Grunting, he rocks his hips softly, giving an extra push as I drive my face forward. He's so fucking hard. His shaft is firm as marble, his tip engorged and swollen as the thick vein pulses against my tongue.
Stretching my lips as wide as they can go, I suck him so hard my cheeks hollow.
I've thought about him far too much for my own good. Even at the doctor's office, every time the doctor touched my ankle, Bran popped into my head. When I'm at work, I see him in every man that comes in, and hear his voice in every phone call.
I'm obsessed.
I'm not sure if it's a good thing or not, but if I didn't see him soon, I was going to lose my damn mind.
So here I am, with his prick in my mouth and the flutter in my gut I longed to feel again. I've never felt this way about anyone else. I know my brother wants me to stay away from him, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him.
This is for me.
I don't think Ryder can even start to understand how this man is different from all the rest. He literally saved my life. He kept me safe and warm all through the night, and he did it because he wanted to.
Sucking with more force, I slurp my way back to the edge of his crown. Holding his dick, I glide my hand down at the same time as my mouth, squeezing firmly. Bran groans loudly, his knees almost buckling as he throws out his hand and palms the wall.
“Mm, fuck, Mel,” he utters under his breath as he opens his legs wider and leans forward. “I'm going to come.”
Just knowing he's about to blow his load makes me drip and my mouth work faster. He keeps going deeper into my mouth, and when I think I have all of him, he gives a thrust of his hips, filling my throat even more.
His dick throbs as he lifts up on his toes and yanks my hair. Hot jizz shoots down my throat, warm and smooth. Bran takes a step back, pulling his cock free from my mouth. Swallowing all of him, I lick my fingers.
“You taste so fucking good,” I say, slipping my finger into my mouth and sucking it clean. His tip shines with a small drop of jizz, so I quickly lap it up, not wasting a single drop.
His eyes darken, lids hooding as he growls through clenched teeth. In one swoop, he lifts me off my feet and carries me to his bedroom.
His cabin is a wide open space. His kitchen has its own nook on the back wall, and there's a couch creating a small divide in the center of the room. There's a spiral staircase that leads to a loft, where I can see his bed and dresser.
I can't help but notice all the easels and paint, canvases and modeling clay. There's a long table to the side of the front window, and a chair set up at one of the easels. Wood chips and saw dust create a layer of natural carpet, and there are paintings and sculptures hanging all over the walls.
As he carries me up the stairs, I can't take my eyes off his face. I love his face. He's handsome and rugged, his hands creased with dirt, fingers tough with callouses and soft from fresh blisters.
Dropping me onto his mattress, he falls to his knees and climbs between my legs. Pulling my legs up over his shoulders, he starts to work my pants down.
“Now it's my turn,” he says, his voice husky and full of need.
“But I didn't save you,” I answer, softly running my fingertips through his hair. I don't fight him off, I let him remove my clothes with no resistance.
I'm so fucking turned on there's no way I could stop him even if the little angle on my shoulder told me I should. I'd flick her away and tell her to come back later.
Bran lowers his face to my center still hidden behind my panties and inhales a deep breath. “You smell so fucking good,” he says, blowing cool air across the lace. “You're so fucking wet.” His finger traces the wet spot on my panties, pushing in against my heat. “I want to taste you.”
Biting my bottom lip, my stomach starts to tremble as he peels my panties down and drops them to the floor. His eyes settle between my legs as he licks his lips. Bran stays like that for what seems like forever. Admiring my pussy, teasing me with tender strokes and gentle touches.
The anticipation is killing me. Driving my hand into his hair, I try to push his face between my legs, but he doesn't let me. Grabbing my wrist, he tugs my hand free and holds it against my belly.
With desperation, I wriggle my hips and lift my ass off the bed, just trying to reach his lips. I need him to lick me, to taste me, to drink me in until I come so hard I can't feel my legs.
Bran smirks, using his other hand to press me back down and hold me in place. He's enjoying this moment. The control, the playfulness between us, it's a dangerous game. And I love it.
