Stars Over Castle Hill: A Joss and Braden Novella

by Samantha Young

I sagged gratefully into his side and he gave me an answering squeeze. “I don’t know. I love reading. And I’ve always written. It was an escape, I guess.”

  “And why fantasy and paranormal?”

  “Because reality has no authority there. My imagination controls everything.”

  To my surprise, Braden’s hold on my waste loosened a little, like I’d said something that surprised him. I looked up at his profile to see he was staring ahead, wearing a frown.

  “Braden?”

  He looked down at me.

  “You okay?”

  After a moment’s contemplation, he said quietly, “It’s funny … I like that I can’t work you out. At the same time, it makes me nervous.”

  “You? Nervous?” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

  He smirked but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You meant it when you said you were complicated, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  He cupped my face in his hands and leaned his forehead against mine. “Fuck, I want to know you, Jocelyn Butler.”

  I gripped his waist. “What if you don’t like what you find?”

  Something like fear flickered in his gaze but I shook that thought off. Surely Braden Carmichael wasn’t afraid of anything.

  “I don’t think any reality exists in which I wouldn’t like you. Even if you make trying fucking impossible.”

  I found myself pressing my body into his, loving his words … but wishing that I didn’t see the pleading in the back of those eyes.

  He needed me to not make it fucking impossible.

  And I knew the reason why.

  She deserves all my attention, my focus. I will always put her first.

  Abby.

  ***

  The rest of our date was more relaxed. Our “getting to know you” part of it became more lighthearted. We talked about the little things, like movies and music and pet hates.

  “You? Mr. I-Tell-Women-I-Want-To-Fuck-Them-In-Public hates it when men don’t open the door for women?”

  “Open doors for them, pull out chairs for them, carry luggage for them … It’s called being a gentleman. And technically, you’re the only woman I’ve ever said that to in public.”

  “I’m honored.”

  He grinned. “What can I say? You bring it out in me.”

  As we laughed and talked, I let the beginning of our date fade out and enjoyed myself. Braden was affectionate and I relished his touch, even if it was driving my sexual frustration to new levels.

  He even made us stop on the Royal Mile to take a selfie.

  I’d flushed with this unknown, overwhelming feeling at the image of me standing cuddled into Braden. He grinned into the camera with that crooked smile while I gave a bemused, half-smile.

  “You’re sexy as fuck,” he said, putting his phone back in his pocket.

  I grinned up at him, pleased and amused by how annoyed he sounded. “That’s a problem?”

  “It is when you’re trying to be a gentleman. Woman can’t even take a fucking selfie without making me want to screw her against an alley wall,” he muttered, grabbing my hand and marching me up the mile.

  I laughed so hard, he had no choice but to join me.

  The Winner

  Our next couple of dates went similarly well. We couldn’t see each other the following weekend because it was Braden’s weekend with Abby, so we’d chatted on the phone a lot. It wasn’t the same as being together in person, and when we saw each other the following weekend, one date wasn’t enough time.

  For the most part, we focused on lighthearted banter, only getting serious when Braden talked about Abby and Kiersten. It turned out the whole suitcase thing was a ploy. Kiersten had said she was packing up to go home to Dundee because she couldn’t afford to live in Edinburgh anymore.

  This was the third time she’d tried this.

  And it was the third time Braden had threatened to go for full custody of Abby, ensuring that Kiersten lost the child support she already got, which wasn’t an insignificant amount.

  She’d then tried to win him over to her side by sobbing.

  It only made Braden angrier and I knew he was worried about his kid.

  “A little girl needs her mum,” he’d said helplessly.

  “A little girl needs a stable mum,” I’d said gently, sliding my fingers through his.

  His hand had curled around mine. “I know. I don’t know what I should do.”

  “I think … I think you should start keeping a record of Kiersten’s erratic behavior.”

  His eyes had snapped to mine as he processed my words and he’d lifted his hand to my face, his thumb caressing the outline of my lower lip. “Aye. I think you’re right.”

