by Amelia Wilde
“Say the word, Red.” He nipped my earlobe and continued a path with his mouth to my cheek. “I want to kiss you so badly right now, but I won’t if you don’t want me to.”
I couldn’t say that. That would be the biggest lie I’d ever told in my life. I wanted his kiss; Christ, I wanted a lot more than that—it suddenly didn’t matter that we hadn’t even had a real date yet. I pushed him away, watching with some satisfaction as a vein popped out from his neck when he tried not to fight the separation.
He wanted to be close. I couldn’t agree more.
“I want you to kiss me,” I told him clearly.
He grunted and crashed his lips into mine with all the urgency and longing that had been compounding through the week. I slipped my fingers into his hair and yanked him closer, eager to feel the heat of his body. He grabbed me under the knees and hoisted me up against the door, and my legs wrapped around his waist as I ground my pelvis against him. Wanton, I thought, but I didn’t care. He was completely intoxicating. I couldn’t get close enough.
“Jesus!” Brandon moved from my lips to nip at my neck in between hurried breaths. “Fuck!”
“Yes, that!” I urged him on before he hurried back to my mouth. This wasn’t a sweet kiss in the snow or a brief onslaught in his office. This was something else completely—all-consuming, no-holds-barred, straight-up lust.
Holding my ass to keep me pressed against him, he tore us off the door and carried me easily around the kitchen table and down the hallway, toward the bedrooms.
“Which one?” Brandon demanded in between kisses.
“On the right,” I said, pulling his head back to my neck, where he could continue that magic with his tongue. I’d be wearing turtlenecks for a week after this, but it was worth every bite.
We fell as one onto my double bed, which was way too small for Brandon’s large frame. He didn’t seem to notice, preoccupied as he was with kissing across my collarbone and stretching the neckline of my dress so he could find the hollow between my breasts.
“Mmmphmm!”
“What?” I asked, barely able to speak in the way of his ministrations.
Brandon lifted his head, much to my disappointment.
“I said,” he replied hoarsely, “take it off.”
It wasn’t a request. My skin erupted in goose bumps again at the thought of him touching my bare skin—all of it. I stared at the ceiling, willing the telltale flush I knew was rising over my body to go away so I could summon the courage to strip in front of a man I hardly knew. A man, I realized, I was really starting to like.
Brandon pulled us both back up to standing and watched with a carnal expression as I nervously reached for the hem of my dress. With my eyes closed, I peeled it off like a wrapper and let it drop to the floor, leaving me in nothing but my bra, underwear, stockings, and shoes.
When I didn’t immediately feel his warmth against me again, I opened my eyes, praying I wouldn’t see disappointment. I knew I wasn’t exactly bad to look at, but I had a feeling someone like Brandon Sterling didn’t settle for just decent-looking women. A man like this could have any woman he wanted.
“Everything okay?” I asked nervously.
I still hadn’t found the courage to meet his eyes. We hadn’t even turned on my bedroom light. With the hall light streaming behind his dark form in long, bright rays, Brandon looked more like a superhero than a Friday-night date.
He had shucked his jacket, which was now hanging on one of my bedposts. He stood with one thumb hooked casually through a belt loop, his shirt charmingly untucked on one side and his tie flipped over his shoulder. His hair was a disaster from my hands yanking at it, but its disarray only added to his appeal.
“Christ,” he said quietly, staring at me with intensity and awe that I’d never seen when someone else had looked at me. Especially like this. “You are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?”
I started to look away, but Brandon stepped closer and tilted my chin up with a finger.
“Take the compliment,” he said kindly. “You are gorgeous, and I am one lucky son of a bitch to get to see it. I feel like committing murder just to make sure there’s no one else left on the planet who’s had the privilege.”
I snorted. “Well, you wouldn’t have to kill too many people. There’ve only been a few.”
“With any luck, there won’t be any others,” he said.
Before I could wonder what he meant by that, he walked me backwards to the bed.
