by Cox, Whitley
She’d been taken aback when she first moved in by just how clean he was, how spotless his house seemed. Curt had been a slob, so the military level of tidiness in Brock’s home was alarming. Though he’d quickly confided that it wasn’t all him. He had a housekeeper, Marlena, who came once a week to tidy and do the floors and bathrooms.
It didn’t mean Brock still wasn’t a bit of a neat freak who gave her the stink-eye when she set her water glass down on his oak coffee table without a coaster.
“I’m the boss tonight,” he said gruffly, dragging his side of the duvet down and sliding between the sheets. He hadn’t bothered with boxers, and she could already see his erection springing to virile life.
Her eyebrows flew up. “Is that so? Seems to me you were the boss earlier today. I think it’s my turn. If that’s what we’re doing here, switching?”
He shook his head. “Today was different. You were apologizing.”
“And last night? What were those six spanks?”
“You being insubordinate.”
She pushed herself up to full seated position and glared at him. “Insubordinate?”
He grunted again with a nod. “Rolling them baby blues at me like some cheeky Catholic school girl. Next time I’ll get out the yardstick.”
“What are you going to have me do, then?” she asked, being sure to add just enough sass to her tone to make his nostrils flare.
“You’re going to tell me all about your time with your Polish friend while I go down on you.” Then forgoing all customary acts of foreplay, not even a kiss, he slunk down the bed until he was positioned between her legs. An irritated and impatient scowl crossed his face as he pulled off her underwear, as if it was the most inconvenient and inconsiderate thing in the world for her to be wearing panties to bed.
“Now, what was her name?” He wasted no time in getting down to business and, using the entire surface area of his tongue, swept it up between her folds. She let out a contented sigh and closed her eyes.
“Her name was Maja.”
“And how did you two come to be together?” he asked, managing to speak through his task.
She swallowed. “We, uh … we met in Panama, at a bus station. We decided to get a hostel together to save money.”
“And is that where you … ?”
“N-no … oh God, that feels good.” Knowing that she loved it when he rubbed her with his stubble, he started using his prickly chin against her clit, exploring her cleft with his fingers. Alternating the torture with nibbles and nips on her inner thighs. “Oh … God, yes.”
“When did the two of you finally hook up?”
“Not until a bit later … ” She shamelessly bucked up into his face. Her hands traveled along her own body and cupped her breasts, pulling and twisting the nipples just hard enough that the pain was exquisite but not overwhelming. “We decided to go to the San Blas Islands, and that’s where we first hooked up.”
“How did it happen?”
“We were at a beach party. Dancing and drinking in our bikinis. There were a couple of guys who had just shown up that day. We’d been there for a few days at this point … Oh God … these guys were Spanish, I think, and pretty aggressive compared to the rest of the friends we’d been meeting along the way. And they wouldn’t leave Maja alone. We stuck close together and as the night progressed started behaving more like a couple, just to get the guys to back off. We were dancing on the beach, and I’m not quite sure who kissed who first, but before I knew it, we were making out, our breasts knocking as our drinks sloshed into the sand.”
“And then what?”
She exhaled. “And then we found ourselves back in our bungalow. A tangle of limbs and lips and curious hands. We were only in our bathing suits to start, so it was easy enough to get naked. At first, we just kissed. She was a good kisser, a really good kisser. She had a tongue ring and it … ” Krista squeezed her eyes shut tight, envisioning Maja and her perky breasts and hourglass hips swaying toward her, licking her lips. She was stunning. Soft curves, light brown hair, bright blue eyes, absolutely gorgeous. “I think at first I was surprised that she found me attractive.” She went on. “I mean, she was supermodel beautiful, and I’m, well … ”
His head popped up. “You’re what?”
“I’m … me … ”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Brock’s brows furrowed into a deep frown. Were they really going to do this now?
“I mean I know I’m not hideous or anything, but I’m no Maja. My hair is insane and uncooperative; my skin is near translucent; and I have more freckles than the beach has sand. Maja was perfect.”
