So Much More (Made for Love #3)

by R. C. Martin

  “Because a gentleman doesn’t come first,” he smiles at me. “At least not in my bed. So I owe you two.” My stomach tingles and my body suddenly feels like it’s on fire. He kisses until his lips reach my panties and then he stops and hooks his fingers through the top. “I’m going to want to take these off.”

  “Oh,” is all I can manage.

  “You can tell me no. It’s your world, Sunshine—but I don’t think you want to do that.”

  I pause for just a second before I throw caution to the wind and lift my hips off of the bed. As he slides my panties off, I remind myself that I want this—I want him. Not only that, I trust him. I know that he’ll take care of me. He’ll be gentle. And if I want him to stop, he’ll stop.

  However, the princess and my heart seem to be on one accord. I get the feeling I’m not going to want him to stop.

  He crawls back on top of me, spreading my legs open wide with his body. He kisses me lightly as he reaches for my bra strap. “What about this, sweet girl? I want to see you. Will you let me see you?”

  I hesitate once more, staring up into his hazel eyes. There’s something about the way he looks at me that takes away my fear. I’m allowed to say no. He’s not asking my permission as some sort of formality—he’s asking because he really wants to know. He wants to make sure that I’m okay and that this is what I want.

  It is. He is.

  I shrug my shoulder, easing the strap away. He takes the hint and helps me out of my carefully chosen bra, tossing it aside as if it barely deserves recognition.

  Then again, when he palms one of my breasts and closes his mouth around one of my nipples, I understand why he’s not concerned about my underwear. He’s too busy appreciating me.

  She draws in a sharp breath and arches her back, her body begging in ways her mouth can’t. I suck on one of her nipples, teasing the both of us until I can hardly stand it. Then I show the same amount of attention to the other hardened bud. When I can’t wait anymore, I slide my hand in between us and slip my finger between her slick flesh.

  She shutters and moans at my contact, her sensitive skin swollen from her arousal, and wet—so fucking wet. I’m hard again already.

  I lower my lips to her ear as I feel my way along her entrance once more. “Do you want me, sweet girl? Do you want me to make you come with my fingers? Do you want me inside of you?”

  “Yes,” she pants. “Please, yes.”

  That’s all I need to hear before I slide in my middle finger, pushing in until I can’t reach any farther. I pull out and repeat, slowly. I have to remind her to breathe. When I ease in a second finger, she tenses up around me. “Relax baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you. Just relax.” I brush my thumb across her clit and she frees an airy moan, opening her legs even wider.

  I relish the feeling of her wrapped around a part of me, her pussy warm and tight. As I move in and out, her arousal drenches me. When I curl my fingers and increase my speed, her breath quickens as her eyes grow wide in amazement.

  “Brandon—oh my—Brandon!”

  “Tell me what you want, sweet girl.”

  “More! More—oh, god, more!” She groans thoughtlessly and reaches for me, pulling me closer. I rest my forehead against hers, soaking up every bit of this moment. I press my thumb against her clit and massage the sensitive flesh, ready to push her over the edge. She responds instantly.“Don’t stop! Brandon—Bran—”

  Her orgasm bursts and her whole body trembles. Even after I pull away, the aftershock of my handiwork has her shaking. She watches me as I bring my fingers to my mouth to taste her juices. She bites her lip, as if she’s afraid I won’t like what I taste, but she doesn’t have a damn thing to be worried about.

  “You’re delicious,” I say before I kiss her. “Now I’m suddenly craving pussy. Your pussy.” I kiss her again. When I pull away and begin making my descent, she closes her legs before I can settle my face between them. “What’s wrong?”

  “Uh—I just—are you sure?”

  I arch an eyebrow at her. “Am I sure I want to fuck you with my tongue? Is that a rhetorical question?”

  She breathes a halfhearted, nervous laugh as she shakes her head. “What if you don’t like it?”

