I shook those thoughts out of my head as I bounded up the stairs to Ming’s loft. As always, when I turned the handle I found she’d left it open for me.
“Ming,” I chastised as I let myself in and locked the door behind me. “What have I said about leaving your door unlocked? It’s not safe, there are a lot of crazies out there. Believe me, I know.”
I took of my jacket and laid it over the back of her gray high-back chair.
Unlike my place, Ming’s was pristine. Decorated in shades of white and gray, it was a space that was comfortable and welcoming, even though it felt high class.
Every time I saw Victoria, I wanted to tell her about it, knowing her interior decorating heart would explode with excitement over this place, but I couldn’t. Not without explaining why I’d been in Ming’s loft.
The door to the bathroom opened, and I turned, ready to repeat what I’d said about locking her front door, but when Ming stopped in the doorway, I lost my ability to form sentences.
She was wearing a long, black silk nightgown, her hair done in thick dark waves that fell around her shoulder, and the bra strap peeking out was as red as the heels on her feet.
After seven months, Ming still managed to surprise me, which was why I couldn’t seem to get enough of her. She always looked sophisticated, yet pure, with a hint of siren underneath. I knew what waited for me under all of that silk and lace, and I swore to God, that I wasn’t worthy of her.
Me … An orphan at fifteen, raised by my brother in a blue collar family. I’d spent my formative years painting houses, and now worked the streets, dealing with criminals every day.
I shouldn’t be allowed to touch her, but dammit if I was ready to give her up.
Crossing the loft in less than ten steps, I took her mouth without another word. Talking was overrated anyway.
Chapter Six ~ Ming
I was surrounded by Brady.
Scent, touch, emotion … he consumed me.
I’d bought this outfit as an unofficial birthday present for him, and once I’d received his text, I’d rushed to try and make myself up like the vision I had in my head. It must have worked, because after his initial comment about me leaving the door unlocked, the only thing Brady’s lips were doing was worshiping me.
The man knew how to work that mouth. Who was I kidding, he knew how to work everything. I’d never once been left unsatisfied when I was with Brady.
Well, physically. Emotionally was a-whole-other story.
His hands moved sensually up the side of my thighs, the silk of the material whispering against my skin, and my head fell back to give him lips better access to the length of my neck. Cupping my bottom, he lifted me easily off the floor and moved us toward the bed.
In anticipation of Brady’s arrival, I’d tossed all of my throw pillows on the floor and pulled back the duvet, folding it neatly at the foot of the bed. The sheets were nice and cool against my heated skin as he laid me down, pulling the nightgown over my head in one swift movement.
Desire made his eyes look ink black as they roamed over the bright-red bra and panty set, which only made my alabaster skin look even whiter in contrast. My breath caught at that look. I loved that look.
He lowered himself slightly, but kept most of his weight on his forearms, as he ran those full lips over my collarbone.
His jeans were rough against my highly sensitized legs and I bucked beneath him, eager to feel more.
Brady ran his hand through my long hair, bunching it and moving his hand, so that the soft curly tendrils flowed through his fingers. He liked my hair. He didn’t have to tell me with words, I knew because he was always playing with it, pulling it, or simply running his fingers through it. I took extra care of my hair, because I knew how much he liked the feel of it, especially when it touched his bare skin. He was a tactile person and I’d really started to appreciate the feel of things since I’d been with him. I paid more attention, because I knew it was one of the senses that turned him on the most.
He ran the back of his fingers gently down my torso and stomach. I arched my back, trying to get closer, but when his fingers dipped beneath the crimson lace, I dropped back down, sinking into my pillow-top mattress.
Brady’s fingers worked their magic, playing me as instinctively as he did his drums. He knew the right spots to get the sounds and reactions he wanted, and before he’d even taken off a stitch of clothing, I was falling apart beneath his touch.
My lashes fluttered as I came back to the present, to see Brady ridding himself of his clothes, revealing his naturally tanned skin to me. He was so muscular, so fit, without an ounce of fat anywhere on his body. He worked out daily, and the fruits of his effort were on display just for me.
I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, eager to touch, but he grasped both of my hands in one of his, bringing me to stand before turning me around so his front was flush against my back.
“Bend over.” His voice was gruff against my ear, causing goose bumps to break out at not only his tone, but his words.
The clasp of my bra was undone and the straps fell gently down my arms until I reached up and pulled the scrap of lace off, throwing it without a care to where it landed.
I bent over, bracing myself on my forearms, as my ass tilted up, right where Brady wanted it.
I looked over my shoulder as he crouched down behind me and slid the panties down my legs. I stepped out of them, then stood firmly back on my cherry-red heels. I felt Brady’s hands on those heels, before they slid up my calves, urging me to widen my stance as he kept moving north.
Still sensitive from my orgasm, I cried out softly when he kissed the apex of my thighs softly, his tongue sweeping out to taste me before standing erect behind me.
I fisted my hands in the sheets as he gripped my hips, the head of his cock teasing my entrance. One hand slid up my back and I heard his anticipatory sigh as it disappeared into my hair and gripped it roughly, as the length of him filled me in one swift move.