“Please, I can't wait anymore.”
Using the tip of his tongue, he flicks my clit, and my thighs quiver instantly. My knees snap shut around his head, but it doesn't stop him. He licks again and again, using just the tip of his tongue with the softest brushes. Through my folds, around my center, and then he dips inside my entrance.
“Mm,” I moan, throwing my head back. “I've wanted you so bad all week. I need this.”
Groaning, his hands release me, gripping my ass and pressing my opening into his face. He suckles me, applying a little more pressure. And I yell out in pleasure. I'm so sensitive, ready to come almost instantly as he flicks his tongue rapidly over and over.
“Oh God, oh God. . .” My nails dig into the blanket, grabbing fistfuls. Fireworks burst behind my eyes as the orgasm rushes through my body. My heart stops for a split second and it feels like I'm floating above the bed.
But he doesn't stop there. He keeps licking, lapping up and down, fucking me with his tongue as he keeps me in place with his hands. My body is wiggling, shaking so violently as a second orgasm explodes.
I can't speak. My moan is silent, a single weighted breath that gets pushed out of my lungs. Every muscle is tingling, buzzing and snapping with electricity. My hands are in my hair, tearing at the roots as he keeps going.
He isn't stopping. He just keeps eating my pussy like a fucking meal. Swallowing my arousal, he comes up for air as his eyes settle on mine. His face has a glossy sheen from my juices, but the look in his eyes is wild.
Bran isn't a man anymore. He's a wolf trying to devour me whole. Driving his face back between my legs, he sucks me until I’m throbbing.
“Holy shit,” I say as I'm struck with another tsunami of an orgasm. It's like each one is stronger than the last, turning my body limp and languid.
My legs fall open, arms flopping to my side as I try to catch my breath. Opening my eyes, Bran is stepping out of his pants, even harder than when I gave him the blow-job.
Climbing on top of me, he slides in easily. There's a flood between my legs. He shifts above me, placing his hands by my head. Pushing in as far as he can, he stills for a moment as his fingers gently brush the hair from my eyes.
He looks like he wants to say something. His lips part and he exhales, but he doesn't speak, he kisses me. I can taste myself on his lips, and I feel like I’m falling.
This kiss is everything. It's soft, tender, and says more than any words ever could. He starts to move his hips slowly. He pulls himself out to the tip, and then slowly presses back inside. Bran isn't fucking me right now. Despite the hunger I see in his gaze, he's taking his time, he's savoring this moment.
Gripping his shoulders, I press my face against his chest. I want to be close to him. I want to erase even the smallest space between us. I can't explain it, but I feel it. It's heavy and strong, pulling on me like a magnet to metal. I would climb inside of him if I could.
His hips slam against mine, hitting me perfectly. It's like our bodies were made for each other. We fit like two puzzle pieces.
The drag of his shaft as he pulls out sets off earthquakes throughout my body, and I lay so perfectly still, feeling every inch of him as he moves in and out of me. His hand palms the side of his face and his eyes are locked on me. Watching every reaction. Registering very breath. Making sure every stroke brings me pleasure.
“Does this feel good?” he asks with a raspy voice.
I can’t speak. My lips are open but I can’t find the will to make my mouth form a word. So I just nod as he continues his excruciatingly slow pace.
Bran slips a hand under my ass and raises it a bit, and the next time he enters me he drags right across my G spot, instantly causing me to clench around him and a fresh burst of wetness coats his cock. He looks at my face with a mixture of surprise and letting-go, and I see all control he’s had is long gone.
I’m so wet he’s slipping in and out of me with ease, and his pace quickens as he feels it. His fingers dig into the flesh of my ass, and I register the pain with the increased pleasure as he takes exactly what he wants. Urgently. With unrestrained passion.
Bran drops his head into the crook of my neck and bites my shoulder as his body begins to shake. My pussy tightens, milking his shaft, refusing to let him go. Moaning against my skin, he comes hard.
