Beauty and the Brute

by Nikki Winter

  A quick run of a water chilled paper towel over her nape and a few deep, mediated breaths got her wayward nipples and their aggressive demands somewhat under control. It didn’t completely quell the ache between her thighs though; the one inspired by a voice that was better suited for a comic book villain by the name of The Pussy Parishioner. Superpower? Talking your lady bits into talking back, mostly in non-syllabic starts and spurts that sounded like an undiscovered language of women who were crying out for the chance at an explosive orgasm. The ridiculously slow drawl of Noel swore that he could make you come. He’d make you come and no one—absolutely not one person—would ever be even remotely good enough afterwards. That was more than enough reason to stay far, far away from Mr. Quarterback. A simple glance, a slight curve of his lips, and she was ready to question if he liked his eggs scrambled or fertilized.

  Alana pinched herself, leaning away from thoughts that she dare not linger on and chucked the soggy paper towel into the wastebasket. One deep inhale, a tug of her dress’s hem and she was ready to leave her refuge to face the party again. She gave a sharp nod to her appearance, flickered her bangs back into place and marched out the door…only to run into pure granite.

  Strong, calloused hands caught her by the forearms before she could go rocking backwards on shoes that were entirely too high to be worn as anything other than a statement.

  “Careful, sugar. In those you’re liable to break something upon landing,” a voice—that goddamned voice!—pointed out in amusement. “Can’t have you damaging something I might want to lick later.”

  Lick? Lick what? He wanted to lick something?

  Alana closed her eyes and took a step back, her hands braced against his chest to gain some distance. He didn’t release her though. Noel’s hands remained at her wrists, his thumbs rubbing idly against the insides.

  “Let go.”

  He only grunted and tightened his hold a fraction. “Don’t you think it’s time to stop avoiding me? You’re wilier than a squirrel facing down a four lane highway with an acorn tree on the other side of the road and only one good eye to use.”

  She blinked. “I don’t…what?”

  Noel smirked. “Now did little old me go and get you tongue tied?”

  “No, I’m just trying to find the logic in your backwoods Uncle Jim Bob acumen,” she retorted, finally finding her voice.

  If anything that damn smile widened. “Trying to sweet talk me, sugar?”

  Alana shook her head slowly. “Why are you following me around, squidbilly?”

  His brows flicked up a notch. “That’s mighty darn presumptuous of you. Perhaps I simply needed to use the facilities.”

  “The fact that you said facilities when you simply could have said, ‘take a piss’ tells me all I need to know.”

  “I try not to be vulgar in the presence of ladies. That’s something I save for locker rooms, ma’am.”

  “Right,” she drew out. “Well how about you go on and use the facilities and let me go back to my supposed avoidance?”

  Noel backed her further into the enclave. “Not supposed, darlin’. I know avoidance when I see it. You take off faster than a buck upwind whenever I’m around and I’d like to know what I could’ve possibly done to offend you so I can make amends.”

  It was Alana’s turn to smirk. “Make amends or bandage it so you’ll have a chance to fuck me?”

  Because that’s what he wanted. That’s what they always wanted eventually. A good lay without a lot of fuss or work. Nowadays Alana wasn’t much for fuss and as long as it didn’t interfere with her studies or her work then she was pretty pleased with simplicity. This one however, he’d require fuss and work and time she didn’t have to give.

  “Once again with the vulgarities,” he murmured, staring at her mouth. “One has to wonder if you honestly believe that’s all I want or if it’s really all you want, Ms. Stafford.”

  She sighed and reached up to cup one of those angular cheeks. When he leaned forward, eyes still entranced by the movement of her lips, Alana allowed him to get a hair’s breath away before replying, “Shame that we’ll never truly know, now isn’t it?”

  One firm shove and she was out of his grasp and past him, determined that her destination would be home this time. It was entirely too tempting to find herself sprawled in the back of Noel’s car, her panties clenched in one of those huge palms that could assuredly clutch both halves of her ass with ease while she rode him into oblivion.

