His response almost sent Heather to her knees. There were no words … just a picture. A close-up … like really, really close-up of his sturdy, masculine hand gripping a glorious and very substantial erection.
She was on her way down the hallway in a flash. Pushing open the bedroom door, the first thing she noticed was how dark the room was with the curtains closed and the only visible light coming from the en suite doorway.
He was there. She could feel him, but it took a moment to find him in the shadows. He wasn’t on the bed, so she searched until she saw him. He was upright, sitting on a piece of furniture she’d never seen before. Not a chair and not a bench either, it was a lounge or chaise of some kind with rounded ends, one big and one smaller. His legs were on either side of the lounger and his back rested on the larger curve.
And what was happening between his legs? Mother of god. Rising from a barely visible patch of body hair was his staff, with his hand gripped near the base.
Since they didn’t generally talk much, she wasn’t prepared when he spoke.
“Giddy up?”
As turned on and operating on pure sex-charged adrenaline as she was, Heather couldn’t help but laugh. Giddy up? Oh, dear god. Maybe Arizona was good for him. She very much liked the possibility. For his sake.
If they were going to include words in this encounter, she was game.
“What’s this?” she questioned, pointing at the thing he reclined on. “Looks like something from the Fifty Shades catalog.”
Slowly stroking his flesh he teased, “You like?”
The roll of her hips as she swayed toward him was involuntary and reminded her how deeply affected she was—on every level—by this man.
“Like?” She smirked. Pausing feet away, Heather slapped a hand on her hip and looked him and the lounger up and down. “Which are you referring to? The furniture or the hard-on?”
Wagging the stiff appendage with his hand, he chuckled. “Oh, nice try. I already know how much you like my dick.”
She gasped in comically feigned outrage.
“Now, get the hell over here and climb on, m’lady. You’re breaking the ten-second rule.”
Shifting closer, she felt his gaze moving over her. Like most women, she didn’t see anything spectacular when she looked in the mirror. Her boobs were okay, maybe a bit too much, but she’d take it over the alternative. Her tummy was kind of toned. Most days. When she wasn’t being an idiot and bingeing on carbs and sweets. And her hips and ass, well … she had the anatomy of a healthy female. Nothing to be ashamed of.
“Swing your leg over the side,” he husked gruffly. His voice gave her the shivers.
With a steadying hand on his shoulder she did as he instructed. She froze when Brody grunted. Then chuckled. Not what she expected at all. Standing over an aimed and ready cock, the last thing she anticipated was laughter.
“Well, what do we have here?” His fingers were rubbing the tufts of hair covering her mound.
Ever since their first encounter, she’d kept her pubes bare when it was Brody season. Heather assumed she took the step as a way of separating reality from … sexy times. Not expecting to see him before the new term, she wasn’t what would be described as groomed, smoothed, and primed.
“Is this for me?” he joked.
“That’s what you get for not warning a girl …”
“Ahhh,” he groaned. “But I like. Very much.”
“Brody,” she warned when his fingers got awfully busy. Damn. Maybe if she’d known his true feelings where waxing and lady parts were concerned before this, she’d have … “Unf,” she groaned. Standing with legs spread on either side of the lounger gave him total access to her achy flesh. The devil slid two fingers deep and rubbed the spot that always made her tremble and shake.
“Enough,” he growled. With a little pat to the puffy lips begging for more, he positioned his manhood then looked her in the eye.
“Fuck me.”
The demand ignited a fire that blazed hot and wild inside her. Instead of taking him slowly and letting his size stretch her open after so long apart, she did something that surprised them both. Dropping like dead weight, she impaled his shaft, taking all of him in one demanding stroke.
She cried out, the fullness stealing her breath. Brody was muttering, “Oh, shit,” over and over as he held her hips with a bruising grip. And then he did something that never happened before. Wrapping her in his arms, he pulled her into position above him and fed his hands into her hair. “I missed this. Missed you,” he murmured. “You make me feel things …”
Maybe if they’d been in a bed, she would have responded differently, but her body was melting down due in no small part to the unusual lounger. With her feet on the floor, legs spread wide, she found riding his big body in this position to be nothing short of mind-blowing.