His shaft jerks inside my body, pulsing with such power I can feel the beats in my stomach. I curl my legs around his waist and hold on tight as the orgasm rips me apart, leaving me open and wounded.
I didn't expect this. I didn't expect to feel this way.
I'm lost and found all in the same breath.
Bran rolls off of me, and we curl up together, wrapping each other like a blanket. My eyes are heavy and my body is completely worn out. Falling asleep in each other’s arms, the only thing I know for sure is that this feels right.
It's like I've known this man my whole life because it feels so natural to be with him. But that's not true, it's a fairy tale written for another story that isn't mine.
Opening my eyes, I yawn and stretch out my arms. Lifting my head, Bran isn't beside me. The cabin is filled with the afternoon sun, and I find Bran naked behind an easel at the end of the bed.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I stretch again.
“Hold on, don't move, stay just like that.” He grabs his phone, coming to the end of the bed. A bright light flashes and I hear the sound of a click.
“Did you just take a picture of me naked in your bed?”
He smiles and nods. “I did.”
“Why?” Giggling, I push up on my elbows and arch a brow.
“I need a reference for later for the new piece I just started.” Setting his phone on a small table by the bed, he grabs a pair of shorts and tugs them on. “That is if you don't mind being the inspiration for it.”
Blushing, I feel the heat flood my cheeks. Smiling big, I shake my head. “Not at all. I actually love the idea of being your muse.”
It also turns me on a little to know he has a naked picture of me. I wonder if he'll use it later. The thought of him getting off to an image of me is hot as hell.
Bran chuckles as he tugs a t-shirt over his head. I watch his body as he's getting dressed. His muscles ripple, and his stomach hardens as he lets the shirt fall over his torso.
“What?” he asks, catching me looking.
“Nothing, I just like watching you. There's something about you I can't get enough of. I don't know why you make me feel this way.”
Leaning over, he kisses my forehead. “Me either. You're the last thing I expected to show up in my life.”
Should I even be here?
I know his secret. I know what he's hiding. He’s a loner. He had a chance at family and turned the other way. Yet here I am. In his bed when I shouldn't be. These feelings aren't real, they can't be. So why can't I ignore them? It saddens me to think that we want different things in life.
I want to find love. He doesn't.
I want to get married one day. He rejected his wife.
I want a family. He walked away from his.
The second he knows we're on different paths, he's going to run the other way. One of us is going to get hurt and that person is me. I want a baby and a family. I want to find love and be loved. I want everything he doesn't.
But our chemistry is perfect, explosive even. What kind of cruel joke is this? I've always been a girl who believes in fate. Things happen for a reason. You might not always know the reason, but one day you'll see it.
Both my parents died, and I've yet to see how that fits into my life. How I can find any sense of reason to it. I don't think I'm ready to see the answer to that yet. But Branson. . . He feels right. We feel right.
“So,” he says as he gathers up my clothes and sets them on the bed. “We've had sex twice already, and maybe it's just me, but it feels like whatever this is isn't done.”
“I think so too. I was drawn here and drawn to you for some reason. I know whatever is happening to me, I can't just turn it off.”
“I feel the same way.” His lips pull up into a tender smile. “I was thinking then, how would you like to go out on a date tonight?”
“A date date?” I ask.
“Yeah, a date date.”
“Yes!” I yell loudly, popping up from the bed and hugging him. “I'd love to.”
I can't say no. I don't care what the consequences are.
As I pull on my clothes, I can’t tamp the excitement that’s bubbling inside me. My brother might hate me. The town rumor mill will go into overdrive. None of that matters. All that matters is I follow my heart. And my heart is telling me that there’s something between us.
My heart right now is begging for Branson James.
“How does six tonight sound?” Branson says I walk downstairs.
Glancing at the clock on his wall, it's just about three. I'll have plenty of time to get home, shower and change.
“That sounds perfect. Do you want me to meet you somewhere?”
