Overtones (Songs and Sonatas Book 6)

by Jerica MacMillan

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Brendan

  Even though Lauren told me to savor round two, there doesn’t end up being a round two. Not tonight anyway.

  After lying on top of her for far longer than I should, I peel myself off to dispose of the condom. When I come back out, she’s tucked under the covers and curled onto her side, her hands folded up by her face. She blinks at me and yawns so big her eyes start watering.

  “Sorry. I know we were going to have a marathon sex fest tonight. But I’m wiped out. Can we sleep a while first?”

  Before I can answer, I let out a yawn of my own.

  Lauren grins as I crawl into bed behind her and looks at me over her shoulder. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Before I can overthink the impulse, I hook an arm around her waist and pull her back to my chest, my legs curling up behind hers. “That’s definitely a yes. I’m pretty sure I got less sleep than you did last night. I was up for hours with a hard-on that wouldn’t quit.”

  She snorts. “Really? Even after you came all over me like that?”

  I nod, yawning again. “Yeah. I kept thinking about it.” I press a kiss behind her ear, which earns me a gratifying little shiver. “Seriously, the sight of you making yourself come is better than any porn. That memory will keep me going for years.”

  Her body jiggles as she laughs silently. “Glad I can help you out like that.”

  Smiling, a contented hum rumbles in my chest, and I close my eyes as I snuggle her in close to my body. I’m not normally a cuddly guy, but something about this just feels right. I’m so tired, and she’s all warm and soft and comfortable. All I want to do is hold her and sleep. “You can help me out again later, too.”

  “You want me to masturbate for you again?”

  My eyes pop open, and I lift my head to look down at her face. She’s vibrating in my arms with suppressed laughter. “Well,” I draw out, “I could go for that. But I plan on being the one to help you finish.”

  “Deal,” she chokes out.

  Lying back down, I shush her. “You’re being awfully chatty for someone who says they’re too tired to have sex again. If you want to sleep, be quiet and still, or I’m likely to get hard again. And then you’ll have to take care of it before I can get some sleep.”

  “Oh, I’ll have to take care of it, will I?”

  My eyes have fallen closed, and the only thing that’s really in the way of me making good on my threat is the fact that I’m too sated and exhausted to get it up again right now. “Yup. That’s our deal.”

  She’s quiet for long enough that I think she’s letting it go, but her voice drifts through the waves of sleep trying to pull me under. “Does it work the other way too? If I’m horny and need relief, you’ll take care of it for me?”

  “Course,” I mumble and press a kiss to her shoulder. “Now shhh. I’m sleepy.”

  That seems to be the right answer, because she doesn’t say anything else, instead pulling my arm more tightly around her and pressing herself back against me more firmly, if that’s possible. And between one breath and the next, we’re both asleep.

  Lauren’s voice wakes me, but it sounds kind of muffled. And irritated.

  Sitting up, I rub the last vestiges of sleep from my eyes, looking around the room to orient myself. That’s right. We stopped for the night in Nowheresville, BFE so we could have wild monkey sex.

  My morning wood throbs at the memory, and I throw the blankets off.

  The light glows under the bathroom door, and I stop on the other side, the frustration in Lauren’s voice deterring me from throwing it open and stroking myself in front of her while she’s on the phone in hopes of getting her to end the call. It’s not even nine. I figure we still have plenty of time for round two before checkout.

  “Mother! I told you already. I’ll be home soon.” Pause. “I don’t know. A week or so at the most. It depends on what all we decide to do.” Pause. “It’s not a problem.” Short pause and a deep sigh. “Yes. He is. But the trip was his idea. He can afford it.” Another sigh, and I back away.

  There’s no way she wants me eavesdropping on this conversation, even though sitting on the bed in the otherwise silent room isn’t any better. It’s less creepy and obvious than having my ear pressed to the door, but still not what I’m going for.

