by Karen Kincy
“Really?”
“From Cheddar, the town in Somerset.” He begins grating the cheese. “How much Emmental do you want?”
“A shitload.”
He smirks. “That isn’t an Imperial unit, is it?”
“A shitload is an American unit,” I deadpan, “roughly equivalent to a ton.”
He glances at the cheese. “Not sure we have a ton.”
“That’s good enough. And, check this out. I found avocados!” I heft a lumpy green fruit in each hand. He eyes me with obvious skepticism. “Dude, you can’t make a California omelet without avocados. It’s blasphemy.”
He laughs. “I’ll take your word for it.” He peeks in the fridge. “No sausage?”
“Afraid not.”
“Bacon?”
“Nope.”
Sighing, he shuts the fridge. “Have I cooked you a full Irish breakfast yet?”
“You haven’t.”
He places his hand over his heart. “I promise I will. You have my word.”
I smile. “What, my omelets aren’t good enough?”
“I didn’t say that. But wait until you have my breakfast.”
“You’re on.”
I scoot past Bram to reach the drawer with the whisk in it. When I bend over, my ass brushes against him. He catches me by the hips and holds me there, just for a second, but it’s enough to be seriously distracting.
I fan myself. “It’s too hot in the kitchen with you in here.”
He strolls out with a bit of a swagger, not limping anymore, at least.
I whisk the eggs with cream and pour them into the melted butter. I scramble the eggs and scrape in the diced onions. Savory aromas sizzle from the frying pan. While the omelet cooks, I peel and cut the avocados.
He leans against the counter and cradles his cup of coffee. “God, I’m hungry.”
I melt cheese on the omelet before cutting it in half. He watches me arrange slices of avocado on our plates.
“Wish I had some parsley for garnish. Then this shit would look fancy.”
He laughs. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Black.”
Bram pours another cup and brings it to the little table in the dining nook. We both sit down and share a glance. I wait for him to take the first bite. He closes his eyes, chews, and lets out a little moan. “Delicious.”
I smile at him. At least I can do something right.
35
Bram
Déjà vu lingers in the pit of my stomach, but I still don’t remember any of this. Cassia must have cooked for me before. We must have eaten so many breakfasts together. I really have forgotten our entire relationship.
Thank God she’s giving me another chance.
“What’s the matter?” she says.
“Nothing’s the matter.” Which isn’t exactly the truth.
She eats her omelet with quiet deliberation. I focus on finishing my own breakfast. We’re left with silence and empty plates between us.
I sip my cooling coffee. “Forty-eight hours.”
“I know,” she murmurs. “I’m staying with you.”
I take a bottle of medication from my pocket. “This better bloody well work. I didn’t have much luck the first time around.”
Her eyebrows descend. “What do you mean?”
I pop two pills with the dregs of my coffee. “When I was at Oxford...”
My voice rasps. I don’t want to talk about this. Not now. Not with her. She’s looking at me with such pity in her eyes.
She twists her mouth. “You still look like the victim of a rhinoceri stampede.”
I laugh. “True.”
I take our dishes to the kitchen. There’s no dishwasher, so I turn on the tap and start washing them by hand.
She stands behind me and hooks her arms around my waist. “Revenge.”
I dry the dishes with a towel. Her breasts rub against my back. I try not to think about it, but my cock stands at attention.
“This revenge really isn’t too bad,” I say. “Please, do go on.”
Her chuckle can only be described as evil. Her hand slides under my shirt and rests on the flat of my stomach. If she reaches much lower, there won’t be anywhere else for my cock to go. I suck in my breath. “Careful.”
“Are you sore?”
“Yes,” I say, though that’s not the problem.
She lifts the hem of my shirt. Her fingers skim the bruises on my back, not hard enough to hurt, but I flinch nonetheless.
“God, Bram, you’re black and blue.”
“Gravity can do that to you.” I turn around in her arms. “It’s after breakfast.”
