Bradley's Whistle (P.ornstars of Romance #2)

by Kirsty Dallas

  “So, what’s this, fourth, maybe fifth date? What are my rules?” he asked.

  How the hell had his voice become so husky and sexy? In the span of three point five seconds, he sounded like a sex god.

  I cleared my throat before I spoke. “Perhaps you know the saying, ‘rules are made to be broken’?”

  Bradley’s eyes blazed with an intensity that had me shifting in an effort to relieve some of the need that was building between my thighs.

  “In that case then . . .” Bradley leaned forward and kissed me.

  It was not a slow seduction, but more like an insatiable hunger he had somehow been restraining. It was now unleashed, and as his warm lips devoured mine, I felt the need that had been thrumming through my body begin to rise.

  “I’m not finished painting,” Bradley murmured as he pulled away.

  My body felt hot and heavy, and the loss of his warmth made me growl. Bradley laughed as he fiddled around with a few bottles of paint and found himself a clean brush. He wanted to paint me? NOW?

  He turned to face me, his cheeks flushed with need and desire. “Strip,” he ordered.

  I only hesitated a moment; the quietly spoken command was sexier than any angrily growled directive. I slowly stood to face him. Pulling the jersey over my head, I let it fall to the floor, then reached for the clasp at my back that released the navy blue, lace bra. Bradley’s gaze roamed over every inch of skin I slowly revealed, until I was standing before him, completely naked and vulnerable. Oh, well, vagina vacation over! I wanted to fist pump the air, but instead, I stood still and waited for his next command. God, I hoped he could paint fast. What I wanted to do did not include a brush or an easel.

  Bradley’s lips lifted into a mischievous grin as he dipped his brush into a bottle of paint. Instead of moving to the blank canvas sitting idly on the easel, he stepped towards me.

  “I think this will be my greatest piece ever.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Bradley

  I had seen plenty of naked women before; some flawless, tall and svelte, like Leah had been; some rounded with curves; some whose skin flushed pink with awkward embarrassment, hiding behind hands and limbs. Even Leah preferred to cover herself in a dressing gown when we weren’t wrapped around each other’s bodies.

  Wiska, though, seemed more comfortable out of her clothes than in them. Her skin was like porcelain, creamy and smooth with a softness that I ached to run my hands over. Her body wasn’t thin or bony, she had curves, but yoga and running kept her body taut, not muscled. Her hips flared slightly, and her stomach had a subtle roundness that I preferred over flat skin. Her breasts were large, a D cup that I was proud to say I was completely familiar with. Yeah, I’d handled her underwear on more than one occasion. I wouldn’t be a red-blooded man if I hadn’t. Those breasts sat youthfully pert with dusky pink nipples. My gaze dropped to the juncture at her thighs, and I couldn’t help but smile. She had a small, neat triangle of blond hair over clean, hairless lips. It was a hell of a lot sexier than the completely waxed women I had been with lately. My mouth watered. Fuck, I wasn’t going to last long.

  When I stepped towards her and dipped the brush in the paint, I tried to figure out where I would start.

  “I think this will be my greatest piece ever,” I murmured.

  Wiska’s eyes grew wide, and she panicked when I raised the brush to the top of one breast. Her hands waved mine away, and she took a small step back.

  “Oh, hell no you don’t. Will it even wash off?” she squealed.

  I paused, the brush hovering right over her breast in a way that taunted the shit out of my cock. I gave her a wicked smile.

  “Trust me, pussycat, and when I’m finished, you can have your turn.” The tip of the brush touched her skin, and I drew a line of red from the top of her breast to the nipple. Leaning forward, I kept my eyes on her. “It’s edible paint,” I whispered, then to prove my point, I licked the trail of strawberry flavored paint all the way to her nipple, and somehow found the strength not to suck that pink peak into my mouth. Pulling away, I watched her carefully.

  “What does it taste like?” she asked.

  “Strawberry,” I answered as I licked my lips. She reached for the brush, and I pulled it away.

  “Hands off. Me first.”