Pushing off, she rose up until the fat head of his cock teased her entrance. Oh, my god. She’d never had this much control before. Settling into an aching rhythm, she plunged down, crying out each time, then raised up to squeeze the crown of his manhood with her muscles.
He massaged her tits, sucking on nipples swollen with need. They kissed, desperately groaning, moaning, and whimpering as she rode him with abandon. It got wild. The air around them filled with the sounds of their coupling and the sweet scent of her arousal covered their heaving bodies.
“What are you waiting for?” he grunted. “I thought you said you missed me.”
There it was again. The truth. She had missed him despite knowing the admission damned her to hell for all time.
Letting go of her, his arms dropped to his sides and touched the floor. He spread his knees wider forcing her to adjust. He was hers to ride … so she did.
His eyes glittered in the dim light. She looked down and saw her breasts swaying with the force of every movement. Wetness spread from where they were joined to the inside of her thighs. Heather gripped his shoulders and went for it.
“That’s it, m’lady.” The pleasure in his voice was her undoing. “God,” he groaned. “I love watching you come.”
If he said anything else, she didn’t hear him. Stroking deeply, she ground against him, feeling as if she might explode from the pleasure. Her insides tightened. And then tightened some more.
Brody grunted. “Fuck.” A second later, “Me.”
The room disappeared. So did everything else. All she knew or felt was his cock swelling inside her and the way her muscles clamped down on his flesh. She screamed when the orgasm claimed her. Six months of wanting coalesced with needs her conscious mind couldn’t admit and caused an explosion that wracked her entire body.
“Ahh,” he groaned. His eyes closed. With one last forceful plunge, she settled with him deeply rooted inside her. The physical connection was so raw and complete that she felt his cock throbbing, knew his essence was pouring into her, and succumbed to the intense pleasure.
Yeah. She’d missed him, for sure. Now, what the hell did she do?
THROWING DOWN HIS pencil, he shook his head and backed away from the table. Goddammit. Was the universe going to mess with him at every opportunity?
It was New Year’s Eve. Glancing out the window, he thought about the masses of people going about their day, getting ready for a big night of celebration.
And what was he doing?
Surveying the drawing he’d been obsessing over for the past hour, Brody screwed up his face and sighed. Instead of picking out a tie for tonight, he was schlepping about in some crappy sweats, hunched over the kitchen table sketching out a brain-worm he’d been kicking around.
His dogs needed a tracking maze. Nothing elaborate, just a simple mind-fuck to sharpen their hunting skills. He’d been gone from the compound for hardly any time, but already, he had old Gus doing his bidding. Being handed a chance to overhaul the Justice Canine Program was a dream opportunity, and it was going to be done right. But was all this really something he needed to be doing right then?
He kne
w the answer. Of course, not. But this was how he operated these days. Keep the mind busy so it didn’t start wandering. Wandering generally led to other things … things he’d rather keep on lockdown.
More coffee wasn’t going to help, but that didn’t stop him from emptying the pot into a mug the size of his head. Going a little crazy with the sugar, he dumped four large spoonful’s into the black brew and gave a good stir. A test sip wasn’t quite right, so he added more sugar and topped it off with a healthy glug of half and half. Caffeine cocktail. Guaranteed to jack him up. Available steaming hot or iced. Yay.
Padding barefoot into the living room, the sofa called, so he set up camp in front of the TV and tried to relax. As if.
The surprise return ambush he worked on Heather was two days ago. And since then he’d done nothing but pick apart every detail of what happened. It all started so well, but right away shit started to get shaky. Telling her he’d missed her might have been a meathead move, but she hadn’t been scared off. At least, he didn’t think so at the time.