“And?”
“Let’s make up for lost time.”
Her mouth softens. “Where do we start?”
I kiss Cassia. She sways against me, her hands twisting my shirt, and I catch her by her hips. Her curves fit against my body like the last piece of a puzzle. She grabs my ass in both hands, groaning into my mouth.
This feels better than good. This feels right. We belong together.
“It’s a shame,” she says, “you don’t remember my boobs.”
I cup her breasts, testing the weight of them, and she stands on her toes.
“Or my pussy,” she whispers in my ear.
God, yes, I’m sure it’s unforgettable. My cock strains behind my fly and I reach into my boxers to adjust myself.
“Uncomfortable?” she says.
“A bit.”
“Let me help.”
She drops to her knees, her dark hair spills spilling her face. Her fingers stroke the length of my cock through my jeans.
I groan. “You’re making me harder.”
“Good.”
She unzips my fly. I let out my breath in a hiss. My hands clench and unclench the air. When she tugs down my boxers, my cock springs free. She kisses the tip of me and I shudder before she climbs to her feet.
“This floor hurts my knees,” she says.
“Bed?”
She saunters to her bedroom. I strip away my jeans and boxers before following. She stops and turns toward me.
“Take off your clothes,” I say.
She walks backward, never looking away. Her heel catches on the rug. She stumbles, catches herself on the dresser, and laughs. I can see down the front of her shirt. Her breasts peek out from a pink cotton bra.
She grins. “Let me give you something to stare at.”
She peels her shirt over her head. The movement makes her breasts rise and fall back with a jiggle. Blood scalds my veins, most of it headed due south. She flicks her eyebrows upward and shimmies out of the leggings she’s wearing. Her ass sways in a mesmerizing way. Her underwear matches her bra.
“Christ,” I say.
“I’m not sure what Jesus has to do with it.”
Smirking, I kick the door shut. “I can’t stop seeing you soaking wet.”
Cotton clinging to her nipples and the dark hair between her legs.
Her eyes widen, her cheeks flushed. I hook my fingers in the cup of her bra and tug it below her nipple. Her hands knot in my hair. I lick her nipple before baring her other breast and circling it with my tongue.
“I’m already soaking wet,” she says, a bit breathless.
“Oh?” I lick her other nipple. “I imagined you climbing from a pool, but this is better.”
She gasps as I suck harder on her nipple and nip it with the edge of my teeth. Her fists clench my hair. “My mind’s deeper in the gutter.” She unbuttons my shirt with a saucy glint in her eyes and a challenge in her smile.
I straighten to my full height. “I’m thinking all manner of filthy things.”
“Like what?”
I slide my hand up the curve of her ass. Her bra yields to my fingers. I yank her underwear to her thighs and walk her backward. She falls against the bed, her legs trapped. I drop to my knees and bend to breathe in the scent of her pussy. She holds herself on her elbows, her breasts heaving as she breath
es.
“This is where your imagination takes you?” she says.
“Always.” I grin. “Well, then I would always be hard.”
She laughs. I love the way her breasts move. “Too bad this bed is a twin. Guess you’ll just have to climb on top of me.”
I take the hint. My cock throbs as I kneel over her on the bed.
She shimmies her underwear over her ankles and trails her hand down my stomach. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”
When she grabs my cock, I clench my thighs. “You stole my line.”
She laughs, her hair swirling like ink over the sheets. Her hand strokes with relentless pleasure. The muscles in my stomach tighten. Pre-cum slips from my cock and glides over her fingers. She cradles my bollocks.
I flinch. “Gently.”
“Sorry. I’ll slow down.”
Cassia crawls onto her hands and knees. She bends over, her hair tickling my skin, and takes my cock into the wet heat of her mouth. Her tongue spirals around the girth and lingers on the sensitive skin below the crown.
“Wait.” Shaking, I rest my hand on her head. “I want to come inside you.”