  I’d kissed him to comfort him because I couldn’t imagine how messed up it must be to have to think about taking your kid away from her mother.

  The kiss had turned heated within seconds and at the sound of laughter behind us, I’d pulled back, remembering we were in a pub.

  “I don’t know if I can wait much longer,” Braden had said, his words practically a growl.

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  ***

  “You didn’t have to hold my hand all the way up here,” I said to Braden as I turned the key in my door. “I can make it up the stairs when I’m tipsy.”

  We’d spent most of the afternoon and early evening in the pub. We’d eaten lunch there first and then sat in a cozy corner enjoying a few drinks and banter that was turning increasingly sexual in nature.

  As I pushed my flat door open, I felt Braden’s strong hands on my hips and his warm breath on my ear as he asked softly, “Tipsy, or drunk?”

  My breath caught as we stepped inside, Braden close at my back. “Tipsy.”

  It was true. I was feeling a little giddy and more talkative than usual, but my vision was clear and my coordination was intact.

  And I wanted him.

  “You sure?”

  Turning around, I reached past him and shoved my door shut, leaning my breasts into his chest as I turned the lock. I tipped my head back to meet his heated gaze. “If you’re wondering if I’m sober enough to fuck without feeling like you’re taking advantage, the answer is definitely yes.”

  Braden grinned. “What a mouth you have on you.”

  I pressed deeper into him. “You have no idea.”

  His hand tightened on my hip and I watched as the teasing glint in his eyes disappeared, replaced by the most intense look of need I’d ever seen.

  “Strip,” he uttered quietly, deadly serious.

  Shock and excitement rushed through me at the demand, and I felt my legs tremble. Arousal had seized every part of me and I felt very impatient for him. He didn’t need to know that, though.

  Indignant, I huffed, “You really are a bossy son of a bitch.”

  “Jocelyn …” He dipped his head so his lips were inches from mine, and I had nowhere to look but deep in his gorgeous eyes. “I’ve been fantasizing about seeing you naked since we met. I don’t want to play games. I don’t have the patience for them. I want to watch you take your clothes off and I want to savor the moment. Then I’m going to take you to your room and I’m going to kiss and suck and lick every inch of you. After which we’ll fuck. Hard. Deep. Slow.”

  Holy fuckity fuck fuck.

  Arousal shot between my legs, making me wet, and it tingled across my breasts, tightening my nipples into hard points.

  And I was sure all this man had to do was brush his thumb over one aroused peak and I would come.

  Yes, I want you to do all of that. Forever. “Fine. But I get to be bossy next time.”

  The intensity in his eyes lightened for a second and he lifted a hand to brush the back of his knuckles down my cheek. “Never change, Jocelyn Butler.”

  Eyes lock
ed, I took a few careful steps backward until there was enough distance between us for him to enjoy the show. Butterflies raged low in my belly, a mixture of nervousness and desire. I’d never done a strip show for a guy before.

  The truth was I didn’t think I had ever been more aware of my body than I was when I was around Braden. To be honest, I’d stopped caring about my appearance and all the shit that came with it a long time ago. I wore what I liked, I looked the way I looked, and I didn’t care what any guy thought.

  But standing in front of Braden, I realized I wasn’t so confident about that anymore. I wasn’t tiny, but I wasn’t tall. I had slender legs and a small waist, but I had boobs, hips, and a definite ass, all of which had grown more lush (to put it delicately) as I approached my thirties. Braden was going to see all that.

  Braden who dated model-tall creatures of mythic-like beauty.

  As our eyes held, all of a sudden I thought, So what.

  He wanted me. Me.

  So I threw my shoulders back, my gaze hot and defiant, and Braden clenched his hands into fists, almost like he was stopping himself from reaching for me.

  I shrugged out of my light jacket, letting it pool at my feet, and then I reached for the hem of my silk button-down shirt to pull it over my head.

