Stars Over Castle Hill: A Joss and Braden Novella

by Samantha Young

  He kissed me and then slammed home. Arousal coiled tight in me as his cock kissed me so deeply. I threw my head back to cry out, my cries getting louder as he pounded into me. The sight of him straining above me, the sounds of our excited pants and groans and the wet, primal noise of sex, all of it surged me toward satisfaction, and fast. I blew apart, screaming his name as I came. I came hard. My sex throbbed around Braden.

  He stared down at me, his teeth gritting together as his body tensed at the hard tugs on his dick. “Jocelyn,” he gasped, his hips slamming hard against mine and then pumping in short jerks as he came hot and wet inside me.

  As I panted for air, my limbs loose and languid, my body purring with satisfaction and yet burning for more, Braden collapsed over me, tucking his face in my neck. His hands gripped my hips and he kneaded them as he thrust his semi-hard cock in and out of my slickness. “Fuck, babe,” he muttered, pressing kisses along my neck and down my shoulder. “You can make a man come hard.”

  “Yeah, you did okay yourself,” I teased, still a little breathless.

  Braden pulled back and grinned, a wicked, beautiful grin that turned me to mush. “Okay? I’ll take that as a challenge.”

  And before I could stop him, he was kissing his way down my body. “Braden, no,” I tried to argue, knowing where his destination lay. “I should shower first.”

  “I could give fuck about that.” He stared up at me from his position between my legs. “I made a promise to lick and suck you and I intend to keep that promise until you come on my tongue and on my cock too many times to count.”

  “You’re a little dirty,” I whispered back. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

  His answer was to dip his head and press his mouth to me.

  My head flew back as sensation ripped through my oversensitized body. He suckled my clit, pulling on it hard, and he played me with expertise. When my breaths grew more shallow, grew shorter, harsher, quicker, when my hips started to undulate faster against his mouth, he would know I was reaching climax and he’d pull back.

  “Bastard,” I huffed in pained, unfulfilled desire.

  His fingers dug into my hips, bruising. “Tell me what you want, Jocelyn.”

  “You know what I want.”

  “Say it. I want to hear you beg me.”

  I think I might have growled in frustration. “You really are a bastard.”

  “Babe.”

  “Fine!” I huffed and then whimpered, pushing my hips into him. “Please. I want you.”

  “To …?”

  I shivered with need, no longer caring what I said or how I sounded. “Fuck me. Fuck with me with your mouth, your tongue, your fingers, whatever. Just fuck me.”

  I instantly had his tongue back, this time licking inside me. My fingers curled into the sheets beneath me as I writhed against his touch. And then two fingers slid inside me as he licked. “Braden!” I gasped.

  And then he stopped.

  “I’m going to kill you!”

  His laughter puffed against my sex.

  I was about to consider murder when I got his mouth back and this time, as tears of frustration pricked my eyes in fear that he’d stop, he didn’t. The orgasm that rocked through me almost blew my head off, my body shuddering in what felt like never-ending hard pulses.

  My eyes flew open as my inner muscles throbbed in release and my already staggered breath stopped at the sight of Braden kneeling over me, staring at me like I was the most awe-inspiring thing he’d ever seen.

  And that’s when I felt the trickle of panic again.

  This time as Braden eased inside me with torturously delicious slow thrusts, the panic didn’t recede. Because as he braced himself above me, his hands at either side of my head, our eyes held as he moved inside me.

  In that moment, I felt like he could see deep, deep inside me, to where all the broken parts of me lay.

  And I felt like I could see inside of him where all his shattered dreams had once lay, dreams he was beginning to believe in again.

  A dream he was beginning to believe in again.

  Fear cascaded over me and I tried to convince myself I was wrong, that his feelings for me couldn’t have grown so much so soon.

  But as my breath caught on each sensuous thrust toward orgasm, his eyes never left me, and his longing punched through me, trying to reach for my heart.