  Alana chanced a glance over her shoulder, only to catch him watching the rock of her hips as though he were imagining the exact same thing. Yes. Entirely too tempting.

  He shouldn’t follow her. Not after she’d just told him in so many words that he would never see her naked but…that walk. That damn walk and that glance she’d shot him. The one where he could see her silently asking him to push just one more time, to steer clear of promises and platitudes and bullshit. She wanted him to follow her. It wasn’t arrogance thinking for him, it was the pull of that stare. So Noel placed one foot in front of the other and found himself eating up the space between the two of them right as she scooted out of the doors of the club and into the parking lot.

  “You’re following me,” Alana said without turning around.

  “Tell me to stop,” he retorted, still hot on her heels.

  “I should tell you to stop.”

  “Still waiting to hear it, sugar.”

  They reached a sensible four door sedan. There was nothing that screamed luxury about the vehicle. It was as unadorned as the words of its owner. Alana hit her key fob and the locks flipped. She opened the driver side door but stopped. Her head went back on her shoulders and he waited on baited breath. This was her call. If she said no again, he’d bow out and accept defeat. But the word hadn’t been spoken yet…

  Several seconds ticked by and then she finally asked, “Why?”

  Noel swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable. “There’re some things a body can’t explain. I want what I want.”

  “And that’s me.”

  He stared at her profile, willing her to turn around as he confirmed, “And that’s you.”

  Alana finally looked at him. “When we’re done?”

  Rolling his shoulders, he answered, “You decide.”

  She grunted, gazing at him. “I decide that this is one time. One night. Tomorrow when you open your eyes, I’ll be leaving. I won’t call. I won’t text. There will be no social media posts or carrier pigeons. There’s an opportunity to have me for a small, small window so the both of us can satisfy curiosity.”

  He tilted his head. “Done?”

  With a nod, she shrugged and retorted, “Yes.”

  “Good.” Noel didn’t give her another chance to speak, to change her mind. His hands were wrapped about her upper arms before she could protest, tugging her forward. The rushed move seemed to catch her completely off guard as she squealed slightly, falling into him for the second time that night.

  The kiss would come, he’d ensure that but for a moment—for just one moment—he wanted to savor the weight of her pressed against him; the cushion of her heavy breasts and soft belly, the cradle of her hips. His eyes never left hers. He was waiting for the surrender, searching for the guard to slip just a bit. When her lashes touched the rise of her cheeks and her mouth upturned towards his with an unspoken request to finish it, Noel knew then that no matter what she said, this would never be a one night deal. This couldn’t be a one night deal.

  Because neither his curiosity nor any other part of him would ever be satisfied with Alana Stafford in the small, small window she’d handed him. The soft moan she released upon his lips touching hers confirmed that.

  Two

  The walk of shame. Throughout the years Alana had developed a multitude of struts, strolls and flounces. So many in fact that she had shoes that fell into each category. Such was her nature and she’d accepted this. However, shame had never been a part of any of those struts, strolls or flounces. If
she spent the night with someone as a consenting adult what did she have to be ashamed about? What could she possibly have done in those few hours that would make her feel as though she should keep her head low and her shoulders hunched? Nothing, absolutely nothing. There was no clutching of underthings the next morning. There was no swinging of shoes from her forefinger as she hailed a cab one block over from where she’d been. Alana didn’t bother with embarrassment and shyness when she rolled over to face her lovers as her preset alarm sounded off and alerted her to the fact that it was time to excuse herself. No, she’d always done so with a smile, a quick kiss to the temple and a promise to call them in a few days before taking the time to arrange herself properly and go out into the world again. That was the way things went. That was the way things had always went with absolutely no deviation. And yet…this morning in particular was different. Because last night had been different. Entirely too different.

  “Sugar,” a voice, that was about as smooth as jagged glass, said against the shell of her ear. “Alarm’s going off.”