  “No,” Braden murmured, his expression smoldering as he leaned back against my front door, crossing his arms over his chest, one ankle over the other. His pose said casual, possibly even bored. His eyes, however, were burning my not-even-naked-yet skin. “Slowly. Every button.”

  I shivered at his command but I glared at him so he didn’t think he could get away with demanding things all the time. “Since you asked so nicely.”

  Slowly, very slowly, I unbuttoned my shirt, shrugging my shoulders so the fabric slipped down my arms and fluttered to the ground.

  The zipper on my jeans was next. I slid it down in increments, enjoying the way the muscle in Braden’s jaw flexed at the sound. My eyes lowered.

  He was hard already.

  Need tugged insistent and low in my belly.

  Pushing the jeans down over my ankles, I kicked them off and stepped away from them. I lifted my eyes to watch Braden again as I reached behind for my bra’s clasp. I unhooked it but slowly peeled the straps down, teasing the fabric away from my body.

  Goosebumps erupted over my breasts and areolas, my nipples peaked in invitation. Braden’s hard-on pressed against his jeans and I hid a pleased smiled.

  Apparently he liked all he was seeing.

  I licked my lips, watching his eyes flare as I gently pushed down my underwear, now soaked with arousal. I was dying for Braden to touch me, to feel how wet I was with only his eyes on my body.

  “Now what, bossman?” I asked quietly, my voice thick.

  His eyes burned a path that touched every inch of me. “Let down your hair.”

  I smirked at him as I reached up and unpinned my hair, letting the waves fall heavily down my back. I threw the pins on the sideboard and massaged my head, my breasts rising provocatively with the movement. “And now?”

  He stood up from the door, his relaxed pose gone as he replied in his low, rumbling tones, “Now walk into the bedroom, lie on your back on the bed, stretch your arms above your head, and spread your legs.”

  My legs weakened with desire at the demand, surprised by how freaking turned on I was by Braden’s command. Still, I couldn’t let him know that or he might become overbearing. “Are you kidding me?”

  His eyes narrowed. “What did I say earlier?”

  My hands flew to my hips. “I’m not into being dominated, Braden.”

  Liar, my burning hot body whispered.

  “It’s not domination.” He took a step toward me, his hot eyes raking over my naked body. “It’s taking sexual direction for your pleasure and mine. And babe,” he pressed up against me, his fingertips trailing over my upper thigh, “we both know,” his fingers dipped between my legs, brushing lightly, excruciatingly lightly, against my clit, “how wet you are.” He groaned and caught my breath between his lips. “Stop holding back, you proud, stubborn, sexy-as-fuck woman, and just let this happen.”

  I found myself leaning into him, so turned on I could barely breathe. But I needed to know we understood each other. “Just in bed,” I whispered against his mouth. “I don’t take direction out of it.”

  Braden’s answering grin was smug. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Liar,” I bit out on a moan as he pressed his fingers against my clit again. I grabbed onto his arms. “Braden.”

  “Fuck it.” One minute I was on the ground, the next I was in Braden’s arms, my legs around his waist, my hands in his hair as we kissed and bit and nipped and licked at each other’s mouths, learning the taste and feel of one another.

  “Bedroom?” he asked, panting against my lips.

  I pointed behind me and then tugged his mouth to mine, giving little huffs of girlish laughter when he tripped over something or bumped us into a wall as he carried me toward my bedroom.

  And then I was in the air, landing on the mattress with a little bounce. I didn’t even have a chance to catch my breath because he was on the bed with me, kissing me with this possessive, punishing need that stole the air from my lungs.

  I broke the kiss, my skin on fire, and gasped for breath, taking the opportunity to curl my fingers under his sweater and give it a jerk. Braden pulled back, straddling me, and pulled his top up and over his head. It disappeared onto my floor.

  Staring up at the man straddling me, I forgot how to breathe all over again. The waist of Braden’s pants hung low showing off his flat stomach and the sexy V-cut of his muscles. I bit my lip. I wanted to touch him. My eyes followed his six-pack up to a strong chest and broad shoulders. And it was all nicely wrapped up in unblemished golden skin.