  And I realized I would let him take it. I would let him take it all.

  And then I would inevitably lose him.

  No.

  NO.

  “Jocelyn,” he brushed a kiss across my lips, “where the fuck have you been all this time?” He groaned and pressed his forehead against mine, squeezing his eyes closed as if he were in pain.

  And then he came.

  Afterward he kissed me, long, wet, deep kisses but I was starting to feel like I couldn’t breathe.

  “Braden.” I pulled my head away and pushed at his chest. “Braden, get off,” I panted, trying to breathe.

  He frowned down at me. “Babe?”

  “Get off.”

  He stared down at me confused while black spots started to cover my eyes.

  “Get off!” I found enough air to scream.

  I didn’t even take in his expression. All I knew was that the pressing weight of him was gone. I jumped off the bed, hurried out of the room, crashed into the bathroom door, and slammed it shut behind me.

  I had the presence of mind to lock it before I launched myself across the room at the window, throwing it open. Cold air rushed in around me and I struggled to suck it in.

  My skin felt cold and clammy, and my head prickled all over.

  Eventually my breathing eased, and the rushing of blood in my ears died to a gentle whoosh.

  “Jocelyn,” Braden called loudly outside. “Jocelyn!” He hit the door and I could tell by the impatient concern in his voice that he had been there a while. “If you don’t open this fucking door, I will break it down!”

  Shaking badly from the aftermath of my panic attack, I slowly made my way over to the door and turned the lock.

  When I opened it, Braden towered over me. He had on his pants, putting at me a distinct disadvantage, so I reached up a trembling arm and pulled the robe off the hook on the back of my bathroom door. I slipped it on to cover my nakedness from him.

  He frowned at me. “What the hell happened?”

  I realized I care about you and that you care about me and I am absolutely fucking terrified of it. I have a habit of losing people I love, you see. I thought I was ready to get over it.

  I’m not ready.

  I played this game with my issues, with my fears, hoping to win.

  But I wasn’t the winner this time.

  I didn’t know if I’d ever be the winner.

  “Panic attack.” I shrugged.

  His frown of concern turned to a glower of annoyance. And if I wasn’t mistaken, hurt. “Why?”

  I brushed past him, walking toward the bedroom where the rest of his clothes were.

  “I want an answer, Jocelyn.” There was a definite warning in his voice.

  Sighing, I sat down on the edge of my sex-rumpled bed and tried not to think too hard about how goddamn amazing sex with Braden Carmichael was. Instead I stared up at him, and decided that was a bad idea too.

  No man should be that sexy.

  I lowered my gaze to my bare feet. The red nail polish on my toes was chipped. I sighed again. Braden was better off without me anyway. I wasn’t exactly a well-maintained cover girl.

  And then I hated myself for thinking that because it made Braden seem shallow. He wasn’t shallow. He was real.

  He was so fucking real, it terrified me.

  “This isn’t going to work.” I forced myself to look up at him. “I can’t do this.”

  “Why not?�
�

  I tried to think of a way to explain without really explaining. “I’m not getting into it with you … All you need to know is that I’m fucked up. Okay? And I can’t do serious. I’m … I’m not made for it. I wanted to be. I thought I was ready to be … but I’m not.”

  I thought about never getting to touch him again and I felt cold at the thought. A desperate idea grabbed me. “If I knew it wasn’t serious, that you weren’t serious, then we could do this. We could keep it casual.” I gave him a halfhearted smile, already knowing by the incredulous look in his eyes that he wasn’t into the idea. Still I pushed. “Why not? Great sex with no strings. You’ve done it before.”

  “Not with you. And seven years ago, yes, definitely, I would have said yes.” Braden crossed his arms over his chest as he burned me with his indignant stare. “But I would have said yes so I could spend time wearing you down, helping you get through whatever it is that’s haunting you … until you said you’d be mine.” His voice was thick, hoarse, and there was sad realization in his gaze. “Because I want you, Jocelyn. I want you to be mine. I haven’t wanted a woman to be mine as much as I want you to be. But … Abby. My kid is a pawn to her mum. There is enough instability in her life without having a dad who is fucked in the head over another woman.

