by Lauren Dane
He walked her back into the kitchen after locking the front doors and resetting those alarms. She started to pull out all the ingredients she’d need, all her pans and things, and he watched for a long time before he spoke.
“I’m your brother, Erin. I love you. When Mom and Dad died, of course I stepped in. Not because I had to, but because that’s what family does. That’s what you do when you love people. I didn’t go to art school, but I have my own business. A successful business with a damned fine reputation. People come from all over to get my inkwork. What happened to me was supposed to happen. I don’t hate being your lifeguard. I’d be so sad if I couldn’t be there when you needed me. Just like you’ve been for me when I needed you. Adrian and I love you, we want to help you. We both feel a heck of a lot better when you reach out instead of suffering alone.”
She began to fall into the ritual of measuring and mixing by hand, of flouring and kneading. Her panic smoothed after a few minutes.
Brody flipped on the CD player and PJ Harvey growled through the speakers.
“I’m leaving the connecting door open. If you want to sing, you know I’d love you for it.” He kissed her forehead and looked her over. He knew the storm had passed and so backed away.
She worked as Dry played. Played until “Fountain” came on and she stood near the door and sang part of the lyrics, ending with the line about what to do when everything’s left you.
The noise from the room next door had stilled to utter silence until Brody cleared his throat.
“Thanks, baby girl. You know I love that one.”
She did too.
11
He pulled into her parking garage and headed up to her condo. The doorman let him straight up on her orders. Standing orders apparently. Todd liked that a lot.
He’d spent the last three days listening to her CDs. Christ, her voice on those few songs she sang lead on was burned into his brain.There’s a hole where you used to live
Dead inside and I can’t hide
I smoke and I drink and I still can’t stop
Thinking of you
Absent and there’s no going back
Absent and I hurt
Can’t hide from the hurt
Ben hadn’t been wrong about the song he’d recommended. Listening to Erin’s low, smoky moan as she poured her grief out, the gasp at the end where her tears were close to the surface, had nearly driven him to his knees.
He’d wanted to do some Internet research on the incident, but he’d been called out on one client meeting after the other, stumbling home to fall into bed, calling her or texting her if it was too late and he didn’t want to wake her.
He knocked, and when she opened up, she stood in a short, pretty dress, flowy at the leg and tight at the breast part. Perfect.
“Pink Floyd.” He smiled as he went into her place and heard “Wish You Were Here” in the background.
“Thank god. I was worried, you know. This Toby Keith thing has been keeping me up at nights.”
Laughing, he swept her up into a hug, craving more of the way she felt pressed to him.
“Hello there, my gorgeous little freak.”
She paused for a moment and then snorted laughter, kissing his nose. “Only you could get away with these things.”
He could. Which is why, he supposed, he liked to do them so much. She made him feel special even when she did something as silly as making him a plate of food or laughing when he teased her.
“How hungry are you?” he asked.
And then she dropped to her knees, looking up at him after setting her glasses aside. Her hands rested in her lap, her back was straight as she waited.
He had a fleeting thought that she had no idea what she looked like kneeling there, how she moved him, but he knew she did, and that made her actions undeniably arousing. She did it on purpose because she knew what it did for him.
“Suck me. You know what I like.”
She murmured, licking her lips as she slowly unbuttoned his jeans and pulled his shorts down to free his cock. She breathed deep, sliding her cheek along him, the cool of her skin a contrast to the heat of his.
She palmed his sac with one hand and gripped his root with the other before sucking tightly on him, inching down, bit by bit, until she’d swallowed a good portion of his cock, her lips touching the top of her fist where she held him.
Her hair was down, leaving him free to run his fingers through it, gaining enough purchase until he grasped tight and guided her—up and down, up and down—over his cock.
“Are you wearing panties?” His voice had lowered, neared a grunt as her mouth surrounded his prick with wet heat.
“Mmm,” she said, shaking her head with him still in her mouth.
“Christ,” he hissed as the image of her wet, sweetly pink cunt flashed through his head. “Take that hand off my balls and finger yourself. Don’t come yet. That’s mine. But I want you primed for when I shoot down your throat.”
Each time he gave the words up freely, each time he did what he wanted, what he craved, it got easier the next time. It wasn’t as if there was a manual for all this stuff, but with her it wasn’t necessary. With Erin on her knees before him, Todd knew they’d work it through, find ways to pleasure each other, keep each other wanting more, without pain, without disrespect, with . . . love.
There hadn’t been a single moment, a time when the clouds had parted and the angels sang that he loved her. He just knew he did. Maybe he’d loved her a long time, tucked away in his mind for all these years. Maybe it had been when she leapt into his arms moments before. What mattered was that he felt it, and even better, he knew it.
Thought skittered away as her left hand slid between her thighs and she gasped around him. Her fingers were touching her cunt, he knew. He wished he could see more, but at the same time what he could see only forced him—ha, forced—to imagine it. Which, actually, was just as good.
He heard the wet sounds of her fingers playing through the juicy folds of her pussy; the scent of her arousal teased him as he continued to fuck into her mouth.
