by Jordyn White
“Sure,” he says, laughing when I give him an enthusiastic kiss. “Sounds like fun. Thanks for inviting me. I don’t know if I’m ready to pass the brother inspection test, though.”
“Don’t worry. Montana approves of you, so you’re already in.”
“Oh, well that’s good to know.”
I tuck back into his arm, nestling my head on his chest. This is officially my new favorite place in the whole world.
“What’s the second question?” he asks.
“Huh? Oh, right. The Chamber of Commerce thing. This one’s not until the second Saturday in October and is more of a boring obligation.”
“Ah, are we already at the point in our relationship where you start dragging me to boring obligations?”
I glance up and catch the wicked twinkle in his eye, so I slap him lightly on the chest before settling back down again. The low rumble of his laugh rolls around in his chest.
“You do enjoy tormenting me, Mr. Carmichael.”
“Oh, hell yes, I do,” he says in a tone that gets my core simmering. I remember just how well he tormented me before. I’ve dubbed it the Countdown Climax and it was fucking amazing. I get a swoop of heat every time I think of it.
I wonder how much time we have before the delivery guy gets here.
“This is a big social mixer the Chamber throws every year.” I slowly slide my leg up until I’m resting my thigh on top of his. “There’s a bunch of self-important hob-nobbing and the whole thing drives me to drink.”
He laughs.
“Seriously.” I get up on one elbow and lean on his chest. “Strictly between you and me, a couple of the higher-ups are antagonist control-freaks who drive everyone else nuts. But there’s an open bar, so that’s a plus. I’ll be drinking plenty of wine that night, which you could take full advantage of later.” I raise one eyebrow, bringing my knee higher until I’m nearly to his groin.
He runs his hand down my back, over the deep curve of my bare ass, and along my thigh. “Turns out, I don’t need to get you liquored up to get you into bed.”
“That’s true.” I’m happy to see that again he looks like he’s going to say yes, though he hasn’t yet. “Well if that’s not reason enough, I’m sure we could even the score some other way. Don’t you have any boring obligations you can drag me to?”
“Nope. My obligations are more of the tiny, four-year-old variety.” He’s still grinning. And still no answer.
I crawl up and straddle his hips, the tip of his cock brushing against my rear. My uterus clenches, knowing there’s a perfectly good erect cock mere inches below me. But I lean over him and say “please” over and over again as I give him playful kisses all over, cheeks and forehead and nose.
He’s laughing, but he still won’t answer.
I try a new tack, and give him a soft, sensual kiss on the tender skin beneath his jaw. The firm stubbles of his five o’clock shadow brush against my lips. “Aren’t you going to say yes?”
He rubs both hands down my back and to my ass, which he cups and squeezes. I plant another soft kiss on his temple. “But I’m having so much fun with you asking.”
I sit up, my moistness pressing against the base of his stomach. I narrow my eyes and fold my arms in mock irritation. “No more kisses for you, then.”
“Okay, okay.” He grins and pulls me back down. “Yes.”
“That’s more like it.” I kiss him again, this time on the mouth. His grip on me tightens, and our kiss quickly becomes one of the smoldering sort. I go from warm to hot and throbbing in seconds, and I comply eagerly when he takes hold of my hips and starts shimmying me downward.
I lift up slightly, reach between us to grab his cock, and damn near slide right on until I remember we need a condom. The box I bought earlier today is on the far nightstand and I don’t want to crawl over for it yet. Don’t want to at all, to be honest. I want to feel him inside me just as he is. Nevertheless, I align his hard rod beneath me so I’m straddling his full length.
Still kissing me deeply, he groans as I start to grind on him. He squeezes my ass and spreads my cheeks wide. I shiver at the surge of wetness this inspires.
“You owe me a fuck,” I whisper.
“Why do I owe you?” He sucks deep on the base of my neck, making my toes curl.
“I don’t know. It sounded good.”
“Hell, yes, it did.”
