Brent's Law

by Ylette Pearson

  Then she had to hold on for dear life. Slowly she stretched until she was sure she wouldn’t be able to take anymore, but then he pushed even deeper and Samantha gasped. He held still.

  “Open your eyes, baby.”

  She obliged unwillingly.

  “I didn’t hurt you?”

  She shook her head and he smiled. “Great.”

  Then he rammed into her and her world stuttered on its axis. Repeatedly he slammed into her, until she met him more than halfway, willing the raging inferno inside her to explode. The muscles in his neck strained and his shoulders bunched with his weight. Her pussy pulsed, then contracted and the sensation launched her mind into outer space. Liquid streamed from her pussy as she squeezed and released his thrusting cock. She clamped her legs around his hips and pushed him even deeper, feeling his tip touch her cervix. He drove into her a final time and a hoarse cry escaped before he collapsed on top of her.

  She buried her hands in his hair and held on while the world stopped spinning. While her breathing returned to a semblance of normal. When he edged off her, she held him back.

  “I’ll crush you.”

  “Not yet. Give it another few minutes.”

  She ran her hands along his back, lined with muscle and sweat. His damp hair tickled her naked shoulder and his erection slowly melted inside her. She clamped the muscles in her pussy and he groaned.

  “Damn, woman, I’m young, not a machine.”

  She giggled and he rolled off to the side to dispose of the condom. When he turned to her, he gathered her in his arms and pulled her against him. He yawned as he pulled the covers over them.

  “We’ll get up a bit later,” he mumbled before his breathing evened out.

  Chapter Eight

  Samantha gently pushed his arm from her hip and crawled out from under the covers. She held her breath, but he didn’t stir. Brent lay as he’d fallen asleep, on his side with his one arm propped under the pillow. With those beautiful blue eyes closed, she noticed the pronounced dark circles surrounding them. Lines edged the side of his mouth and even through his body remained in the same position, he often moved the injured leg.

  With a final glance at the restless man, she gathered her clothes and tiptoed to the bathroom. She hastily donned her clothes and bent over the basin to rinse her face.

  Straightening, she gaped. The face in the mirror belonged to some wanton witch, not a prudish attorney. The look in her brown eyes had softened and resembled melted chocolate rather than the polished pebbles she was used to, the color in her cheeks exceeded the performance of the best blusher she knew and her hair looked like she’d been dragged backside-first through a thorny bush.

  She sagged onto the edge of the bathtub and dropped her face in her hands. What had she done? How could she face him after he’d overridden her protests with such ease? Her face heated. To be honest, he hadn’t overridden anything. He’d asked and she’d practically flung herself at him. Despite her protests of being able to handle her own physical responses, she’d failed miserably at the first hurdle. She hadn’t even had the sense to object because of his injury. She’d thought of her own lusty needs and forgotten about everything else… including her client.

  With a muffled curse, she hung the towel on the hook. She opened the door a crack, but Brent still slept soundly and she snuck out of the room. Despite the size of the house, she found the kitchen with ease. She rinsed and filled the kettle before she hunted through the cupboards for a cup and some instant coffee. What she found was a well-stocked pantry and freezer full of delectable snacks. When was the last proper meal she’d had?

  Soon she had a couple of strips of bacon frying, two slices of bread in the toaster and a fruit salad cooling in the fridge. She poached an egg and stacked the contents on a plate. Her stomach growled at the smell of bacon wafting up her nose and she carried the plate and her freshly brewed cup of coffee to the patio.

  The midday sun had her squinting, but she couldn’t return to the bedroom to retrieve her sunglasses so she moved the chair to keep the sun from her eyes. Nature flaunted her winter colors, daring her human inhabitants to compare with her beauty, and Samantha exhaled with pleasure.

  Despite the tranquil setting, her mind remained in turmoil. The way she saw it, she had two options. Either she accepted the pleasure they could bring each other for a couple of days and end their association when she returned home, or, she could insist he take her home right now and minimize the chance of any complications arising from her staying alone at his house.