“How about you just meet me here?” he asks.
“That's fine with me.” Holding my keys in my hand, I smile. “Six o'clock,” I say.
He smiles through thin lips and nods. “Six o'clock, here at my place.” Taking my chin in his hand, he kisses me softly. “I'll see you soon.”
Walking to the door, I give him one last look and smile over my shoulder. Closing the door behind me, I stand still for a moment on the front step. My stomach is in my throat and my heart is already racing.
I've got a date tonight.
Skipping down the steps, I climb into my truck, looking back up at his cabin. He's in the front window, watching me leave. Giving him a light wave, he waves back.
I can't remember the last time I was this excited.
Rushing home to the farm, I hurry upstairs and shower. Wrapped in a towel, I scurry into my room and thumb through the few dresses I own in my closet.
Nope. Pushing away the faded pink teacup dress, I pull out a soft and flowy royal blue one. Holding it against my body, I look in the floor length mirror and twist side to side.
The blue suits my hair and my eyes perfectly, making my red hair stand out and my green eyes pop. Smiling to myself, I know this is the one.
Bingo.
I rub my skin with lotion, massaging it in. Slipping the dress over my head, I grab a pair of heels, but quickly realize that they won't work with the bandage around my ankle.
Flats it is.
Applying a thin layer of blue eye shadow and a touch of pink to my cheeks, I fan my lashes with mascara and gloss my lips. Pulling my hair back, I pin it loosely with a clip and let a few soft curls fall around my face.
Taking one last look in the mirror, I let out a nervous breath. I can't believe how nervous I actually am. I've already slept with the guy twice. We got the awkward part out of the way, so why the hell do I feel like this?
Rubbing my palms up and down my hips, I can feel my tummy coil tight and my heart as it hammers like a drum. It's just a date, Mel, no reason to get all worked up.
I'm trying to convince myself that this is just another normal date, but I know it's not. This feels different. Every part of my body is telling me that this is different. Branson isn't some childish boy I went to school with, or the cousin of a friend’s boyfriend who happens to be visiting town and needs a date.
Branson is a man. A real man. He's lived a milli
on lives over my one. He's experienced in ways I can't imagine. Just his touch is enough to tell me that he isn't afraid of a woman's body.
You'll be fine. Stop overreacting.
Letting out a long sigh, I shake my hands at my sides and snatch my keys off my dresser. Going downstairs, I take each one slow and quietly. I'm not sure where Ryder or Jenna are, and I'm not in the mood to be interrogated.
This is my choice, my decision, and I shouldn't have to explain myself to my brother of all people. Creeping down the steps, I peek around the banister and look in the kitchen. No one is there.
Sneaking with quicker steps, I'm almost at the door. It's right there, my hand is out and I'm ready to grab it and run through.
“Where are you going all dressed up?” His voice makes me cringe instantly.
My shoulders shrug up, rolling forward as I close my eyes and swear to myself. “Fuck,” I say under my breath. “Me?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.
Now you just sound suspicious! Act normal!
“Yeah, you. Where you headed?” He pulls open the fridge and grabs the carton of milk. Taking a long sip, he watches me from over the top.
“Out,” I answer, turning all the way around to face him.
“Obviously. I'm wondering where. I mean, you're all dressed up for something.”
Looking myself over, I kick out my hip and snap, “Can't a girl just want to dress up? Why do I have to be going someplace to wear this?”
“Because you're always running around in dirty shorts and a muddy shirt unless you're going to work. This,” he says, waving his hand toward me, “is not how you usually dress.”
“Well, maybe it's how I want to dress now. Who are you tell me how I dress?”
“Sorry, Mel, I'm not trying to make you angry. I just—”
“See, that's the problem right there,” I say, cutting him off and throwing my arm out. “You just assume all the time. Maybe I want to feel pretty today, maybe I have my period and I feel gross and this dress is making me feel better. Did you ever think of that?”
Big Man’s Claim Page 6