  I dipped the brush back in the paint and began to create the path I wanted to take with my tongue. I started under her ear, dipping over her collarbone, and down between her breasts. I took a detour there and painted a swirling line around one nipple, than continued down her stomach, around her belly button, and down to her sweet fucking pussy. Here I stopped, unable to wait any longer. With trembling hands I dropped the brush and bottle onto a small table.

  Running the backs of my fingers down her arms I enjoyed the goosebumps that dotted her skin and watched in fascination as her nipples peaked, begging for my mouth. I’d be a fool to leave those nipples in such need. I licked the sensitive spot beneath her ear and followed my trail down over her collarbone. I wasn’t getting all the paint, but hell, I’d come back and retrace my descent later. Wiska’s chest rose and fell rapidly as my tongue traced the strawberry path down between her breasts. My gaze caught hers as I crossed to the nipple surrounded by my less than neat swirls, and I allowed the tip of my tongue to dart out and follow the line. Once I reached the tender, soft peak, I drew it into my mouth and sucked hard. Wiska’s eyes rolled back into her head, and she moaned loudly. I grinned under my onslaught before allowing the nipple to slip free from my lips. Wiska shifted, and I knew she was trying to find her own relief. She’d just have to wait. I was an artist at work here. Back on the path to paradise, I lowered to my knees and licked a path down her stomach, around her bellybutton, and finally lapped up the last stroke of the brush just above her pubis.

  “Delicious,” I said, licking the strawberry from my lips.

  My hand rose to the inside of her thighs, and I encouraged her legs open. I could have painted and licked all fucking night, but there was something else my tongue needed to sample. I ran a finger through the soft, short curls between her legs, then carefully parting her soft lips with my thumbs, I leaned forward and licked. Unable to keep quiet, I groaned loudly and felt Wiska’s legs shake with the effort to hold herself still. My tongue glided over her wetness, skimming lightly across her clit and pressing with more demand below and around it. I knew where she wanted my attention, but I wanted her begging before I latched onto that spot that drove women wild. Dipping my tongue down to her opening, I probed with force before flicking my tongue back up and around her nub. Wiska’s hands were suddenly in my hair, tugging and pushing me to where she wanted me most.

  “Don’t tease,” she breathed heavily.

  “I’m not. I’m tasting,” I murmured as I continued my torturous path.

  “Bradley, I’m going to take matters into my own hands if you don’t get on with it.”

  I chuckled, and my gaze rose to find hers. “Say please.”

  She huffed out a small bark of laughter before looking straight into my eyes.

  “Oh, good lord, please, oh fucking please, make me come,” she begged.

  “It would be my pleasure. Just hold on,” I whispered as my mouth closed over her pussy.

  I felt her hands fall to my head and grip my hair. Fuck was she holding on. I sucked gently, drawing her tight little bud into my mouth, where my tongue darted over it again and again. Wiska’s legs shook further still, and her hands pulled relentlessly on my hair. It didn’t take long, a few more gentle tugs, another lick, and she came undone, groaning loudly and repeating my name like a reverent plea. I held her legs as I pulled my mouth away and made sure she wasn’t going to collapse as I rose to my feet, no doubt a smug smile on my glistening lips.

  “My turn,” she said as she took a shaky step away from me. “Get out of those damn clothes, Bradley, or I’ll tear them off you.”

  I laughed at her snarly command and began to unbutton my shirt. My pussycat got bossy whe
n she was horny. That was definitely something I could handle. With as much finesse as a desperate-to-get-laid man could handle, I kicked off my shoes, lifted my shirt over my head, and then tackled the buttons on my jeans. Pushing them over my hips, I finally stood naked before her, and it had taken less than eight seconds. High-five me for speed!

  Vlad was at full attention, reaching for what he wanted most. Don’t worry, big fella. There will be plenty of pillaging and impaling tonight. Just hang on a minute and let the sweet goddess have her turn.

  My fists clenched as I watched Wiska lick her lips as her gaze lowered to my cock. She almost knocked the paint from the table as she blindly reached for it, and I tried hard not to laugh. Honestly, I did. She glared at me when a chuckle escaped.