His arms tighten around me and he rolls us over so he’s on top of me. We’re also closer to the box of condoms. He reaches for it. Legs wrapped around his waist, his cock still pressed against me from opening to clit, I angle my hips and grind into him, wishing he could just come in me right now.
“I’m on the pill,” I whisper.
He stops mid-reach and looks at me, pausing. I tilt my hips again, jolts of pleasure zipping through me as I push myself against him.
His eyes, dark with desire, drop to my neck then back up to my eyes. He’s hesitating.
“It’s okay,” I say, sensing his answer.
“Sorry.” He lowers his arm and wraps it under my shoulders, holding me. “It’s just that the pill isn’t foolproof. That’s how we got Max. Not that I regret that.”
“No, it’s okay.” It is, even though hot disappointment drops through me. “I understand. Sorry.”
“You don’t need to be.” He leans down and kisses my neck, just below my earlobe. His free hand is cupping my jaw, gently holding me to him. “Not at all.” He pulls my earlobe into his mouth and sucks gently.
This feels so good, I forget about my disappointment, mostly, and melt into him. I tighten my legs around his waist and press harder against him. I’m throbbing again, wanting him, condom or no.
“I’d love to be with you that way, too,” he says, his hot breath on my neck as he dips down toward my collarbone. “To have nothing between us. Just you.” He sucks the tender spot at the base of my neck. “And me.” My head tilts back and I moan, pressing my chest against him. My nipples are aching, wanting his full attention too.
“Just your bare skin against mine,” he whispers, lightly running his hand from my cheek down to my breast. He rolls the sensitive nipple between his fingers, then cups his warm hand on me and squeezes. “Like this.”
I exhale, and run my hand down the firm muscles of his back, spreading my fingers wide.
He slides his hand firmly down my stomach, and lower to my mound, sliding his fingers over my clit and making me jolt. “And this.”
“Shut up and get the condom,” I whisper.
He chuckles, but complies. He takes it out of the package and rocks back on his heels, but I sit up, legs still spread, and roll it on myself. This done, I put my hands on his firm abdomen, running up the hard valleys and ridges of his chest and looking into his eyes. I lay back, still holding his eyes, still caressing his chest, bringing him down to me with only a look.
He settles on top of me and my hands glide around his sides and to his lower back as he slides inside me. I close my eyes and exhale, as I do every time he first comes into me. He fills me so completely, and stretches me so thoroughly, it’s a sensation that takes over every other, and renders me momentarily helpless.
“God, you feel good,” he whispers, his hot breath on my ear.
“Mmm.” I nod and tuck my mouth into his neck. My hands continue to travel, down the curve of his lower back and to his firm ass. His muscles clench beneath my hands as he thrusts deep into me.
I exhale hotly, my breath swirling around me. “Yes,” I whisper. He thrusts into me again. My hands are still gripping his hard ass. I hang onto him just like this, as he strokes me deeper and harder. While I clutch at him, asking for more, I reach the tip of my tongue to his neck. His head tilts back and I suck on him. He moans and I suck on him some more, wanting to taste every inch.
As he works me, I open wider. I stretch harder and hotter. The firm area of his pelvis pounds my clit with each deep thrust, and his rough hairs caress and scratch against my hard bud. Hot waves of sensa
tion build in my body and my hips curl up slowly. This changes our angle, and his rock hard cock hits that deep spot of pleasure inside me.
I whimper, pressing my forehead to his shoulder. “Yes.”
Again, he hits the tender spot deep inside me, at the same time pounding and pleasuring my clit. He does it again and again, and something in me starts to unfold.
My head drops back onto the pillow and my knees soften until my legs are extended to each side almost straight. The weight of opening them up like this pulls them down a little harder, stretching that much more against him.
I’m whimpering and breathing in hard little pants. This position is more vulnerable—and more pleasurable—than curling my legs up. I’m shivering with the powerful waves of pre-climax and I think I might come just like this.
He glances to the side, noticing what I’m doing out of the corner of his eyes. His breath catches and his cock hardens even more. His eyes widen slightly with wild, stunned excitement. Still watching my legs, he thrusts me faster, making my outstretched feet bob rapidly.
