Conflagration

by Tessa Teevan

  Stopping her movements, she drops the towel and looks up at me. “Time?” she asks.

  I take the bottom of her wet T-shirt and, in one swift move, have it up and over her head, throwing it on top of the towel. “Ariana, I’m losing this cast today. The least we could do is have one last good fuck to commemorate the occasion. It’s seen a lot of good times. It only seems fair.”

  Her eyes dance with amusement, and without a word, she turns and goes into the bedroom, leaving me standing there with my throbbing erection. Grabbing my crutches, I follow her slowly but surely. When I get into the room, I stop in my tracks.

  Ariana’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs spread wide. I have the perfect view of her pussy, wet and glistening as she waits for me to come fill her up.

  “Fucking perfect,” I mutter, tossing my crutches aside and moving towards her. They clatter on the ground, but I ignore the sound. Only a small amount of pain registers, and I still try to keep most of the weight on my left leg, but holy fuck. If I don’t get inside her now, I’m going to explode.

  As soon as I get to her, she spreads her legs wider, so ready and willing for me. “We don’t have much time, but how could I say no to your request?”

  “Don’t worry, baby. I’m so fucking turned on. This won’t take long.” I lean over to the nightstand and grab the box of condoms. “Motherfucker!” I shout, tossing the empty box onto the floor.

  She sits up straighter and looks down at the floor then back up at me, a disappointed look on her face. “I guess one economy-sized box wasn’t enough,” she laments, pressing her head against my shoulder, exhaling deeply.

  Slowly, I push her back, my hand coming up to cup her neck, my thumb stroking her feminine jawline as I position myself at her entrance. “Do you trust me?” I ask her, watching her eyes dart back and forth between mine.

  “Wha…what?” she breathes, not taking her eyes off mine.

  “I’ll take care of you, Ariana. I promise. Now, do you trust me?”

  She deflates a little, and my ego takes a hit. Not that I blame her. I’m out-of-my-mind fucking crazy right now, and at least she’s being sane enough for the both of us. At least that’s what I think until she sits up straighter and wraps her legs around my waist, causing the tip of my dick to slip right inside her warm cunt.

  “I do. I trust you, Branson. More than I’ve ever trusted anyone.” Her legs tighten and she rotates her hips, letting me know she wants this. She wants me.

  With the knowledge that she trusts me, some deep-down primal urge to take her bareback rises up in me, telling me just to do it. Let nature take its course and see what the fuck happens. The careful, practical part is drowned out by the roaring sensations of pleasure that accost my dick when she shifts again, pulling me in farther. And I’m a goner.

  Without warning, I grip her hips and hold her still as I push mine forward in one swift motion, slamming into her with the heated intensity that’s burning inside me. The force of my thrust causes her to cry out, her nails digging into my flesh. Sharp, pleasurable sensations of pain run down the length of my back, causing me to pause just as I’m completely enveloped inside her hot sheath.

  I withdraw slowly, allowing my dick to savor the feeling of her, hot and tight, around me until only just the tip remains inside. The sound of her whimpering at the loss drives me wild, and it causes my control to waver slightly.

  "Branson," she breathes out as she tries to push her hips forward. My hold on them is firm, and she struggles to move, but I won't let her. "Please. I'm so close already. Fuck me hard and fuck me fast."

  I'd planned on making her beg, but it seems like my woman's already one step ahead of me. "You got it, baby," I growl, thrusting into her again.

  This time when I pull out, I slam right back into her. Her eyes blaze with lust as she grits her teeth with each plunge of my cock. Each time, I bury myself as deep as I can, and she tries to assist, using her legs to pull me in as her pussy grips my cock. She rocks her hips, grinding against me, her clit rubbing against my groin. Apparently, she's found her perfect rhythm.

  As she massages her hard nub against me, I speed up my movements and pound into her, each thrust harder and deeper until I feel her walls clenching. Rolling my hips, I give her more friction, and she grinds even harder.

  "Come, Ariana," I order.