After some cautious flirting, they’d fucked as if it was their last night on earth. Overthinking things, as usual, he’d been weighing what came next when he felt her shut down.
The intense coupling included quite a bit of uncharted territory. Like cuddling. And calling her name when her body robbed him of his essence. Or the bite marks. He touched his collarbone and groaned. She’d used her mouth on his skin and reduced him to a quivering mess of a man. Usually, he was the one going nuts on her with his teeth.
In the aftermath of their long, slow return to earth, it all came crashing down when Heather went rigid in his arms. He swore he heard the wall go up, followed a second later by her complete withdrawal. Crushed didn’t come close to how that made him feel. Clearly, some off-the-hook banging wasn’t enough to break down her defenses.
And that was a problem.
His phone buzzed. Tapping on the message icon, a new conversation with Lacey Cameron opened up.
Dylan loves his excersaucer! she wrote followed by a pic of the little guy sitting in the baby apparatus with a big goofy grin on his face. Santa must have been extra good to the kid judging by all the toys surrounding him.
Aww, cute. Miss that Cameron smirk, he replied. Rolling his eyes heavenward, Brody hissed and murmured, “What the fuck?” Was he going to run around telling everybody on the planet that he missed them?
Did Santa stop at your place?
God. He adored Lacey Cameron. She went through the line several times when they were handing out sweetness. He’d never forget the reaction to her surprise appearance in the Justice compound after Cam returned from an assignment with the fresh-faced young beauty in tow.
The corners of his mouth quirked up. The girl turned out to be a breath of fresh air and a tornado at the same time. Watching Cam grovel at her feet was something of a wake-up for Brody. Cameron Justice was the original brooding loner. If he could find someone, well …
He hurriedly typed, Thanks for the scarf. It’s snowing here, so it’s already come in handy!
Gotta run. Big D wants FOOD! Hurry home, Brody. It’s not the same here without you xxoo
Hurry home. His heart did a little dance at the word. Home. That’s what the New Year held in store for him. A new life where he was already comfortable … with a support system that was more than a guy like him could dream of.
He squinted as his head turned toward the window. Contemplating what this new life would be like was like handing him a blank piece of sketch paper and a stack of pencils. Did everyone imagine a different life or did that shit only happen in the movies? He supposed the impulse could be chalked up to human nature with a dash of ‘the grass is always greener.’
Shit. His forehead furrowed as thoughts collided and created a happy scene showing a smiling Heather by his side.
It was New Year’s Eve. He didn’t have to wonder what she was doing. The main thread that wove their lives together was that they got to know each other by being participants in a PTSD Therapy group.
One of the few present who weren’t military or civilian responders, she got his attention from the start. He was a guy, so it was the first impression that’d stayed with him. She was strikingly lovely but aloof to the nth degree. His libido sat up and took notice … that was how it all started. It came as a shock to learn that they both worked for the college.
They didn’t interact with each other beyond the physical for a reason. Each of them knew too much. The raw stuff that fucks with your head. Details which mark the soul. She knew his, and he knew hers. Most of ‘em anyway. Everyone held back something.
So he was pretty fucking sure she was doing the same denial shit he was doing. Partying would be the last thing on her mind. Especially tonight.
You know what, he thought as he studied the dark TV that he never bothered to switch on. Enough of this crap. He wasn’t going to let the little fact that she shut him down when she ran back to her carefully controlled life discourage him. With the walls she built, only a strong hand stood a chance of breaking them down. She’d resist … with her history she’d have to. But Brody sensed at the center of the problem was a need for someone in her life who wouldn’t be afraid of her demons. Who could bust through the protective barrier and bring her back to life.
Hauling ass off the sofa, he headed for the bathroom and a hot shower. Picking out a tie would be overkill, but he could clean up and ditch the slob clothes.
“Ahhh,” she screamed as a box fell from the closet shelf and smacked the side of her head. Tears welled in her eyes, equal parts boo-hoo ‘cause she got hurt and frustration.