  “You have to understand, Jocelyn. My own mother didn’t want me. I was a pawn in her marriage; that marriage failed, and then I was a mere nuisance. I promised myself that I would never be with a woman who would do that to my kid, and I’ve failed. I won’t fail again. I could risk myself taking a bet on a woman who doesn’t speak about her family, who has no photos of family or friends in her entire flat,” he gestured around my space, “a woman who is, in her own words, ‘fucked up,’” he said. His words were gentle, not meant to harm, though it hurt me anyway. “I would risk myself on you in a heartbeat if it was only me to think about. But I have my kid to think about now. Her needs are always going to come before my own. And I can’t bring someone into my life, casual or not, whose issues could hurt us both more than we already have been.”

  Fuck.

  That only made me like him more.

  Like.

  That was a pitiful word. It wasn’t the right word. Not for what I felt for Braden.

  I nodded, emotion choking me. Eventually I managed to get words out. “I’m sorry.”

  Braden’s features grew taut. “Jesus, babe, you’ve no idea how sorry I am.”

  I watched in silence as he yanked on his sweater and pulled on his socks and shoes.

  And without looking at me once, without a backward glance, he strode out of my apartment as if he couldn’t bear to be around me a moment longer.

  The Sister Friend

  In an effort to avoid places I’d hung out with Braden, I decided to get my coffee fix in Old Town at Black Medicine. I had my e-reader out and was enjoying an Americano when an unfamiliar voice said, “Is this seat taken?”

  I glanced up from my e-reader to find a tall, attractive blond woman around my age smiling down at me. Looking around I could see all the tables were taken, a few by single patrons like myself. “Uh … sure.”

  She gave me a bright, beaming smile that was so charming, I found myself smiling back at her. I didn’t know how to continue as she slid into the seat opposite me and sipped at her green tea. Should I be polite and start a conversation, or would she be cool if I continued to read my book?

  “What are you reading?” she said, making the decision for me.

  I noticed her eyes and I felt a jolt of familiarity shoot down my spine. Her eyes were pale. Pale ice blue.

  Like Braden’s.

  I scrutinized her, trying to look for other similarities, but that was all I could find. Feeling silly, I shook off my wayward thoughts of Braden. It had been a month since he’d walked out of my apartment and I hadn’t heard from him. Not that I’d expected to.

  But I missed him, and I craved his company. Every time I walked out of my apartment, I was hyperaware of my surroundings, actively searching for him. If I saw a man’s head bobbing inches above the crowd, my heart would falter in my chest. Then he’d turn and it would inevitably be some stranger. Disappointment and relief would slam over me with such force, I’d feel fatigued after it.

  He was literally causing me adrenaline spikes and crashes with his mere absence.

  I was looking for him everywhere, even in strange women’s faces apparently.

  “Uh …” I shook the damn man out of my head. “I’m reading Lauren Bacall’s autobiography.”

  “I’ve never been much for autobiography reading.” She sipped at her tea. “I’m more of a tearjerker romance kind of girl.”

  “You like to be emotionally manipulated by a writer?” I teased.

  She laughed. “Exactly!”

  I caught sight of the giant rock on her ring finger nestled next to a wedding band rimmed with tiny diamonds. Wowzer. The engagement ring could take an eye out.

  The woman noted my study and waved her hand. “My husband. He wanted other men to notice the ring.”

  “Possessive sort?”

  “He does like me a great deal.”

  I laughed. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Quite abruptly, her smile dropped. “I was going to leave. I just popped in to get a green tea to go and then I saw you. I recognized you from a picture on my brother’s phone.”

  Her words stopped my breath.

  I knew who she was.

