He moaned. “Sage, I can’t wait much longer.” He pulled her bottom lip between his teeth and she realized she couldn’t wait much longer either.
Still shocked by how quickly she was ready to go again after that mind-blowing orgasm, and thrilled at the prospect of multiples, she rubbed against him again. Remembering how much he loved her dirty mouth, she pulled away from his lips, then grabbed his hair and turned his face to the side. She sucked his earlobe into her mouth, then rocked her hips against him once more. “Fuck me silly, Brand.”
He pulled out of her grasp, eyes wide with an impatience that mirrored her own. Without having to guide himself to her, he slid inside, slowly, stretching her with each push forward. Her body hummed with desire and she cried out with pleasure as blood rushed south again. Warmth flooded her as she tensed around him.
“You’re perfect,” he panted.
Then his lips were on hers once more, his tongue plunging deep into her mouth as his dick plunged deep within her body. She rocked with him, against him, the dusting of hair that disappeared between his ‘v’ muscles causing the best friction over her already-swollen clit.
Brand kissed her as he rocked with her, plunging deeper and deeper with each thrust. She gripped his hair, holding his mouth to hers, and wrapped her legs around his torso, answering each thrust with a rocking motion up and into him. Even fully filling her, it wasn’t enough. She wanted more of him, all of him, wanted to make up for the years they’d been apart.
She wanted to fuck Brandon Tiggs until every single memory of every single guy since him turned to dust. She planned on forgetting every second they’d been separated. And what a way to forget.
He pulled back from her, breaking the kiss to look down into her eyes. He jumped back, shocking her with his sudden movement, and causing her breath to hitch as he slid off the bed. A tremor shook her as her body mourned the loss of him.
Without tearing his eyes away from hers, he wrapped his fingers around her ankles, gripped tightly, and yanked, pulling her ass to the bottom of the bed. Sage gasped as he slid back inside of her, the angle causing him to press up into her g-spot.
His green-eyed gaze held hers as he rocked her to the edge. Then, just as she was about to come for the second time, he placed his hand on her throat, gripping with that perfect pressure only he understood. She convulsed around him, thrashing against—with—the pleasure as he drove into her harder, faster, deeper. She couldn’t see, couldn’t think…all she could do was feel every hard, relentless inch of him inside her.
“I fucking love you, Sage Shepard.” The words came out in a growl, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he filled her with wet heat, twitching inside her in the most amazing way.
Holy hell, she loved him, too.
“Are you okay?”
She smiled, lazily, then stared off into the sunrise. “I’m not a porcelain doll, you know.”
“Yeah you are.” He trailed kisses down her shoulder, her arm, then back up again, trailing his fingertips across her bare skin.
She turned to look up into his eyes. “Yes. I am okay. Thank you for asking.”
He nibbled on her shoulder playfully. “It didn’t hurt?”
She turned, facing him once more, tangling her legs with his, and pressing her warm body along the length of him. “You couldn’t hurt me, Brand.”
He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side. “I’m not sure that’s the most flattering thing to say to the guy who took your virginity, babe.”
She giggled, her lip ring glinting in the early morning light. “You’re ridiculous. It was perfect. And, if it makes you feel better, yes, it hurt. But not in a bad way. Okay?”
He wiggled down beneath the sleeping bag, pressing his face into her throat. “Good.”
“Good?”
“Mmm,” he murmured, suckling her neck. “Yes, good. I’m glad it was in a good way.”
“Was it good for you?”
He looked up, his eyebrows drawn down over his eyes, but when their gazes locked, neither one could hold in the amusement any longer. Laughing, Tig rolled over onto his back, bringing her atop of him, then quieting when she sat up, exposing her bare chest.
“You’re beautiful, you know it?”
She blushed, then looked away. “I bet you say that to all the girls you deflower.”
“Nah, only the pretty ones.”
“What are we doing?” Sage looked down at him with those deep gray eyes, pulling him away from the memory of their first time together, and he knew right then and there—as if he hadn’t known it the day she walked back into Lorimar High—that he’d do anything to keep from losing her again.
