by Mia Malone
Brody didn't want to tell her that she’d helped shaking him out of what he’d become because that would only make him sound even more pathetic.
“I still haven’t found my way back to that energy,” he murmured.
“That’s because you make good but kind of boring lobster rolls, and a standard soup that tastes like something out of a can.”
Had she just told Brody Baker, the Brody Baker, that his soup tasted like canned shit?
“Marie...”
“It will be good to renovate the menu. You’ll see,” she said. “And your daughter will come around. My kids will come around too.”
She leaned into his side, and he shifted an arm around to put it around her shoulders.
“Your kids will come around too?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “They hate me.”
Chapter Seven
Carbonara
Marie
“Your kids hate you?” Brody asked.
“Yes,” I admitted.
He had shared pieces of himself I was sure he would very much have preferred not to tell me about, so I should tell him about my family.
“Pretty sure they don’t.”
“Pretty sure they do,” I countered.
Then I told him about Amelia and her busy social life, Joey and his godawful girlfriend, and how proud I was of them but also how enormously disappointed and pissed off I felt. I went on to talk about the country club and my friends who thought I’d gone insane, and my sister who wanted me to smoke pot. He was silent and kept watching me while I talked.
When I was done, he just kept watching me, and then his eyes softened.
“Babe,” he said.
“So, you see. My kids hate me. My sis is pretty unpleasant. I slept with both boring-Ted and sleazy-Mark and had to move away from it all. Your daughter gave you a grandchild, your brother and mother are fantastic, and I’m sure you’ve never slept with anyone who was dull enough to make your eyes dry up.”
He was about to say something when his phone rang again, and the name Thea flashed on the screen.
“Take the call,” I murmured and tried to move away to give him some privacy.
He pressed me closer to his side and put the phone at his ear.
“Thea. I’m gonna sulk until tomorrow, and you're gonna have to let me. I will call you.” There was a brief silence, and then he added, “Go take care of your daughter, I can hear her.” Pause. “Yeah? Your grandmother will like that.” And finally, “I'll call you tomorrow, sweetie.”
Then he closed the call and turned off his phone.
“She named the baby Dorothy. The poor thing will be bullied relentlessly, but Mom will cry tears of joy,” he said and turned to me with a smile. “Let's eat.”
I watched him cook, and it was a simple pasta dish, but he still changed when he was in the kitchen. The way he focused and suddenly moved with grace and strength slid right through me. I’d hoped to end the evening being naked with him and tried not to feel so disappointed, which was selfish and inconsiderate. After the phone call from his daughter, I guessed he'd want to be alone or perhaps call Patrick to share the news and talk about things.
“Sit,” he ordered and nodded toward the table. “I’ll bring the plates over.”
I topped up our glasses and sat down.
“Pasta alla carbonara,” he murmured.
The spaghetti smelled fantastic, and I was hungry, so I took a big bite, and immediately moaned softly. There was a salty taste of some kind of chopped up and fried bacon, and it blended heavenly with the creamy coating on the pasta and the cheese he'd sprinkled over the plates.
“God, this is good,” I murmured, not caring that I mumbled it around a mouth full of food.
“It’s a specialty from Rome,” Brody said, and the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly when I momentarily stopped chewing.
I’d always wanted to go to Italy, and had put Rome on my bucket list, but surely he couldn’t have –
“Yeah, babe, I’m sorry. I read the list you wrote,” he said calmly and twirled his fork expertly to gather up spaghetti.
I choked, swallowed and reached for my glass.
“All of it.”
When I had stopped coughing, and he stopped laughing, I stared at him
“I was drunk,” I wheezed out. “I know how far 5K is.”
“Three point one miles,” he confirmed what Google had already told me. “I can give you a piece of Rome...” He circled a hand over his plate. “I also run, so we’ll get you up to five kilometers.”
He didn’t add anything else, so I smiled feebly and nodded. Then he moved on to talk about running shoes and tights, and I relaxed, hoping that he had had the decency to stop reading before he reached the bottom corner.
I really should have known better, and my hopes were crushed when we'd finished the pasta, and the wine, and were back on the couch with coffee and a small glass of a dark brown liqueur he told me was Nocino. It was made from walnuts, and apparently not from Rome, but it was from Italy.
“So, babe. Boring-Ted didn’t provide fantastic sex?”
I promptly inhaled the sip of liqueur I had in my mouth and started coughing.
“You read the whole list?” I wheezed out.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, God.”
“Bet you didn’t say that with sleazy-Mark.”
“Brody!”
He took the glass I was clutching as if it was a lifeline and set it on the coffee table. Then he leaned over me and let his mouth trail over my cheek toward my neck. The soft scrape from the stubble on his jaw made me shiver, and then he kissed me softly, just beneath my ear.
“Don’t be embarrassed, baby,” he murmured. “I really want a shot at showing you what it can be like. Pretty sure it would be fantastic.” He straightened slowly and added with a crooked grin, “We could even do it doggystyle.”
Dog –
“Oh, God,” I repeated breathily.
