by Mia Madison
The muscles in his stomach quiver, but he waits, letting me play with him until my hunger takes over and I guide him to my entrance. Bracing himself above me, he starts to push inside.
I feel my eyes get huge. He stops. “All right?”
“Yes, you’re just … big.”
He studies me, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve done this before, right?”
Caught, I bite my lip. “Not exactly.”
“Dammit, Sasha.” He pulls back and I wrap my legs around him, holding him to me.
“Please,” I beg, my hands framing his face. “Don’t stop.”
9
We Certainly Can
“When were you gonna tell me?” I demand.
“I wasn’t,” she retorts. “Because of how you’re reacting right now.” Her face softens. “I know what I’m doing. I want this.”
Fuck. Deflowering virgins is not my thing. But this is Sasha, for whom I’m apparently willing to break every rule in the book. And if I’m honest, there’s a part of me that loves the idea of being her first, the fact that no other man has touched her this way.
“I’ll go slow. If you need me to stop, you tell me. All right?”
“I promise,” she says immediately.
It’s proof of how much I want her that my dick hasn’t softened at all during this exchange. Moving carefully, I enter her again.
She’s so wet, so incredibly tight. My cock is ready to explode. I draw back and press in, filling her bit by bit.
Her hot, slick walls feel even better gripping my cock than I’d imagined. I’m glad I asked her about going ungloved -- another rule broken. If I could stop time, stay inside her for a few eternities, I’d do it.
I’m keeping a tight rein on my need to fuck her as hard as I can, like a damned rutting animal. The way she comes for me — fuck, it’s beautiful.
I won’t ruin it now by hurting her.
When I’m buried in her as far as I can go, I stop and rest my forehead against hers. Sasha’s hands are the only thing moving; they brush my sides, stroke my hair, caress my back, and eventually wander down to my ass.
Her nails dig in. My cock swells inside her, and she gasps. Lifting my head, I say, “Ready?”’
“Yes.” She says it like it’s the most certain fact in the history of the world. I kiss her, hard, until she moans and bites my tongue, the pressure of her teeth an unmistakable demand.
Flexing my hips, I start to move, using long, slow strokes. Her eyes roll back in her head, and a fierce satisfaction fills me. Nothing in my life has ever felt so perfect.
I keep the pace as slow as I can until she starts to rock her hips up, meeting me thrust for thrust. After that, the intensity builds quickly, our eyes locked as we move together, our breath turning ragged.
“Brando,” she pants.
I’m not sure how much longer I can last. Balancing on one forearm, I reach down to find her clit, rubbing and pressing and rolling until she cries out and clamps down, so hard I have to stop moving for a few moments while her pussy convulses around me.
When I can move again, my control is all but gone, the animal taking over. I drill into her, hard and fast. “Yes!” she yells, and I fuck her even harder, until she comes again, screaming, clawing my back, and this time I don’t stop, just keep pounding her until my climax gathers at the base of my spine and explodes, shooting through me and into her.
I have never come so hard in my life. Holy shit, that was amazing. As soon as I’m able, I roll us over so she’s on top of me.
Judging from how she sprawls on me, limp and boneless, I figure it was good for her too. But I’ll make sure … as soon as I can talk.
When I finally lift a hand and trail my fingers up her spine, she doesn’t speak, just snuggles into me like a kitten. Despite the workout I just gave it, my cock twitches. It won’t be long before I’m ready to go again.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Uh-huh.” Her voice is soft and throaty at the same time. I start getting hard.
“You want something to eat? Some water?”
“Uh-uh.”
I roll us again so I can look down at her. Her face is soft, her eyes shining. Good signs, but … “You sure you’re okay?”
She nods. “That was … kind of amazing.”
I can’t help smiling. “Yeah, it was.”
“Can we ... um ... do it again?”
Damn. A woman after my own heart. “We certainly can,” I say, and kiss her.
10
Done For
Wow.
Just wow.
I had no idea how incredible sex is.
It’s Tuesday morning, and Brando and I haven’t slept yet. I forgot to text Emily, or my parents, or anyone. When we come downstairs for breakfast, I find a bunch of messages on my phone, some irate and others close to panicky.
I send apologies to Emily, and vague explanations to my parents, while Brando cooks. Then we sit down to a table full of delicious food that looks like it could feed six people easily. I’m starving after all our vigorous activity, and Brando can pack it away pretty well himself, so we don’t have many leftovers.
“I need to go to work today,” he says while we clean up. “The restaurant’s only closed on Mondays.”
“What time do you open?”
“Five, but the prep starts well before that.”
“Of course.”
This was only ever going to be a quick fling. I knew that. I’m biting my lip, trying to hide my crushing disappointment, and wondering which of my friends I can talk into driving up here to get me, when he says, “You could come with me.”
I blink. “I wouldn’t be in the way?”
“I’ll put you to work.” His mouth quirks up in a smile that’s sexy but somehow sweet.
An answering smile spreads across my face. “I’d like that.”
“We still have a little time, but … we should probably try to get some sleep.”