  “Fuck, Jocelyn.” I looked up and found his gaze blazing even brighter than before. “If you keep looking at me like that, this is going to be over far sooner than I’d like.”

  I reached out, sex-dazed, to run my hands over his hard abs. “If I forget to say this later, thank you on behalf of all womankind. Thank you for hitting the gym on a regular basis.” I looked up into his melting blue gaze. “We greatly appreciate it.”

  Braden threw his head back in laughter and I found myself grinning up at him. Affection flooded me, triumph that I was desirable to him but that I could also make him laugh in this moment.

  The intimacy of it hit me like a freight train, and I felt the beginnings of panic claw at me.

  But then Braden cupped my breasts in his large, hot hands and squeezed them gently and just like that, the ominous feeling fled as his touch sent sparks of arousal down my belly to between my legs.

  “Jocelyn,” he groaned, leaning over to press soft kisses down my chest and over my breasts. When he wrapped his mouth around my right nipple, I gripped his head in my hands and held on as desire rippled through me. My hips undulated against him, impatient to get to the main act.

  As if he’d read my thoughts, Braden muttered a curse and rolled off me and stood next to the bed. I watched as he removed his shoes, socks, jeans, and underwear. My lips parted in greedy anticipation as I took in his impressive dick. But I barely had time to ogle when he covered me, my breasts pressed against his chest, my thighs spread open to accommodate him between my legs … and I was staring up into his eyes, breathless with anticipation.

  “You on the pill?” he said, his voice guttural with sex.

  I nodded.

  “I’m clean. Do you trust me?”

  Was he asking if we should do this without a condom? Desire rippled in my belly, an answering slickness between my legs. I nodded, unable to say the words. “I’m clean too.”

  “I trust you,” he said pointedly.

  And then he was kissing me again, his fingers sliding through mine and pressing my
hands to the bed. I moaned into his mouth, feeling dominated, loving the teasing whisper of my nipples brushing his chest, his throbbing dick nudging between my legs.

  I groaned into his mouth and he thrust against me a little harder. My legs automatically climbed his hips, tilting my own in invitation.

  “Fuck,” he pulled back, pressing wet kisses down my throat, “I can feel how wet you are.” He leaned his forehead against my chest and shuddered with shallow breaths.

  I was wound tight, I was burning hot, I was caught up in the race toward sexual bliss, but even in that lust-fogged moment, I understood this wasn’t what he’d intended. I remembered his words earlier. I’m going to take you to your room and I’m going to kiss and suck and lick you. After which we’ll fuck. Hard. Deep. Slow.

  He let go of my hands, his large, slightly calloused ones sending delicious goosebumps all over me as he slid them down my raised arms, down my sides, and back up to cup my breasts.

  I reached down, my fingers sliding into his thick hair and they tightened, tugging his head up to look at me. There was nothing but a blaze in his eyes, a blaze of need, and my thighs tightened against his hips. “Fuck me,” I whispered, my voice even huskier than normal. “Come inside me and take what you want.”

  Fierce possessiveness hardened his features with determination and his mouth slammed down on mine. It was a furious, biting, licking, no finesse, pure sex, dirty kiss, and I exhilarated in it because I’d never felt more wanted in my life.

  Then he reached up to take my right hand in his and lowered it. I gasped into his mouth at the hot hardness of his dick as he wrapped my hand around it. Still holding mine, we both guided him between my legs. At the slightest brush of him against me, I grew even wetter. I let go, my hands moving around to grasp his ass as he slid slowly into me. It had been a while for me and I threw my head back in sensual overload at the pleasure burn of his entrance.

  “Jocelyn,” he grunted, “you feel unbelievable.”

  In answer, I squeezed his backside, urging him to go faster.

  He did.

  “Harder,” I moaned. “Harder, Braden. Harder.”