  If she stayed and they managed to remain undetected, her job and reputation would remain intact and her libido satisfied. It wasn’t as if they were spoiling for a romantic relationship, and the break would be mutually beneficial. Both had busy lives to lead without room for any emotional upheaval.

  To return home immediately would be the most responsible option, but suddenly she was unwilling to give up her newfound sexual freedom so soon. He was much younger than she was, but all man.

  The reminder of just how much male she had encountered renewed the heat in her cheeks. A baby crying to her right had her jumping in her chair. What the hell? Where did the baby come from? She craned her neck, but apart from a large hornbill-like bird jumping in the upper branches of a tree, she couldn’t see anything.

  Maybe she should consider leaving today. If one sexual encounter had her daydreaming about babies crying, she was more desperate than she’d realized. Samantha closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Then the baby cried again and she snapped her eyes open. This was ridiculous.

  The bird watched her from his perch high in the tree. He cocked his head to the side and let loose an ear-piercing wail. Her mouth dropped open. A bird that cries like a baby? Thank heavens. Relief quickly replaced the astonishment and she even managed a giggle as she collected her dishes and carried it inside.

  Once washed, she returned the dishes to the cupboards and searched through a bookcase against the wall. She chose an innocent-looking thriller, due to the lack of any romance novels on the shelves, and returned to the patio. Soon she was engrossed in the medical thriller and the rest of the world faded.

  “I’m glad to see you made yourself at home.”

  The book flew from her lap and landed on the patio. She palmed her chest in an attempt to calm her racing heart.

  “You scared the crap out of me.”

  He laughed. “You should try reading that book at night.”

  She stooped to pick the novel up. “No thank you.” She glanced at him. “You’re looking better. Had a nice nap?”

  He nodded. “But now I’m famished. Have you had anything to eat yet?”

  “I prepared some bacon and eggs earlier. Can I make you something?”

  He took her hand. “No. Just sit with me.”

  Inside, he knew his way around the kitchen and in a flash, he had prepared a sandwich, which he ate at the kitchen table.

  “So tell me about yourself, councilor.”

  “It’s a bit late to want to get to know each other, don’t you think? Besides I have the feeling you know everything there is to know about my life.”

  He nodded. “Your life, yes, but not you. What makes you happy? What makes you cry? Do you like sports or are you a couch potato?”

  “Wow, so many questions.” She held her finger in the air in a mock ‘light bulb’ moment. “Tell you what, why don’t we play tit for tat? I answer one of your questions and you return the favor.”

  “I don’t play games.”

  “No? So what are we doing now? This”—she circled her hand in the air—“can’t lead anywhere except for a nice holiday romp in the hay.”

  “True, but it still isn’t a game to me.” He smiled indulgingly. “But I’ll play along with one condition.”

  “Yes?”

  “You can’t avoid the questions and you have to answer honestly.”

  “That’s two conditions.” Blood rushed in her ears, but she forced her heart rate to settle.
There was no way he could know about her varsity years. The other questions she could handle.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “All right, I’ll play.” She reclined in the chair.

  “Why study law?”

  Damn, damn and double damn. Trust him to ask the one question she didn’t want to answer. At least not honestly. She bit her lip. Maybe she could fabricate some ghastly story from her childhood so he wouldn’t think she was too pathetic.

  “The truth, remember.”

  This was going to sound so cliché, but for the life of her, she couldn’t come up with a way to make it sound better. She inhaled then exhaled slowly.

  “I studied pharmacy at first, but then my boyfriend at the time studied law and it sounded so much more sophisticated than boring chemistry. I convinced my parents I had a yearning for the law. When we broke up, some of the glamour of studying law faded. Pathetic, I know, but when you’re young and think you’re in love, not even an earthquake can convince you of the error of your ways.”

