by Tami Lund
When they reached the pumpkin patch, Gabriella leapt off the end of the wagon and hobbled across the grassy margin between the two-track trail for the hay wagon and the expansive pumpkin patch. He figured her knee was probably killing her, but she was having too much fun to acknowledge it.
“We have to take one home,” she said, and began wandering amongst the pumpkins, searching for just the perfect one.
“We rode a motorcycle, Gabriella. Not particularly conducive to taking pumpkins home,” Brandon reminded her, and then he was momentarily distracted when she bent over in front of him. She straightened and turned around, holding a bright orange pumpkin that fit perfectly in the palm of her hand.
“What about this one?” she asked, her voice teasing and her eyes sparkling behind her sunglasses.
***
She grinned impishly and Brandon rolled his eyes as he grabbed the front of her jacket and pulled her into his arms. They stood like that, hugging, and Gabriella could feel the rumble of his chest as he chuckled. She closed her eyes and pretended, just for a moment, that they were a couple, and this was a tradition they had created. Afterward, they would go home and drink cider and make love in front of a roaring fire, on the living room rug…
Brandon pushed her away and the fantasy shattered.
“I think we can manage that one,” he said. “Let’s get back on the wagon so I can introduce you to the reason for fall: cider and donuts.”
“Sounds yummy,” Gabriella said and as naturally as if they really were a couple, she slipped her hand into his as they walked back to the wagon.
They paid for the pumpkin, then made their way past the playground to the small wood-frame store situated next to it. Inside the store, the donut counter was manned by a blond teenager who dropped small white bags with steam seeping out of them onto the counter just as fast as customers walked by and snatched them up.
Brandon snagged one of the bags and a half-gallon of apple cider and led her out of the store to a small picnic area that overlooked a huge corn maze.
“All the tables are full,” he commented as he scanned the area. “Come on. Let’s go sit by the bike.”
Gabriella followed him to the parking lot. They sat down on a patch of grass between the bike and an old wooden fence. Brandon poured two glasses of cider and offered Gabriella the bag of donuts. She took a drink of cider, smacked her lips loudly, and then bit into a steaming hot cinnamon donut.
“Oh God,” she groaned, and Brandon’s eyes widened as he stared at her face.
“If you say that donut is as good as sex I will be forced to demonstrate how very untrue that is,” he warned.
“But it is,” Gabriella protested with her eyes closed and her tongue flicking out to catch every last crumb off of her lips.
“Okay, I can’t take this anymore,” Brandon said, and he abruptly stood.
Gabriella’s eyes flew open as he pulled her to her feet and dragged her over to the bike. He placed his hands on her waist and lifted her and dropped her onto the seat of the bike, so that she was sitting sideways. Before she could grasp his intention, he pushed her knees open and stepped between her legs.
“Brandon, I…”
He snagged the waist of her pants, deftly opening the button and tugging down the zipper.
“Brandon, we’re in the middle of a parking lot. We” – Her voice faded on a gurgle as he thrust his hand into her pants. His left hand cupped the back of her neck. He dipped his head, parted his lips and kissed her, his tongue pressing into her mouth at the same time as his finger pressed into her…
“Oh,” she exclaimed into his mouth. Her legs spread wider. She wrapped her arms around his waist and clung to him as her tongue warred with his. His fingers pumped into her, mimicking sex, as his thumb brushed across her clitoris.
Gabriella arched off the seat, her strangled cry drowned in the kiss and she shattered into a million pieces, right there in the middle of a crowded parking lot, sitting on Brandon’s Harley, fully clothed and with no other stimulation other than his hand in her pants and his tongue in her mouth.
After long moments, he broke the kiss and looked down at her. Her lips were swollen and slightly parted. Her eyes were glazed under her sunglasses. He smiled smugly, then deliberately pulled his hand out of her pants and lifted his fingers to his lips and licked the evidence of her arousal. Every last drop.
Gabriella gurgled. He grinned.
“That didn’t take nearly as long as I expected it to,” he said conversationally. He was still standing between her knees, holding her steady, which was good because she was pretty certain she could not stand on her own at the moment.
“It’s been a while,” Gabriella murmured. Her voice sounded breathy and faraway to her own ears.
“Since you’ve had sex?”
“Since I’ve had an orgasm.”
“That’s a damn shame.”
“Yes, it is.”
“And do the donuts compare?”
“Not in the least.”
“Pizza?”
“No.”
“Told you so.”
“I think I’m ready to go home now.”
“Okay.”
She finally focused her eyes on him. “I’m ready.”
***
Brandon wondered at the intensity of the way she stared at him. He wondered if she was preparing to slap him again. He knew he crossed an invisible line, probably broke the pact they’d made, but something inside him snapped when she licked those donut crumbs off her lips and moaned as if the damned donut had given her an orgasm. If anyone was going give her orgasms, it sure as hell was going to be him, damn it.
He would have stopped, if she had pulled away, had asked him to, had made any indication that she did not like what he was doing. But she hadn’t done any of those things. Instead, she spread her legs wider, inviting him in, silently asking for more. She grabbed him and held tightly as her tongue tried to dominate his as he made love to her mouth and her sex all at the same time.