“It’s one of my favorites,” he murmured against my lips. “But I’m pretty open to anything if you want to explore.”
His tongue slid over my lips, and I opened my mouth, not sure if I wanted to protest or tell him to get to it immediately, but then his tongue was in my mouth and I lost all rational thoughts. The way he kissed me was hot, so I melted into him instead, and didn't say anything at all.
“Shower-sex,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“Taking me into your mouth. Or riding me, right here on the couch...”
My befuddled mind registered that he was listing possible positions, but then he pushed me down on my back and came down on top of me.
“For you, baby,” he said and watched me with eyes full of soft humor. “I might even do it on the kitchen counter.”
Images of what he wanted to do swamped my mind, and I felt a blush creep up my cheeks.
“Brody,” I murmured and tried to pull him closer, so he wouldn't see how embarrassed I was.
“No,” he said and put a hand under my chin. “Rule number one to fantastic sex; No shyness.”
“What?”
There were rules?
“We'll start with that, baby. I'll take the lead, but you're gonna have to follow, willingly and without being embarrassed about it.” He moved back slightly and asked, “Can you do that for me?”
Could I?
I looked at the amazingly attractive man pinning me to the couch. Felt his hard crotch press against my hip, and his steady hand under my jaw. His eyes were calm, and there was strength in them, but also laughter.
“Yeah,” I heard myself saying. “I can totally do that, Brody.”
He kissed me again, and his hands started gliding over me. I moved my own over his strong back and in under his tee.
“So, you’re gonna follow my lead, Marie?” he murmured against my shoulder and let his tongue slide over my collarbone at the same time as his hand slid u
p to cup my breast.
“Yes,” I agreed, thinking that right then, I’d do just about anything.
“Take my cock out and start stroking it,” he said and shifted slightly away from me.
It sounded like a dare, but I didn't think and let my hand slide down his back and around until it hit the top of his jeans.
No shyness, I promised myself.
Slowly, I unzipped them and did what I'd thought more than once about doing.
I slid my hand inside his briefs and pushed them down until he was free. Then I took him in my hand and started caressing the length of him. He closed his eyes and groaned deep in his throat.
“You like?” I breathed out.
“Haven’t been this hard in a very long time. Fuck –” He cut himself off when I squeezed harder and groaned again. “That’s it, just like that.”
I moved my hand faster, and he grunted out another curse.
“You like,” I concluded.
“Babe,” he rasped out and put his hand on top of mine. “Easy, or I'll come all over your stomach.” I shuddered at his words and moved my hips slightly, hoping to relieve some of the pressure that had settled there, and he narrowed his eyes. “You like dirty talk,” he said, not putting it as a question.
I kept moving my hand, but he pulled it away and pushed his briefs up to cover him again. I wanted to protest, but his mouth was on mine, and I felt him pull my skirt up slowly, and a hand slid along the inside of my thigh until it reached the panties made entirely of black lace.
“Sexy,” he murmured.
Then he moved his fingers along the edge, and in under the lace until he was stroking me. He was gentle at first but increased the pressure until I couldn’t hold back a soft whimper. It still wasn’t enough, and I widened my legs a little, hoping that he’d get the hint.
“What do you want, baby?” he murmured in my ear.
“Touch me,” I breathed out. “God, Brody, just touch me.”
“Where?”
Where? Where did he think I wanted him to touch me?
Then I realized that he wanted me to use specific words, to say things I’d never in my life said to anyone, and I stiffened.
“No shyness, Marie,” he said and tightened his grip in a way that shot through me. “Do you want me to touch your clit?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Say it.”
“Touch my clit, Brody,” I said immediately.
He slid a finger through my folds and started circling it.
“Like this?”
“God, yes.”
“You want me to make you come?”
I whimpered and widened my legs even further, too far gone to be embarrassed about anything.
“Please, Brody,” I moaned. “Please, just –”
He moved his fingers faster, and it hit me. Waves of pleasure rolled through me, and I shivered as I orgasmed.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmured in my ear. “Keep coming.”
I thought he’d stop when I started coming down, but he increased the pressure and put his mouth on mine. It built again, and I moaned into his mouth.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I want you inside me.”
“Like this?” He slid a finger in and out, and I whimpered. “One more?”
“I want you,” I rasped out.
“But you have me.”
I arched my back and looked at him.
“You’re going to make me say it?”
“If you want my cock then you'll have to ask for it, baby. I'm hard as a rock and aching to slide inside your wet pussy, but I can wait until you're ready.
I was so ready I wanted to scream at him to take me, but I didn’t. Two could play this game, I thought, gathered up my courage and moved my hand down his abs.
“Are you hard, Brody?” I moved a hand over him again, outside his briefs, stroking the length of him. “Aching?”
“Jesus,” he grunted.
“Maybe you should do the begging?” He groaned, and I smiled into his neck. “I want you inside, Brody. Please put your cock inside me.”