  Dipping the brush, she approached me and fell straight to her knees. Fuck me, I did love a girl who went straight for the treasure. She painted my dick, long, slow strokes from tip to base, around and around. The beast throbbed under her gentle hand, demanding a heavier touch. Once she was finished, she carefully put the bottle and brush aside, then licked her lips, her eyes locked on Vlad who bobbed like a wild fucking animal. Her tongue peeked out and took a tentative lick. I tried to restrain the noise that was moments away from bursting from my mouth, and I think it came out something like a pathetic whimper. Wiska smiled and looked up at me through those blue doe-eyes of hers, licking her lips.

  “Tasty.”

  I kinda hoped she was referring to Vlad and not the paint; however, I didn’t get time to consider it as her tongue began a torturous path around my dick. My lips finally parted, and I sighed, groaned, grunted, panted, and made noises akin to an animal. She found a ticklish spot underneath my cock, high up close to my balls, and when I squirmed uncomfortably, she gave the skin there a little suck and my hands automatically grabbed her hair to hold her in place. Holy shit, she hadn’t even got to the blow part of this job, and I was ready to spill.

  When her mouth finally took me into its warm, wet confines, I sighed again and allowed myself to gently thrust between her lips. The sucking motion, combined with the occasional flutter of her tongue over the tip of my cock, brought me quickly to the point of no return. The stain of edible paint on my cock and her lips was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. The first time I came, though, I wanted it to be inside her pussy, not her mouth. I pulled her off me and dragged her body up the length of mine. I turned, looking for the first available place to deposit her. It was a wooden ladder leaning against a wall. With a what-the-fuck shrug, I practically dragged her by one hand while reaching for my jeans with the other. Maybe I was being a little rough, but if my cock wasn’t in her soon, I’d come into thin fucking air like in inept teenager. With one hand on her chest, I pushed her against the ladder.

  “Sit,” I ordered while I pulled a condom from the back pocket of my jeans. I tore it open and quickly slid it on.

  “On a ladder?” Wiska asked with a bemused smile.

  I grabbed her waist and lifted her onto a higher rung so that we were perfectly aligned. Then I reached for her hands and lifted them, encouraging her to hold onto the sides of the ladder.

  “So you can hang on,” I offered as I lined up my cock and began the torturous journey into her pussy. It was a gazilion times better than her mouth. The tight, wet heat that wrapped around me had Vlad throb with impatience over the slow pace I had commanded. Wiska fixed that by leaning back and angling her hips forward, and I sank all the way to the hilt with one long thrust. We both groaned loudly, then I drew my hips back and slammed into her, hard.

  “Oh shit,” Wiska panted as I did it again. “That feels really good.”

  My hands reached up until they were wrapped around hers on the ladder, and I thrust and retreated in and out of her body, my pace gradually getting faster. Vlad was impaling with the force and demand he was renowned for, and the sight of our joined bodies was the stuff wet dreams were made of. Well, at least my wet dreams. They were always pretty fucking detailed.

  Wiska wriggled one hand free, and I watched as she slipped her fingers into her mouth. Her eyes stayed on mine as she dropped those fingers between our bodies. I would like to have said I kept that connection . . . that we maintained the eye contact which felt like a religious experience of awareness and something more than just two bodies finally coming together. Instead, my eyes were glued to that hand with rapt devotion as she rubbed her clit. What would have been no more than a scant few thrusts later, I felt the walls of her pussy spasm around my dick. She came, hard, and I slammed once more into her and held still as I emptied into the rubber barrier that I kind of wished weren’t there.

  When my eyes gained focus once more, I blinked a few times and tested my legs by pushing slightly away from Wiska and the ladder. We were still intimately joined, and somehow my wobbly legs supported my weight. Wiska’s face, which was now at the same height as mine, was flushed with a beautiful, satisfied glow. I smiled at the same time she smiled, and we both leaned forward until our lips melded together. When we parted, I left my forehead resting on hers.

  “I’ve never done it on a ladder before,” Wiska murmured.

  I drew back and glanced at the ladder, thankful it hadn’t crashed down on top of us.

  “Me either,” I confessed. “I think I’m gonna need to buy one, though.”

