“You been thinking and…” Braylon came and sat beside her. “Are you okay?”
She still felt sick from earlier today. She placed a hand to her belly. “I feel queasy,” she said, being completely truthful. Bile scratched the back of her throat. She felt as if her body had gotten hotter since she’d returned back to the estate.
“You don’t look so good.”
“I feel like I have to—” She slapped a hand over her mouth, and took off for the bathroom. Halfway there, she vomited on the carpet. Knowing another round of foul bile was about to escape her, she staggered inside the bathroom and purged inside the toilet.
After flushing, she looked back over her shoulder at Braylon. A concerned look softened his features. “What can I do to help you?”
“I need to lie down,” she said, standing and feeling faint. Her head spun as a slow wave of heat spread through her bones.
“Let me help you to the bed.” He yanked her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom. He turned back the cover and lowered her to the mattress.
He put the back of his hand to her forehead. “You feel extremely hot,” he said, smoothing her bangs in with the rest of her hair on top of her head. “Where’s the thermometer?”
Why was she so exhausted? she wondered, taking in the worried expression shadowing his face. “There’s one in the kitchen cabinet next to the refrigerator inside the main house.”
“I’ll be right back.” Braylon dashed out the front door to the main house, and quickly returned. “Let me take your temperature.”
Sweat beaded on her forehead. When she tried to sit up, her attempt failed. “I felt bad earlier when I was visiting my dad, but now I feel awful.”
Braylon swept the hair covering the side of her face behind her ear and took her temperature. He dropped his face closer to hers. With his fingers to her chin, he turned her face away from his toward the pleated sheers. “One hundred and three degrees. And your neck is covered with red spots.”
“It is?”
He grabbed the mirror off the dresser and handed it to her. “Take a look.”
Sandella peeked into the mirror. A bumpy red rash covered the sides and back of her neck. To her knowledge she wasn’t allergic to anything. I must’ve eaten something bad. “I have no clue what this is.” Mustering what little strength she had, she shifted sideways and put her feet to the floor.
“You’re in no shape to get out of bed.”
“I need to take a look at the rest of my body.”
Braylon’s eyes glittered with amusement. “I can take a look for you if you like.”
Even in her ill state she managed a curt smile. “No, thank you. I’ll do it myself.”
Holding her hand, he guided her to the bathroom. She placed a hand on the door frame. “No visitors allowed,” she said, shutting the door in his face.
Standing in front of the mirror, Sandella gathered her shirt at the hem and removed it. She turned to look at her back. She gasped. Blisters were gathered on her back like a bad case of red leaking acne. “Oh my God!”
The door flung open. “What!” He gawked at her practically nude chest.
Her hands shot up to her breasts in an attempt to cover them and the black satin bra she was wearing. She felt blood gather in her cheeks. “Braylon! You can’t come in here!”
“I’m sorry. But you scared me half to death when you screamed.” Starting with her hair, his eyes rolled up and down her body. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he said, entering the bathroom. His eyes left her face and traveled to the mirror. “What in the world is that on your back?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s my imagination or what, but it’s starting to itch really, really, bad.”
“I’m taking you to the doctor.” He grabbed her shirt off the counter and redressed her.
“I can drive myself to the hospital. Why don’t you stay here with Royce? I just hate waking him.”
“That’s nonsense. I’m taking you, period…end of subject.” He tugged her hand, guided her outside to the yellow convertible he’d grown accustomed too over the past few weeks.
Sandella watched Braylon enter the house through the back door of the garage. The affectionate way he was taking care of her stirred a tender emotion. Not all Marines are bad, Dad. Especially not my Braylon.
Chapter Five
After leaving the hospital, Braylon drove to the other side of the island to drop Royce off at his Aunt Gladys’s home. Clutching the hospital blanket up to her chin, Sandella sat in the passenger’s seat staring out the window, then transferred her gaze toward him. “I feel bad about Gladys having to care for Royce until I get better.”