  “Baby,” I murmur, gently rubbing my hand up and down her leg. “I’m surprised you don’t know better. The guys in your books do this, don’t they?”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that you have to if you don’t want to. I mean, I know that stuff isn’t all real and—”

  “Sunshine, believe me when I tell you, my craving is real.” I press a kiss against each of her closed knees. “If you don’t want me to do this because you don’t want it, then I won’t. But if your concern is about me, open up—let me show you how much I want you.”

  It takes her another moment to decide, but then she parts her legs. I slide off the bed, kneeling on the floor, and pull her towards me. I hook both of her knees over my shoulders and dive in. The first stroke of my tongue has her bucking her hips. I grin up at her as I brace an arm across her pelvis and then I attach my mouth to her pussy.

  The little noises she makes as I savor her drive me wild; so much so that I find myself reaching for my dick to find my own relief as I work to deliver hers. She buries her fingers in my hair, cluing me in to just how much she wishes for me to stay close. She need not worry; I won’t stop until I’ve had my fill. The closer she gets to her climax, the tighter her thighs close around my head. When she comes, I’m not far behind her and I lap up everything she has to give as I wring myself dry.

  I feel like such a lucky bastard right now, it’s almost unreal.

  With her legs still closed tightly around my head, I can’t move. I tap her thigh and she gasps before she releases me.

  “Fuck,” she mutters, clapping her hands over her face. “Why do I have to act like such a spaz every time!?”

  I chuckle as I stand, discarding my briefs as I clean myself up. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s like I lose control of my body and I just attack you. It’s embarrassing. I’m sorry.”

  I lean over her, propping myself up with an elbow on either side of her head. I wait a moment, wondering if she’ll respond to my proximity and show me her face. When she doesn’t, I understand that her embarrassment is real—that it comes from a part of her that’s seriously lacking in self-confidence. It’s as if she has no idea how sexy she is. How desirable she is. How incredible she feels.

  “Sarah, look at me.” She inhales deeply and huffs out a sigh before she removes her hands. “Let’s get a few things straight. Are you listening?” She nods. “I love making you come, sweet girl. I love the noises you make. I love the way you lose control. I love the way you let go. And I love that I’m the one who knows how to get you there. Me. Only me. Because you’re mine.

  “I don’t ever want to hear you apologize to me in this bed again. Don’t apologize to me for letting me have your passion and your raw vulnerability. Don’t take that away from me. I want it—all of it. All of you. Got it?”

  She takes my face in her hands and stares into my eyes while I wait patiently for her response. When her eyes grow glassy with tears, my heart starts to beat faster and concern has my head reeling, trying to figure out what I could have said to upset her.

  “Don’t break my heart, okay?” she finally speaks. “Because it’s yours.”

  I lower myself on top of her, my skin on her skin, and I brush my lips against hers. “I’ll take care of yours if you’ll take care of mine.”

  “Always,” she whispers.

  I WAKE TO THE sizzling sound and fragrant smell of frying bacon. When I open my eyes and look across the room, I see Brandon standing with his back to me in the kitchen at the stove. I snatch up his pillow, hugging it to my chest so that I can hide my huge smile and silence my giggle. He’s wearing an apron with nothing but his boxer briefs underneath.

  My heart swoons.

  I swear, I’ve died and gone to heaven.

>   I admire my view for a minute longer. Then, when the distance that separates us becomes unbearable, I get up. It isn’t until I’m standing that I remember I’m completely naked. For just a second, I panic. I’ve never slept naked before—let alone naked in another man’s bed. Then my eyes find Brandon and my unease dissolves. I remember last night and the pleasure he gave me. He was gentle and generous. He didn’t push or pressure me into anything. He worshipped my body with his hands, with his tongue, with his lips. As I stare at his backside, I realize that I’ve never trusted anyone as much as I trust him.

  He made my body bend to his will last night.

  As Aria would say—he made my pussy sing.

  Even more, this man has my heart.

  I see his t-shirt from last night, draped carelessly over the back of the couch. I tiptoe my way towards it and then slip it on as I head into the kitchen.