There was a moment’s pause as we both reveled in the feel of our joining, and then he began to move. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled my loft as Brady pounded me from behind; that, coupled with the erotic sound of his moans and the feel of him filling me so completely, had me pinching my nipple roughly, before moving my hand lower and feeling where we were joined.
At the touch of my fingers, Brady reared up, pulling me by the hair until I was standing, his hips thrusting even faster. In this new position he was able to get deeper, and I arched my back slightly so that he was able to keep his pulses rapid, without slipping completely out.
The sensation of his cock hitting my g-spot had my fingers moving to my clit as the need for release started to drive me to the brink of insanity. I came with a low moan, my walls clenching around him as shocks rocked through me. I felt one hand tighten in hair, while the fingers of his other dug into my hip, then his breath was hot on my neck as he found his release.
We took a moment to catch our breath, then I felt him slip out and take a step back, giving me space to move from the bed and go to the bathroom to clean up.
By the time I was finished and re-entered the loft, Brady was once again fully clothed.
He held out my nightgown and I slipped it over my head, taking a deep breath before bringing my eyes to his.
I was never sure if he’d sleep over or not, it usually depended on work, or whatever, but I secretly always hoped that he would.
It was obvious that this was not one of those nights.
I thought about his birthday, and the whole not wanting to be a stepping stone thing, and I thought what the fuck, I might as well just go for it.
“Brady,” I began softly, then cleared my throat nervously when he looked up from buttoning his jeans.
This shouldn’t be so hard, should it? We’ve been seeing each other for seven months now. Sure, it was just in the night like a tawdry affair, but still, why am I so nervous?
“Um, I was wonder
ing … About the New Year’s party at Brock’s … would you want to go with me? Together?”
I sounded like a freaking college freshman, rather than the woman in her mid-thirties that I was, and when a look of guilt crossed his devilishly handsome features, I felt my heart dip in my chest.
“I don’t know, Ming,” Brady said, running a hand over his short hair like he did when he was uncomfortable. “I think we’d give everyone the wrong idea. You know how Victoria and Bronagh can be…”
I felt my eyes well up with tears, but choked them back, refusing to let him see how his response hurt me.
I was a strong woman. I dug deep for that strength and made sure my voice was like steel when I answered, “Sure, I understand. Let me see you out.”
Brady opened his mouth like he wanted to respond, but I walked past him, through my loft, to the front door, opening it as I stood off to the side.
He stopped before walking out, his movements unsure, then bent to kiss me softly on the cheek.
“I’ll, uh, talk to you later.”
“Goodbye, Brady,” I said, shutting the door firmly and locking up behind me.
I leaned my forehead against the hard wood and unleashed the tears, as I decided I was no longer going to be Brady’s booty call.
“I deserve better,” I chanted lightly, even as my heart broke at the thought of losing my nights with the man I was in love with.
Chapter Seven ~ Brady
“Just a second,” I called out as I shuffled through my house, trying to pull on a pair of sweatpants.
Whoever was at the door was persistent. I’d been out cold after a late night at work, and had been woken up by the sound of banging. It took a few minutes before I realized it was someone pounding on my door.
I flung the door open, ready to give the evil pounder hell, but the curse words froze on my lips when I saw Victoria standing on my stoop smiling sunnily, with Declan in his stroller in front of her. She looked decked out for a night on the town, rather than a mid-morning stroll, but that was my sister-in-law, always perfectly poised … Unless you got her on the back of a four-wheeler on a mud-ridden trail, then her poise went right out the window.
That was one of the things I loved about her. If anyone tried to pin a label on Victoria, she’d find a way to prove them wrong.
“What are you doing?” I asked, still half asleep and confused as to why they were at my door.
“Declan wanted to see his favorite uncle, so we stopped by to see if you were free,” Victoria said smoothly, bending to release Dec from his stroller before I had a chance to respond.
She pushed passed me and walked into my entryway, then turned and shoved Dec into my arms.
“Where’s Brock and Rose?” I asked, pulling Dec close and smiling as he gave me a hug.
“They’re at the house having some daddy/daughter time.”
“You came by to clean again, didn’t you?” I asked as I shut the door with my foot. “I told you, you need to stop doing that. I’m a grown man.”
“Well, I know that, Brady, but I’m not sure that you do. Why would you still be living like a frat boy if you did?”
“First of all, I didn’t go to a university, so I was never in a frat. Second, I don’t need my brother’s wife coming by every few weeks to pick up after me. Go mess around in your own home and leave mine alone.”
Victoria’s heels clicked as she moved into the living room with a wave of her hand.
“Our house is immaculate, you know that.” Her back was turned, so I rolled my eyes, knowing full well she’d smack me upside the head if she saw me do it. “Besides, it gives you alone time with your nephew, which you don’t get enough of anymore, and it gives me a feeling of satisfaction when I’m done. What’s the harm?”
When she laid it out like that, Victoria made sense, but still. “It’s embarrassing, Tori … Like you’re my maid or something.”