“Don’t,” he said, reaching over brushing the top of her head. “Willa doesn’t want you taking care of him while you’re recovering from a food intolerance. She wants you to get some rest and take care of yourself so you can get better. My grandma loves you like a daughter, you know?”
She nodded. “Yes, I know.” Is it possible that I’m allergic to peanut butter?
It was shortly after midnight when Braylon steered the Jaguar up the circular driveway of the estate and parked. He rounded the car, opened the door, and hefted Sandella in his arms.
“Where are you taking me?” He carried her toward the guest cottage.
“You’re staying with me tonight.”
“But I have a room inside the main house,” she said, looking at the dark mansion then back at his handsome face.
“You’re still a little sick and you’re staying with me, and that’s the end of the story.” His tone was so sharp she didn’t dare argue with him.
Too exhausted to care anyway, she cuddled her head up against his thick chest as he carried her inside. He raised his leg and kicked the door closed.
“Please take me to the guest room.”
He paused in his tracks, kissed her forehead. “I was hoping you’d sleep with me in my bed.” His tone was deliberately charming, tempting her to give in. God, she’d love to lie next to him and let him hold her at a time like this. Certainly his strong biceps wrapped around her would feel like good medicine. But sleeping in his bed was too darn risky. There was no telling what she’d do if she did.
The antibiotic and the ointment cream the doctor had given her had made her feel much better, but not enough that she couldn’t see that sleeping in his bed would do more harm than good. “I’ll be sleeping in the guest room.”
“Have it your way,” he said, pivoting in the opposite direction.
As Sandella sat on the bed watching Braylon leave the guest room, she wanted to reach out and grab his elbow to stop him.
“Good night,” she said.
“Good night, Sandella.” The way he said her name put her heart in a tizzy. He closed the door, leaving her feeling wistful.
Deep down inside she wanted him in her bed just as much as he wanted her in his. Not so she could have sex with him, but just so he could hold her until the morning came.
After she showered, she strolled back inside the room to find one of Braylon’s dress shirts on the bed. He must’ve come in and left it there while she was bathing. She shrugged her arms through the sleeves of the white cotton material to find his winter-fresh scent embedded in the fibers.
Wearing Braylon’s shirt made her oddly happy. She pulled the beaded string on the lamp to turn off the light. She pulled the comforter up to her chin. As Sandella drifted off to sleep she had only one person on her mind—my Braylon.
The wind whistled ruefully. Sandella bolted upright in bed. A bolt of lightning coursed through the slits in the blinds, flashing inside the dark room. She flinched. Raindrops clanked against the rooftop, sounding like banging tin cans.
She hated that her father and Drew had gone on a fishing trip. Suddenly, the creaking sound of her back door opening terrified her. The hair on her neck stood on end. She jumped out of bed and dropped to her knees.
Her hands fumbled beneath the bed for the box with the loaded weap
on that her father had given her. She snatched the wooden case from beneath her bed then flipped the lid open.
A more intense strike of lighting cracked the sky, flashing down on the black pistol. She hefted the loaded gun into her quivering hands. She staggered to her feet.
Her heart plummeted at the sight of the tall shadowy figure emerging in the doorway. The man raised a shiny blade over his shoulder. “I killed your mother, now I’m going to kill you.” The striking lighting bounced off the tip of the knife as he came toward her.
The gun shook in her trembling grip. She aimed at his chest. The killer halted. His wicked eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”
Releasing a guttural groan, she fired a bullet straight into his heart.
“NOOO!”
Sandella’s frantic screams jolted Braylon from his dream about flicking his tongue over her tight, erect bud. At first, he’d thought she’d been screaming while exploding inside his mouth. But when he heard her cries a second time, his heart tanked.
He snatched the covers from his bare torso and hopped out of bed. With his dick hard as a thick pipe against his abdomen he raced across the living room into the guest suite.