  Brandon’s hair is down and spread across his shoulders. It’s still damp and fragrant from his shower. Smelling his fresh, clean, earthy scent makes me hungry for something other than breakfast. I press a kiss against the warm, bare skin in the middle of his back. He immediately reaches behind him, wrapping his arm around me as he continues cooking. I kiss him again. And again. And again. When I lick him, he growls and then turns to face me, wrapping me in his arms as he brings his mouth to mine.

  He kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in years and he’s missed me every second of every day of this imaginary separation. I feel myself wilt in his arms, powerless under the influence of his affection. I whine when he pulls away and he grins at me in response.

  God—that grin…

  My skin is covered in goose pimples.

  “Good morning, Sunshine.”

  “Good morning.”

  “How’d you sleep?”

  “Good. You?”

  “I slept with you in my arms. That’s all that matters.” I snuggle against him, tucking my head under his chin. His grip around me tightens.

  “I like this better—waking up with you still here.”

  “Me too, sweet girl.” He kisses the top of my head before he says, “I made us breakfast. It’ll be ready in a few minutes if you want to hop in the shower.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “We’ve got to leave in an hour.”

  “Yeah. Okay. I’ll be quick.” I say the words, but I can’t make my body move away from his.

  “I promise I’ll still be here when you get back,” he teases.

  “In your underwear?” I ask, grinning up at him.

  He winks at me and I giggle as I force myself out of his arms and into the shower.

  By the time I emerge from the cloud of steam I created in the bathroom, breakfast is served. We sit together and enjoy eggs, bacon, and toast—in our underwear. It’s the best meal I think I’ve ever had.

  It isn’t until after we’re both dressed and I’m in the bathroom working on my face that it hits me. Last night—Brandon made me come with his tongue. This morning—we’re going to church. After everything I’ve been through this year, after all the ways in which I feel as though I’ve tested God, after the way I’m sure I’ve disappointed Him, I wonder if I’m trying to force my foot into a shoe that no longer fits.

  It’s not that my faith isn’t important to me. It’s not that my faith no longer aligns with who I am. It just looks and feels so different now. I feel like I’m breaking all the rules. With Luke—I was wrong. I lost something that I was blessed with, my amazing job, because I broke the rules. Yet, with Brandon—it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels good. It feels right. Still, I’m pretty sure that despite my virgin status, what happened last night would probably be considered fornication—a sin that’s most definitely frowned upon in the Christian faith.

  I’m not afraid to don the label of a sinner. We all do. However, to be considered a hypocrite is not something that appeals to me. God is grace, and I understand that, but I know what it feels like to be judged. It’s awful; but if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that no matter what, I can’t give Brandon up. I won’t.

  “Hey, you almost ready?” he asks as he fills the bathroom doorway.

  I meet his eyes in his reflection before I turn to face him directly. “Do you think we’re hypocrites? When you walk into that church this morning, are you going to feel guilty about last night? Are you sure we should go?”

  He tugs his eyebrows together as he takes a step toward me. “This is a surprise. Do you not want to go?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrug. “I don’t want to feel bad about our relationship and what we do together.”

  “Neither do I, nor will I,” he insists, reaching for my hand. “Where’s this coming from?”

  “It’s just that we’re not married and I’ve always been taught—”

  “No. Stop. Stop,” he murmurs, lifting his hand to gently palm my cheek. “This is why people get all messed up about religion. This is why people choose not to follow God—they think it’s all about the rules. The dos and don’ts. I get it that you grew up in church and this is how you understand God. I didn’t grow up in church. When I first encountered God, it didn’t matter who I’d been or what I’d done. I choose Him because He loved me first and He loves me anyway. That will never change. No matter what I do—no matter what we do.

  “God, to me, is hope. He’s love. I get it that He’s got rules, but we’re not chained or bound by them. At the end of the day, we’ve been given the freedom to be ourselves. Last night was amazing. I refuse to feel guilty about it. You’re my girl and I want you and I can’t apologize for that.

