in the closet. He made room for my stuff in his dresser.

  It’s like he loves me and he doesn’t want me to leave, or something…

  My heart does a happy dance.

  “You might as well move in with him.”

  “He doesn’t have enough room for all my baking stuff. You should see his kitchen—every nook and cranny is filled with some sort of essential baking gadget. It’s actually quite amazing.”

  “Do you hear yourself?” she asks with a laugh. “Not enough room for your baking stuff? God—you two are so fucking adorable. Would you just get married already? And pop out some gorgeous baking geniuses while you’re at it.”

  “How about I meet his mom, first?” I ask with a laugh.

  “Oh, yeah! You’re doing that this weekend, right? Are you nervous? Don’t be nervous,” she continues without pause. “I remember when I met Josh’s parents. Shit—his mom is like the mama bear from hell. He’s her only son out of four kids and he’s the baby. The first time I came over for family dinner, I was afraid she was going to attack at any second.

  “But Josh was perfect. He knew how to handle her. I remember thinking, if she was a bear, he was my lion. I have no idea what Brandon’s mom will be like, but I know for a fact that he’ll be your lion, too.”

  I don’t know too much about Brandon’s mom, either. From what I’ve gathered, I don’t have to be afraid of her mama bear instincts. The unfortunate reality is that those traits went into hibernation years ago. I know that it’s had a detrimental impact on their relationship. He loves her anyway, though. She must love him, too; otherwise, she wouldn’t be interested in meeting me.

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t be so nervous. I just really want her to like me.”

  “He loves you. At the very least she’ll like you.” We stop just beside my car and she wraps me in a hug. “Ignore my sweat and I’ll ignore yours,” she demands. We laugh together and give each other one more good squeeze. “Tell Brandon I say hello and thanks for sharing his girl.”

  “I will!”

  Brandon’s not home when I arrive. Since he gave me his spare key earlier this week, I’m able to get inside and strip down for the shower I so desperately need. I know he’ll be home any minute and I’d much rather I smell like Brandon’s Sunshine than Sarah’s workout. The hot water feels amazing beating against my tired muscles—so amazing that when the song that’s in my head begins to play, I start to sing it aloud.

  I used to sing in the shower all the time. I didn’t realize it then, but it was a sign that I was happy. I know that I suck and my friends think I sound horrendous, but I don’t care. It’s fun; and when I belt out the lyrics to my favorite jams, it’s a reflection of my mood. Right now, I’m glad that I’m overcome by my desire to sing Megan Traynor at the top of my lungs.

  Knowing that Brandon will be home soon, I don’t stay in the shower for too long. As soon as I get out, I give my hair a quick towel dry before wrapping myself up and making my way out of the bathroom. I’m still humming as I go. That is, until I see Brandon leaning against the doorframe, his bike half in, half out of the apartment. I jump, startled by his sudden appearance, and squint when I see his helmet hanging from the handlebars. I wonder if he wore it home. Then I notice that he’s not coming inside.

  “Hey, welcome home. I didn’t hear you.” He smirks at me but still doesn’t make a move to come inside. “What are you doing, babe?”

  He runs a hand down his face as he shakes his head at me. I knit my eyebrows together, expressing my confusion.

  “It was a long night. I don’t know why, but it was one of those nights where shit just happened. I left pissed off. The whole ride here I was trying to shake it, but I couldn’t. Then I opened this door and—all I could smell was you. It immediately made me feel better. Then I heard you singing—or whatever you want to call that—and it made me laugh. For a second, I just wanted to stand here and listen to you be at home.

  “Then you walked out in that towel. Now the only thing I can think about is bending you over that couch so that I can fuck you. I don’t want to be slow. I don’t want to be gentle. I just want to fuck my woman.”

  His words make my heart race. At first, I don’t know what to say. He’s never talked to me like this before. He’s also never been rough with me. I can’t say for certain how much I’ll like it, but I’m not afraid to try it. I love him and I love that I am his woman.

  Tonight—I’m ready to surrender to the animal in him.

  Without a word, I head to the nightstand to grab a couple condoms. I started on birth control earlier this week, but I haven’t told him yet. I’m a little nervous about letting him come inside of me and I thought I’d give the pills some extra time to get control of my baby-maker.

  I watch him watch me as I make my way back to the couch. I toss the condoms onto the cushion and reach for the top of my towel. “Close the door.”

  He doesn’t have to be told twice.

  He abandon’s his bike on the floor, instead of hanging it on the wall, and locks us in. As soon as the door is shut, I let my towel drop. He stares at me from where he stands but doesn’t come towards me. Instead, he drops his bag and then begins removing one item of clothing after another.