  Awareness shouldn’t have smacked her as quickly as it did. There should’ve been the slow ease of knowing, a gentle awakening that would’ve allowed her to take in her surroundings and remember the events that had led her here. Instead all she was aware of, all she knew, was that she wanted to run. Far. Far. Away. Because Noel Haddon had kept every fucking promise he’d sent her in his stares. He’d given her every goddamn thing he’d silently told her he would and more. And God Almighty, she needed to go.

  A sinewy arm curled around her belly, a huge thigh resting between her legs and every strand of burnished copper hair was felt against her skin.

  Get up. Get up. Get up!

  Alana cleared her throat and tried to ease away from the warmth bracketing her but he felt so good and the delicious soreness of her mouth, her jaw, her shoulder blades, her lower back, her thighs and between them begged her to stay precisely where she was. Nope. Nah, son. Nah.

  She sighed and asked quietly, “Would you mind…you know…?”

  Noel grunted, brushed his lips against the back of her neck and then rolled away.

  Fighting the instinct to cover herself, to hide because he made her feel ridiculously naked, she sat up and threw her legs over the side of his four poster bedframe, reaching for her phone so she could quiet the alarm.

  “Leaving?”

  She exhaled and searched for that Alana; the one who gave saucy smiles and responses that came with the simple lift of her brow. She couldn’t find her. She couldn’t find any witty responses or teasing remarks. Just a shrug. That’s all she could give. A shrug and, “I have to be into the office by nine so…yeah...leaving.”

  Noel grunted again. “Breakfast?”

  Does it involve sitting on your face or…? Hey, hey, hey! No! Bad Alana! Baaad Alana! Get up, get dressed and get out!

  Standing on shaky legs, she went about searching for her clothes. “Um…no. Bathroom?”

  The mattress made a groaning noise and she realized he’d just hefted himself off of it. When she glanced up at the mirror hanging over his dresser, she could see Mr. Baby Bear standing in all his naked glory, one hand combing through his hair, the other scratching his chest. No shame. Just none. Then again, he really didn’t have anything to be remotely bashful about. He was sturdy. Really sturdy. Shoulders, calves and thighs were roped with muscle. His torso wasn’t delineated like the majority of the men in his profession who lived in the gym. His tummy was still flat and well defined but there was cushion there, enough to cuddle comfortably. If one were to venture below the waist, they’d find out where Mjolnir spent it’s time when away from Thor’s grasp. And that was all she would say on the matter because…annoying. It was all so annoying. The longer she stood there, in that mirror, the more she remembered.

  “Watch yourself on my cock, darlin’. Look at you. That’s where you belong isn’t it? Say it. I wanna hear it. Say, ‘I belong on Noel’s cock.’”

  Alana dutifully repeated every word, earning her the flick of his thumbs across her nipples.

  “That’s right,” Noel snarled lowly, his thighs tensing beneath hers as he spread her legs further apart, forcing her to catch longer glimpses of his length disappearing between her pussy lips. “That’s exactly where you belong. And I’m going to keep you there as long as possible because you like it.”

  She had liked it. Alana had liked it more than she cared to admit to anyone else or herself. Every thrust, every clench of his teeth around her nipple, on her hip, her ankle and anywhere else he could get his mouth had left her utterly spineless. But it was the moments that he refused to let her close her eyes or turn away. He made her confront him—her pleasure. He kept her locked in his gaze as he bent her knees towards her chest and drove into her until her mouth opened and no sound came out. He made her snicker by gliding his fingertips behind her knee pits. He made her come by discovering that she needed permission to do so. The night before he’d claimed that he liked to avoid vulgarities but he’d been as vulgar as she wanted him to in bed. It was all so addictive and so very dangerous. Hence her need to leave and quickly.

  Alana’s nails bit into her palms as she took her eyes off Noel’s ass and started to pick up her bra, her dress, and an earring that she hadn’t even realized she’d lost but she couldn’t find…

  “Here.” A hand—that had done exactly as she’d predicted and palmed her ass like a championship ball—held out her panties and Alana managed to keep from flinching.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking them from him.