Leaning back, she licks her lips. “Let me get the condom.”
She hops from the bed and bends over. God, her ass. It sways by my cock as she hunts insider her purse. I can’t resist slapping her just hard enough to smack. She yelps and clutches herself, then glares at me. “Bram!”
I smile innocently. “May I slap you again, please?”
She snorts. “After I find this condom.”
I flex my fingers. I’m tempted to leave her ass as pink as her cheeks. I don’t want to hurt her, just mark her as mine.
Cassia is mine.
The realization hits my throat like a fiery shot of whiskey and pools in my stomach with a warm afterglow. God, what did I do to deserve such a beautiful woman? She finds a condom, finally, and tears open the foil. Her lips part as she rolls the latex over my cock. I wonder if she’s thinking about sucking me until I come.
I look into her eyes. “Let me make up for lost time.”
Cassia falls back onto the bed. I hold myself over her on one hand. With my other hand, I angle my cock against her pussy. I grind on her clitoris, while she gasps and squirms, and enter her in a single deep stroke.
“Oh my God,” she moans, almost a whimper.
She’s so incredibly wet. My cock throbs, even harder than before, which I thought was impossible. I can’t think past the molten heat of her pussy. I pull out before plunging in even deeper. She gasps with every thrust, urging me on, her fingernails biting into my ass. Tension builds until it threatens to explode.
I halt, panting, trying to calm down. “I don’t want to go slow.”
She doesn’t let me pull out, her legs snaked behind mine. Her eyes smolder as she meets my stare. “Then fuck me.”
I bare my teeth in a grin. “My pleasure.”
My cock throbs with my heartbeat. Breathing raggedly, I grip her ass under my hand and clutch the sheets to brace myself, a lock of her hair tangled in my fist. I thrust into her gently at first, then harder. Her face looks tight with restrained pleasure. I want her to come. I want her to moan and lose herself to ecstasy.
The fantasy of her orgasm pushes me closer to the edge.
I slow until the urge to come subsides. She watches me gasping and wriggles beneath me. Her pussy clenches my cock.
“I know what you’re doing,” I say. “Temptress.”
“Temptress?” She laughs. “That’s a big word, don’t you think? How are you so coherent when you’re so close?”
I shrug. “I’m smart?”
She laughs again and circles her hips. Knowing exactly how good it feels.
I stroke back into her pussy and I’m rewarded with a gasp. She’s trembling and must be closer than she’s confessing. My cock glides into her wet heat. Deeper. Harder. Sweat rolls down my back and slicks my chest.
“I’m close,” I say. “So close—”
She digs her fingernails into my ass and drags me down. It knocks me over the edge.
I fuck her hard. It’s the only way to describe thrusting and slapping against skin and coming deep inside her. I shout something wordless and arch my hips, muscles tight, my cock throbbing out every ounce of cum.
“Oh my God,” she says. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
I keep thrusting, still rock hard, until she clings to me and calls out what might be my name. Her pussy clenches and unclenches around my cock, milking the last of my cum. Panting, she lies limp and damp with sweat.
“Condom,” I say.
“Right.” I pull out and take care of it, hoping it was enough.
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re frowning at the condom.”
“It’s fine. It’s just—”
“What?” She sits upright. “We should be good. Right?”
I shrug. “We might need bigger condoms.”
“Those are the big ones. “ She snorts. “Though all of them are labeled that. Vanity sizing.”
“I came so much, I’m amazed it held.”
Her lips part, her cheeks rosy. “That’s strangely hot. But don’t accidentally knock me up. We’re not that serious.”
“Of course.”
I head to the bathroom and wash up. When I return, she’s curled beneath the sheets. She’s smiling like a kitten with cream.
“Are you on the pill?” I say.
“Yes.” She fiddles with the sheet. “Like any smart slut.”
Why does she think I would call her a slut?
I’m silent for a moment. “We didn’t talk about this before, did we?”
