by Ellen Mint
“Let me take you,” he pleaded, his gaze burning for understanding. Flitting one thumb around the waistband of her shorts, he tugged them off her hip so he could palm a bare buttock. Marty swept his other hand across the nape of her neck, holding her close as they stared deep into each other’s eyes.
“Let me be with you.” He kissed her, a soft touch on the lips, as sweet as pink satin. And, with his thumb, he parted the crease of her thigh. Brandy widened her stance, her body pleading with him to keep going. Suddenly, Marty stopped, right before he reached her pussy. They stood in her kitchen, his hand down her pants, hers wrapped around his cock, both breathing each other in.
“Please.”
Brandy yanked on his jeans. Her fingers went for the zipper first, all of her needing him naked as fast as possible. When they refused to tug off, she remembered the button. Marty had no trouble, curling both palms around her hips to drop her panties to the floor.
Cold from the cabinets crawled across Brandy’s naked back, but it didn’t matter as Marty ripped off her camisole and kissed her. The heat of his touch swept over her naked breasts, raising her nipples from aroused to famished in an instant. She moaned into his kiss, his lips puckering in a smile at that before he lapped her tongue with his.
She strained to reach any part of him, to reveal his body at last, but Marty had her in flux. His touch was everywhere at once—her breasts, her ass, tugging on her hair, brushing her cheek, spreading her thighs. She couldn’t keep track and hung on, her body humming with each one.
Without warning, it all retreated. Marty sidled back and stared down her body. She didn’t have time to suck in her gut or do that half-turn trick to look skinner. No, he saw her in all her half-splayed, hanging-arms, chest-heaving glory. And he smiled wide.
“If you don’t mind,” Marty said, grabbing the neck of his shirt. Despite it being soaked to his body, he yanked it up with no fuss. It was Brandy’s turn to stare in wonder. Fur as black as night ran across his pecs and straight through the hard narrows of his abs. Across his belly the forest grew, calling for Brandy’s palm to rub the soft man-hair.
As she drifted her gaze lower, so too went Marty’s jeans. He stood only in a pair of white boxers covered in those classic red hearts. How long did it take him to find those? “Ooh,” he said, distracting her, “want to see a magic trick?”
“Okay?” she said slowly, growing painfully aware that she was fully naked in her kitchen with a coworker.
“Nothing up this sleeve.” He pretended to show off the inside of a shirt he wasn’t wearing. “Nothing up this one, either.” Marty rolled his hands around his hips and, in one fell swoop, yanked his underwear off.
Holy shit!
“Ta da,” he said, his jazz hands causing his maximum overload to sway hypnotically. Brandy stared in total shock at the third leg he somehow kept hidden in his pants. Curling a warm hand around her elbow, he dragged his fingernails against the skin of her forearm until he cupped the back of her hand.
Marty rustled through her hair, guiding her close by the nape of her neck as he directed her hand lower. “How do you…?” He guided her hand around his cock, a shudder rising through him as she touched it. “Find the merchandise?” Marty panted, even while finishing the joke.
Unable to help herself, Brandy struggled to cinch her hand tighter. She traversed the full length of his cock until she curled her palm around the sensitive crown. A plea dripped from Marty’s lips and he pressed his forehead to hers.
Gently gliding her palm up and down his cock in a corkscrew, she whispered, “It’s just what I’ve always wanted.”
Marty gripped her waist, nibbling along her jaw. When he pressed his knee between Brandy’s wobbly thighs, a moan slipped from her lips. Her under-appreciated pussy caused her to tip her hips forward and grind against the touch of skin.
God, how she wanted him. She’d been wanting him for…she didn’t even know. His touch rounded back across her ass. Pressing his nails deep into her flesh, Marty lifted her. Not onto the counter, but he raised her until she hovered an inch or two off the ground.
Before gravity could yank her down, he spread her thighs with his hips, pinning her in place. His cock brushed against her soaked lips.
“Did you ever think about me pinning you beside the cash register?” Marty asked, plunging his teeth into her neck.