She pressed the tip of her tongue down the center of his cock each time she swallowed him, a line of pleasure, something new and entirely delightful.
He was close to coming, and the increasingly jerky movement of the hand between her thighs told him she was as well. He let go, coming in a hot rush, filling her.
“Don’t come yet,” he warned as a needy sound echoed around him. He pulled out and knelt before her. She swayed a bit, her eyes wide, face flushed. Her chest heaved and he knew she was a hairs-breadth from coming.
He touched her gently, his palms pushing the hem of her dress upward, exposing the vee between her thighs. Bare, wet—the scent of her honey tightened his gut and he leaned down, breathing her in.
Her fingers still curled there, shiny with her juice. Fuck. Fuck, he was in so deep with her. She moved him when he imaged himself quite beyond being touched in such a way.
“You want to finish, don’t you?”
Erin focused her gaze on him, the tendrils of climax still holding her close, beckoning. She’d never actually let another person hold her orgasm before. It was ridiculous and yet beyond intoxicating to hand him that power.
One twitch of her fingers and she’d fall. She thought of it, holding her hand still. Their gazes locked. His taste rang through her system; his cock was still out of his jeans, partially reviving. He was so near, the heat from him radiated across her skin.
She swallowed hard, trying to find words. A nod was all she managed.
He took her wrist, gently moving her fingers away from her cunt. Her breath caught as he lowered his face, on his hands and knees now, to her pussy.
Nothing at first, just the soft waft of his breath against her thighs. She had to fight the urge to strain upward to his mouth. He hadn’t said she could. So she remained still, waiting . . .
“Good god, what you do to me,” he said, his lips just barely brushing her labia. T
he subtle sensation sent a shock wave of heat through her. “You can touch your nipples or me,” he said right before the slick of his tongue slid through her cunt.
She didn’t think to touch her nipples; all she could do was brace herself with her hands on the floor behind her ass where she knelt, her back arched, her thighs widening.
She wanted to watch him, but bright stars painted her vision with each small flutter of his tongue against her pussy, so she closed her eyes and felt. Her muscles began to burn from kneeling; sweat broke out on the back of her neck and she licked dry lips.
One more flutter of his tongue and a gasp wrenched from low in her gut. Orgasm rocketed through her body, rolling in waves until she had to beg him to stop.
He kissed her while her eyes were still closed, and they tumbled back to the area rug.
When she opened her eyes again, he looked down and she saw the tenderness in his gaze. Inside she knew what would happen and before she could stop him, he said it.
“I love you, Erin.”
She could not love him. Would not. The price was too damned high! She had to close her eyes again because tears welled up. Too late, too late, because she knew she loved him too, had for years, and it had lain dormant in her heart until she saw him in her café just weeks before.
Shit.
He kissed each eyelid. “I know it might seem sudden but it’s not really. We’ve known each other ten years. You fit in the empty spaces just right. There’s a spot in my life that’s your size. Don’t say anything just now. Let me take you to dinner. Let me love you. The rest is what’s important. Not words, but deeds.”
If he’d been harsh or hurt, if he’d demanded an answer, she could have resisted. But this gentleness was not something she could deal with.
So she nodded and allowed him to help her up.
He insisted on holding her hand as they walked over to Fourth and Virginia, to Lola.
He pulled her chair out for her, then moved his next to hers instead of across. His arm rested at her back, at the top of the chair, and he smelled so good she wanted to eat him up.
“What’s good here? The only place Tom Douglas had when I lived here before was the Dahlia Lounge.” He grinned at her before brushing a strand of hair back that had stuck to her lip gloss.
“Most everything. First of all we have to get fresh pita. It comes with all these different spreads and it’s really delish. I’m having a tagine, but the kabobs are yummy too. It all is, I promise.”
They ordered, and when the bread arrived, she automatically made him a plate, laughing and asking him what he liked and didn’t. When she placed the plate in front of him and looked into his eyes, she jolted a moment.
“Are you mad?”
He brushed a thumb over her collarbone, ever so softly as he shook his head. “No. I love when you do that. When you take care of me. It’s,” he licked his lips, searching for words, “it gets to me.”
“Th-thank you. That’s a lovely thing to say.” She didn’t say more, because she liked taking care of him. A lot.
She couldn’t love Todd Keenan. Period. The cost of loving people was losing them, and she could not bear it again. It was too late not to love her brothers, but she needed to put the kibosh on this love thing for Todd right then.
Fucking—hell yes. Loving—hell no. She didn’t have the time to love anyone else. Her love bill was full. He needed a woman who was whole and not fucked up. She was not that woman.
12
Todd walked back with her, loving the way the breeze ruffled the bottom of her dress. Her hair, so shockingly pink, looked like soft cotton candy. He nearly laughed aloud at the thought that he’d ever find such a description romantic, much less beautiful, but there it was.
On her it all worked. Because she was simply one of a kind. One of a kind and nervous as the shadows had lengthened into night.
She’d jumped several times as sudden laughter or talking drifted from a doorway, from the fronts of the cafés and stores marking their route back to her building.