  I make a big production of moving around the room so she knows I’m up. Which shifts the conversation from wherever it was to her trying to get off the phone. From the single sentences she utters, punctuated by pauses while she listens to her mom, it doesn’t sound like her mother is receptive to, well, anything.

  “I’ll call you later, Mom. Yes, I promise. If we’re going to get to New York, we need to get on the road sooner than later. Yes, we’re driving safely. Yes, we have emergency gear in the car. I don’t know, Mom. Probably the highway patrol. I’m hanging up now. I’ll call you tonight. Yes, Mother. Goodbye. No. Bye. Yes. Bye.”

  The rising growl of frustration makes me think she’s managed to actually hang up the phone. Which is confirmed when she flings the door open, her cheeks flushed, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, eyes blazing. And stark naked.

  My flagging erection perks up at the sight of her. She’s hot as fuck when she’s angry.

  Who am I kidding? She’s hot as fuck no matter what.

  Her chest heaving, she stands in the open doorway, one hand still hanging onto the door, the other clenching her phone. She pauses long enough to check me out—a slow perusal wandering down and back up my body, making my dick twitch to full hardness.

  Damn. She has that effect on me with just one long look.

  Last night might’ve been the start of something dangerous.

  But damned if I care.

  Stepping into the room, she crosses her arms over her chest, which is disappointing, but I keep that thought to myself.

  “So that was my mom.”

  “I gathered.”

  She lets out a puff of air, almost a laugh, looking up and to the right and shaking her head. “How much did you hear?”

  Lifting a shoulder in a shrug, I venture a step closer to her. “Enough to be able to tell that she’s maybe not thrilled about our little impromptu road trip.”

  She looks me in the eye, watching me as I step closer. “You could say that.”

  “Is there anything that would make her feel better?”

  Her teeth sink into her lower lip, and I close the remaining distance between us, standing close enough that I could reach out and touch her. Or she could reach out and touch me.

  But we don’t. Not yet, anyway. She looks at me, worrying her lip, and I wait for her answer.

  With another gust of breath, she shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I was supposed to be home today. I’d texted my mom that I was going with a friend on a little side trip, but apparently that didn’t communicate to her that I was not, in fact, coming home today. She was … displeased to learn that I’m not about to board my flight back to Spokane and then driving home from there.”

  “Displeased? That sounded more than displeased.”

  She huffs another laugh, one corner of her mouth turning up a tiny bit as she drops her eyes and looks at the ground. “Yeah, well. I’m the queen of understatement.”

  Standing like this—naked, arms crossed, eyes downcast—she looks impossibly vulnerable. I want to scoop her up and hide her somewhere and never let anything upsetting or disappointing or bad come near her again.

  That’s impossible—for so many reasons—so I do the next best thing right now. Reaching out, I pull her to my chest, sliding my hands over the beautifully bare expanse of her back, tracing her shape with my palms. She leans against me, laying her head against my chest and letting out a deep sigh.

  “Hey.” I keep my voice gentle. “What about you? Is there anything that would help you feel better?”

  She turns her face up to me, her eyes large and brown, holding my gaze for a long moment. “Kiss me,” she whispers.
<
br />   I examine her face in return, lingering on her lips, pinker from her biting them. Then I lower my mouth to hers, intending to keep things soft. Comforting.

  But she’s having none of it.

  As soon as my lips slide against hers, she opens her mouth and thrusts her tongue into mine. Her arms slither out from between us, wrapping around my neck and holding tight, her phone digging into the back of my neck.

  Her aggression spurs something in me—some primal urge to win, to conquer, to dominate—and I clamp my arms around her, one hand gripping her ass, the other grabbing the knot of hair on top of her head and angling her how I want her.

  She gasps, her eyes going wide and dark with desire when I jerk her head back. With a low growl, I pull her head to the side and bite the exposed skin of her neck, sucking and tonguing it afterward to soothe the sting.