Sandella writhed and twisted beneath the covers as if she was fighting. He shook her. “Sandella! Wake up!”
Her eyes shot open. Her chest heaved up and down with each rapid breath. She sat upright and touched a hand to her forehead. “Oh God. I had a nightmare. It seemed so real.”
He caressed her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m here, baby.” he said, pulling the beaded string on the lamp. The dim light vaguely lit the room.
As her breathing returned to normal, Sandella cupped her neck. “My throat is dry.”
“I’ll be right back with some water.”
Seconds later when Braylon returned she was still sitting up in bed with a bleak expression, staring at the wall. “I killed him,” she said, turning her gaze toward him.
Braylon handed her the bottled water. “Who?”
“My mother’s killer.” She twisted the top off, tilted it to her mouth, and sipped. She let out a sorrowful sigh.
He gathered her in his arms and squeezed her tight. “You’re safe with me, Sandella.” He kissed the top of her head.
Her eyes misted. “I’m scared. Will you sleep in here with me tonight?” Long lashes shadowed her face.
“Of course I will.” Braylon turned off the light and slipped beneath the covers beside her.
The moonlight sloped from the window, casting a glow over their bodies. When she eased her back up against his chest, her butt scraped his flaccid penis. He swallowed hard. If she wriggled her ass up against him again, he wasn’t going to take the blame for his dick turning to stone.
“Hold me, Braylon.” Her genuine need slipped from her mouth in a soft sweet voice.
“Come here, baby.” He wrapped her in his arms. Damn. Her tight ass cheeks stayed nestled against his penis. Now, did she really expect him to lie here next to her and not touch her? While she wiggled up against his dick…wearing nothing but a pair of panties and his dress shirt?
I want you bad, Sandella. Braylon stroked her arms. “Has the rash been bothering you?”
“Not since I took the antibiotic and put on the cream. Actually, I’m feeling a whole lot better.”
“Good. Let me know if you need anything.” By the way, do you need any dick? he wanted to ask, but knew that the direct approach wouldn’t be best. She was inexperienced. His fingers lingered on her collarbone.
Loving the way the soft curves of her backside fit into the hard lines of his torso sent his heart to thudding. Heat spooled in his hardening sac. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. Desire zapped straight to his loins. Damn!
Was she trying to let him know that it was okay if he made a move on her? No, she was too sick. Then again, she did say she felt better and that the medicine was working. There’s only one way to find out. Wanting to make love to a woman while she was sick? He had a damn problem.
Aching to get inside her, he trailed his hand down her bare thigh. Her body tensed. “It’s hard to lie here next to you and not touch you, Sandella.”
Softly, she said, “I never said you couldn’t touch me, Braylon.” She rolled to her side and put a soft hand on his stubbly beard.
“Are you sure?” Nuzzling her nose, he pecked her soft lips. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want—”
Sandella’s tongue darted from her lips straight into his mouth. His shaft knotted. Her smooth lips felt like cotton.
He groaned deep inside her throat as he kissed her. She pulled away, leaving his mouth aching to feast between her thighs. “I’ve wanted you from the very first day we met,” he said. Her gaze was slumberous, sexy as hell. He raked his hands through her disorderly hair. “And I want you even more now.” He nipped her bottom lip.
A sensual glow passed over her expressive brown face. “Me too.” Her soft breath caressed the base of his neck urging him to recapture her swollen, wet lips.
As he slowly drank the feverish saliva from her mouth he cupped her breast and flicked a thumb over her erect nipple. She winced. The building magnetism between them was undeniable.
His fondling hand drifted from her breast to her flat belly then kneaded the tender flesh of her inner thigh. Pushing her panties to the side, he slipped a finger up in her wet core, curling a finger over her G-spot. She thrust her pelvis up against his stroking fingers and groaned huskily in his mouth.