Brandy squirmed in his grip, not wanting to fall unless it was onto his cock. But he held it away from her. Cupping one hand to her breasts, he swept the other down her stomach. He trailed his fingers like reeds through a lake.
“Riding you behind the mass of boxes?” he asked, a smirk rising along his flushed lips.
“Oh!” Brandy moaned as he slipped first one finger, then two inside her. She tried to focus on his thrusting, but he lapped his tongue around her ear.
“How often did you want me to lock the store and take you in the front window?”
Christ! He began to swirl across her clit with his thumb and he found his way to the back door with his pinkie. A tremble consumed her body, Brandy shivering as every long-denied orgasm rose from the depths.
“Well?” Marty whispered, ramping up his efforts and nearly bringing her to confounding tears.
“Too damn often,” she confessed, sounding near hysterics.
A single laugh rolled from him. In one fast move, he slipped his hand out of her and placed it over her stomach. His bony hips digging into her spread thighs, Marty gripped himself by the base as he stared at her. She tried to look away, embarrassment washing over her, but he cupped her chin and held her in place. Eye to eye, breaths matching, he plunged his cock inside her.
And it was bliss.
“Fuck,” Brandy cursed, her legs rising on their own. Her toes curled as every inch of him bored deeper inside. He skated his nails down her legs and guided them up to rest on his back. Marty bent closer.
Her entire body was in flames. She kept trying to thrust down on him but could barely move. He had total control, Brandy trapped between him and the stove.
“You are…” Marty whispered, then grazed his teeth along her jaw. “So beautiful.” He began to thrust, shallow and cautious, as if he feared breaking her. But she was made of sterner stuff.
Brandy grabbed his shoulders, giving herself leverage to pound onto him. This time Marty cursed, his head tossed back as he gulped in air. “Yes,” he cried for her. “Yes!” He wanted only her.
She reached for him, when Marty flexed his palms under her ass. Before she could blink, he yanked her into the air. Even without leverage, he kept thrusting and nibbling across her chest.
Brandy cried out when something cool and flat struck her back. She whipped her head to the side and caught the reflected image of Marty’s wild face. He’d spun her from the counter to the fridge. He slapped one hand to the stainless steel beside her face and, with the other, grabbed her wrist to tug it between them.
On instinct, she danced her fingers over her clit, and Marty locked his hand around the base of his cock. He dove his head, sucking hard on her nipple. The rumbling through her body rampaged to an aching need for release.
“My turn,” Marty said. He knocked her fingers away and took up vibrating her clit while he thrust inside her. Not to be outdone, Brandy stretched and cupped his balls in her palm. “Ah, God. Your touch is… What was I thinking?”
So was his, but she couldn’t voice it. Brandy dug her toes in, her legs flexing taut as she clung to the orgasm ramping through her. “This. Keep doing this,” she pleaded, trying to position her hips for just the right angle.
A laugh of triumph rose from Marty, drawing pleasure from both her clit and ass. His cock filled her beyond belief, and he stopped biting along her breasts and puckered his lips. With a touch as soft as a snowflake, Marty kissed her and she was lost.
The orgasm raced through the entirety of her body. Her legs shivered and danced against his hips, her arms fell to a dead weight and the pleasure of his touch reverberated up to her ey
es. Brandy gasped, sinking into the warm satiety she craved. To curl up in his arms, to lie against his chest and feel his reassuring heartbeat. To know he’d be there for her even when she woke.
A callow laugh burst from Marty, his always soft and mischievous chuckle gone. “I don’t think you need that anymore,” he declared and snatched the ring around her neck. With barely any force, he yanked it off, snapping the chain Kevin had given her.
“What are you…?” Brandy tried to reach for it, but she was trapped against the fridge. Marty leaned back, away from her range, with his throbbing cock still inside her.
With a cold eye, he bundled her wedding ring in his palm and crushed it. “There,” he said, opening his palm to reveal nothing but pieces of glitter where her ring and necklace had been.
How…?