I’m stunned and excited too. I’ve never been so bold, with anyone. But something inside me is opening to him and my body is going right along with it. He’s getting impossibly hard and stretching me almost to the point of pain. I’m peaking higher and higher. I can hardly breathe.
“That’s right, baby,” he says thickly. “Fuck, yes.”
I gasp and cry out. Omigod. Almost there.
“Yes,” he says, rocking me fast and furious.
The climbing ecstasy is washing over me in sharp, powerful waves. So close. Almost there.
Then it’s too much. My chin tucks down hard into my chest, my legs fold as my knees fly up almost to his shoulders, and I let out a loud cry as my climax breaks hard through my entire body. I cling to his chest and buck helplessly beneath him. He comes inside me and that pushes me so high I almost can’t handle it. My sharp cries mingle with his deep groans as we thrash and contract together.
He grips the base of my hair and tugs hard, pulling my head back, and claims me without mercy. My heart beats thickly against my chest as I struggle to breathe.
Time stops, and the only thing in existence is our bodies joined in ecstasy.
We come down hard, panting. An electric hum is buzzing within me. He’s tucked into the crook of my neck, his hot breaths hard and slow.
I’m stunned as everything that is Brett Carmichael settles deep into my bones.
Chapter 25
Brett
Over the next week and a half, Lizzy and I spend as much time together as we can. An impressive amount, really, considering the fact that we both have jobs and I had Max all last weekend. That seems to be all we really want to do: be together. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, either. This weekend Max is at his mother’s house, so I stayed the night at Lizzy’s again and we spent the morning watching the Uganda v. Zimbabwe game on tape delay and rolling around in her bed. That’s another thing we’ve yet to get sick of: rolling around.
Still, we manage to arrive on time for Connor’s birthday celebration at the new house. It’s a sprawling, single-story modern adobe, built within the last decade I’d guess, with a massive backyard that includes a luxurious pool, huge outdoor BBQ island, and full-sized sand volleyball court. The inside is pretty well put together, in spite of them closing just five days ago, but there are still some stacks of boxes and, apparently, more decorating to do.
It’s a beautiful, sunny California day though, so we’ve been hanging out in the backyard, hopping back and forth between the pool and the patio, where the snacks and beers are. I was a little nervous going into this, but I’m surprised how much I’m enjoying it. Her brothers are a lot more laidback than I expected, even her older brother Rayce, who at first comes across as a little intense. But he’s been friendly and even surprised me by knowing more than the average Joe about the international soccer scene. We had an enjoyable discussion about which team has the best shot at the World Cup this year.
The only people here besides me and Lizzy’s brothers are Connor’s fiancé Whitney, and their cousin Corinne, who’s almost like another sibling. In spite of being a stranger in this close-knit circle, they’ve made me feel welcome and kept me part of the conversations. The only time I’ve briefly felt like an outside observer to the group was when they had a short discussion about some distant relatives. This was when Lizzy brought out a card for them to sign to their great-aunt or somebody. She’s recently suffered a stroke and is recuperating at home with her 70-year-old daughter.
Apparently, Lizzy’s like the little old lady in the family, keeping in touch with all of their many relatives on a pretty regular basis, and sending birthday and holiday cards at minimum. I discover she’s dabbled in genealogy a little bit too, and make a mental note to share this with my mother in hopes that this common interest will give them a new starting point to build on.
Because I definitely want to try to build something with Lizzy. That means bringing her fully into my life, with Max and my mother and my sister and everybody. The sharp division between her and my son is starting to feel more and more off kilter. The more time I spend with Lizzy, the more eager I am to blend these two halves of my life together. However, I’ll wait until I find out the results of the hearing next week. If I get full custody, presumably Max’s life will start to settle down. That might be a better opportunity to bring Lizzy in.
For the first time since I lost my ex-wife, I’m starting to imagine more in my future than just work and being a dad to Max. I’m starting to imagine what it would be like with Lizzy by my side.