  “I want to see you touch yourself.”

  My stomach knots up with nerv
es. He’s never asked me to do that before either.

  “I want you ready for me, baby—” he says, dropping his pants before kicking them from around his ankle. “Pretend like it’s me.” When he reaches for himself and begins to stroke his cock, I can feel the moisture coating my insides. I don’t tell him that I don’t need to coax my need for him. Instead, I decide to do as he asks.

  He makes his way toward me and we stare at one another, each of us touching ourselves. Somehow, it heightens the anticipation in the moment; the closer he gets, the shorter my breaths become. By the time he’s come to stand behind me, I’m practically panting and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

  He reaches around me for a condom. I listen as he opens the wrapping and slides the rubber over himself. When he places a hand against my back, signaling for me to bend over, I obey—bracing myself against the arm of couch. That one touch is his last gentle act before he penetrates my entrance.

  He uses so much force, it surprises me. Before I can wrap my head around it, he’s pounding into me over and over. I can’t catch my breath. When I fall forward, now propped on my forearms, his grip around my waist tightens. Before I know it, I feel my first orgasm start to build.

  Overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to describe this moment.

  I’m barely aware of the things he’s mumbling behind me, too consumed with my own startlingly intense pleasure. He’s filling every bit of me. I’m convinced he can’t go any deeper, and yet, I want him to! I start to move with him, pushing back as he charges forward.

  “Oh, Brandon—” The words fall from my lips of their own accord.

  “Fuck, Sarah—you’re so tight. So tight. So perfect. Your pussy is mine—fitted just for me.”

  “Yes—yes,” I manage.

  “I want you to come for me. I’m going to unravel you bit by bit, sweet girl. Come for me.”

  As if my body is completely under his control, my insides tighten around him as my orgasm bursts. I cry out, the sensation spreading like wildfire throughout my entire body. He doesn’t give me even a second to recover before he pulls me up and spins me around. He hoists one of my legs around his hips and supports me with an arm around my waist before he’s back inside of me again. I hold onto his shoulders, his unrelenting thrusts making it hard for me to keep my balance.

  He feels incredible. I don’t want him to stop. He can’t stop!

  “You make me so hard, baby. Do you have any idea how badly I want you—all the time?”

  “Tell me,” I mutter breathlessly.

  “You can turn me on with a fucking hug, Sunshine. You’re so sexy, you make that damn pink apron look hot as hell. This pussy might be mine, but my dick belongs to you. Only you.”

  I don’t know if it’s his confession or the slow build of my second orgasm that does it, but I can no longer hold myself up on one leg. “Brandon—I can’t—”

  I don’t even have to finish my sentence. He hoists me up and I lock my ankles together behind him as he shifts us until he’s got me pressed up against the wall. He rams into me and my head falls back with a soft thud as I take him all in.

  “Shit—yes. Yes, babe!”

  “I can’t get enough of you,” he mutters, pressing into me harder. “I want to get lost in you.” He kisses me—and it’s sloppy. It’s greedy. It’s fucking delicious. He bites my lip and it’s like he’s pulled another trigger. I squeeze my legs around him, wanting more—needing more.

  “Harder,” I whimper. “Harder—more, Brandon, more,” I beg. He delivers with a growl that vibrates through his chest and into mine. I’m feeling so many sensations all at once. I’m afraid that I might literally come to pieces any second now.

  “Sarah—holy shit—Sarah.”

  He’s getting close, too.

  I want to hold on—I want us to come together, but it’s coming too fast. I can’t stop it. Then it rips through me. It’s so all-encompassing that it steals my voice and I can’t make a single sound. Instead, I dig my fingers into his back and sink my teeth into his shoulder. He must understand what I cannot give voice to, for he serves as my mouthpiece and groans loudly—his climax on the heels of mine.

  I milk him until all that’s left are the residual tingles from my blissful high. We hold each other, both of us working to catch our breath. I have energy enough to conjure one thought—one word…

  Again.

  I grab the other condom before I take her to the kitchen table and lay her down. She’s still trying to catch her breath when I kneel in front of her, spreading her legs wide before sweeping my tongue between her folds.

  “Ohmygod, Brandon—I can’t,” she gasps, clamping her thighs together around my head.

  I chuckle, before I pull her nub into my mouth and suck. I get no further argument as I devour her until she’s about to lose it. I know when she’s getting close by the way she buries her fingers in my hair, silently begging for me. Before she falls over the edge, I pull away. I stand and she looks at me like I’ve lost my mind; then I suit up and dive in, massaging her sweet spot with my thumb. She tightens around my cock in seconds, reaching behind her to grab hold of the side of the table.