He fixed her with a fierce and menacing glare. “I think you’re fucking perfect, and I don’t want to EVER hear you say anything self-deprecating again, you got that?” He grabbed her leg, pulled it up so her hip left the bed, and a firm hard smack came right down on her exposed butt cheek.
Krista yelped.
His eyes were like hot daggers, boring into her soul. “I wouldn’t have fucked your brains out four months ago and accidentally knocked you up if I didn’t think you were hot as hell. And I wouldn’t be continuing to fuck your brains out now if I still didn’t find you beautiful, so shut the fuck up.” And then he slid back down onto his stomach. “Continue with your story.”
Krista’s mouth just hung open. No one had ever spoken to her like that before, with such raw and heated passion. And to hear such things from Brock, a man who kept his feelings so closely guarded that one might suspect him a robot—if she hadn’t been already lying down, she would have been knocked flat on her ass.
His eyes flashed open, and a growl rumbled up from deep in his chest and buzzed on his lips. “Continue with the story, Krista.”
Licking her lips, she continued. “Uh … so we kissed for a while on the bed, and then the booze must have hit my system, because I got brazen and bold and let my hand trail down her body, exploring her plump folds, pumping and scissoring until she was panting and begging me for more. I’m not going to lie, it was a pretty big high knowing I could turn her on and get her off like that. I wanted to see if I could do more. I slowly sank down onto my stomach and licked her. I’d never been with a woman before, never stared a pussy in the face before, and it was equal parts exciting and terrifying. But I just did the things that I liked.”
“And what do you like?”
She glanced down her body at him and laughed. “Oh, you know what I like.”
His own chuckle made her heart sing. “Tell me anyway.”
“Long sweeping glides of the tongue up my folds, ending with a flick on my clit.” He did just that, and she dissolved further into the mattress. “Rhythmic and predictable circles until my clit begins to swell.” He followed suit, and she began to thrust into him again. “My fingers got curious, and I wanted to see what she felt like on the inside, so I slipped one in first and then another, stroking her walls, pumping and coaxing. It didn’t take long for her to come again.”
He opened one eye, and the brow rose with it. “Keep talking.”
“Well, after she came, we switched positions and she ate me out. And, well … it was great. She’d never been with a girl before, either, but she knew what she liked, and it did the trick. Little flutters of her tongue, long hard sucks, exploring and curious fingers pumping. It was weird at first to see a woman’s head bobbing up and down between my legs, but after a minute or two I closed my eyes and it really didn’t feel any different. If anything, she was a little gentler, and I liked that.” His assault eased up a bit, an attempt at gentle. A smile coasted across her face.
“And then we sixty-nined and got each other off again, finally falling asleep cuddled up naked on the bed to the sound of the crashing waves and wind in the palm trees.”
He didn’t say anything, so she figured she’d just keep talking.
“We enjoyed one another’s company and didn’t really feel like hooking up with too many dudes on the trip, so we just started sleeping tog
ether. We saw more of Panama, Costa Rica, Honduras, Nicaragua and Guatemala together. Then she headed home, and I went to Belize. That’s where I had the threesome.”
“And how was that?” He added another finger and started to really thrust. His tongue went to work lapping and circling her clit.
She was getting close. She could barely whisper out her story, he was making her so frantic.
“It was good. They’d never had one before, and I’d never had one before, so we were all nervous little noobs. They were married and on a second honeymoon, a bit older than me. Had left the kids with the grandparents for a week.”
“What did the three of you do?” His words sent a sweet buzzing vibration straight up through her core. She clenched her muscles around him, bucking up into his face. She was going to lose it soon. The man was a master at the craft of seduction.
“We, uh … B-Brock, I’m really close.”
“What did you do?”
Gnashing her molars together and silently cursing his name, she pushed all thoughts of an orgasm out of her head and focused on answering him. “Fine. I, uh … I ate her out while he fucked her. Then he ate me out while she sucked him off. Then he fucked me, then her, then me again, and then finally we ended in triangle where everyone was eating and being eaten. It was filthy and wrong and so much fucking fun.”