  Her hands grip my shoulders and she throws her head back, her eyes closed as pleasure washes over her. "Oh God, Branson, yes. I'm coming," she moans as she continues to rock against me, my dick more than ready to release inside her.

  I let go of the hold on my resolve and tumble right over the edge into ecstasy with her. At the last second, I push her back onto the bed and slip out of her, shooting my release onto her flat, naked belly.

  As I catch my breath, she lifts up onto her elbows and eyes me thoughtfully. "You know that whole come-on-command thing?" she asks, and I give her a cocky smile. "I thought that was just something made up in the movies. I never thought it could happen in real life." She grins as my cock twitches proudly against her stomach.

  "It's all about the timing, and well, since I consider myself a subject-matter expert on your pussy, I knew you were close and took my chances."

  "Well, I guess I'll just have to figure out a way to switch things up. Keep you on your toes."

  With a smug smirk, I lean down and give her a kiss. "I'd like to see you try."

  She just laughs and watches as I reach over and grab a few tissues from the nightstand. After I clean her up, she sits up and gives me a knowing look before gesturing to the evidence of my release.

  "I'll see what I can do about getting a prescription filled for the rest of the time I'm here so we don't have to worry about that. I haven’t had to rely on the pull-and-pray method since college and I’m not about to start that up again," she tells me as she hops down from the bed and picks up the empty condom box. "Because after that? These aren't going to work for me."

  Handing the box to me, she rises up to her tiptoes and places a kiss on my cheek. Before I can answer, she walks into the bathroom, and I hear the shower turn on.

  As I sit on the bed and finger the box, her words play on a loop in my head. For the past month, we’ve been in our own little world in my house, and it’s been fucking amazing. I’ve been on disability leave, and she’s been able to keep her family at bay, placating her sister with weekly updates and Skype chats because, in Alyssa’s words, she wanted to make sure I wasn’t a “freaking psycho holding Ariana hostage.” To which Ari responded by turning to me and asking why I haven’t tied her up yet. For some reason, that earned me a thumbs-up from Alyssa, and things have been calm ever since.

  I know things are about to change though. Now that I’ll be in a brace, it’ll be easier for me to get around. I need to get back to the office, and I don’t know what’s going to happen after that. I can’t imagine that Ari will enjoy sitting around a house forty hours a week by herself. But the thought of her leaving? It’s devastating.

  I contemplate the idea of checking out our accounting department to see if there are any openings, but I’m not sure I’m ready to share her yet or how to even approach the situation. Every week that passes, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For her to say that it’s time to get back to her normal life. I know it’s inevitable, yet a small part of me wishes this could be her normal life. Although I’m not sure fucking, watching bad television, and spending twenty-four-seven with yours truly can really be considered normal. We were thrown into this situation and ended up making the most of it, and I’ve already become too accustomed to having her as a part of my daily life. Going back to work is the last thing I want to do, and that alone should tell me that I’m in over my head. But at this point, I don’t really care.

  And then I consider working from home, telling Dad that I need more time to recuperate. For the first time in my adult life, I want something more than to be at Wellington Enterprises. I want to be more than just Branson Wellington, shrewd bu
sinessman. Or something simpler. All I want is to be Ariana’s man.

  The thing is that I’m not getting any younger. I’ll be thirty-four in a few months, and what do I have to show for it? A closet full of expensive suits. A house that’s way too big for just me—not to mention a bed with the same problem. Walls decorated with expensive art instead of family photos. An office full of commendations. None of those things will keep me warm at night, take care of me when I’m injured, or make me feel more alive than I have in the past month.

  Until Ariana, I never really noticed how lonely it is while trying to make your way to the top. Suddenly, none of it seems like enough, and part of me is starting to warm up to the idea of possibly not spending the rest of my life alone—something I’d resigned myself to when I signed those damn divorce papers.

