They negotiated a bit more. Condoms to protect her from pregnancy and for hygiene. He held back the suggestion that she seek something for birth control. One step, one weekend at a time.
He kissed her, and then she wanted another shower.
Chapter Five
When Brody got back from his run, Keith was in the kitchen making breakfast. Or, more like brunch. Brody and Henry had been up for a while, and they’d both found themselves something to eat already—Henry some granola, fruit, and yogurt before he took his laptop to one of the chairs in the turret, and Brody had scrambled eggs and a bagel before his run.
Both Henry and he had brought coffee supplies—Henry some beans, a grinder, and a French press, Brody a bag already ground from a Finger Lakes coffee shop and another French press. Great minds thought alike. They’d sheepishly shared that sentiment when they’d both gone out to their cars to fetch the stuff—neither having had the nerve to have their morning beverage necessities in hand when they’d knocked on Jubilee’s door the night before.
Now, Keith had a full pot of drip going, though Brody didn’t know if he’d brought the coffee maker along or found it in Jubilee’s kitchen. Keith motioned over to it when Brody wandered in, and he helped himself.
“Good run?” Keith asked.
“Yeah, great.”
It was a pretty area with a lot of options. There’d be more without the snow, because there were some nice long hiking trails he could use. But the roads were very scenic—he had a good, high view of Canandaigua Lake for a couple miles—with about zero traffic.
Keith had a pretty domestic side to him. He already had some cut-up fruit and berries set out on the island. Brody took his coffee, sat there, and started to nibble. Henry, who had a great nose for fresh coffee, walked in with his cup. He refilled and joined Brody.
“So,” he said, looking at Keith, “what’s your big plan? What are we all doing here?”
Keith slid a sheet of biscuits into the oven. He had the makings for an omelet ready to go, too. His parents were both chefs, and they’d all benefitted from that over the years. But Keith was the only one who’d learned anything about cooking from them. Henry said he had the genetic programming for it, which was as good excuse for laziness on the part of the other two as was needed.
Keith grabbed a strip of bacon and shoved the whole thing in his mouth before he sat down across from them. Brody knew from long experience that Keith was the only one who got to do that. If Brody made a grab for the bacon himself, Keith would brandish his chef’s knife. He’d never drawn blood, but it had come close. They both had quick reflexes.
So Henry and Brody just had to sit there and wait for the dude to get done chewing.
“I’ve got Jubilee’s agreement that we can all three spend the weekend,” he finally said.
“What does that get us?” Henry asked. He sounded a bit grumpy about it. Brody could see the possibilities—maybe almost as well as Keith seemed to be seeing them—but Henry was the most conservative of them. He was the homeowner, the assistant professor on tenure track. He’d been dealt a pretty serious life blow when his parents had died after their sailboat capsized on Lake Ontario, and it had sobered him.
“Well,” Keith said. “To start, it gets us a damn fine weekend.”
He was right about that. But Henry liked…clarity. “You mean she’s going to let us all fuck her again?”
Keith nodded slowly, savoring it.
“All right, I’ll admit that was good last night,” Henry said. “But I kind of see this as a problem—all three of us wanting the same girl. We all spend the weekend here, we still have the problem.”
Brody put his two cents in. “I’m not sure Keith is seeing this deal as a problem.”
Henry raised a skeptical brow. Keith shrugged. “I think the solution may come. Think about it. Sooner or later, she’s got to figure out what a dick Henry is.” He didn’t have any trouble fielding the grape Henry fired at him or eating it either. “Then she’ll catch on that Bro’s no good in bed, and we’re done. Problem solved. I get the girl.”
Brody was pretty sure that wasn’t the solution Keith really had in mind, but “the girl” interrupted their conversation. “I thought Brody was pretty good,” she said. “But I didn’t hear what happened to Henry.”
Probably, Jubilee was headed to the counter to start a pot of tea, but Brody put an arm out to waylay her. “Keith said you’d figure out he’s a dick.” He reeled her in and kissed her. “Good morning, Jubilee.”