Her eyes cut left and right and her spine vibrated with tension.
This was not the woman he’d fucked in an alley ten years ago. That woman had been totally fearless and he ached for whatever had happened to her to rob her of that.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” he asked gently as he led her into her house and helped her out of her sweater.
“What do you mean?” She toed out of her shoes and set them on a wooden rack near the door and he followed suit.
“I know a little bit about the attack. Not a lot. I know you lost a child. Tell me what makes you jump at shadows.”
She turned. He noted her knuckles on the hand holding her bag had gone white.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Yes, I lost a child. I nearly died. You can imagine the rest.”
She had no fucking idea. Todd worked to keep himself relaxed, even as his body wanted to go and pick her up, force her to tell him and hold her forever. “I can, and it scares the shit out of me. Share it. You can trust me to catch you when you fall.”
She took a step back and dropped her bag on the table. “It’s not that. I just don’t like talking about it. And I don’t mean any of fense, but I trust three people. Me, Adrian and Brody.”
He thought of what he’d say in response. It hurt; there was no denying that not being included with her brothers sliced through his gut. But he understood. He loved her and he saw her pain. He got why it would be hard to trust. And he’d show her she could add his name to that short list. There was no small amount of irony that their situation had flipped from where it had been before. Back then she’d been coaxing him to open up to her and he’d been scared shitless.
A sickening thought occurred to him. “At least tell me he didn’t do this to you. Jeremy, the guy you loved before.”
Total surprise washed over her face and he relaxed a bit. No, it wasn’t the ex. The ex who had made a child with her, with the woman Todd loved.
She shook her head, hard. Her hair spilled into her face. “No. God, no. Jeremy loved Adele. Loved me. He never would have hurt either one of us.” Her voice caught, and he was wrapped around her before he even thought about moving.
They remained there, just hugging, until the tenor of the moment changed, deepened, thickened, and he had to step back because his cock hardened against her.
She looked up into his face, her eyes lost. “Help me feel alive,” she whispered.
He nodded.
Erin watched his face change and her cunt bloomed at the sight of the birth of the very potent dom he was becoming. She didn’t think in terms of “dom” being capitalized and “sub” being lowercase. To Erin, D/s wasn’t about one person being worthy of a capital letter and the other not. It wasn’t about unequal worth; it was about two equals sharing power, sharing sex and emotion. She didn’t submit to him because she wanted to be debased or harmed, because she needed to be lesser than anyone. She was aware some people got off on that, and hey, whatever floats your boat. But when he dominated her, she felt cherished and adored, cosseted in those perfect moments between them—in a way she never achieved with anyone else.
She liked that he looked her over carefully. She knew to be sure she was ready for whatever he planned to dish out, and god help her if she didn’t want to fall to her knees right then.
He nodded once, apparently having decided she was on board with his plans, and jerked his head toward the living room. “Naked and bent over the arm of the couch. Now.”
Blinking rapidly, she reached for a calming breath even as a flush worked through her body at his command. Trembling hands managed to get the side zipper on her dress down so she could step from it. Her bra followed. She walked over to the couch, then bent forward, bracing her hands. The air in the room was cool against her bare skin; the slight nub in the fabric on the couch abraded her belly and thighs.
Would he use his hands on her ass? Would he fuck her hard? What was his purpose?
The questions wisped through her brain idly as she sought to find a quiet spot in her head. Waiting.
“Mmm. I do love looking at you like this. No panties either, just the way I like it.” She heard the jingle of his belt buckle and the slither as he pulled it from the loops. Her pussy softened at the sound combined with raw desire in his words. He looked at her and saw the beauty there. She pleased him, and in turn, that pleased her.
He drew the thin but sturdy leather over her bare back, leaving shivers in its wake. Her breath caught at the soft/rough caress.
“I’ve never used my belt on a woman—hell, on anyone but myself. I’ve craved it for so long.”
She swallowed, trying to wet her mouth enough to speak. “On yourself?”
“I . . .” He hesitated, his thigh against hers, denim against bare skin. “I used to wrap it around my hand when I jerked off.”
Her heart skittered in her chest a moment at the very powerful image he’d just given her. But even more that he’d shared such an intimate detail.
“Todd, please use it on me. I need it.” She noted the slight slur in her words. God, he made her pleasure drunk.
His shirt fluttered to the ground in the corner of her vision, and she heard five pops of the buttons on his fly. Those pops had become a potent aphrodisiac. Each one, knowing it went lower and lower, exposing the front of his boxers, made her wetter and wetter. Anticipating his touch, what he’d do to her next, her body burned. It was like this only with him. There had never been another who’d done this to her body. And soul.
The first crack of his belt over her thighs was more a caress than an outright strike of leather against tender flesh. He stood close, at her hip, and his cock nudged ever harder against her.
“You won’t hurt me,” she whispered. “Do it again. Please.”
He groaned and another strike fell, this one a bit harder, and the sting built into warmth. Hormones surged inside her, endorphins responding to the pain. She’d never felt anything like it and she craved more, arching back to him.