  “I’m Ellie Sutherland, formerly Carmichael.” She held out her hand and dazedly, I shook it.

  “How can I help you, Ellie?”

  “Jocelyn, right?”

  “Joss.”

  “Joss.” She grimaced. “I know this is so strange of me to plonk myself down beside you and start chatting to you like a stalker … I … felt I should.”

  “Oh?”

  “I know it doesn’t make sense but I promise I’m not a stalker.”

  “Good to know.”

  We stared at each other. And then Ellie said, “He misses you.”

  I felt like she’d wrapped her arms around my ribs and squeezed so hard they’d cracked under the pressure. Instead of answering, I looked into my coffee cup.

  “Braden’s never really spoken to me about relationship problems before. Not until you. He cared a great deal for you, Joss.”

  “Are you here to make me feel worse than I already do?”

  Her mouth parted in surprise and she flushed a little. “Braden said you were blunt.”

  “Among other things, apparently.”

  “Yes. That’s how I knew you were different from the others. You made him different. You made him how he used to be. It was nice to see … while it lasted.”

  “Look, Ellie, I—”

  “My husband Adam has somehow managed to talk me into leaving our son with him alone for boys’ night. Let’s grab some Indian food and a couple of beers and talk.”

  I didn’t know what to say to Braden’s sister. Frankly, if she were anyone else, I’d think her a lunatic. However, there was something genuinely open-hearted about Ellie that made her request seem less insane.

  “We don’t know one another.”

  “That’s the whole point of girls’ night,” she teased.

  “I think … it would be a little weird if you and I tried to be friends.”

  “Not at all. I love moody, sarcastic, intimidating people. They don’t make me at all uncomfortable.”

  I laughed because I couldn’t help myself. “And I’m supposed to agree to girls’ night after being called moody and sarcastic?”

  “Well, aren’t you?”

  “Fair enough,” I ceded, and then I sighed. “Why do you really want to have girls’ night, Ellie?”

  Her eyes, eyes so like Braden’s, filled with sympathy. From anyone else, that look wo
uld’ve unleashed anger within me. Instead all I felt was sad and alone. Especially when she answered, “Because from what Braden tells me, you could use a friend.”

  “Did he put you up to this?”

  “No.”

  “Then really why are you here?”

  “I already told you why. It was pure coincidence but now that we’re here … I’m intrigued to know more. You only gave Braden half the story and my chronic nosiness can’t cope with only knowing half the story.”

  “If I didn’t tell Braden the whole story, why do you think I’ll tell you?”

  Our eyes met and held, and I felt a strange connection between us that I couldn’t understand. “Because everyone needs someone to talk to.”

  Despite not believing she’d given me her true motive for being here, I found myself drawn to Ellie Sutherland. I told myself it was because I was feeling lonely.

  Yet the truth lay deep down inside of me.

  I missed Braden and I wanted to be connected to him again. If I couldn’t be around him, then maybe Ellie was the next best thing.

  I sighed, giving in to the idea, and flicked my eyes over her. “You know your sweater is inside out, right?”

  ***

  “So your kid is called William?” I said as I dug into my korma.

  We were sitting on the couch in my living room, surrounded by beers and Indian food.

  Ellie nodded. “Braden told you.”

  “Yeah. I forgot how old he is, though.”

  “He’s only fifteen months.” She pulled out her phone and showed me a picture of her husband holding their adorable baby boy.

  “He’s a cutie.”

  “I know.” She sighed happily. “William is cute too.”

  I rolled my eyes at her joke. “So from what Braden told me, Adam is his best friend. That must have been interesting.”

  “More than you can imagine. But we didn’t come here to talk about me, did we? Let’s talk about you. Get it all out.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “If I wanted to talk to someone, I would’ve gone to a shrink by now.”

  In answer, Ellie looked around my living room. It was cozy and warm but the picture frames in the room contained only art. Her speculative look made me squirm in my chair. Braden had noted the lack of family photos too.