The blush on her cheeks told him he’d reminded her what she’d done last night, and he wasn’t at all unhappy about that. He could tell it took a little something for her to meet his gaze.
“Good morning, Brody.”
He took another kiss, because…he could.
She looked at him. “Do you think Henry is one?”
He smiled at that glint in her eyes. “A dick? Well, maybe a little one.”
Henry spoke up to defend himself. “Kindly don’t use ‘little’ and ‘dick’ in the same breath when you’re discussing me. Good morning, Jubilee.”
Brody still held her, but she looked over at Henry. “Good morning. And, really—so not an issue.”
Dry old Henry winked at her. “That’s my girl.” He leaned over and gave her his own kiss.
Keith had already poured hot water from the microwave into Jubilee’s little teapot. He set it on the island along with her elegant but totally impractical little cup and saucer.
“Thank you,” she said. Presumably, they’d already said good morning and exchanged kisses.
“You’re welcome.” Keith leaned his elbows down onto the island’s granite top and looked at her intently. “I’ve been wondering. How are your skills with…” He left a good, long pregnant pause. “Hockey?”
She laughed in obvious surprise. “Well, I have skates.”
Keith looked excited for a minute. “Hockey skates?”
“Umm…no.”
“We can make do. I noticed you have a pond.”
Keith cooked up the omelet as they negotiated. Yes, it had been cold enough that it would be safe to skate. No, the guys wouldn’t have any trouble taking a couple snow shovels out and clearing the ice. Yes, they’d all brought their skates. They’d all brought an extra stick, too. Jubilee would have her choice of three. That made her smile. No doubt she’d done much the same when she noticed the plethora of coffee-making equipment.
Brody figured the morning went about how Keith intended it. They ate breakfast and lingered over coffee or tea. Eventually, Keith observed that the ice wasn’t going to clear itself. Jubilee seemed to consider that man’s work and said she’d get some weaving done. Brody begged off, too, saying he needed a shower after his run. Keith gave him a look but didn’t point out that he’d just get sweated up again out on the pond. No doubt he had his master plan in mind. In the end, Keith and Henry manned up and headed out.
So the house was quiet when Brody left the shower dressed only in flannel pants. He went to the turret and watched Jubilee at her loom. The way she worked was almost meditative—rhythmic, repetitive. But her pattern was also complicated, clearly requiring a lot of attention. Her mind was very present, obviously. And the process was surprisingly physically active. With her feet she worked levers—the treadles, he knew, since he’d done a little research about weaving on his flight back from California—and her body moved as she threw and retrieved the shuttle. Using a fair bit of muscle, she battened the yarn a couple times on each pass, engaging a part called the reed.
The whole of it was elegant, her head bent on her long neck, her back lithe and straight, her motion fluid and graceful.
And kind of hot, too. Or maybe that was just her. Either way, his cock was stirring as he watched. And they were alone in the house, so—
He went and stood behind her. From there, he could see Henry and Keith working on the pond. His indoor view was better.
Touching her left shoulder, he felt her pause befo
re she continued her work. But she leaned back a little, closing about half the distance it would take to press against his cock.
He closed the other half.
That was all the acknowledgment she made of his presence. She kept working, the gentle movements of her upper body subtly caressing his cock. Brody closed his eyes to the pleasure. After several moments of it, he let his fingers wander lower. The light sweater she wore was loose around her shoulders. And the bra, he learned, was another one of those deals that cupped but barely covered her breast. With just the littlest assist from his fingers, her nipple was free of it.
He grasped hold, but it was her own activity that caused any further stimulation. Each time she reached, casting the shuttle from right to left and back again, pausing between each time to work the reed, she made happen a tug of her nipple.
If the quickening of her breath meant anything, she liked it.
So did he.