He twisted his fingers inside her pussy, drew his chin up along her clit, and she lost her ever-loving mind. An orgasm unlike any other, a force all its own, ripped through her body.
Krista bowed her back and opened her mouth, but no words came out, nothing but a squeak and a silent plea to the heavens. She willingly leapt off the cliff and let the orgasm take hold, eviscerating her body, her mind and moving on to her very soul.
He sat up, his weight shifting the bed as he slid off. “Good girl.”
Slinging one arm over her eyes, Krista melted like a popsicle in the sun, deeper into the mattress, her chest rising and falling in erratic breaths.
Did he just say, “Good girl”?
Removing her arm, she let one eye lazily peel open.
His smirk was smug and satisfied. “A little tired, are we?”
“Screw you,” she muttered, choosing to close her eye again rather than engage in a sassy argument over the fact that he’d just said “good girl,” like she was some labradoodle he was teaching to sit and roll over.
He growled. “You’re about to.” His knee dipped back into the mattress, and the feeling of his big body hovering over hers finally made her open her eyes again.
She pushed at his chest, but of course he didn’t budge. “No, no more. I can’t keep my eyes open. That was intense.”
He did a little pelvic swirl and positioned himself at her entrance. And of course, her damn body betrayed her, always willing and eager for more of Brock’s attention, and she spread her legs, lifting her hips to welcome him. “I’ll be quick. Your little confession was such a turn-on, I’ll be done in thirty seconds.”
She laughed as her arms drifted up to rest on his shoulders, her eyes closing sluggishly. His lips found hers and she wedged her tongue into his mouth, tasting her release and getting turned on by the thought of what he’d just done.
“Oh, all right,” she moaned, tugging on his bottom lip. “But make it snappy. I’m tired ... unless of course you’re willing to let me be the boss? Then I think I could find the energy to paddle your sweet ass for a bit.”
“Not a chance there, beautiful.” He chuckled.
“You’re a bossy fucker, you know that?” she said, bowing her back to welcome him.
“You love it … God, I love fucking you.” He grunted, lifted his hips and drove home.
Chapter Sixteen
New Year’s Eve had been brutal for Brock. As hard as he’d tried to pawn off a security gig in Vancouver onto one of his brothers, he couldn’t. Chase was on an assignment, and Stewart needed two guys, one of them needing to be Brock. So he dragged Rex along and left Heath to keep an eye on Krista and another eye on Slade.
But it was an assignment he wasn’t looking forward to. Some local celebrity’s twenty-something daughter was the target. Threats had been made on her life. Everything was supposed to go down on New Year’s Eve at her parents’ annual party at their yacht club, so they’d hired detail and upped the security.
The party had been boring as fuck, in Brock’s party-hating opinion, and he was beginning to think nothing was going to happen until around one forty-five all hell broke loose. A smoke bomb went off, making the entire place a foggy mess of screaming bodies. Shots were fired, and Rex had been knocked to the ground and nearly trampled by the half-drunk mob of Richie Riches clambering over him to get out.
Thankfully, no one was severely injured. The daughter had been a decoy target, and the assailants were actually after her father, who unfortunately sustained a gunshot to the arm, though it wasn’t fatal. They made a weak attempt to kidnap his daughter but were unsuccessful. The whole thing, upon later reflection, seemed incredibly disorganized, so between the security team and Brock, and eventually Rex who was a bit bruised—both his ego and his limbs—they brought down the three kidnappers and had them in custody by two o’clock.
But Brock was exhausted. The paperwork, the cleanup, the reiteration of his account to the police seemed endless. By the time he and Rex checked into their hotel at six in the morning, he had a splitting headache and was dead on his feet. Neither of them moved or made a sound until noon, and even then it was just a series of grunts and grumbles coming from his wounded little brother as his injuries caught up with him.