Marty placed his lips to his palm and blew. Diamond dust flew through the air and struck her face. Everywhere it touched, it sliced through her sharper than a scalpel. Pain sundered Brandy’s cheeks and forehead. She reached to try and protect herself, but it was too late. The damage was done.
“You’re over all of that trauma and bad memories,” he said, his voice maniacal. “You’ve got me now. Forget him.”
“No.” Tears welled in her eyes, Brandy shaking her head so hard it bounced against the fridge. “No!” she screamed, and sat bolt upright in bed.
Oh God. She slapped at her chest, furiously hunting for the ring. Where was it? What did she…? Her head swiveled and there it sat in a small porcelain dish, as it had for the past year. Her promise to love and honor a man for the rest of her life.
Pain burned in her eyes as she raised the small diamond to her face. She protectively cupped her hand and held it close, watching the reflection of the streetlights refract through the gem. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”
She felt filthy, as if she’d walked ten miles through raw sewage, literal shit clinging to her clothing and leeching into her shoes. It was a dream. That didn’t count. It wasn’t as if she’d—
Guilt caused her vision to focus from the diamond to the single picture on her nightstand. She hadn’t had it before when he was alive. She hadn’t needed it. She’d only have to roll over to watch his face in sleep.
“I wish you were here,” she whispered to a piece of paper. How many nights had she cried her eyes out over that old photo? How many times had she pleaded and begged for him to come back?
How much longer could it go on?
Move on, girl. What would Kevin want?
He’d want her to be happy. She knew that in her heart. Even with his parents hating her. Even with her life in such tatters that she’d had to sell his guitar. Even with her dreaming about another guy, he’d want her to find peace.
But no one had promised that would be found with Marty.
“I wish that…that I didn’t have feelings for him. That I could tell him about his girlfriend, like a friend would. Nothing more. Not expecting, not hoping. Not thinking that he’d, that we’d…”
She wanted that. For Marty to see her as more, but what was she? A broke widow working a dead-end job. A woman with no future and a past that wouldn’t leave her.
Pulling in a breath sharp as diamond shards, she said, “I don’t deserve anything better.”
Chapter Twelve
It was not a good scone. Under the tempting bakery lights, it had looked buttery and rich. In his mouth, it tasted like kitty litter and had the texture of sand dug out of an ashtray. Marty was glaring at the baked good that had broken his heart when a shadow caused him to look up.
“Morning, sunshine,” he called in a chipper voice, receiving the frown he expected.
“Hi,” poor, exhausted Brandy answered with. Her usually bright eyes were shadowed, her always dewy skin ashen and dry. All clear signs of someone with a five-alarm hangover.
Marty didn’t ask how she’d found him at the coffee shop, only moved his mass of shit out of the way. She collapsed into a chair, finger massaging what had to be aching temples. “They say food is supposed to help, but I think this scone would only make it worse.”
“What?” Her head whipped up, her lips pursed in agony. “Make what worse?”
“Those tiny elves jackhammering on your brain,” he said, swiping a finger back and forth over her serious ponytail.
The frown deepened and she turned from him. “You think I have a hangover?”
“I’d say drunk dialing me at two a.m. would lead to one. Unless you have some kind of alcohol-related superpower I’m unaware of?” Picking up his half-drained mug, he was about to take a long drink when he watched Brandy from above the rim. She was very clearly not looking at him. Oh, her head would turn in his direction, but her gaze batted around the bottles behind the counter, or the little Chinese lanterns left up all year.
What’s wrong? Marty moved to place his cup down, already reaching to hold her pale, trembling hand, when it struck him. “You know I’m not mad.”
“You’re not?”
Funny, he’d never noticed how brown her eyes were. There were varying levels of brownness in the world. Some had the so-dull brown as to be nearly a grayish black. Others had a light brown that leaned into a terrifying yellow hazel. But Brandy’s irises boasted the richest brown he’d ever seen. Brighter than milk chocolate, deeper than a river of chocolate, softer than a chocolate truffle. He should have gotten the chocolate donut instead.
Shaking off the wanderings of his stomach, he said, “I mean, if it happened to Eldon, he’d be fuming.”