  He was still naked. Why was he still naked?!

  “Bathroom is just through that door on the far left, sugar. There should be an extra toothbrush in one of the drawers and if you want to use the shower, the towels are fresh,” he told her, smiling. Noel turned away and walked towards where his jeans had been thrown. “I’ve got training scheduled today so I’ll just do a quick wash-up in one of the other baths down the hall.” He pulled the jeans up his legs, not bothering with boxers. “When you come out, I’ll at least have coffee waiting for you.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “But I’m going to anyway,” Noel quickly cut in. “Not sure what you’re accustomed to but I’m pretty sure a man doesn’t just shove the person responsible for the best sex of his life out onto the front porch without at least some brew. So do what you feel you need to in the facilities and I’ll find the prettiest mug I can for you.”

  There wasn’t another chance to argue because Mr. Southern Sensibilities of the Uncle Jim Bob clan had already made his way out of the room! Dammit! Wait. Best sex of his…? Her feet moved before she could stop them and she found herself following him out into the hall.

  Noel halted on the stairs and glanced over at her. “Problem, sugar?”

  Words eluded her and to keep herself from asking if that were really true and admitting that he had most assuredly been the best lay she’d ever experienced, she simply blurted, “I like honey and vanilla extract in my coffee.”

  His smile was just too sweet, too fucking sweet. “Should have those. Anything else?”

  Alana quickly shook her head and backed into the room. “Nope. Nothing at all.”

  She probably shouldn’t have locked him out of his own bedroom and then his own bathroom but panic had a hold on her. She came here to fuck him; to make him see the Elysian Fields before she went happily on her way. However, the man had gone off like a celibate bottle rocket leaving her indiscernibly tied in knots. Alana didn’t get tied in knots dammit!

  With a soul deep sigh, she opened the door to a shower that had enough space for a Roman orgy and stood there, fiddling with knobs and buttons until she got hit with the perfect pulse of hot water. In quick succession, she turned on the other shower heads and kept her pleasurable groans to herself. With all the activity hours ago, this was needed.

  Despite her inclination to move with a purpose out of Noel’s front door, Alana knew that if she didn’t play
to her innate charms and treat him as she’d treated all of her lovers, she’d make the mistake of marking him differently. She’d forget that he should be a can of worms only opened once. So she took her time, used gender neutral soap that smelled crisp, grabbed a towel and calmly exited the shower.

  “I’m not a big lotion man,” Noel said from literally the depths of nowhere, scaring the holy living motherfucking shit out of Alana as he leaned casually up against the double sinks, a mug in his hand. “But I do keep cocoa butter, tea tree and lavender oil around.” He shrugged at Alana’s look. “Helps with the damage to my hands when I’ve been catching pigskins all day. Also, I just like the scents. The things they make for men can be a bit…much. Colognes are nice as long as you don’t smell like you’ve made a getaway from the senior home and you’ve got a pocket full of Viagra pills, shaking them at any lady that walks by.”

  What, precisely, was she supposed to say to that? Tucking in her lips, she pulled the towel tighter around herself and walked towards where he’d placed the cocoa butter and other items. She dare not ask how he’d gotten into his room and bathroom after she’d locked both doors. Alana picked up the jar and made a show of looking from him to the door. Noel just blinked, taking a sip from that mug. At least he was dressed now. Of course it was an Under Armour and jersey shorts. Why wouldn’t it be something that made how huge his arms and calves were all the more apparent?

  When she realized the large, country fellow had no intentions of moving anytime soon, Alana decided she had a minimal amount of choices. None of them suited her plan to stay cool headed and in control so she just dropped the towel. Noel paused mid-sip and she pretended to ignore him after that, going through the motions of moisturizing herself. By the time she placed her foot on the lip of his tub and bent over to run the cream down her legs, she was biting back a grin at the low rumble she received in response.