Holiday Loves
Page 32
I look up at him, watching his dark eyes fill with pleasure, watching his lips part with a groan.
"Fuck, Kaylee." He tugs at my hair.
His movements get harder, faster. He's close.
And then he's there, filling my mouth. He tastes good and it feels good, knowing I brought Brendon all that pleasure.
Once I'm sure he's spilled every drop, I swallow hard.
He reaches down to take my hands. Then he pulls me up and presses my body against his.
His lips find mine. His tongue claims my mouth.
I can't get it out of my head. This is Brendon, the guy I've wanted for so long, the person I've trusted for so long.
And he wants me too.
Trusts me too.
He pushes my shorts to my knees as he breaks the kiss. "Sit on the couch and spread your legs."
I stumble, falling back onto the soft couch. I've sat here a hundred times. No, a thousand.
But never like this.
Brendon's dark eyes light up as he takes a long look at me. He moves closer. Closer.
Then he's kneeling in front of me.
He pulls my shorts off my feet. His hands close around my thighs, just above my knees.
In one swift motion, he pushes my legs apart. My knees press into the slick leather fabric of the couch. I fall onto the cushion.
Brendon drags his lips up my inner thigh. Closer. Closer. Closer.
There.
His lips brush against me.
My thighs fight his hands. I want more. I want all of him.
But I also want to give myself to him.
I want to be his.
He teases me mercilessly. He blows hot air against my clit. Then cold. Then he's brushing his lips against me. Then it's slow flicks of his tongue, so soft I can barely feel them. He gets every inch of me.
Pleasure builds in my core. I'm ready to overflow, but he's not pushing me towards the edge. He's only building my need.
"Please." I tug at his hair.
Still, he teases me. His tongue stays soft and slow. The pleasure is diffuse. It's everywhere. I feel good in a way that hurts. In a way that begs for release.
"Brendon, please." I press my legs against his hands.
His grip stays firm. He looks up at me, his brown eyes on fire. "You'll come when I say you come, angel."
The edge to his voice makes my sex clench. I can't believe it, but I want him in control of my orgasm.
I can't believe how much I'm willing to give myself to him.
How deeply I trust him.
Still, he teases me. I tug at his hair and press my thighs against his hands. It does nothing to contain how badly I need release. I'm wound up. I'm close. And I desperately need to go over the edge.
It's like he can read me. His motions get harder. Faster. He takes his time ramping up his speed and pressure. The intensity makes it feel like hours pass.
He goes faster.
Harder.
His soft, wet tongue is heaven.
His fingers curl into my thighs as he licks me.
The tension in my sex builds to a crescendo. Almost. So fucking close.
There.
With the next flick of his tongue, I unravel.
I groan. I writhe. I tug his hair hard enough to rip it out.
He holds me in place, still flicking his tongue against me. It's too much pressure. I can't take it.
"Brendon." I try to press my legs against him, but his grip is too firm.
I'm staying on this couch, his mouth on me, as long as he wants me here.
Unless I say tattoo.
Then he'll release me.
I trust him to release me.
Fuck, the pressure is intense. I can barely take it. But I can. As painful as it is, I don't want him to stop.
He flicks his tongue against me. His motions get harder. Faster. It's still intense. It still hurts. But now the pleasure outweighs everything else.
I get lost in the bliss growing inside me. A few more flicks of his tongue and I'm there.
I scream his name as I go over the edge.
I shake. I writhe. I tug at his hair.
I feel my orgasm all the way to the tips of my toes.
This time, Brendon releases me. He pushes himself up, takes my hands, and pulls me into his arms.
His touch gets soft and gentle as he runs his fingers through my hair.
Right now, I really do want to let him take care of me.
For the afternoon.
For the entire day.
Maybe even forever.
* * *
I've taken a hundred showers at Emma's place, but it's never been like this.
Brendon's chest is pressed against mine. He's warm and wet, and the intimacy of the two of us together in this tiny space has my head spinning.
He squirts shampoo into his hands and combs it through my hair. Then he switches places with me, so I can tilt my head back to rinse my hair.
We do the same with conditioner. He takes his time soaping every inch of me. It makes his touch slick and smooth. I want more of it. I want all of him.
I want Brendon taking care of me.
We linger in the shower, without words, for the better part of an hour.
I thought I loved Brendon like a friend.
But it goes deeper than that.
Much deeper.
He turns off the shower, pulls me into the bathroom, and wraps a towel around my shoulders.
I keep it loose as I move into the bedroom. This is the master bedroom. It belonged to Emma and Brendon's parents once. It took him years to move into the room, but it's his now.
It's perfect for him. The slate grey walls are adorned with framed artwork. The style is modern with saturated colors and bold lines. It's the fine art version of a tattoo.
The bed has a four-poster steel frame. Perfect for tying someone up.
For tying me up.
Like in his drawing.
I swallow hard.
I want that.
I can't believe how much I want that.
He wraps a towel around his hips. "Believe it or not, the frame belonged to my parents."
I press my back into his chest. "Do you miss them?"