With his right hand, he stroked the length of her neck. After a bit of that, he ran a finger over her lips. Finally, her hands halted, her fingers resting on the cloth she’d just formed. She leaned back harder against him. When he pressed with his fingers along her jaw, she tilted her head so he could kiss her. As he took her mouth, he reached down for her other breast.
Now, he did the work of it, rolling her nipples, tugging at them. She slid her hands behind, grasping the backs of his thighs. He hummed out a breath of appreciation for the way that thrust her breasts out.
“You’ve got the best tits,” he told her, speaking mostly against her mouth.
“You’ve got—” She had to wait for him to move his lips to finish. “—Very good hands.”
“I’m pretty skilled with my tongue, too.”
“Yeah?” she asked, and she rested back against him as he set out to prove it.
He slid his hand into the opening of her sweater and under her bra strap, as well. He took both down, totally baring one breast. Leaning over her, he bent his head and touched his tongue to her nipple. It was already erect, but it tightened further as he stroked and circled it. Then he took it between his lips, drew her in, and used his tongue to milk her.
She arched back. “Oh, God.”
He pulled hard on her, keeping her moaning. Without letting go, he spun the stool where she sat and lifted her to her feet.
In the midst of a hard pull, he broke suction. She whimpered at the sting, but he distracted her with a kiss. When she put her arms around him, he took her up and carried her to the bedroom.
He went down onto the bed on top of her. She’d opened her legs, so he pressed in between. But he held over her, kissing her, drawing on her lips, nipping, and inserting his tongue into that sweet mouth. She responded, drawing him in, curling her fingers into his hair, keeping him close.
Lifting up, he smiled at her. “I like this, Jubilee. It’s good, huh?”
She gave him a smile back, but he could see it wavered when he tugged her clothing down to bare both breasts now. He held her tits up, squeezing her nipples between thumb and fingers, then alternating using his mouth on them. She was so sensitive, moaning and beginning a rocking action with her pelvis.
“Brody,” she whimpered. “You’re making me—”
She broke off when he gave her a particularly rough pull. “What, baby? Horny?” he asked with a grin, though maybe she couldn’t see it, because he had her pretty occupied. “Hot?” he offered with another good twist from his fingers. “Crazy?”
“Yes,” she said, and he took her to mean all of it. “I need—”
She didn’t go on. Maybe because he’d flexed a little where his hard cock was pressed against her. “What, babe? What did you want to say?”
“Brody.”
He kept up that flexing action and worked both nipples pretty good, and she seemed to lose her train of thought. “Do you need me to fuck you, baby?”
“Y—yes.”
“Have you forgotten about my tongue?”
“What?”
Brody figured it was up to him to remind her.
She wore tights again, or maybe leggings—they didn’t cover her feet—and a skirt, too, though it was wispy and short, falling above her knees. So he slid down a little, ran his hand up her one thigh to lift her skirt, and palmed her pussy right through the tights.
“Mmm.”
“Yeah.” Though this winter thing was kind of a pain in the ass. In California, girl parts tended to be quite a bit more…accessible. He rubbed at her some more, finding her clit and giving it a lot of action. Once he had her purring for a while, he scooted farther down the bed, so he was on his elbows between her legs. He grasped the tights on either side of her hips and nudged them down. “Let’s see what we have here.”
The answer was she had another silk thong. It was a pretty pink to match her bra. He’d got the feeling she hadn’t had a bunch of wild sex with the poor dead guy she’d been married to, but she surely had dressed for him. Unless she’d developed a fancy for sexy lingerie in her widowhood.
Seduced by it either way, Brody left the tights low on her hips, tugging at the center to make a vee from which to access her pussy. Right away, he caught the scent of her arousal, and he put his tongue over her clit. With just a little stroking with his wet tongue, the silk became transparent. It clung, outlining her pretty pussy really nicely.
He worked her with his tongue good and hard. The silk was thin enough that he could even get a bit inside her.
She seemed to like everything he did, and he liked the sounds of her moans and the way she writhed and encouraged him with her fingers twisted into his hair.