  Wiska laughed as I kissed her one more time and reluctantly drew away from her body. Losing that connection was like losing a fucking limb. I wanted to stay buried inside her, our bodies wrapped so tightly together, not knowing where one began and the other ended. I wanted her in my bed, in my home, in every conceivable position and place. And I had less than two weeks to fulfill that dream before she went home to New York. What would happen then? Was it possible Wiska might want to stay? Was it possible I might want to go?

  “I’m hungry for burgers.” Wiska’s declaration from behind me dragged me from the what ifs. I quickly discarded the condom in a trash bin and threw her clothes at her as she wandered around the studio completely naked.

  “While I could watch the scenery in here all night, we need to get going, and I could easily eat a burger or two. I’ll feed you, then get you back to my place so I can paint you again.”

  Wiska smiled and leaned forward to give me a quick kiss on the lips. The easy, open display of affection she had so quickly slipped into made my cold, heavy heart roar back to life. It had been a long time since a woman had moved me like this, and it was then I realized I could easily follow her back to New York.

  CHAPTER 20

  Wiska

  I didn’t remember falling asleep; my last cognitive memory was of Bradley lying beside me on the sofa bed laughing as I inspected his feet. What could I say? I was a feet girl, and ugly feet would be a deal breaker for me. Luckily for him, his feet had been just as damn perfect as the rest of his body. The memory of which returned with a vengeance at the realization there was a long, hard, warm body currently pressed to my back. Bradley had given me pleasantly explicit details of the painting he intended to do once he got me home, but one beef burger and a warm shower later, I had tumbled into a gooey mess of placated, sleepy female. Bradley had curled up beside me, and we had talked for a long while before I began to study his feet, then apparently passed out. The paint date had been one of the single most romantic moments in my life.

  As a girl who grew up on her mother’s tales of Cinderella and Snow White, I could attest to the driving need of a female who yearned for romance. Most men I had dated in the past saw their supremely half-assed efforts of opening a door and paying for dinner as a romantic gesture. I knew there had to be men out there who broke the mold, but they were obviously few and far between.

  Decker Steele was one of those few and far between men. He was constantly thinking of new and exciting ways to sweep Andi off her feet. Apparently, Bradley had learned a few tricks from him, or maybe it was Decker who had learned a few tricks from Bradley. I couldn’t understand what Leah hadn’t seen in Bradley. She appeared
almost relieved when they parted ways, and having come to know the man as intimately as I did now, I was grateful for her disinterest. One woman’s trash was another woman’s treasure.

  The nuzzling of warm lips and hot breath at the back of my neck drew a smile to my sleepy face, and I stretched like a lazy kitten as Bradley slowly roused from sleep. He was wearing what I assumed were long pajama pants, and I was slightly disappointed it wasn’t naked skin nestled firmly between my thighs. When I dared to open one eye, I was greeted with the unexpected, knowing smile of Casey as he peered over the back of the sofa.

  “Don’t mind me. Pretend I’m not here,” he whispered.

  “Are you some kind of creepy voyeur?” Bradley asked in a voice husky from sleep.

  “Oh no, if either one of you starts getting frisky, I’m out of here, but you both look so adorable curled up together, I just had to stop and take a picture for Lionel.”

  “You took a picture?” I demanded, only slightly outraged.

  “Of course. I promised Lionel I would document your fall into L-O-V-E.” Casey smiled at Bradley. “This looks about an O, Mr Emerson.”

  “Shut it,” Bradley said, though there was no anger in his tone.

  We continued to lay there while Casey stared at us.

  “Maybe we need to start getting frisky.” I wondered out loud.

  Before Bradley’s hands had a chance to move to more interesting territory, the ringing of his phone broke the awkward moment, and he carefully disentangled himself, repositioned the semi-erect Vlad that had been pressing against my backside, and grabbed his cell phone.

  “So, you have that sated look that only Thor has been able to put on your face lately. Come to think of it, I don’t think even Thor could make you glow like this.”

  I wanted to be mad at Casey’s callous disregard for privacy, but honestly, the man was far too sweet and kind for anger. Also, we were sleeping in the living room. If we wanted privacy, we should have fallen asleep in Bradley’s big-ass bed. I offered Casey a lazy smile.