"Every day."
"It must be hard, taking care of everything."
"It's good." His fingers trail over my arm. It's absentminded, like he's doing it by accident. "If it had just been me, I would have fallen apart. Taking care of Emma was the only thing that got me out of bed in the morning."
"You never want someone taking care of you?"
"In certain ways." He draws circles on the back of my hand. "This, you asking me about where I hurt—that's the only way I want someone taking care of me."
"What about… downstairs?"
He chuckles. "What was that, angel? I'm not sure what you're referring to."
"Yes, you are."
"I'm not." He presses his lips to my neck. "You'll have to spell it out for me. There's a gorgeous good girl next to me. It's taking all my concentration to keep from throwing her on the bed and fucking her until she's screaming my name."
"I wouldn't have a problem with that."
"Soon."
"Soon." My lips curl into a smile. I can't believe how much I want him to fuck me. But I still want to talk to him, to know how I can take care of him. "Downstairs, I… I was following your orders. I sucked you off."
My cheeks flush.
I'm still a dirty-talking novice.
"Fuck, I love how nervous you get." He presses his lips to my neck. "You're going to be the end of me, Kaylee."
"Am I?"
"If you stay this adorable." He turns me around, so he's looking into my eyes. "You, following my demands, that's what makes me feel taken care of."
"Even if you're the one taking care of me?"
"Yes." He presses his palm to my cheek. "You've always been there, every time I needed someone to talk to."
"When?"
"All
those late nights, after Em fell asleep. You'd listen to me talk about the way Stace dropped me the second I had to deal with responsibility. She made excuses about how it was hard, but that's bullshit. If she wanted to be with me, she'd be with me."
I nod. After the accident, Brendon stepped up to take care of everyone. Which meant his relationship with Stace got pushed aside. I understand why she left, and I don't blame her for it.
But I'll always hate her for how badly she hurt him. She never understood how seriously he took the responsibility of raising his baby sister.
I guess it's a good thing. If she hadn't left, he wouldn't be mine.
He's only mine for now, but that's something.
"You'd stay up late, watching Die Hard with me for the millionth time," he says.
I laugh. "Well, yeah, it's good for an action movie. And you'd always watch whatever I wanted after."
"Pride and Prejudice."
"For the millionth time."
"All those Disney princess movies."
"You cried at the end of Beauty and the Beast."
He smiles. "Only once." He presses his lips to mine. "Deep down, I still think you prefer guys with guns to girls in dresses."
"Guys with tattoo guns, maybe."
"Yeah?"
"Or maybe just you."
He cups my cheek with his palm. "Whenever I'm having a bad day, I think about you. I think about how I can get you on that couch with me."
"For how long?"
"Too long considering…"
Considering that he's nearly ten years older than I am.
That I've known him since I was five.
He pulls my hair behind my back. "We've always had money, but it's been hard, taking care of Em, taking care of the house, having to work my schedule at the shop around when Em is in school. Most people apprentice for two years. It took me four, because I was here."
"You've never complained."
"I don't regret it. Em is my life. Even if she's a brat sometimes. You know what it's like. I've seen you with your parents. You'd do anything for them."
I nod.
"You won't take their money, because you know they can barely afford it."
And I have the loans to prove it. But I don't mind. Between my serving job and loans, I make ends meet and I have time for my studies.
Even if it means I'm burnt out by the end of the semester.
Maybe I do need someone taking care of me.
I don't do a very good job at it.
He leans down to kiss my cheek. "You remember when I used to practice tattooing on fruit?"
"Mostly on bananas." I laugh. "Did that ever come in handy?"
He chuckles. "I don't do dick tattoos."
"Never?"
"I get requests, but no. I don't want to give people ink they're going to regret."
"Ever?"
"Never. Not on purpose."
"What about when people want their girlfriend's or boyfriend's name?"
"I talk to them, make sure they'll be okay with the ink if things end."
"Do people really feel like that?"
"Yeah." He takes my hand and brings it to the tattoo on his wrist, a moon interlocked with a sun. "For some people, tattoos are like scars. They mark experiences. Relationships don't always end with two people hating each other. Sometimes, it's mutual. Sometimes, people want to remember they loved their ex enough to mark their body."
I trace the lines of his ink. "For your parents?"
He nods. "Dad always said Mom was the sun in his sky."
"They really loved each other."
He nods. "In a way, it's good they were both in that car. I'm not sure either one could have lived without the other."
"I want to love someone that much someday."
He looks into my eyes. "So much that your heart would break if they died?"
"So much that I'd want to tattoo their name on my skin forever."
"You're not getting some guy's name tattooed on your body."
"But he wouldn't be some guy. He'd be the guy I love."
He shakes his head. "No fucking way."
"What if it was your name… if we were together. Just hypothetically."
"I'd consider it."
"You know any tattoo artists who do good work?" I tease.
He chuckles. "That hurts."
"Wouldn't you be nervous, tattooing me?"