  “This morning, I choose God, too. That’s what faith is, right? Choosing God. And God says come as you are. So, yeah, we got naked. I’d do it again right now if we didn’t have someplace to be. That doesn’t make us hypocrites. It just makes us human. People get so hung up on what it means to be a good Christian. Honestly, I don’t even know what that means. To be a good person, on the other hand, that’s something I strive for. But if you don’t want to go—”

  “No!” I lift myself up onto my tiptoes so that I can wrap my arms around him. He holds me close, tucking his nose between my shoulder and my neck. “I want to go. I want to go with you.”

  “Okay,” he says, rubbing his hands up and down my back.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what, sweet girl?”

  I squeeze him tighter. “For being unapologetically you.”

  Twenty minutes later, when we walk hand-in-hand into the lobby of the church, I’m glad that I came. Row spots us and breaks away from her current conversation so that she can come say hello. She greets me with a big hug, which surprises me. When I look at Brandon from over her shoulder, he offers me a wink.

  “It’s so good to see you again, Sarah. How are you?”

  “I’m good, thank you,” I tell her as she pulls away. “How are you?”

  “Wonderful. ‘Course, how could I not be? Look at that smile on my nephew’s face,” she says, turning to give him a squeeze.

  “Alright, alright,” he chuckles. “Don’t get all sentimental on me.”

  She huffs and playfully brushes him off as she links arms with me. “Let’s go snag us a seat.”

  I follow her lead, smiling back at Brandon as I’m amused by the way Row seems to have suddenly become my Aunt Row, too. When our eyes meet, I swear it’s as if we share the same thought. There’s something about Row’s acceptance that makes our relationship more meaningful, real, and grounded than it was even just a second ago. This is us, together, outside of the walls of the bakery, outside of the little bubble we enjoy when it’s just the two of us.

  After the moment we shared this morning, I understand how much his faith means to him. I also know how much he loves his Aunt Row and how important their relationship is. Getting to share all of this with him, it makes me love him. Now, there’s no doubt in my mind, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

  I BARELY SPEAK DURING brunch. Between Aunt Row, Lu, an
d Lucy, each one tossing out question after question at Sarah, I’m quite certain not one of my Sunday crew would notice if I wasn’t at the table at all. I don’t mind, though; there is one pair of big, beautiful, bright blue eyes that keep looking my way. Our conversations don’t require words. Instead, we share smiles and knowing glances. Long after we’ve finished eating, I start messing with her—suggestively inching my hand further and further up her thigh. She bats me away more than once, but she can’t hide her playful smile from me.

  Shit. I don’t want this weekend to ever end.

  “You know when your mother finds out that Sarah’s become a frequent flyer on our Sunday outings, she’s going to make an appearance,” says Aunt Row as Lucy and Lulu walk us out.

  “I’ll consider it a compliment when that day comes,” I say dryly.

  “Next week, next month, wedding day, either way, she’s bound to meet your mom eventually,” says Lucy.

  “Wedding day?”

  She smirks at her mother before she looks back at Sarah and me. “Bring her one more time and I’d be willing to bet on it.”

  “Okay! On that note, we’re going to get out of here.” Sarah squeezes my hand and I know she’s ready to leave, too. We finish our goodbyes and then we leave the ladies behind—no doubt to gossip about us behind our backs.

  “Babe, can we go for a walk? It’s really nice out.”

  “Babe, huh? I feel like I’ve been promoted,” I tease, heading in the opposite direction of the parking lot.

  She laughs, nudging me with her shoulder. “Just testing it out. It was either that or cupcake.”

  Now it’s my turn to laugh. “I like babe better.”

  “I thought you might.”

  We walk in a comfortable silence as we head to the park we’d planned on going to last week before we were interrupted. I pray to God nothing like that happens again. Today, I don’t know if I’d have the will power to leave her side.

  “Do you think what Row said is true? Do you think your mom will want to meet me?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. My dating track record is far from impressive. I’ve really never kept any girls around long enough to warrant an introduction. Even with Olivia, she didn’t really know her. She didn’t try to know her. Not that Olivia and I were ever really—” I cut myself off, wondering why in the hell I mentioned Olivia.