  “Yesss,” she hisses, her free hand gripping my hair, her nails digging into my scalp. She holds on while I bite and suck a path to her collarbone, and then she jerks on my hair. When I raise my head slowly, resistant to her command, she pulls my face to hers.

  But I can’t resist that. I want her mouth as much as she wants mine. Reaching behind me, I grab her damned phone, yank it out of her hand and drop it on the floor. Then with my hands at the juncture of her ass and thigh, I lift her.

  Without hesitation, she wraps her legs around me, climbing me like a tree, my cock trapped between us until she levers herself up high enough to free it.

  The friction is enough to rip a groan out of me, made worse when she seems to be trying to impale herself on me in midair.

  Ripping my mouth from hers, I drop her on the bed.

  She glares up at me, and I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, breathing hard.

  “Condom,” I spit out.

  Her eyes widen, understanding dawning. “Hurry up,” she commands.

  With a smirk, I saunter the couple of steps to my suitcase and take my time fishing out a condom from my stash. When I straighten up, condom in hand, my eyes meet hers. She looks mutinous.

  “Fine.”

  At first I’m not sure what she means with that staccato syllable, but then she scoots herself up the bed, lays flat, and drops her thighs open, legs bent at the knees and pointing at opposite walls. Without hesitation, she shoves her two middle fingers inside her tight hole, working them in and out a few times before starting to frig her swollen little clit.

  “Fuck,” I spit out. “You think you’re going to start without me?”

  She raises her head, eyes narrowed. “You’re taking too long. So yeah.”

  Once again, I act without thinking, practically jumping on the bed and swiping her hand away. Gripping her wrist in my hand I bring her fingers to my lips, sucking them clean, my eyes never leaving hers.

  Her lips part, her face slack with surprise and desire. “Holy fuck.” The curse is uttered with reverence and wonder.

  When I’m done licking her fingers clean, I thrust my own inside her. “Mine,” I growl.

  The desire is momentarily eclipsed by surprise, but when I tap that spot inside her that makes her turn to a puddle of goo, her eyes close, and she moans.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” I tell her. “That’s better than your own tiny fingers. Isn’t it?”

  She doesn’t answer except to scrabble in the sheets with her hands and gasp and moan.

  “Isn’t it?” I demand, my fingers working her still.

  “Yes,” she gasps out. “So much better. Fuck, yes.”

  Satisfaction spreads through my chest, and I slow down a little. Enough that she opens her eyes to look at me, something like wonder on her face.

  “After this trip you’re going to be ruined for everyone else. No one else has ever touched you like this. And no one else ever will.”

  She nods, like she’s totally on board with what I’m saying. And some tiny part of my brain is watching this unfold and whispering that I must’ve lost my mind. This is a fling. A road-trip-long fuck session. We’re not in a relationship. She’s not my girlfriend. I’m not her boyfriend.

  I don’t even want a girlfriend. My life is too much in transition right now for anything like that.

  But despite all of that, I want her all to myself. I want to be the one who makes her come. The one she thinks about when I’m not around. The touch she longs for. The fantasy she uses when she gets herself off alone in her room after we go our separate ways.

  Selfish bastard that I am. I want to ruin her for other men.

  Because I suspect she might have already ruined me.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lauren

  Brendan’s fingers slow almost to a stop, and he stares at me, his eyes burning with some primal force I don’t recognize. Or won’t allow myself to name.

  Especially given what he just said.

  To distract us both, I shift my hips, urging him to resume his attention. “Fuck me, Brendan. I need you inside me. Now.”

  Those seem to be the magic words, because whatever trance he was in breaks, and he finger fucks me harder. “Fuck yes, you do.”

  I groan when he withdraws, even though I know he’s putting on the condom so he can do what I told him. When he climbs back on the bed, he wastes no time pulling my legs around his waist and pushing inside me in one hard thrust.

  This isn’t slow or languid. There’s no savoring, even though last night I told him to savor the second round. This is hard fucking, pure and simple, beginning to end. With his hands on the bed, he holds himself over me, hammering into me without mercy.