"Yeah, but I wouldn't want anyone else touching you." He runs his fingers through my hair. "I don't want anyone else touching you."
I don't want anyone else touching me either.
"I've thought about a design for you," he says.
"Don't be a tease about it."
"A librarian pinup, sitting on a stack of books." He draws the design on my bicep. "A gorgeous green-eyed blond with retro style."
"Like the drawing in your sketchbook."
"You're too sweet for a naked, bound pinup tattoo."
"Was that a doodle or did you want…" I'm not sure what I'm asking.
"I've wanted you for a long time, Kaylee. I've wanted you bound for a long time." He motions to an empty spot on his bicep. "I'd love that ink right here."
"You'd put me on your body permanently?"
He nods. "You're blushing again."
"You're talking about getting a tattoo of my naked body."
"You're too fucking cute, Kaylee. I can't resist you."
"Who says I want you to?"
His lips curl into a smile. "I do. Sex is the best card I have to play."
"For…"
"Convincing you to put yourself first for once."
"I have to cover Penny's shift. I already promised."
"And next time someone asks you to put their needs in front of yours?"
I swallow hard. "I don't know… I like helping people."
He says nothing.
"Are you going to hold out until I turn down someone's request for help?"
"I doubt I'll be able to resist you that long."
He drops his towel as he pushes himself up. He slides his arm around my waist and pulls my body into his.
His lips hover over my ear. "I'm going to spread your legs and have you waiting, and wanting, until you're begging me to fuck you."
"I… uh… uh…"
"But not until I'm sure you're ready."
* * *
I hate leaving Brendon's place to go to work, but I have to honor my promise. Even if I'm getting played.
My word means something to me.
Lunch is at its peak at this time of day. The other servers are scurrying around the restaurant without a moment of rest.
The host smiles at me. "You're early."
"Picking up Penny's shift. Sort of," I say.
He shoots me a curious look. "You're too nice, Kaylee. She doesn't deserve the favor."
How does he know it's a favor? I clear my throat. I don't like the way he's looking at me with pity. Usually, he looks at me with… well, with interest.
"Really, she's doing me a favor." I make my voice as strong as I can manage. "I need the money. School starts in two weeks. I'll have to cut back on shifts. Plus, there's textbooks. And all that stuff for the newspaper."
He offers me a strained smile. He doesn't believe me. Which is fitting, because I don't believe me either.
He nods to the packed room. "You'll make good tips today."
"Yeah. Thanks." I pull my apron and name tag from my purse, get them on, and clock in on the computer.
The host gives me the next two tables that come in. I'm not sure if it's because of his crush on me or if it's because he pities me, but I don't really care. I do need the money. There are half a dozen textbooks on my to-buy list.
I get caught up in the next rush. I don't exactly love waiting tables, but I don't mind it either. The job appeals to my control freak nature. Other than assigning shifts and handling disagreements, our manager, Jake, stays out of the fray.
When I'm working, I'm in control of my tables, of
their meals, of their entire experience. I decide how to juggle putting in one order then dropping off one meal then refilling beverages.
And I get to help out my coworkers when I have a free moment.
I don't stop for a break until the restaurant clears out. It's three-thirty, that awkward time between lunch and dinner. Even three blocks from the beach, at the tourist mecca that is Third Street Promenade, we have quiet afternoons here.
Elle and Lily are at the host stand, giggling over their cell phones as they change out of their work shoes. Elle's eyes catch mine and she immediately turns away.
Lily looks over to me. A guilty expression creeps over her face.
Huh.
That's strange.
Very, very strange.
After I check on my last table, I head over to the host stand.
Elle's auburn hair falls over her cheeks as she undoes her ponytail. "Hey, Kay. Working a double, huh?"
"Yeah." I bite my lip. There's something about her expression. Lily's too. I can't put my finger on it, but I don't like it. Not at all.
"Good for you," Lily says. "I wish I had the endurance. I could use the extra cash. I'm broke."
Elle nods in agreement. The two of them are college students too. I'm sure they also have books to buy and rent to pay.
Lily clears her throat. "We should let you get back to work."
"Yeah." I adjust my apron. "Good shift? Good tips?"
"Good for lunch." Elle turns to Lily. "Do you still want to head over to the concert on the pier?"
Lily makes the cut it out hand gesture.
What the hell are they getting at?
"There's a concert on the pier today?" It's not unusual. There are tons of summer events at the Santa Monica Pier. But the place is a tourist trap. Locals usually avoid it. Especially Elle and Lily.
"That new artist. The one with the big ass and the bigger hair." Elle purses her lips. "What's her name? She's cute in that innocent kind of way. Like you."
Lily laughs. "No one is cute in the Kaylee kind of way."
My cheeks flush. "I'm not… I'm not innocent."
They exchange an oh, it's so cute that she thinks that look.
"It looks fun," Elle says. "Maybe we'll go."
"Penny's having a blast." Lily's jaw drops as she realizes her words. "Shit. I mean. Sorry, Kaylee." She offers me an apologetic look. "I'm always tired after my shift. I forgot that she said…"