“How…” Brandy clasped her hands together on the table until they were folded in prayer. “How do you know?”
Marty chuckled. “How could I not? You called me, dragged me from the deepest dreams to—”
There went the crumble again and he flinched. They were always picking on each other, the way friends did. Why was this bothering her so badly? “I just wanted to say, I mean that…I didn’t care. Okay, I was left lying in bed dreaming about eating your pie.”
“Oh God.” Brandy folded, burying her head in her hands.
“You didn’t eat it all, did you?” Marty kept on poking, causing her to groan harder.
“No. That isn’t…I didn’t just call you for food.” She lifted her head and the stricken look knotting her lips caused him to shrink back. “I need to talk to you. To tell you something…”
“What is it?” he said, wanting to rub her shoulders to worry the anxiety away. Brandy practically radiated neon-pink waves of fear and he couldn’t understand it.
She winced, those deep brown eyes going everywhere but him again. “If I tell you, you’ll…I don’t want you to get mad.”
“Me? Mad? When am I ever angry? I am as serene as one of those cheap fountains you can buy at a drugstore.” Marty raised his hands and pinched both forefingers to thumbs. Gurgling noises erupted from his lips.
There it was, a momentary crack in her dour frown. But the longer she stared, not saying anything, the colder the wind blew through him. Some of that might be due to the A/C cranked to ‘building a snowman’ levels. Yet, he couldn’t fully explain the shiver crawling up his spine.
“Brandy…” He reached out and cupped her hands with his. “You can talk to me. You know that. About anything.”
She mashed her pursed lips back and forth as she seemed to chew on his offer. It wasn’t until she drifted her wandering gaze away from the ceiling onto him that she opened her mouth to explain.
“It’s…”
A jangle of the bell distracted him, and he sat up instantly. His hands fell from Brandy as he looked to his breakfast guest. “Hello, beautiful,” he called, waving to make certain she saw him.
Janeth floated across the floor like a sea queen and rested beside his table. On instinct, Marty stood and moved to tug out her chair. He placed a quick kiss to her cheek, well aware that touching the perfectly applied purple on her lips wouldn’t end well for him.
She turned to him. “You said we have
a date planned?”
“Yes, and it’s… Uh, could you give me a minute? I was in the middle of something with—” He jerked his chin to Brandy, but she was turtled up inside her shirt. Even her hands tugged inside the sleeves.
Janeth focused away from her phone to the woman trying to climb inside her own liver. “Do I know you?”
“What?” Brandy gasped and Marty chuckled.
“Of course you do—from the party. Remember?” He leaned closer, caressing his arm across Janeth’s shoulders, but her eyes burned through Brandy.
She wasn’t jealous, was she? Marty wanted to laugh at such a ludicrous thought. Brandy was a good friend, and he was always more tactile with people than the average guy. Nothing else to it. Janeth should never have to worry about him having eyes for anyone else. Turning said eyes on his girlfriend and sighing to himself at being so lucky, he said, “My mom’s birthday party. With the churros.”
“Ah.” There was her bright smile, Janeth turning to him. “Of course. You were the girl that found his stash of porn.”
“He told you that?” Brandy gasped, as if in shock that he’d share something slightly embarrassing and also funny with his girlfriend.
Shrugging, Marty said, “Why not? We don’t have any secrets to hide.”
“Oh my God,” Brandy groaned into her hands. Was she still salty because he hadn’t held up his end of the bargain? That should be rectified.
But not today. Slurping back the last of his lukewarm coffee, Marty rose to his feet. “We should get going,” he said to Janeth.
She rolled her eyes. “Finally.” But as she turned to Brandy, she leaned closer to whisper in his ear, “Babe.” That caused Marty to grin like the town fool, his hand finding itself right at the small of Janeth’s back.
“Hope you can handle the store today by yourself, seeing as how I pulled double duty yesterday.”
It wasn’t a groan or a grumble he got from his friend, but a slow shift of her narrowed eyes. But after staring for a second, Brandy shook it all away. “Yeah, I…I can.”