Her hot sex drowned his fingers. She’s so fucking wet! His balls tightened, his shaft throbbed. When he tugged then pressed the pad of his thumb to her beaded clitoris, she whimpered against his demanding lips. Do I fuck her? Do I fuck her not?
He trailed the tip of his tongue around the edges of her tender lips, then gently cupped her ear. “I want to eat you.”
Excitement glowed in her irises. Her nodding signified her assent to have him lick her till she screamed his damn name. He mounted her, clenched her hips, then slid her petite body down the soft cotton sheets.
He rolled her panties down her slender legs, tossed them to the floor. About to burst, he spread her slick labia wide and positioned his nose to her black hard pearl. He inhaled her essence. The sweet scent of her drenched opening made the tip of his engorged head leak fluid. Dying to taste her pussy, he dropped his mouth on her and began lapping her inside out.
Her labia quivered against his mouth. Best pussy in the world.
Circling her hips, she clenched the sides of his head. “Oh, Braylon.” Wanting to bring her sheer pleasure, he sucked hard on her clitoris while pumping her insides with two of his fingers.
She bucked like a fierce bull on his face as if she were about to explode. She reached down between her legs, cupped the back of his hand, and prompted him to thrash her harder.
With his head wobbling from side to side between her quaking legs, he reached up and flicked a finger over her nipple with one hand while still stroking her with the other. Her shaking thighs closed around his head, holding his face captive on her heated sex.
“Braylon!” His name tumbled from her lips. The hard beats of her canal pounded on his tongue as she climaxed inside his mouth. Coming up for air, he gladly drank the salty cream splattered on his lips.
His dick was stretched to the limit, squirming like a snake inside his drawers. Damn, I’m hurting. He got to his feet to pick her panties from the floor. Standing to the side of the bed, he guided her feet through the loops of her underwear then rolled the flimsy material up her legs, covering her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, bemused.
“Believe me, there’s nothing wrong, Sandella.”
She sat up and crossed her arms across her breasts. Disappointment spread across her face. “Then why aren’t you trying to take things further? Don’t you want to make love to me?”
He reached in his boxers, pulled out his hard dick, letting it pulsate in his fist. He looked down at his erection then back up at he
r face. “What does it look like to you?”
Her tongue rolled over her still enflamed lips. Her eyes widened. “It looks like you do.”
He scooted next to her, palmed the back of her head, and nudged his forehead to hers. Before he knew it, she dropped her head into his lap, curled her hand around his shaft, and tried to wrap her lips around his thick head.
“God. No! Sandella! No!” He clenched the sides of her head and lifted her face from his erection. Gazing into her caramel, flickering eyes, he swallowed. “As much as I’d love for you to do that to me, tonight is not about me, baby,” he said, his spheres heated into hot balls of fire. “It’s about you, and only you.”
“But—”
He shook his head defiantly. “But nothing, baby. Trust me,” he put a finger to her chin, “what I have in store for you, you’re going to need way more energy than what you have now.” I’d probably damn near kill you if I fucked you now. “You need to rest first.”
If she wasn’t so sick, he’d flip her on her stomach and fuck her senseless. But the last thing he needed was for her to wake up sore, raw, and worst off than she already was with the damn rash. Besides he wanted to make sure she was thinking with a clear head when he branded her with his lovemaking.
Swallowing, she nodded. “Okay.”
“Now good night.”
“Good night.”
Lying back to back, Braylon’s cock was so hard he could hardly see straight. At one point he contemplated rolling on his side to fuck her. Remembering how he’d curled his tongue over her hard clitoris, he finally fell sound asleep with his hand inside his pants, stroking his cock.
SANDELLA STIRRED. Feeling like a train had derailed her body while stretched out on a track; she slowly peeled her eyes open to find the bright sun lighting up the white-walled room. She lay on her back looking up at the ceiling as a wave of nausea rolled in the pit of her stomach. The rash on her back itched and her head pounded. She felt like crap and needed her meds in a hurry.
Marrying the Marine-epub Page 6