Maybe cleaning out her wardrobe wasn’t such a bright idea.
Dropping onto her bed, Heather sank to the mattress and rubbed her fingers back and forth beneath her nose. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the tears away, drawing her lower lip between her teeth.
Ugh. New Year’s Eve. Her least favorite of nights. Too many unhappy memories. None worth getting riled up over, but riled up she was or she wouldn’t be battling tears.
It wasn’t even time for lunch, yet she’d already cleaned her bathroom … corners and all … and done three loads of laundry.
“This is what you’d call a manic state fueled by anger and fear.”
Who was she talking to? Why George, of course. He didn’t seem to mind, having to listen to her random thoughts. Mostly, like now, he curled up nearby and silently watched. And he’d been even more watchful since the night she came home wrapped in Brody’s scent.
Gah. Squeezing her eyes shut, Heather flopped backward onto the bed. She hated this feeling. Really hated it. The only way to describe it was feeling like plastic wrap stretched far too tight.
Rolling to her side, she pulled up her knees and tucked both hands beneath her cheek. George’s big, brown doggie eyes seemed to soften. Getting up, he padded to the side of the bed and obediently sat, but she knew what he wanted.
With a sigh, she let one hand fall to the mattress where she patted a couple of times and murmured, “Okay, boy. Come on up.” He was up on the bed and curled into her before she had time to move.
It took less than ten seconds to admit that lying down was a bad idea. As soon as she relaxed, her mind flooded with thoughts. That was why she kept busy. No time for inconvenient memories. Or fantasies.
Too late. No amount of frantic busywork stopped the avalanche of confusion and concern that slammed into her.
Brody.
She hadn’t handled the other day very well because he’d taken her by surprise. Maybe that explained her current turmoil. Nice thought but she was an adult so some lame ‘Oh my god’ excuse wasn’t going to cut it.
Something was changing in their relationship but since it wasn’t her initiating those changes, she was in a free-falling panic. She didn’t want this. Never wanted to think about what they were doing and engage her emotions. Wasn’t that why they’d been operating as two grown-ups who had sex? Period. No emotional entangle
ment required. No hurt feelings or wondering what the other person was thinking. Straightforward, naked, balls-to-the-wall screwing with no strings attached. Heather didn’t have anything else to bring to the table, and she thought they were on the same page where that was concerned.
They fucked. Did she consciously know that labeling what they did in crude terms was a coping mechanism? Of course, she did. But that damn Christmas card started a chain reaction that led to her coming completely undone in his bed. She’d been shocked by her response. Hell, the whole encounter shocked her. There was some talking. Not a lot, but enough. And cuddling. There was definitely some cuddling and a bunch of limbo kisses … after and before … and more silent sensory communication than she was comfortable with.
After the first time when she’d ridden him like a pro on the giddy-up circuit, they’d ended up showering together because he just wouldn’t leave her alone in the bathroom. It wasn’t the first time they’d gotten frisky under a showerhead, but holy god, what they ended up doing was something for the record books.
Heather didn’t realize that besides being generally hot as shit, Brody was also a goddamn machine with the strength of an Olympic hero. Awareness of him buried inside her while she clung to his torso with her ankles crossed behind his back turned her unusually desperate. Unable to get enough despite being challenged by the intensity of his pounding, she undulated on each plunge, crying out when the angle of penetration sent her flying.
Mid-flight, he’d grunted, “Come for me, sweet lady,” and boy, oh boy, that was exactly what she did. The shower sex, the screaming orgasm … nothing new in that. What was different was climaxing on command … and the words he used.
He carried her from the shower once she finally came back to her senses and positioned them into a purposeful snuggle in the middle of the big bed. Something about the way his solid chest pressed against her back and the feel of his sturdy legs entwined with hers sent shards of crumbling brick from the wall she kept around her heart tumbling into the emptiness of her soul.
Sanctuary (Family Justice Book 3) Page 4