He and Rex were forced to head straight to Stewart’s for a debriefing once they got off the ferry. Then Stewart’s wife insisted on feeding them dinner, so by the time Brock got home, the lights were out and Krista was in bed. He welcomed the idea of crawling under the covers next to her lithe, warm body and smelling that incredible scent as he drifted off. It’d become so much easier to fall asleep and sleep well since she moved into his bed. Her scent, her warmth, her presence, they all made him feel … complete.
Was that the word? He didn’t know.
But what he did know was that he liked having her in the house, liked having her in his bed and would do everything he could to keep her there.
Desperate not to let the creaky bedroom door wake her up, he took forever and a day to open the damn thing, his eyes zeroing in on her petite frame beneath the covers. She’d started grumbling the other day how it was no longer comfortable to sleep on her front, that it put too much pressure on her belly and she would wake up achy and uncomfortable. It seemed she’d found a solution, and that was his pillow, which she was hugging like a life preserver or some giant teddy bear.
Brock quickly showered off the day, didn’t bother with boxers and slipped into the cool sheets, taking a deep inhale as his head hit his one pillow. He’d been right. It was honeysuckle. She had the body wash, shampoo and lotion in all the same scent, and it drove him wild every time he smelled it.
He was just drifting off to sleep when a fist landed square in the center of his back.
Groaning, he rolled over, coming face-to-face with an angry angel. “What the fuck was that for?”
“You’re taking up over half the fucking bed.” She growled.
He inched over just a bit. “Better?”
She glared at him in the dark, her little button nose wrinkling. “No. You’re enormous. Easily taking up seventy percent of the bed and probably eighty percent of the covers.”
Brock rolled his eyes. He was too tired for this shit. But he also didn’t want her to go. “What do you want from me?”
“To give me space. You’re a furnace, too.”
“Do you want me to go to the other room?”
He didn’t want to, but he would. For her. For sleep.
She grew awfully quiet. “No.”
Grunting, he sat up, scooted over to the edge. Half his ass cheek was hanging off, but hopefully that would appease the mother
bear in his bed. “Better?”
She nodded. “You just need to be more considerate while you’re sleeping.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, woman, how can I be more considerate while I’m sleeping? I’m sleeping. I have no idea what I’m doing!” Grumbling and swearing under his breath, he pulled a bunch of covers off his side and draped them over her. “There! Better?”
She grinned. “Yes.”
That sassy little smile. Fuck. It got him every time. Even when she was being an irrational, hormonal back-punching nut job, he wanted her. He always wanted her. Never one to care about having anyone to kiss at midnight, he’d hated the idea of Krista sitting home alone the other night, ringing in the new year alone.
“How’d it go?” she asked, rolling over onto her side and propping her hand under her head.
He grunted. “How’d what go?”
“Your job?”
He lifted one shoulder. “Everyone’s safe.”
Her lips twisted, and she drew circles on the bottom sheet of the bed with her finger. Her eyes followed her finger. “Maybe next time you could call me when you go out on a job.” She lifted her head just a touch, her eyes pinning on him. “Let me know you’re safe. I worry about you too, you know.”
Brock’s chest tightened, and his throat felt raw. Here he’d been giving her shit for not behaving responsibly enough, meanwhile he could be doing more, too. He nodded stiffly. “Okay.”
Her smile was small but triumphant.
He gave her the side-eye. He needed a distraction, and the way her breasts squished together when she was on her side like that was doing a hell of a job. “Well, now that we’re awake, you want to bang?”
Her eyes brightened, and her smile grew. She scooted across the bed, tossing his pillow to the floor, and looped her leg over his hip. “What did you have in mind?”
* * *
Several of Krista’s orgasms later, and with a mildly numb tongue, Brock tossed the covers back again and crawled his way up the bed, his body hovering just over Krista’s. Her eyes were shut and her breathing ragged as she came down from the last climax, a sexy flush rushed across her cheeks, and that wild mane of fire fanned out over her pillow in a curly, honeysuckle-scented arc.