I’m going to grow old with you, Miss Shepard.
Tig paused his trail of kisses, nipping gently at the soft skin between Sage’s breast and her arm, then looked up at her. “I think it’s pretty obvious. I’m saying hello to all the parts of your body that I’ve missed”—he leaned in, suckling her nipple until she squirmed beneath him, while his fingers trailed lazy circles around her belly button—“and introducing myself to the newer additions.”
“You mean the upgrades?” She grinned, embarrassment flushing her pale cheeks.
Tig exhaled a hot breath across the nipple he’d just brought to straining attention. “No, not upgrades at all. You never needed an upgrade. These are just…extra credit.”
She laughed, the sweetest sound he remembered. “Extra credit. You’re such a teacher.”
He moved lightning fast, pinning her between his legs, his hands holding both of her wrists beside her head, and fought to ignore how perfectly his dick rested against her. “I could teach you some things if you want. I could even offer you some extra credit.”
Instead of wiggling beneath him, the response he’d hoped to receive so they could go for round two—three?—Sage sighed, then looked off to the side, eyes glazing over slightly.
“I don’t know how to start over with you, Brand.”
Tig leaned down, then turned her face back to his, bringing his lips to hers. He kissed her gently, once, twice, then pulled back to look into those tormented eyes. “Then we don’t start over.”
“What do you mean?”
He loved the way her left eyebrow quirked up, the healed-over hole from her old eyebrow ring denting in and giving her brow a tiny cowlick. “I mean I don’t want to start over with you, Sage. I love you. I’ve never not loved you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. I don’t want a fresh start. I don’t want to date you—”
She wiggled her arms, which he still had pinned beside her head. “I think we skipped right past dating, Brand.”
Tig smiled. “Hell yeah, we did. I’d have been eye-fucking you all through dinner anyway—you wouldn’t have been able to eat.”
Sage squirmed a little beneath him, her eyes darkening as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. There she is. Tig’s grin widened as his dick twitched against her.
“We’re not starting over, Sage. We’re picking up where we left off. We’re just going to be us again, instead.”
“No starting over?”
“Nope.”
“Just us, like it should be?”
He grinned. “Just us, Sage.”
Knocking pulled Sage from a very peaceful slumber. Three knocks, in quick succession. Who’s here at this hour? Thoughts muddled, Sage stretched, freezing as an arm brushed across her exposed nipples, then tightened around her.
Waking up to a knock on the door was a surprise, but not nearly as surprising as the naked man currently wrapped around Sage, or the fact that even as the first thoughts of waking lazily crawled through her brain, reminding her where she was and, more importantly, who she was with, all she wanted to do was climb on top of him and redo their night together.
Again and again and again.
Because, hot damn, Brandon Tiggs was stellar in bed.
Brand curled around her, cuddling closer, pulling her to him as though he shared her one-track mind. His penis tw
itched against her back¸ so she not-so-nonchalantly arched into him.
“Mmm,” he groaned into her hair. “Good morning, beautiful girl.”
Sage smiled. How had she survived nearly nine years away from this man?
The knocking resumed. Sage groaned. “Do you usually have visitors this early on a Saturday?”
Brand sat straight up in bed, nearly knocking her to the side, his brow furrowed. “No.”
Sage tilted her head, her stomach sinking. “What’s wrong? Who is it?”
“Tig? Are you awake?” The woman’s voice carried through the small apartment, pressing Sage’s stomach further down into her lap.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Brand flopped back down on the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Go away,” he whispered.
“Is that….?”
Rosie. Sage couldn’t even say the woman’s name. Brand’s wife, she reminded herself. She’s still, technically, Mrs. Brandon fucking Tiggs, stupid.
And Sage was in his bed, butt ass naked with another woman’s husband.
“Oh, God, Brand. She can’t find me here.” Sage scanned the room, searching for her clothes, her heart pounding in her chest. “She can’t, oh, God, I’m the other woman.”