  “But you’re good at it.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I love it.” She traced the rim of her cup with her finger. “It might have been the most pathetic and juvenile motive for studying the dusty volumes of law, but in the end it was the right decision for me.”

  He nodded. “Your turn.”

  She ached to ask him about Amber, but swallowed the question. Just because he’d inadvertently stumbled upon her most embarrassing moment, didn’t allow her to put him on the spot.

  “Why do you still play rugby when you know you can get hurt?” She pointed at his leg.

  “I love the structure of the game. You pit yourself against your opponents, both physically and mentally, and when you are triumphant…” He shrugged. “Only sex rivals the euphoria you experience.”

  “But is it worth getting injured like you did?”

  He nodded. “Absolutely. You can get injured playing tennis. Granted the risk of injury is greater playing rugby, but you can’t live your life constantly worrying about getting hurt.”

  She couldn’t hide her smile. “And when you’re too old to play?”

  “I’ll support the teams. I know a rugby player’s lifespan is short and I’ve often considered retiring, but my life doesn’t revolve around rugby alone.”

  “You’ve considered retirement? But you’re what? Twenty-six?”

  “You have to be realistic. Every day the competition to stay on the teams gets tougher. I don’t want to end up a broken old man because I didn’t know when to quit.”

  She inhaled, but he held up his hand. “My turn.”

  “Okay, fire.”

  He pushed his plate away. “Let’s go for a walk. I need the exercise and though we’re in the Lowveld, the nights can get chilly.”

  Before she could answer, he rose and held out his hand. Her hand disappeared into his as if it were the most natural thing to do. For the rest of the afternoon, he educated her on the Bushveld and the animals residing within. At least she learnt the crying baby was indeed a Trumpeter Hornbill, common in the area.

  She also learnt he’d been hell on wheels as a child and he had been no stranger to emergency rooms. One particular motorcycle accident when he was a teenager had left him with a cracked femur and hipbone.

  “Aren’t those injuries at greater risk to reoccur with the impact of playing rugby?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe, but the injuries healed well enough for me to have a clean bill of health to play. The residual damage from the injury was much worse and irreparable, so a few broken bones are the least of my concerns.” A flash of pain shot across his face, but it was gone so quickly she thought she might have imagined it.

  Besides owning the sugar cane fields, he managed a successful export business and, except for receiving start-up capital, he never used his family’s money to make his own. He’d repaid the start-up capital within the first year of operating his own business. From the balance sheets in the divorce case, she knew just how wealthy he was and her admiration for Brent grew. Contrary to popular belief, this man worked his tail off to ensure his own success.

  When dusk fell, she was deliciously tired from their walk and the unusual amount of exercise she’d had during the afternoon. After a light dinner, he drew her onto the couch in the lounge.

  Her back rested against his chest and the warmth and security of his arm hugging her, forced her eyes shut.

  “What attracted you to a woman as old as me?”

  “Does your age matter? Do you still see me in terms of age?”

  Did she? When had she last thought about the age difference between them? “No, I don’t. I’m simply trying to understand why you would want me, when you could have any supermodel in the country and outside at your beck and call.”

  “I guess I’m simply not attracted to them. When I saw you in the office, I knew I needed to have you.”

  “It couldn’t be so simple. Nothing in life is ever uncomplicated.”

  He stroked her hair. “It is, if you allow it to be.”

  They watched the darkness fall in silence and she rested her head against his shoulder. Under her palm, the coarse hair on his forearm was emphasized by gooseflesh and she suppressed an involuntary shiver.

  “Let’s get to bed. Tomorrow I want to show you the plantations and the best time is at daybreak.”

  He pulled her up, but didn’t let her go. Instead, he pulled her against him, circled her head with his hand and captured her lips in his. The kiss had nothing of the morning’s ardor, but was achingly sweet. When he let her go, he tugged a strand of her hair behind her ear and gave a lopsided grin.