  Her eyes seal shut and her mouth hangs open as an airy moan escapes her.

  I love her.

  I love the way her pleasure contorts the features of her face.

  I love the desperation I hear in her voice when her orgasm hits.

  I love the way she’s always got to grip hold of something as she comes.

  I love her so damn much that I can’t stop.

  I’m not even close to being finished with her.

  When I lift one of her legs to hook it over my shoulder, her eyes fly open in search of mine. She speaks not a word and I’m so turned on by the sound of her breathing, it’s unreal. We stare at each other as I seek to unravel her for a fourth time. Only when the bliss of my victory begins to ripple through her do her eyelids flutter closed.

  “Open those baby blues, sweet girl. Don’t hide from me.” She does as I say, calling my name as I continue to drive into her.

  “Babe—” she pants as I lower her leg. “I can’t anymore. I just—don’t think—”

  “Stop thinking.” I lean over her and capture her mouth with mine. She immediately wraps her arms around me, sinking her fingers into my ponytail. I stroke my tongue against hers as we kiss each other hungrily. All the frustration I felt earlier is washed away by her affection. Now, the only thing that’s left is my yet unquenched desire to bring her an unimaginable amount of satisfaction. Tonight—I want to remind her that it’s me who has claimed her. It’s me she belongs to.

  As I belong to her.

  After I pull away from our kiss, I bring her to her feet and place her in front of the kitchen counter. I turn her around and instruct her to hold on before I wrap my arm around her, swirling my fingers around her clit before pushing two fingers inside of her. By the time her count is up to five, we’re both breathless and covered in a layer of sweat—but I’m still not done. I take her to the bathroom and set her on the counter so that I can fuck her some more. She pulls my hair loose and grabs two fistfuls as she watches me slide in and out of her—which seems to excite her even more.

  “You like that, Sunshine?” I mutter, pounding into her—her sweet arousal coating my cock and filling the room with sounds that only accompany a damn fine fuck. “You like to watch me fill your pussy?”

  “Yes,” she tells me, her gaze still focused between us. “Brandon—I love—oh, shit—” She tilts her head back, her grip in my hair tightening.

  “What do you love, baby?” I pump into her faster. Harder. She’s almost there and I know I’m just as close.

  “You! I love you!” she cries. Her insides contract, clinging to my dick and beckoning my release.

  When I’m empty, I rest my forehead against her shoulder as we both work to catch our breath.

  “No more, babe,” she whispers, cradling my head. “I can’t feel my legs.”

  I turn my h
ead and press my lips against her shoulder before leaving a trail of wet kisses all the way to her mouth. “How about another shower?” I ask, touching my nose to hers.

  “No more dick. Promise?”

  A sly grin pulls at my lips. “Sure. No more dick.”

  But I’ve got ten fingers…

  AS WE STEP OUT of the shower, she wraps herself in my towel and sits on top of the toilet. Water is dripping from her hair and running down her chest and back, but she just sits—unmoving. I go to grab myself a towel. Once I’m mostly dry, I wrap it around my waist and then kneel down to check on my girl.

  “Hey, are you alright?” I ask, bringing her wet mane to one shoulder.

  She looks at me and nods. Then she changes her mind and shakes her head. Again she changes her mind and shrugs.

  “What is it? Did I hurt you?”

  “No!” she’s quick to respond. She reaches for me, cupping her hands around my face. “I feel properly fucked. You should be very proud. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to move in the morning, though. So—it’ll be no one’s fault but your own when I’m slow as shit in the kitchen.”

  I chuckle before bringing my mouth to hers for a quick kiss. “Then what’s the matter?”

  She draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly before she speaks. “I used to wonder if I’d feel guilty. About sex, I mean. For a long time, the reason behind my virginity was my faith. When I decided that I couldn’t hold out anymore, that I didn’t want to, I sometimes wondered if I’d feel guilty after. Christian’s aren’t supposed to have sex out of wedlock. I’m just as much a Christian now as I was a year ago—but, I don’t know, I didn’t know how I’d feel.

  “I think if I’d had done it with Luke, I would have regretted it. I know I would have. But my first time was with you and it was…beautiful. Guilt is not what I’ve felt. How could making love to you be wrong? I don’t want anyone else but you. I intend on staying faithful to you. When we make love, it’s ours—yours and mine, and there’s been no room for guilt.