Her orgasm had surprised both of them. She was probably surprised it happened at all, while he had simply been surprised at how quickly it happened. Surprised, and smugly satisfied with his own prowess. Oh yeah, he was still the king. He still had it.
Licking the evidence of her arousal off his fingers had been purely for effect, not because he was dying to know what she tasted like. But damn she tasted good.
“I said okay,” he responded to her repeat comment.
“No, I mean, I’m ready. Let’s go. Now.” Her eyes bore into his and he finally registered what she was saying. At least, he thought she was saying what he thought she was saying. Or was that just eternal hope blooming?
“Oh,” he said dimly, not making a move. Gabriella finally shifted impatiently and pushed him away.
“Let’s go, Brandon, before I change my mind.”
“Change your mind?” His brain had stopped functioning at some point in the last few minutes. Somewhere between tasting her and hearing her suggest that she was ready. Ready?
“Are you…?”
“I want to,” she said impatiently as she pulled the helmet onto her head. “Come on, let’s go back to your house. Hurry.”
He jumped as if he’d been scalded. He fumbled as he gathered the cider and remaining donuts, stuffed them, along with the pumpkin, into one of the small bags attached to the back of the bike.
He had a difficult time securing his helmet on his head. His fingers were suddenly not as nimble as they’d been only moments earlier. Finally, after a few head shakes and some cursing, he started the bike and they roared out of the parking lot.
Brandon had a hard time concentrating on the ride home, and he was glad they rode down back roads where traffic was light. Otherwise he might have killed them both from his lack of attention to the road.
One problem was the fact that Gabriella kept shifting behind him, her thighs pressing against his ass, her heat radiating through his entire body. Her hands couldn’t
seem to stay still either. She kept running them up and down his stomach and over his thighs and it was damned distracting. He wanted her to do that when they got home and weren’t wearing any clothes.
The other problem was the promise of what might –finally – happen when they arrived at his house. In truth, he half doubted it would happen, because it was a solid twenty-minute ride, which would give her plenty of time to cool down and start thinking more clearly. God, he hoped she didn’t do that.
He was forcibly reminded of the very first time he had sex. He had been a sophomore in high school, just starting to fill out, and she was a senior, with worlds of experience and a bizarre attraction for younger guys. They were hanging out in a mutual friends’ basement, playing pool and watching television, with about five other people. The friends’ parents were gone for the evening. She asked him to come upstairs with her for a moment and he obliged. She took him into their friends’ parents’ bedroom and began taking off her clothes. Brandon remembered how he felt at that moment: surprised, excited, scared and horny as hell. Exactly like he felt right now.
He pulled the bike into the garage and killed the engine, pushing the automatic garage door opener as he did so. He pulled off his helmet and before he could slide off the bike, Gabriella hopped off the back and climbed into his lap. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and kissed him, soul deep and full of promise. She wiggled her hips and Brandon’s hands grasped them and ground them into his throbbing erection.
Gabriella broke the kiss and said, “Let’s do it right here, on the bike.”
Brandon thought he might explode on the spot. He took a deep, shuddering breath and said, “As tempting as that is, I think we should start in the bedroom. I was not remotely expecting to get so lucky, so I didn’t bring any protection. But I have plenty upstairs.”
I hope, he added silently, trying to recall the last time he’d had a lady friend over and how many times they did it. For some reason, his brain couldn’t seem to focus on anyone except Gabriella. Even when he’d been picturing his first time, it was her face he saw, and he couldn’t even recall the girl’s name at the moment. He shook his head and somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought, this can’t be good.
Gabriella giggled and slid off the bike. She unzipped the leather jacket and draped it on the handlebars. Brandon followed her lead and did the same thing with his jacket. He stepped in front of her and unlocked the backdoor. Butter rushed outside and they both ignored her as they hurried inside. In the laundry room, Gabriella pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor. She wore a black lace bra that contrasted sharply with her pale creamy skin. Brandon sucked in a breath and ran a hand across her back. She shivered delicately.
“Too bad your protection is upstairs,” she said slyly.
“We have all day and night,” Brandon said. “Let’s just get upstairs and then we can decide where to do it next.” He pulled his flannel shirt and t-shirt off and followed her out of the room.
I have never seen such a beautiful and sensual woman in my entire life. Even the multi-colored bruise on her abdomen could not detract from her beauty.
Gabriella stepped into the living room and Brandon watched as she slid her pants over her hips and let them drop to the floor. She stepped out of them and continued across the room to the stairs. He unbuttoned his jeans and struggled out of them as he hopped along, trying to keep up with her. She was already at the top of the stairs when he finally put his foot on the first step. Her bra hung from the railing. “Damn.”
He hustled upstairs and caught up to her at the door to his bedroom. “Looks like you get to sleep in my bed after all,” he murmured as his hands slid around her waist and pulled her to him.
“I have no intention of sleeping,” Gabriella murmured back.