  I toss the box aside and lie back on the bed, trying to imagine a life where the ring on her finger is covered by another one that symbolizes forever. An image of Ariana with a swollen belly that’s rounded from our child growing inside her forms in my mind, and it’s a beautiful sight. Not that I’m trying to knock her up at this point in our lives, but let’s be honest. I haven’t exactly been stellar about taking the necessary precautions I should to prevent it.

  A smile forms on my face at the thought. It definitely wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I love my godson Jacob more than anything else in this world. I always imagined that he was it for me, the closest thing I’d ever have to my own kid. But now, I’m not so sure. Because even though I say that I don’t do permanent, every day spent with Ariana is one day that I get further away from our temporary agreement. As much as I feel I don’t deserve this, I’m slowly beginning to realize that I just might be wrong. I might actually be cut out for this relationship stuff—as long as it’s with the right person. Maybe my first marriage wasn’t my only shot at happiness.

  It’s almost like I made that fateful error all those years ago and, instead of going to Hell to pay for my sins, I was sent into Purgatory to learn the error of my ways.

  And Ariana Covington? She just might be my saving grace.

  AFTER THAT stimulating round of morning sex, we head to the medical center, where Branson’s plaster cast is cut off and is replaced with a knee brace. I wince as he grimaces in pain when the doctor checks out his mobility. Leaning down, I give him a kiss on the cheek and a shoulder squeeze, telling him that I’ll be back in a bit.

  Since we both were supposed to have checkups this week, I made sure to schedule them on the same day. I was fortunate enough to be able to use the Wellingtons’ family physician when I got my stitches removed, and today’s appointment is just one last checkup to make sure everything’s still healing properly.

  After my appointment, I’m surprised to see Branson sitting in the waiting room. He stands, leaning on his crutches, and gives me a smile.

  “Well?” he asks, and I know exactly what he’s thinking.

  My arms slip around his waist before I rise up on my tiptoes and look into his questioning eyes. “I grew up riding horses, but it’s been a really damn long time. I’m looking forward to getting back in the saddle,” I tease, and his eyes dance appreciatively.

  His hand slides down to cup my ass as he pulls me into him, and I can feel him growing against me. “The saddle’s ready when you are, baby,” he growls into my ear, setting my nerve endings on fire with the anticipation of tonight.

  This past month with Branson has been an eye-opener—a sexual awakening. I’ve never felt this sexually free. Sure, there are a couple of one-night stands in my past, but I’ve never been so attracted to and so turned on for one man like I have been with Branson. It’s like he really did awaken that dormant sexual deviant, and now, I can’t get enough. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to.

  He doesn’t treat me as a means to an end or an orgasm. Instead, he makes me feel wanted. Needed. Desired. He’s shown me that sex doesn’t have to take five minutes tops before rolling over and going to sleep. That missionary isn’t the only way to have sex—yet you can still have a lot of damn fun missionary style. He’s taught me things about my own body, and my likes and dislikes. No man will ever be able to measure up to him, and the thought causes me to sober. But when I look up at him, he’s watching me with amusement in his eyes, and thoughts of all over men vanish.

  “The saddle’s always ready,” I tease, and he grins. “I was able to get a prescription and they called it in for me. We just need to pick it up with one more box. A small one this time. Just enough to cover me until the birth control kicks in.”

  His expression changes for a split second, but then he smiles down at me. “Sounds good. Let’s get out of here.”

  ONCE WE’RE finished running errands, I start to pull into his gated community when he tells me to head towards his parents’ place. Confusion washes over me, having thought he’d want to get home as soon as possible now that I’ve gotten the all clear, but I do as he’s asked. When I pull into the drive, I place the car in park and turn towards him. He takes hold of my hand, interlocking our fingers.

  “Go out with me tonight,” he says. It’s not a question—not that there’s any way I’d say no. “I haven’t been able to take you out properly and show you off like I want to. And we both have things to celebrate. So how about it? Go on a date with me.”

  “Well, since I agreed to wear your ring, I guess it only makes sense that we get our first date out of the way.”