“Lie down,” he ordered. “Put your arms above your head, and clasp your hands together.”
With another shiver that had nothing to do with being cold, I did as he said. My skin tightened, a whole new level of alive, as his lips kissed along the edge of my underwear. Suddenly, I couldn’t think anything at all.
“I want to make you feel good, Skylar.” His voice thrummed against my skin, matching the cadence of his promise. “Will you let me?”
“O-okay,” I stammered.
I wanted to tell him I would do the same for him. I was a liberated woman; I believed that sex was an equal exchange, and I wasn’t owed anything more than he was. But no words came out as he trailed his mouth up my body until he hovered over me and could once against capture my mouth with his.
“Yes,” he purred in between kisses. “Yes, you will.”
His shoulders blocked the light from the hallway. A broad hand grabbed my clasped hands and swiftly twisted me so that I was on my side, facing away from him. He settled behind me so that my ass was firmly pressed against his hard length, clearly evident even through coarse denim. He set his mouth into the crook of my shoulder, biting gently just enough to distract me from the way his other hand brushed over the slightly damp fabric of my underwear. I felt like an instrument that was being played, and he knew exactly which places would make me sing.
“Tell me what you like, Skylar,” Brandon said before he sucked my earlobe between his teeth.
“I like…that,” I said, finding it difficult to speak as his fingers continued their play.
“You like what?”
I groaned, unable to think coherently enough to speak. “That. I…don’t know!”
“You like it when I tease you like this? You’re getting so wet down here, baby.”
My hips thrust forward, begging him to give me more.
“You want me to touch you, Skylar?” Brandon traced the edge of my ear with his tongue. “Say it.”
Again, it wasn’t a request.
“Touch me,” I said weakly, even as I was starting to twist on the bed. I couldn’t take this teasing much longer. “Please.”
In response, his finger obediently dipped under the fabric. Gently, he worked one finger between my legs, finding the opening that was already aching for him to breach it.
“God damn, Skylar,” he breathed as he continued to tease with two fingers now. “You’re soaking here, baby. It makes me want to fuck you so badly. Would you like that?”
He slipped the fingers in farther, causing me to moan loudly. It was a good thing Jane was out. I hoped my classmates next door were also being social enough that they couldn’t hear me through the thin walls.
“Do it!” I urged him, only to become more frustrated when he pulled his fingers out.
“Do what, beautiful?”
I groaned. I always had a hard time talking during sex. It felt so awkward when all I wanted to do was relax into his skin, into his voice.
“Do you want me to fuck you, baby?” Brandon vibrated against my neck, causing my breath to hitch as I writhed against his hand. I was so close, so close…and yet so far.
“Yessss,” I hissed.
“God, you have no idea how much I want that, Red,” he grumbled against my shoulder. “But I can wait.”
With a swift, forceful maneuver, he twisted me over so I was facing him and consumed my mouth with another deep kiss. Both his hands roved down below my underwear and gripped my ass roughly, yanking me close so that one leg was hiked o
ver his hip. He rolled me back so that he was on top, then kissed down the length of my body until his mouth was hot over the thin barrier he'd been toying with only moments before.
“Do you want me to taste you, Skylar?” Brandon asked, his breath hot as he pressed his nose into me. “God, you smell good.”
His blunt, open language turned me on so much I could barely think, let alone speak. I just moaned again as he finally tugged my underwear off, then spread my thighs so he could fit his large shoulders between them. Brandon kneeled and tugged me forward so that I was hanging off the edge of the bed, my legs dangling over his back.
How was it possible to want someone this badly?
“Jesus!” I cried as his tongue drew a straight line up to my clit and back down again before flicking inside me.
“You taste so fucking good, Skylar,” he said as he slipped a finger in and moved his mouth back to my clit. “Will you come for me, baby? I want to feel you in my mouth. I want to feel your pussy clench around my fingers so I can imagine it around my cock.”