“We didn’t.” Her eyes look distant while she plays with a thread by her cheek.
I crawl under the sheets. “As much as I have a primal urge to fill you with cum and make babies, that would hardly be a brilliant move.”
“Wow.” She lets out a sigh. “That was actually really hot.”
I stiffen. “What?”
“Not the babies part. The part where you fill me with cum.”
“I see.”
“I’ve never done that before.”
“Neither have I.” Her hair feels silky under my hand. “Maybe someday?”
“If there is a someday.”
36
Cassia
How the hell did we start talking about sex without protection? And babies? God, I blame my traitorous ovaries. And how amazing Bram smells. I scoot closer against his chest and breathe in his sweat. So good.
His cock stirs against my ass, not quite soft anymore, but he behaves himself. “How did we meet after Oxford?”
“Remember that café? The Gilded Lily? We ran into each other there.”
The sheets rustle. “Literally?” There’s laughter in his voice.
I fake an uppercrust accent. “We were rather more proper than that.”
“Was it raining?”
“What?”
“I’m trying to remember.”
“No, it was sunny.”
He holds me against himself like he never wants to let me go. “How long will you stay?” He sounds halfway asleep.
“I don’t know.”
He grunts.
Who knows what that means. “Are you okay with that?”
A long pause. I roll over to look at Bram. He fell asleep, his lips parted. Sunlight slips through the curtains and lands on his face, his stubble glinting red-gold. I love his ginger beard. I kiss his cheek, an ache in my chest.
Forty-eight hours. I can do this. I can pretend to be his girlfriend.
Right.
Think of a good exit strategy. Quick. Clean. A breakup where we can be just friends and pretend we never fucked.
I stare at the ceiling until sleep conquers my mind.
When I wake, I’m alone in bed. “Bram?” There’s a clatter beyond the closed door. My heartbeat goes from zero to sixty. I kick off the sheets
and tug on a bathrobe. He’s naked in the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets.
Shamelessly, I stare at his ass. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
He looks over his shoulder long enough to roll his eyes. “I’m hungry.”
“How late is it?” I swallow a yawn.
He glances at his wrist, which has nothing on it. “Time for afternoon tea.” He holds out a box of cereal. “Christ, what is this?”
“Manatee Munchies.”
He stares at a fat manatee floating by a bowl of corn puffs. “This isn’t a joke?”
“I had that shipped from America.”
He pours a few puffs into his hand and chews them with a frown. “Not bad. If you prefer the taste of sawdust.”
I shake my head. “Clearly you aren’t interested in saving the manatees. And hey! Stop eating them if you hate them.” After he pops another handful into his mouth, I steal the box. “We’re not having cereal for lunch.”
He smirks and backs me against the counter. “We’re having sex?”
“You said you were hungry.”
“I did.”
He bends down and steals a kiss. I drop the cereal on the counter. His hand slides into my bathrobe and cups my breast. God, his cock’s glad to see me. I press my thighs together against the ache between my legs.
“We can’t have sex forever,” I say.
His eyes burn like blue flame. “Why not?”
“Eating, and sleeping, and—” I gasp as he grabs the curve of my ass.
His head dips as he inhales the scent of my hair. “Seize the day.” He seems intent on seizing something else. “You have a condom?”
“In my purse.”
He ducks into the bedroom and returns in record time. He pushes me against the counter and parts my legs with his knee.
“This is an afternoon tea quickie?” I tease.
“This is whatever you want it to be.”
He holds my hips and thrusts into me with a groan. I grip his waist, my nails marking his skin, the robe slipping from my shoulders.
His gaze drops to my breasts. “You want it quick?”
“Yes.”
“You want it hard?”
“God, yes.”
He fucks me without restraint, tilting back his head, his eyes closed, his face tight. God, he’s almost too much to take all at once
“You like that?” He growls out the words. “You like my cock?”