He rolled over on his side, pulling at her until he coaxed her back down beside him. He curled up around her, his arm wrapped around her torso, knees bent up behind hers. “No,” he stated, firmly. “You are not the other woman. She is. I’ve signed the papers. As far as I’m concerned, we’re divorced.”
“But you’re not. Not really. Not until she signs them too, Brand.” Sage’s stomach twisted.
“Maybe that’s why she’s here; maybe she’ll just leave the papers at the door”—he smiled—“Signed, sealed, delivered, I’m yours,” he sang.
“Brandon. This isn’t funny. This isn’t even in the neighborhood of funny.”
He leaned over to kiss her ear, and she turned her head to look up at him.
“I know it isn’t funny. I’m sorry. I just want you to be comfortable. This isn’t a big deal. Really. We both agreed the marriage was over long ago, Sage. At this point, it’s just paperwork. Dotting the t’s and crossing the i’s.” He crossed his eyes, still trying for humor.
Sage sighed, shaking her head at his continued attempts to make her smile, then tried to relax in his arms.
“She’ll go away. She has to. There are things I plan on doing to you today.”
Despite the gnawing feeling in her stomach, she was so content in his arms, so safe. Brand felt like home.
Rosie knocked again, louder this time.
Brand groaned, stood, and stretched tall—inhibition never his strong suit—giving Sage a full frontal view of his physique in the morning sun. His body was delectable. Sculpted, beautiful perfection. She wanted to crawl up his strong legs and latch herself onto him, never to let go again. His abs were defined and hard, row after row of rippling muscles, tapering down into the perfect v-formation—an arrow pointing south to the beauty below. As he leaned over his dresser, Sage’s gaze locked on his ass.
“Perfection,” she murmured.
Brand turned around, eyebrows raised, lips twitching against a smile.
Sage’s eyes widened as she realized she’d said the word aloud. “Oh, good grief,” she groaned, then closed her mouth, her lips forming a tight line. She wanted to hide her face beneath the sheets, but couldn’t bring herself to look away from his naked form.
Brand just grinned widely, confident as always. “You’re pretty damn amazing yourself, Miss Shepard.”
Another loud knock. Another irritated groan from Brand.
“Fuck, I’m coming!” Brand pulled on his jeans, leaving the top button undone, then leaned down to place a gentle kiss on Sage’s lips. Feather soft and barely there, that brief contact with his lips shot heat deep down into her belly.
“Stay put. And if you dare to get dressed, I’ll rip every piece of clothing from your body when I return”—he brushed another kiss across her lips—“then you’ll be forced to stay naked in my bed forever.”
“Is that a dare?”
Brand grinned.
Sage’s eyes fluttered closed as she sighed; a tempting challenge indeed.
She opened her eyes in time to watch Brand pull the bedroom door closed behind him. Scratches covered his shoulders and back, some of them travelling down, disappearing into his jeans. Crap!
She looked around the room, panicking, wishing she could find a way to stop him before he opened the door to his wife with Sage’s branding all over his torso. Why didn’t I just piss all over his damn leg?
She barely remembered the layout of his apartment—she hadn’t been in the living room long before all she saw was Brand—but she knew it was small, and the ten seconds she’d wasted trying to come up with a plan to stop him were probably the only ten seconds she’d had.
The front door opened; muffled voices followed.
Her pulse raced—this was bad, so bad. She wished she could be anywhere but there, anything but naked, shit! Sage stood, scrambling to find her clothes. She located her jeans immediately, then bent to grab them—
“Looking for this?”
Sage hadn’t heard the bedroom door open. She stood, gripping her jeans in front of her, not nearly enough covering for her curvy, over-exposed frame.
Rosalind Sanchez scanned her from head to toe, taking in Sage’s mussed hair, her flushed face, her large breasts…when her eyes settled on Sage’s tattoo, the one that reached across the front of her left shoulder, then around to her back, Rosie’s eyes widened.
She knew.
Her eyes locked on Sage’s once more, and Sage’s stomach threatened to climb up her throat.