For the first time in my life, I didn't have much of a choice. His tongue and fingers were doing some sort of voodoo that would have eventually split me apart, but it was his words––his frank, vulgar words––that were my undoing.
“Oh, GOD!” I cried out as another finger joined the first. “I’m coming, Jesus FUCKING Christ, I’m COMING!”
Brandon continued to suck and tease, giving no mercy until the spasms coursing through my body finally lessened on their own. I sank back into my pillow with an exhausted sigh. His fingers stayed where they were, continuing to massage a spot inside me that for some reason I had never found before on my own, a spot that drew my orgasm out far past its normal length until my body lost almost all range of motion.
I lay there for a moment, caring little that I was completely exposed from the waist down, legs spread and all while his finger continued its slow, consistent movement that was starting another small fire in my belly. I inhaled, long and deep.
“What about you?” I croaked, propping myself up on my elbows with some difficulty since his hand remained where it was.
Brandon watched intently. Wow, what he was doing felt unbelievably good.
“I can repay the favor, you know,” I said with some difficulty.
His fingers pressed a little harder, and I collapsed onto my back. Brandon kept his fingers where they were, gently removed my legs from around his shoulders and moved back beside me so that we were face-to-face. He kissed me softly, but urgently enough to make my hips arch with the rhythm of his hand.
“I’ll take you up on that some time, Red,” he said against my lips. “But right now is for you. Do you like what I’m doing?”
I nodded, eyes closed with bliss. There was an unfamiliar sensation building, one that felt a lot like when I normally had a clitoral orgasm. But this was building from the inside out.
“It’s your G-spot, Red,” Brandon said in between more long, languid kisses.
“Yes, I know that,” I murmured, although with less sass than normal.
Having been relieved of the week-long tension, I already felt boneless. Poor Brandon. The insistence of his mouth betrayed a thirst not yet quenched.
“Have you ever come this way before?” he asked.
I shook my head, still unable to open my eyes as he kissed me again, long and deep. God, he was an unbelievable kisser. I almost felt like I could come from the taste of him alone.
Surprisingly, the pressure continued to mount with the steady, insistent movement of his fingers and the gentle yet urgent pull of his mouth. Like a lot of women, I had never come without clitoral stimulation, so even through my post-orgasmic haze, I was surprised to find myself approaching something like it. My insides quivered. My hips instinctually rocked into his hand.
“You’re so tight, baby,” Brandon rumbled in between kisses. “You’re almost there. Do you feel it?”
I nodded. It was growing, friction amassing in a way that left me powerless.
“Yes,” I moaned against the warm skin of his neck. “Oh my God. Yeah. Yes, something’s…coming.”
Brandon moved his fingers with more pressure, and I fought the urge to swear. This was too much. I couldn’t take it.
“You can take it,” Brandon echoed my thoughts as he slipped in a third finger.
Too delirious to realize that my internal monologue was out loud, I accepted his lips hungrily. His fingers continued their tortuous rhythm, pushing me right over the edge.
“Let it go, Skylar,” he growled as he set his thumb over my still-throbbing clit. “Let go, baby.”
Then he bit my ear and squeezed.
“AaaaaaaAAAAAAAAHH!”
The scream was a siren as I convulsed. Brandon held me tightly as I shook out my second, infinitely more intense orgasm of the night. His own breathing was heavy against my neck long after the waves of intensity had crashed through every limb, every eyelash, every strand of hair.
Finally, once my body had gone entirely limp, Brandon removed his fingers and used the towel hanging on the end of my bed to wipe them off before returning to where I lay motionless. He gathered me firmly into his chest.
“Holy shit,” I murmured against the crisp edges of his shirt collar. I was a sponge that had been completely wrung out. Emptied. And yet perfectly content. “Holy shit.”
Brandon chuckled and stroked my hair. He was still fully dressed while I was almost completely naked. My legs, however, felt like noodles, and I was too exhausted to care.
“Can I use your bathroom?" he asked a few moments later. He gently disengaged his arm from under my heavy head and got up.