Turning with a loving smile, Victoria replied, “Not your maid, Brady, but your family. I like to take care of you. Plus, I’m dying to redecorate for you, you know that. I swear I could make this place function in a way where it would be easy for you to keep it clean. Heck, you might even want to.”
My heart warmed.
Since my parents’ death, Brock had been a father figure to me. And even though we were the same age, once Victoria came in the picture, she’d always made it clear that she loved us like we were her own family. Not to say she was a mother figure, but she liked to make sure we were taken care of.
It was sweet.
“Victoria,” I began. She’d brought up decorating my house a million times since she started working at O’Malley Brothers full time as an interior decorator. I just didn’t see the point. “I like things simple, you know that.”
Crossing to my table, Victoria lifted up the drumstick chandelier and held it out.
“I could design your living room around this piece. Masculine, laid back, but fun … C’mon, Brady, just let me do one room.”
“Won’t the woman who eventually lives here with me want to be in charge of decorating?”
I quickly realized my mistake when Victoria’s eyes got wide and searched my face.
“Is there a woman to move in here and decorate?”
Shaking my head and holding Declan close, I began backing away slowly.
“Mama,” he cooed happily as Tori marched toward us, but I was getting ready to take flight.
“No, I mean, I was just saying, for the future,” I stuttered.
Victoria narrowed her eyes and asked, “Are you keeping something from us?”
“No,” I practically shouted, then decided to get her to back off by giving her what she wanted. “You know what, go ahead … the living room is all yours. Decorate away. Just let me know what the damage is when you’re done.”
“Yay!” she replied, her face brightening with excitement.
“Now, me and the little man are going to watch some football in the other room. Don’t go too crazy.”
“I won’t,” she said, moving to set the chandelier back down.
Before we could disappear into the sanctuary of my room, Victoria stopped me in my tracks when she called after me in a singsong voice, “Don’t think I’m distracted by you giving me what I want, Brady. I’m going to find out what secret you’re keeping.”
Rather than give myself away by responding, I shook my head in response and kept on my path to safety.
“Your mom scares me a little,” I told Dec as I shut my bedroom door behind us.
“Ball,” was his response.
I let Declan down so he could walk over to the basket in the corner that I kept stocked with balls of all sizes, just for him. Once he had a small basketball and a foam football in each hand, he waddled toward where I was sitting on the bed waiting for him.
“Ready to play catch?” I asked, smiling as he nodded enthusiastically.
As I played with my nephew I wondered, after the way we’d left things the last time I’d been at Ming’s, if I still had a secret to keep. I knew I’d fucked up not agreeing to go to the New Year’s party with her. I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell everyone about us and start an actual relationship, but at the same time, I wasn’t ready to give her up.
Chapter Eight ~ Ming
“Why did I say I’d do this?” I muttered to myself as I fiddled with my up-do.
It was New Year’s Eve and I was running fashionably late to Brock and Victoria’s party. The truth was, I’d talked myself out of going about six times, but knew that Bronagh and Cass would have my ass if I didn’t show, especially after I promised I would.
I didn’t want to see Brady. Not after the humiliation I felt after asking him to attend this party with me, and his immediate rejection.
I just wanted to hide under my blanket, which was what I’d been doing every other night this week.
I’d thrown myself into work, trying to block out the pain. I’d blown off my friends and family, not wanting them to take one
look at me and know something was wrong. I was grieving, there was no other word for it. Grieving over the end of my non-relationship with Brady.
I was such an idiot.
The door opened and I plastered on the fake smile that I intended to hold for the next two hours. I figured that was sufficient “face time,” and then I could retreat back to my bed for another lonely night.
“Ming-a-ling, you made it,” Brock said with a huge grin as he enveloped me in a bear hug. He’d obviously been enjoying his fair share of whiskey. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thanks, Brock,” I said with the first genuine smile I’d had in days. “So do you.”
“What this old thing?” he said with a chuckle, stepping back to show the light-green button up that matched his eyes perfectly. “Victoria made me wear it.”
“Well, she did good,” I replied with a laugh.
“Ming, you’re here. Thank God!”
I turned to see Bronagh moving slowly toward me, her hands cupping her large belly. She looked beautiful in a black maternity dress, her hair a mass of red curls falling around her glowing face.
“I promised, Nonie, so here I am,” I assured her as I hugged her as much as I could with her stomach in between us.
“Is this new?” she asked when she pulled back, her gaze taking in my floor-length red dress.
“I actually bought it a few years ago, just never had the chance to wear it.”
“It’s fabulous,” Bronagh gushed, then tucked her arm in mine and pulled me toward the kitchen. “Let’s get you a drink. I’m living vicariously through you tonight.”
As we walked toward the kitchen, I stopped to say hello to Shelly, Sasha, and Gaby, who were chatting with Craig and Gwen. Craig was Cal’s younger brother, and Gwen, Gaby’s little sister. They’d been friends most of their lives, and had been a couple for the last couple of years. They’d recently moved back home and were renting a place downtown.
When we walked into the kitchen, Victoria and her sister Abby were putting out trays of chocolate-covered strawberries. On the table next to them was an array of delicious-looking cupcakes.
7 Months (Time for Love) Page 3