She let out a little sound of pleasure when his hand covered her breast. He turned her around and reached down and cupped her thighs, and then lifted her so she straddled him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried her to the bed. He dropped her onto the bed and then climbed on top of her, stopping to suckle her breasts and enjoy the small noises she made.
He kissed his way across her neck, sucking on the spot that made her shiver and then reached her mouth and ravished it until he felt he would explode if he was not inside her immediately. He probably would explode almost instantly anyway, but he’d promise to make it up to her on the second round.
Brandon broke the kiss and reached over to open the drawer in his bedside table. He pulled out a condom box and turned it upside down. Nothing fell out. He shook it and still nothing fell out.
“Fuck.”
“That would be nice,” Gabriella said demurely.
Brandon smirked. “Funny.”
He crab crawled across the bed and opened the drawer in the other bedside table. A couple of pens and a crossword puzzle book but no condoms. “Fuck,” he said again, and collapsed onto the bed.
After a short pause, Gabriella hinted, “I’m sure there’s a convenience store or pharmacy nearby.”
Brandon rolled onto his knees and straddled her. He bent down and kissed her once, hard, and then because he was unable to resist, he kissed her again, this one long and deep and soft and sensual as hell. By the time he dragged his lips away from her mouth, he was dry humping her and in danger of exploding all over her stomach and his dry-clean-only down comforter.
“Do not change your mind before I get back,” he said sternly, and then he jumped off the bed and all but ran out the door.
***
Gabriella heard him cursing in the living room – probably struggling to get his pants back on – and then the back door banged shut. It opened and closed again and then Gabriella could hear Butter’s feet, scrabbling across the floor and up the stairs. A truck engine roared to life and tires squealed and then the house fell silent.
She lay there and tried not to think about the ramifications of what she was doing. She wanted this. With every fiber of her being, she wanted this. They’d been flirting and teasing each other for days, dancing around the fact that they had an undeniably sexual attraction.
Then he’d gone and given her the best orgasm she’d ever had, ever, in the space of about thirty seconds – hot damn – and on the back of a motorcycle in the middle of a crowded parking lot to boot. As if she hadn’t been already near the point of combustion, she then watched as he licked her sex juices from his fingers. And looked as if he enjoyed the taste. And wanted more.
Oh God.
Her body hummed with need. She wouldn’t be surprised if she exploded with another orgasm at the first thrust. It really has been too long since her needs were met in the bedroom, and after that little display in the parking lot, Gabriella was absolutely certain Brandon could meet every single one of those needs and a few that she wasn’t even aware she had.
He needed to hurry the hell up.
She pursed her lips and closed her eyes and told herself the future didn’t matter. They could have mutually satisfying sex until they were both tired of each other, and then they would just move on, and she would be grateful for the fact that he gave her a few orgasms along the way. If he got tired of her before the police released her apartment, then she would move into a hotel in the interim. Surely he had been jesting when he told her the only overnight accommodations in the area were two-hundred-dollar a night bed and breakfasts. She had chosen to believe him at the time because he had been so full of promise and she hadn’t really wanted to be alone.
It could be as simple as that, at least that’s what she kept telling her heart. She heard the bang of the backdoor again and held her breath as Brandon clamored up the stairs.
By the time he reached the door of the bedroom, he was breathing heavily. He held a small paper bag in one hand and wore only jeans and an unbuttoned flannel shirt. Evidentially he decided against putting the t-shirt back on.
Gabriella giggled. “I imagine the store clerk was a little star
tled to see you.”
Brandon threw the bag and his keys onto the bedside table and pulled off the flannel shirt. He unsnapped his jeans and shoved them down to his ankles and stepped out of them. Much more calm than he was ten minutes ago, he stepped up to the bed and lay down on top of Gabriella.
“The clerk knew exactly what was going on, and he wished me luck.”
“You don’t need luck,” Gabriella whispered. She stared up at him, afraid to make the first move, afraid that he would, afraid that he would suddenly decide to be chivalrous and declare that it wasn’t fair to take advantage of her like this.
“What are you thinking?” His voice was soft, edged with concern.
A self-conscious giggle burst from her lips. “I want you to kiss me.”
“Oh. Is that all?” He looked so relieved, she laughed again. But when he shifted his hips and his erection slid through the wetness between her thighs, the laugh died on her lips.
“Please,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to beg,” he said, his voice cracking. He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks. She groaned.
“You said you wanted me to kiss you.”
“My lips,” she said impatiently. As eager as they both had been before he ran to the store for condoms, why had he suddenly determined to slow things down? She lifted her hips, trying to make him understand. She didn’t want slow. She wanted him inside her. Right now.
He kissed her lips, feather light, just a brush of skin on skin. She opened her lips, silently asking for more. She blinked her eyes open when he lifted his head.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Taking my time. I’ve had a lot of fantasies over the course of the last few days. I hope you’re up to this.”
Gabriella made a noise of frustration and bucked her hips, giving his chest a push at the same time. He pulled away, confusion written on his face. She gave him another push, and he rolled over onto his back. She snagged the box of condoms from the bedside table, at the same time straddling his hips.