He moved back and pulled me up until we were standing, and I thought we'd transfer the activities into his bedroom, but he pulled a small packet out of his pocket and grinned at me as he sat down again. Then he pulled down his jeans and briefs and started stroking himself.
I watched him open the package with one hand and his teeth, and then he rolled on a condom in one swift movement.
“Come here,” he said and pulled me closer.
His hands went up my thighs under my skirt to slide off my panties, and then he jerked me down on his lap.
“You had a condom in your –”
I felt the hard length of him as his hands cupped my behind to grind me against him, and heard his low rumble of laughter.
“Mom put Pat and me in the boy scouts,” he murmured, and one of his hands slid down and around. “We got thrown out, but we learned to always...” a finger slid inside, and another started flicking my clit, “Be prepared.”
I started laughing breathlessly, and as he laughed with me, he lifted me, moved a hand and pushed me down on him slowly.
“Easy,” he murmured. “I’m a big guy.”
With a gasp, I lowered myself until he was fully embedded.
“Good?” he asked hoarsely.
“God,” I moaned. “So good.”
He used his hands to set the pace, and we kissed as we made love. When we both were breathing heavily, he suddenly picked me up, turned us around and then I was on my back again. He kept moving slowly, and I felt one of his hands between us, teasing me until I was whimpering.
“Faster,” I moaned.
“Yeah,” he grunted and did what I asked for.
I felt it coming and dug my fingers into his shoulders.
“Fuck, can’t hold back, baby,” he groaned, and it hit me.
My vision went blurry, and through my pleasure I watched his face harden. His hips bucked jerkily, and then he tilted his head back and came on a long, hoarse exhale.
He leaned on his elbows and breathed heavily into my neck until our heartbeats had slowed down. I let my hands move in under his tee to caress his back, and realized that we were almost fully dressed. It had still been the best sex in my entire life.
“So, yeah,” Brody rasped out. “People do it on the couch.”
I turned my head to stare at him and remembered that I’d blurted that stupid question out.
“I guess they do,” I said. “I thought we’d be in bed and under the covers.”
He started laughing and squeezed me.
“We'll be in bed for the next round, babe. You'll be on your hands and knees, and I'll be behind you, though, so the covers will be on the floor.”
A shiver went through me, and he felt it.
Then I felt a tongue on my cheek, and it wasn't Brody's, so I turned to look into Boone's brown eyes.
“Go away, Boone,” Brody muttered.
“He’s probably jealous?” I suggested.
“Babe,” Brody snorted. “He’s fixed. No balls left to shave for this guy.”
“Shave?” I asked, and Brody started laughing, pressing harder into me as he did, which sent another shiver down my spine.
“Give me a few minutes,” he murmured. “Let’s open another bottle of wine and move things into the bedroom.”
“Okay,” I agreed instantly, and his face softened.
Brody
He stepped off his front porch in a way that was almost a perky skip, and he did this grinning. The sun was up, but it was early, so he'd wake Pat up which would make the moron curse some, and the thought of that made Brody’s grin widen into a broad smile.
Marie was still sleeping in his bed and had barely stirred when he kissed her cheek and told her he’d walk over to Patrick’s for a while.
“Mmm, gonna sleep some more,” she mumbled and
dug her face deeper into the pillow.
She'd be tired, Brody thought with a smug smile. He'd introduced her to doggystyle, and she had ignited in a way that had made him come faster and harder than he could remember ever doing before. He wasn’t usually a noisy lover, but it had been impossible to hold back the roar he’d pushed out, leaning over her as she moaned.
They'd made soft, sweet love in the middle of the night too, and if he hadn't been worried that she'd be sore, he would have taken her again this morning. It had felt rude to jump her like some sex-crazed maniac, so he had ordered his dick to behave and decided to take a shower and go talk to his brother instead.
“Fuck you,” Patrick said sourly when he opened the door.
“Good morning to you too,” Brody said calmly and walked inside to press the button that would start up the espresso machine.
“If you’re here to gloat then leave.”
“I’m not gonna gloat,” Brody said and hoped the smirk he felt on his face wasn't too noticeable.
“Only one thing that’ll put that annoying gleam in your eyes, so you probably should,” Pat muttered, pulled his hands through his brown hair, and scratched his short beard. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I’m a grandfather.”
Patrick froze and stared at him.
“Jag?”
“Thea.”
“What the hell?”
“She apparently gave birth to a baby called Dorothy three days ago but decided to wait until last night to tell me. Said I was frozen and not paying attention or some other shit, so she hadn't wanted to tell me before.” Brody sighed and added when he saw the look on his brother's face, “I know, man. It comes mostly from ex-wife number two. I recognized the words. Still, Thea was partially right, I'll give her that, but she was mostly fucking wrong, and I told her so. Told number two to fuck off too while I was at it.”
“Huh,” Pat grunted and narrowed his eyes. “You still seem to be in a jovial mood this morning.”
“I could gloat, but you’d start crying.”
“Huh,” Patrick repeated, and reached for a couple of mugs.
They stood in silence as the complicated and expensive machine ground beans, and then the scent of coffee spread in the room.