“Sage Shepard? You’ve got to be kidding me.” She took a step forward, and Sage braced herself. “His little broken butterfly.” Rosie shook her head, her lip curling in disgust. “Have you been fucking my husband this entire time, or did you at least wait for my sheets to cool?”
Sage’s mouth fell open, but she had no words. Did Rosie know about them in high school? Had she known all along?
Rosie took another step forward, her hand still gripping Sage’s sweater. “I honestly can’t believe I’m shocked.”
Brand grabbed Rosie’s elbow. “Stop it, Rosie. You need to leave.”
She turned her head, daggers shooting from her eyes. “Don’t you fucking touch me, Brandon Tiggs.”
Rosie turned back around, and Sage wished Brand would just pick the tiny brunette up and carry her out, but the shaken look in his eyes showed Sage he was just as shocked as she was.
“Oh, I knew all about you, hon. I knew the very day he laid eyes on you for the first time, because he was never the same. Do you know that you took his virginity from me? We’d been together since eighth grade, Sage Shepard, eighth grade, and by the time I was finally ready to give myself to him, he’d been fucking you for two years!”
“Enough! You need to leave, or I will remove you.”
Brand’s threat was real, but Sage knew he didn’t really want to physically remove Rosie from his apartment. He took a step toward her, but did nothing. Probably hoping she’d leave on her own.
He stood there, frozen in place.
He still couldn’t choose Sage over Rosie.
Her heart broke all over again.
Raw, devastated anguish flowed through her body, tickling the edges of every nerve ending, exposing every faded memory until nothing remained but the restored agony of losing the love of her life.
Because between Rosie and Sage, he would always pick Rosie.
“And now, look at you. Caught in my husband’s bed like the little whore you are. It’s so fucking fitting, isn’t it? Of course it would be you I find in here! Brandon’s little fixer-upper charity case!”
Like a swift punch to the gut, Sage’s words wouldn’t form. She wanted to say something, do something to stop this scene from unfolding, but all she could do was stand there and take it.
>
Just like she stood there and took everything her foster fathers had ever dished out.
Just like she stood there when things ended with Brand.
Rosie’s gaze travelled over Sage’s body again, and Sage sickened when those brown eyes zeroed in on Sage’s thighs. Rosie grinned wildly.
“Tell me, Sage, are you still a psycho cutter, or do you limit your self-abuse to fucking married men?”
Rage heated Tig’s blood, bringing his momentary stupor crashing down around him. For a moment, all he saw was red. He bent at the waist, then threw his soon-to-be ex-wife—not soon enough—over his shoulder. She’d taken it too far, and no one—no one—would hurt Sage like that again.
Especially not in Tig’s presence.
And especially not a woman who’d shown him nothing but guilt and resentment for his entire adult life.
He walked to the door, set her down outside the threshold as gently as he could, which was quite a feat for someone fighting the urge to violently hurl her down the apartment’s stairs, then reached forward, extracted Sage’s sweater from Rosie’s hands, and looked her in the eyes. Tig summoned every ounce of rage in his body, hoping she felt it radiating from him like summer heat from asphalt.
“Get the hell off my property, Rosalind,” he spoke calmly, quietly. “Sign those goddamned papers, or so help me….”
With narrowed eyes, she matched his level demeanor—they’d done this dance before. “What, Tig? You’ll what? Continue fucking your mistress?”
Sage cleared her throat behind him. Tig whipped around, warming slightly when he noticed she wore the button-down he’d discarded last night. She looked damn good in his shirt.
Sage’s focus wasn’t on Tig, though; she only had eyes for Rosie. Narrowed, calculating eyes.
She took two steps forward, standing tall beside him. Pride swelled within his soul, dissipating the rage he felt for his soon-to-be ex-wife. With this glorious woman beside him, nothing else mattered.
“First of all, I am not his mistress, and even if I was”—Rosie opened her mouth, but Sage raised a hand to halt her retort—“even if I was his mistress, I will not tolerate anyone, especially you, Rosalind Sanchez, speaking to me that way. This is your one warning. If you ever so much as look at me again, I will rip you to shreds.”
Chlorine and Chaos Page 7