  His grin is contagious and he leans in to give me a chaste kiss. “I suppose that’s true. Anyway, when you were in the pharmacy, Mom sent me a text and said I was needed for a final tux fitting for the wedding. I’m going to hang out here for a bit, and then I’ll come get you.”

  I completely forgot about the wedding. In one week, Knox and Charlie are getting married, and Branson’s more excited than he lets on about being one of his brother’s groomsmen.

  “Oh, really? And how do you plan on doing that? You still can’t drive, Branson. Is your daddy going to chaperone? We can sneak kisses in the back seat when he’s not looking,” I tease, and he leans over and pinches my nipple. “Hey!”

  “No, baby, my dad isn’t going to be anywhere near us tonight. Trust me. I have my ways,” he says, his eyebrows waggling up and down. “Just be ready to go by eight.”

  “Can I get a hint as to what we’re doing?” I request.

  He shakes his head. “No way. Tonight’s going to be a surprise. Dress casual, and trust I’ll know how to show you a good time.”

  I laugh at that. “Babe, that’s all you’ve been doing since I got here.”

  With one last wink, he goes to get out of the car. “That’s right. And don’t you forget it.”

  Resting back against the seat, I sigh as I watch him walk towards the house still using his crutches. My eyes stay on his ass until he disappears into the house.

  Tonight, I have a date.

  As I glance down at my hands on the steering wheel, my eye catches the sight of my engagement ring, and I can’t help the smile that curves on my lips. The last date I went on led to my being engaged. This time, my engagement has led to a date.

  I only wonder what’s going to happen after tonight.

  WITH EXCITED anticipation of the upcoming night, I head straight to the guest bedroom Branson offered for me to use to keep my clothes in. After getting home from a full-day shopping trip with his mother with more bags than necessary, it became apparent that one drawer in his dresser wouldn’t suffice, so he led me to a second bedroom and gave me the closet. He made an offhand comment about his mother going a little crazy with her credit card, not being used to having a woman to shop for, and I realized that he thought his mother had bought all of this. I was about to tell him that I’d paid for it all with my own money, but his phone rang and I never got the chance.

  Now that I’m standing in front of my closet, I vow to clear that up. He’s being extremely generous by letting me stay here, always refusing to allow me to pay for the groce
ries or any time we order takeout. I want him to know that, just because I’m not working right now, it doesn’t mean that I don’t have more than enough money in my bank account to take care of myself. I definitely don’t want him to think I’m some sort of leech.

  My phone rings, breaking me from my thoughts. I’m thrilled when I see that it’s my sister calling for her weekly chat. “Hey, Lyss. Thank God it’s you. I need your help.”

  “Hello to you, too. I can’t talk long, but I wanted to check in before the weekend,” she says. “What can I help you with?”

  “Well, Branson’s taking me out on a date tonight. Our first date, in fact,” I admit as nervous butterflies start to swarm in my stomach. “I’m nervous and I have no idea what to wear.”

  My sister laughs, and I wait a few beats before she calms down. “You’ve been living with, and sleeping with, this guy for almost a month now, Ari. What the hell is there to be nervous about?”

  She’s right, and it’s probably irrational, but I can’t help it. “I don’t know. It’s just that it’s one thing when we’re just sitting around the house together, hanging out in sweats, and trying to see who can catch the most Cheerios in our mouths. But actually going on a date? That just makes it feel all that much more real. And I’m afraid the lines might get blurred.”

  Alyssa is silent for a moment, and then she starts cracking up.

  I frown as I sit down on the edge of the bed. “Care to tell me what’s so funny?”

  “Ari, I love you. I really do. But come on. You’re not that blind. Don’t you think the lines became blurry the first time you slept with Branson? And then continued to do so? Look, I admit I thought this whole thing was crazy when you first told me what you were doing. I had half a mind to come up there myself and drag you back home. But as crazy as it may have seemed, there was a light in your voice. You sounded…happy. Carefree, even, and we both know you haven’t been that since you started working for Dad. I don’t have to be there to know you’re already falling for him, Ari. I think you have a little more to worry about than blurring the lines.”