  “As much as I want to promise you a repeat of this morning, I’m afraid my leg has caught up with me.”

  She smiled. “Wow, a man not afraid to admit he can’t take the punch. Stop the presses.”

  His eyes crinkled and his laugh reverberated through the room, turning her insides to mush. She sobered immediately. Mush was no good. Mush meant emotions she couldn’t afford.

  “Get your ass into bed. Your libido will survive a couple of hours without feeding and so will mine.”

  Later when she crawled into bed beside him, her heart contracted. He pulled her toward him and enveloped her in his warmth. He buried his face in her neck.

  “Hmm, you smell nice.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.” She gently pushed at his shoulders. “Now get some sleep, big boy. We don’t want to jeopardize your recovery any more than we already have.”

  He grinned. “I’ll make you eat those words soon.”

  “What? That I want you to recover?” The innocence in her voice might have been convincing if she didn’t have a lump clogging up her throat.

  He stroked her hair. “Thanks for coming with me, for being here.”

  She managed a nod before she turned around and forced him onto his other side. He settled after she flattened her ridiculously small frame against the back of his much larger one. She buried her nose in his skin, inhaling the pure, unadulterated male smell, and the mushiness in her heart increased.

  Oh hell, she was in more trouble than she’d realized. Somewhere during the course of the afternoon, he had crept into a place in her heart she’d kept under lock and key for decades. She’d made the wrong choice this morning. She should have stayed at home. Now, regardless of what happened, her heart contracted at the thought of saying goodbye to this man. And she had to. Soon.

  But not yet. They were both adults and she would get over the sudden tenderness she felt toward him. He was charming, funny, articulate and knowledgeable. Great qualities in any man, and it was normal she’d be a bit smitten by the attention he bestowed on her. Flattered even. But nothing more. Nothing she couldn’t handle. Although she’d made her decision, it was early morning before she finally fell asleep.

  * * * *

  The rasping of a beard against the soft skin of her neck woke her what seemed like minutes after she fell asleep and she s
quirmed away. “No, go away. It’s too early.” She forced her heavy eyelids open to the gray light of predawn.

  He flung his arm across her shoulders and turned her toward him. “Rise and shine baby.”

  His tongue teased the outer edges of her lips while his fingers gently stroked her breasts through her nightgown. She yawned and stretched her arms over her head.

  “Do we have to get up?”

  “Uh-huh. I want to show you the sugarcane fields.”

  She groaned. And not just because of the words. His hands were igniting small flames in her body. She buried her face in his neck and snuggled into his frame.

  “Let’s stay in bed a little while longer.”

  He slipped his hand under the hem of her gown and traced her thigh upwards.

  “If we stay in bed, you better be prepared for the consequences.”

  “Hmm, and what might those be?” She lost her train of thought when his fingers stroked her pussy through the thong. She nuzzled his neck. “Oh, it feels so good.”

  “I know, baby, but this will feel even better.” He hooked his finger in her thong and shoved it down her legs. She lifted her hips and parted her legs, skimming her hands over his abdomen until she reached the target. A huge, hard target.

  “Oh, my.”

  He chuckled softly and caressed her clit. She wriggled her bum and slipped her hand inside his shorts. The heat scorched her hand and she gently stroked him, marveling at the way he enlarged in her hand. When his finger slipped into her pussy, she arched her back as the last remnants of sleep fled. Would she ever get enough of him?

  She removed his hand from her pussy and crawled under the blankets. His cock dipped when she closed her mouth over the tip, slowly easing him into her mouth. When she bit down lightly on the shaft, his hips lifted off the sheet, forcing him deeper into her throat.

  The door banged against the wall and a high-pitched wail pierced the air. Shock stilled Samantha’s movements and the steel rod in her mouth lost some of its rigidity.

  “So that’s why you wanted the divorce finalized so quickly. You lying, cheating son of a bitch.”