I heave a theatrical sigh. “I suppose.” Then I shriek with laughter when Brando tosses me over his shoulder and carries me upstairs.
He actually wants to sleep, as I discover when we’re naked in bed and he tucks me against him so we’re spooning. “Very responsible of you,” I tease him.
“I don’t want to slice off a finger later because I wasn’t rested.”
“Well, when you put it that way.”
His arm goes around my waist, his hand cupping my breast, and his face is in my hair. “Go to sleep, Sasha.”
“‘Kay,” I mumble, and in seconds do just that.
When I wake, I have a millisecond’s uncertainty about where I am, and then my senses register the large, warm body wrapped around me, and I smile. Another moment, and my smile grows as I recognize the welcome nestled in the cleft of my ass.
I shift ever so slightly, and the hand curled around my breast gives it a gentle squeeze. Brando’s mouth brushes aside my hair to nuzzle my neck. “Hi there.”
“Hi.”
His hand glides down my abdomen to explore between my thighs, and I obligingly hook my leg over his to give him better access. “So wet,” he murmurs, his lips grazing my ear, making me shiver with delight.
“That seems to be a pretty constant side effect of being around you.”
“Mmm. Are you too sore?”
I am sore, but I don’t care. “No.”
“You don’t even have to move. Stay just … like … that, and …” A moment later his tip finds my entrance, and he fills me.
“So good,” I moan softly. “You feel so good.”
“So do you.” His fingers find my clit, teasing it gently, almost lazily, in keeping with the pace he’s setting. We glide slowly toward the peak together, and when we come, still together, it feels like the whole world is bathed in golden light.
We lie there for a few moments before he kisses my shoulder blade. “Shower time.” We shared one before breakfast, and I will remember it fondly forever, no matter what pleasures the future mig
ht bring.
Our follow-up shower is pretty awesome too -- so much so that my legs are trembling when we’re done. I follow Brando back to his bedroom, and that’s when it hits me.
“I don’t have any clean clothes.” I put some of his on this morning, but I can’t wear gym shorts to his fancy dinner restaurant.
“You can wear your club outfit.” He scoops them up from the chair they’ve been flung over and holds them up. “Toss them in the dryer for a couple of minutes with a damp washcloth to take the wrinkles out.”
“I’ll have to scrub my undies out.”
Brando shrugs. “You can wear a pair of mine, unless you think they have cooties.”
I snicker. For some reason, the idea of wearing his boxer briefs pleases me greatly. I think it’s the deliciously naughty secret of having him against my skin, out in public, where no one can see. “You don’t mind?”
“Nope.” He sends me a rakish grin. “Except I’ll probably sprout wood every time I think about it.”
“It’s giving me a ladyboner right now.”
Brando bursts out laughing, a real, unrestrained, head-thrown-back laugh. It catches me unawares, so much so that before I can stop it, my heart swells up and plops right out of my chest.
I’m a goner. Completely, one hundred percent done for.
I’ve broken the number one rule of hooking up. Now I have to keep Brando from figuring out I’ve fallen in love with him.
11
I’d Be A Fool
For the first time ever, I’m reluctant to go to work. I love to cook, and the restaurant is normally the highlight of my day. Today, I’d happily ignore it all to spend more time with Sasha.
I watch her from the corner of my eye as the SUV bumps down the road toward town. She’s taking in the view, which mostly consists of a ton of trees. She had a makeup bag in her purse, but to my eye she looked fine without it.
Smart, funny, sexy as hell. She’s independent, knows her own mind, but is easy to be with. Except for her sad lack of beer appreciation, she’s damn near the perfect woman.
The restaurant’s only five minutes from my cabin. “It’s not much to look at from the outside,” I say as we pull around to the back, “but that’s by design.”
She casts her eye over the weathered wood siding as we get out of the car. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was a bar, maybe. The kind bikers hang out in.”
“Exactly. Word of mouth gets me plenty of business. I don’t want the hassle of a three-hour waiting list, food critics sneaking in to review me, pressures to relocate and build something newer and bigger. All the class is on the inside, and the outside discourages most of the people who don’t know better.”
I hold the door so she can go in first, which lets me watch her gorgeous round ass move in those jeans. Just like that, I’m hard again. If not for the fact that the place is going to be full of my crew any minute, I’d work in some hanky-panky on one of the tables.
The truth is, after less than twenty-four hours in her company, I’m trying to figure out how to keep Sasha around. Not just for the sex, but all of it.
“This is enormous,” she says as we come into the kitchen.
I’m used to it, but I look around, seeing it through her eyes. It’s all stainless steel, with multiples of everything: refrigerators, sinks, ovens, dishwashers. There are stations for food prep and equipment for grilling, sauteing, deep frying, and more.
“It lets us do a lot of different things. We’re not that big an operation, though; you should see the kitchens in some of the chain restaurants.”
“I bet. I admit I’ve never really paid that much attention; when I go out to eat, my focus is on the other end of the process.”
“As it should be. A good restaurant operation never gives a guest cause to think about what goes on back here.”
I hear footsteps from the front, and then my manager comes in. “I thought I heard voices,” he says. I see the gleam of curiosity in his eyes as I make the introductions.