My eyes still closed, I gestured vaguely with one spaghetti-like arm. “Across the hall.”
He chuckled again. “Okay, Red. I’ll be right back in a sec.”
Alone, my senses returned, and the magnitude of what just happened hit me. I stared up at the cracks in the ceiling, which suddenly seemed to gape like canyons.
This wasn’t just a fun flirtation with my former boss anymore; with his deft touch, the balance of power had been completely knocked astray. I had just been rocked completely, irrecoverably to my core. But men like Brandon Sterling could have anyone they wanted. There was absolutely no reason for him to stick around when things inevitably got tough. If this ended—no, when it ended—how could I be happy with anyone else knowing this was still out there?
This was bad.
I yanked the edge of my quilt up and burrowed under it, curling up like a shrimp and covering my nakedness. We hadn’t even left my apartment yet—we hadn’t even been on a date!—and I already knew I wouldn’t be able to say no to him. This wasn’t just bad. It was catastrophic.
“We still have time to make our reservation if we hurry,” Brandon called from the bathroom. “Don’t worry.”
What he had just done had completely shattered every other sexual experience I had ever had, and he had only removed his jacket. Don’t worry? How could I not?
14
When Brandon returned, I had on my bathrobe. The tatty blue thing wasn’t the sexiest thing in the world, but I wasn’t putting on the dress he’d stripped off me, nor was I going to parade around my room naked except for my bra and stockings. Sex was obviously not going to be a good way to assert myself with Brandon Sterling.
Without making eye contact, I sheepishly ducked into the bathroom. In the mirror, I took one look at my swollen lips, mussed hair, and blotchy skin, and smacked myself lightly on the forehead. What the hell was I thinking? Duh, you weren’t. Instead, I had come apart at the seams with someone I hardly knew.
The reality was that most men thought little of women they perceived to be easy. Normally I didn't care about such labels, even if I couldn’t quite flout them like Jane did. But I did care about what Brandon Sterling thought. I cared a lot.
I had simply never experienced a connection like that before. I had been with other men, but it had never been anything close to that
kind of heat. What had we done, exchanged maybe five or six words before Brandon basically pounced on me?
My insides crumbled as I realized that he must have walked in thinking I was going to be an easy score. As much as I hated hearing other people shame women about having casual sex, every obnoxious comment I’d ever heard about giving away the milk for free chanted through my head. I knocked my knuckles on my forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
As likely as not, he was getting ready to bolt, if he hadn’t already. How embarrassing would it be when I walked out there having freshly redone my makeup for no one at all? I proceeded to scrub it all off. If I was going back out there, it would be with a fresh face. It will be without pretense.
When I finally ventured out, Brandon was sitting on the arm of the sofa in the common area, buffing the face of his watch with a handkerchief. He had put his jacket back on, and his shirt and tie had been smoothed into place. The only signs of our little tryst remaining were a few rumpled hairs at the crown of his head.
My stomach both calmed and leaped at the sight of him (how were such contradictory emotions even possible?). Brandon looked up with a brief smile before refocusing on his watch. Shit. He seemed as unable to make eye contact as I was.
“I was afraid you’d gotten lost in there.”
He reached out absently and squeezed my hand. Then, as if by afterthought, he tugged me awkwardly to his side and draped his arm around my waist.
Just as awkwardly, I rested my head on his shoulder. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” Brandon held up his watch, an obviously expensive Rolex. “We should get going. Are you going to wear the same thing?”
I glanced down the hall. “Uh, no. I’ll have to find something else.”
“Well, hurry. We’ve got that reservation.”
Somewhat taken aback by his curt tone, I shuffled back to my bedroom and shut the door before finding another outfit. When I discovered a sizable run down the back of one stocking, I decided to hell with his original request for a dress. I put on my favorite pair of black jeans, a slouchy, cream-colored sweater, and comfortable oxford shoes. The outfit was the opposite of sexy.