But it all wasn’t enough. He lost patience with just the tease of it, came up to his knees, and got rid of the tights and thong with them. He looked down at her hot self—all quick, panting breaths and fluttery need. He waited for her eyes to meet his. Still watching her, he raised her foot to plant it on his shoulder and then did the same with the other side. He pressed her knees out, so when he leaned in to put his mouth on her again, she was splayed open. Vulnerable. On offer—to him.
He took advantage. Using his tongue and lips and even teeth, he loved her. He sucked on her clit, drawing it into his mouth and milking it with his tongue. He thrust his tongue into her pussy, using his hands to spread her open so he could go deep. The womanly scent of her stirred him, and she seemed to like it, too, when he plunged his tongue into her.
He made her come, a helpless, shattering climax, when he drew hard on her clit and fucked her with three fingers. She cried out, her body bucking frantically, lost in the throes of her passion.
Letting her go, leaving her to shiver out the last of her climax, Brody knelt between her legs again. He reached for the condom he’d left in the back pocket of his flannels and covered himself. When he was ready, he positioned himself, grasped her hips, and drew her onto him.
She opened her eyes, probably more than a bit surprised. She was arched up over him, her shoulders and head still on the bed but the lower half of her body draped over his thighs. More to the point, she was impaled. His hard cock was thrust all the way into her depths.
He wanted to grin at the startlement on her face, but he was too much distracted by his appreciation for his own position. She felt so good around him—hot, already, from the climax he’d driven into her, tight, a fucking perfect fit. Every bit of her squeezed every bit of him, and the next time she came, he was going to be feeling that pussy clench around him.
Fucking heaven.
But to get there… “Here,” he said. “Bend your knees.” He helped because, well, he was in a hurry and she didn’t seem to have her head about her just yet. “Now come up.” He kept one hand holding her in position at her hip and put the other out. She got the gist of it with a little gesture from him. She grabbed his forearm with both hands, and he lifted her to sitting.
On him. Around him. Her knees at his hips and his dick up her cunt like a flagpole.
She gave a little grunt of protest, which he
attributed to just exactly how far into her that flagpole had reached. The way her legs were spread, plus her own weight adding to the force of penetration, he’d gotten every millimeter out of her. He had her filled. Claimed.
Maybe she was still a little dazed. He slid her arms around his shoulders and then used a finger to tilt her head up. In a few seconds, she seemed to focus. “Hey,” he said.
Her eyes were big and round, but they steadied on his. “Hey.”
“Fuck me.”
That kind of woke her up. Her grip around his shoulders became functional, and some life came back into her legs. He used his grasp on her hips now to instruct her. He lifted her a bit and then let her back down. After a couple demos, she did it once on her own.
“Like that?”
“Oh, yeah.”
A little curve hit her lips. “I like you, Brody.”
“Yeah, babe,” he said. “I like you, too.”
“You like fucking me?”
“I fucking love it.”
“I like it, too.”
Their faces were just inches apart, and, like they were exactly on the same wavelength, they came together in a kiss.
It was a good kiss. She was very active in it, using tongue every bit as much as he did, drawing him in with great suction, and abrading with her teeth. Somewhere in the midst of it, she started rocking her hips. And then riding him. Fucking him.
And that was fucking fantastic.
Before long, he was all up in it, too. He came up off his heels a bit, so he could do his own bit of thrashing about. With the way he had his arms around her, he had her breasts smashed against his chest. He could feel the bit of abrasion at her nipples as their bodies worked themselves against each other, and knew from the sounds she made that she was feeling it, too.
Then it wasn’t just sounds she made, but words, too. And he fucking loved that. He loved a talker.
“That’s so good,” she said. “Your cock is so big.”
“Hell, yeah.”
“Brody, you’re stretching me, filling me so…so good.”
Fuck, yeah.
“I need—” She was pumping him and grinding. She’d gotten his rhythm and didn’t require his help anymore.
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