“Sasha, this is my cousin Gastone. He could be managing any restaurant he wanted, but he’s kindly agreed to help me out here. Gastone, Sasha Delacroix.”
“Pleased to meet you, Sasha. Don’t let Brando fool you -- this place is as good as any of those fancy big-city joints. Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“Nice to meet you, Gastone.” She turns to me. “What would you like me to do?”
Behind her, my cousin clutches his chest in mock agony that he’s been so easily dismissed. I suppress a smile. Gastone does pretty well with the ladies, but my girl only has eyes for me.
Just to rub it in, I pull her close and keep my hand at her waist, speaking in low, intimate tones. “When Kami gets here, you can help her set the tables.”
Her eyelashes flutter in instinctive response, and I’m sorely tempted to take things further, audience or not. Lacing my fingers through hers, I rub my thumb back and forth over the inside of her wrist.
She sucks in a breath. “Brando,” she mutters, keeping her voice low because the restaurant staff are filing into the room.
“Yes, Sasha?”
She goes up on tiptoe to whisper in my ear. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to jump you. In front of everyone.”
I give her a look that says if she makes good on her threat, I won’t stop her. For my part, I’m still stroking her skin. She bites her lip, her expression half warning, half encouragement.
By now we’re surrounded by the crew, so I reluctantly release her. “Everyone, this is Sasha. If you cross paths with her tonight, introduce yourself. Kami, she’s going to help you with tables, so please show her the ropes. Let’s get to work.”
Out of sight, when it comes to Sasha, is definitely not out of mind. Even when I’m immersed in cooking, a corner of my mind stays with her.
Earlier, when we slept together — the actual sleeping part — it was the best rest I’ve gotten in a long time. Not a single nightmare chased me.
I’d be a fool to let her slip away. But apart from great sex — and I’m not arrogant enough to think I’m the only guy on the planet who knows what he’s doing in bed — what can I offer her?
She’s a brainy college student; I went straight into the military. Her family is rich, and mine … is not. Can we last longer than a hookup?
That’s what I need to find out.
12
Lost In The Woods
Kami, who turns out to be yet another Adamo cousin, isn’t nosy. At least, not in any obvious way. As we work, putting white linen tablecloths and place settings on all the tables in the dining area, she keeps up a steady stream of chatter and doesn’t ask any prying questions.
But a lot of her remarks trail off at strategic moments that invite me to share and share alike. I have to tread carefully. I’m not going to lie and pretend Brando and I are more than we are, but I’m not sure it’s wise to come right out and say we’re just fucking.
So I talk about school, about life in the city, but skirt around discussing Brando. Even if I wanted to, she’s family. I love his cock and he makes sex a revelation are not exactly appropriate directions to take our conversation.
By the time the restaurant opens, Kami and I are in the back of the house, out of sight of the guests. “Tuesdays are usually pretty slow,” she informs me, “but I keep busy doing whatever needs doing -- busing tables, loading the dishwashers, bringing out orders, even prepping food.”
“I’m happy to pitch in on any of that.” It’s kind of fun to see how everything works “backstage,” and I’d rather stay busy anyway.
Brando and his crew seem to have a good rhythm down, working together without any yelling or profanity. “This would make a really boring reality show,” I whisper to Kami.
“Right? All this bonhomie and getting stuff done right the first time. Mistakes do happen, of course, but Brando isn’t a grouchy boss.”
He’s not a grouchy anything, so far as I can tell. But then, it’s still not quite t
wenty-four hours since I first met him.
The first sign that this is not a normal Tuesday night comes when Vanessa, one of two waitresses on shift, rushes into the kitchen and over to Gastone, who’s been checking supplies. “The dining room is full. We need another waitress.”
“Full?” he repeats in obvious disbelief.
“There are close to fifty people out there, and more lined up for seats.” She starts entering drink and appetizer orders into the restaurant’s computer system.
Gastone exchanges a look with his boss and heads for the dining room. He’s back in under a minute, talking under his breath to Brando, whose eyes come straight to me.
“What the heck?” I say, knowing something’s up but utterly baffled as to how I could be involved in any way.
“Holy shit,” Kami says softly.
“What?” I demand.
“It’s an invasion. Has to be.” Before I can ask her what the hell that means, she’s on her feet, making her own excursion to the front of the house.
She comes back with a startlingly smug look on her face. “What’s an invasion?” I ask as soon as she gets close.
“Tell you later. We’ve got to pitch in.” She eyes my outfit critically. “Not quite the official uniform, but it’ll do. Let’s get these appetizers out.”
I take the plates she hands me and follow her out to where the guests are seated. Sure enough, the place is packed. A murmur runs through the room, and I look around, trying to figure out what they’re responding to.
It gets weirder. Everyone keeps smiling at me. Not in a let’s-be-polite-to-the-help way; in an it’s-so-nice-to-see-you way.
Kami’s gotten mysteriously tight-lipped at the same time. She keeps leading me into the kitchen and back out to the dining area, delivering drinks and food, until we’ve been to practically every table in the place.