She’s by my side right now, tucked under my arm, which is draped over her shoulders. We’re on the corner of the couch with big, colorful patio cushions, and her long, tan legs are resting on the coffee table in front of us. Whitney and Rayce are on nearby chairs, and we’re all waiting for Connor and Corrine to finish their game of gin so we can break in the sand volleyball court. Everyone’s in swimsuits but a few people, Lizzy included sadly, have temporarily thrown t-shirts on as well.
“Gin!” Connor shouts, spreading his cards on the table with glee.
The whole group erupts with Ahhhhs as if this is some sort of momentous occasion.
“Dang it!” Corrine tosses her own cards down. “I knew you needed that eight of spades.”
“Take note of this, Brett,” Connor says, grabbing his phone to take a picture of his hand. “This is an historic occasion.”
Corrine is rolling her eyes and smiling, getting up from the table. “Whatever.”
“This is going on Facebook. I’m tagging you, too.”
“Don’t make me unfriend you.”
“Don’t be a poor sport,” Lizzy says, grinning. “You can’t blame him.” She looks at me. “Corrine’s kind of hard to beat at gin, so Connor’s going to rub this one in.”
“Am not.” Connor gets up and puts his phone in front of Corrine’s face. “That’s the winning hand right there, babe.”
“Get away.” She lightly pushes his shoulder. “Are we going to play volleyball or what?”
“Absolutely.” Connor drops his phone on the table and rubs his hands together. “I’m feeling lucky today.”
“It’s guys versus girls,” Rayce tells me as we all get up and Lizzy starts to pull off her shirt, revealing the neon orange bikini she’s wearing. Oh yeah, baby. “The girls have one handicap.”
“Wait, what?” I ask. Shouldn’t the guys be the ones with a handicap?
“One of our players is a handicap,” Lizzy says simply, leaning a bit toward me and keeping her voice low.
Her cousin Corrine’s a slender little thing—Lizzy’s told me about her bouts with cancer—so I’m assuming they mean her. But no. When Whitney sees me looking at Corrine, she raises her hand. “It’s me,” she says wryly. “I’m the handicap.”
“You’re getting better,” Connor says reassuringly. “You got a spike in the last game.”
Her eyes light
up. “It was awesome, too! My one moment of glory.”
Lizzy passes in front of me and grabs the volleyball that’s been resting on the grass nearby, but I’m still confused about the way they’re setting up the teams. I again glance at Corrine, who’s giving me a confident, amused look, as if she’s used to people underestimating her.
I look at Rayce. “Are we rotating out?”
He pulls off his shirt and drapes it over the back of the chair. “No. It’s three on three.”
“Three guys versus three girls, one of which is a handicap? That doesn’t seem very fair.”
Lizzy is standing barefoot on the grass, tossing the ball and catching it, and giving me an amused grin. “Just remember you said that.”
“She’s who you gotta keep an eye on.” Rayce gestures to her.
Lizzy doesn’t move and her smile doesn’t fade. She just keeps tossing that ball.
“Hey,” Corrine protests. “You gotta keep an eye on me, too.”
“Did you hear something?” Connor says to Rayce. “It sounds like a wee fairy voice.”
“An itty bitty sprite,” Rayce says flatly, “who’s about to be smashed by a speeding volleyball.”
“Look at them getting all cocky,” Corrine says to me, grinning, “because they think they have an ace in the hole.”
“Damn right.” Connor slaps me on the shoulder and leads me toward the court. “Victory is in the bag, ladies.”
When we reach our side of the court, now out of earshot of the girls, he lowers his voice and says, “Seriously, though. Keep an eye on Lizzy.”
“Is she that good?”
“Insanely good,” Rayce says behind me. “Don’t give her an opening or she’ll take it.”
We start the game, and at first I think the whole watch-out-for-Lizzy thing has been trumped up. The three of us are covering the court pretty solidly, and it becomes clear early on that Whitney truly is a handicap. Lizzy and Corrine are playing most of the court themselves, trying to compensate, but we score our first point on Whitney fairly quickly.