  All I can do is hold on and take it, bracing my hands on the headboard so he doesn’t pound me into it.

  “That’s it,” he grunts. “This is what you wanted. Me fucking you. Hard.”

  “Yes,” I hiss back. “Fuck me as hard as you want. As hard as you can.”

  My words spur him on, and I tilt my hips so he’s hitting my G-spot over and over, and I’m getting close, but he’s going so hard and fast that I’m not sure I’ll get there before he’s done.

  “Lauren.” My name comes out as little more than a growl. “Touch yourself. Do it.”

  I open eyes that have fallen closed from the overload of sensation. He jerks his chin down in a quick nod. “You wanted to. Now’s the time. Make yourself come. Now.”

  Even though part of me enjoys resisting his orders, enjoys the way he growls and his eyes flash in response to my noncompliance, this time I’m happy to do what he says.

  I reach between my spread thighs, parting my fingers around where he plunges into me, slick with my fluid and whatever lube is on the condom. He groans at the feel of my fingers touching him.

  “Rub your clit. Now,” he grinds out, slowing his pace a little. “Fuck, Lauren. I’m not gonna last. I need you to get there.”

  His jaw is set, his mouth a hard line, his eyes lit with some internal emotion as he drags himself in and out of me, slowing way down until I start rubbing myself. His eyes leave mine, sliding down to where our bodies join, and he watches as I start with slow circles around my clit.

  “That’s it, baby,” he encourages. “Rub that sweet little clit. If I could fuck you and suck it at the same time, I would. God, I love the way you taste.”

  My muscles clench around him as he talks, his filthy words making me hotter than ever.

  The circles get tighter, faster, and Brendan starts moving faster too. “Fuck, yeah,” he growls. “Fuck fuck fuck. You feel so good. I want you to come all over my cock. Do it. Do it now.”

  And that sends me flying, riding the wave of heat and sparks as he fucks me hard through it until he collapses on top of me, still shuddering with the aftershocks of his own orgasm.

  This time he’s a little more aware of his weight pressing me into the bed, and he lifts himself on his elbows, looking down into my face, brushing wisps of hair away from my forehead. The gentleness of the gesture is a stark contrast to the hard fucking he just gave me.

  He brushes a sweet kiss across m
y forehead and then gets up and disappears into the bathroom without a word.

  I stay on the bed, not sure what to do with myself. Last time it was late and I was super tired, so climbing under the covers was the most obvious thing to do. Now, though, it’s morning. We need to get on the road soon if we’re ever going to make it to New York. Stopping last night and the night before, especially after crawling through Colorado and taking our time over dinner and stopping earlier than strictly necessary, we’re behind where I thought we’d be by now.

  And now my parents are breathing down my neck about coming home. I take a deep breath and let it all out in one big huff of annoyance. It’s not like I’d be doing anything at home if I were there. My parents just don’t like changes of plans. And a random road trip with some guy they don’t know—never even heard me mention before—is a big change of plans.

  It’s not surprising that they’re not happy. Which is why I’ve avoided actually talking to them on the phone before now.

  But I had several messages from them over the last couple of days, and today’s was confirming my flight information. I didn’t have a choice but to call back and explain.

  “You okay?”

  Brendan’s concerned voice brings me out of my frustrated thoughts, and I prop myself on my elbows to find him standing at the foot of the bed looking down at me.

  I wave a hand, like his question is an annoying gnat. “Yeah. Fine.”

  He crosses his arms over his still-naked chest, and my eyes dip to find him still half hard. “You ready to go again already?” There’s amusement in his voice.

  I give him a scornful glance and scoff. “No.”

  He drops one arm and clutches his chest with the other hand. “Ouch. I come back to find you huffing and puffing and telling me you’re fine. And then when you stare at my dick and I ask if you want another ride, you act like it’s diseased. This isn’t how I expected you to act after the fucking of a lifetime.”

  I stare at him for a long moment then burst out laughing.