by S. E. Hall
Speaking of adjust, I shift my cock to a less painful angle.
“Bossy Jefferson is very sexy,” she coos, running a hand through my hair, “if done correctly. I love feeling cared for, protected, cherished. But not tricked. Not bullied. Not blindsided. Do you understand?”
Nope. Not a damn bit. But I understand enough to know the right response…so I nod.
“Good. Now let’s try again. Jefferson, what do you think of my driving?”
“Woman,” I grumble in absolute yearning, reaching up to glide one strap down her arm. “I want to make sure you’re safe and prepared,” I kiss across her shoulder, nipping her collarbone, “and would love to take you away this weekend. We can practice driving a little, but mostly, I just want to spend time with you. Would that be all right?”
“Why, yes, Jefferson,” she giggles softly. “That sounds lovely. Thank you for caring. And asking.”
I have got to remember how I just did that; could come in very handy in the future.
I raise my head to look in her eyes, a smoldering emerald, and wink. “Better?”
“Much,” she licks her lips. “Know the best part of behavior modification?”
“What’s that, baby?”
“There’s always a reward at the end. Your pick, one part of me, or one part of you, that gets some lovin’. We’re going slow though, so just one.”
The animal inside me is so ravenous I’m having trouble weighing my options. But, my baby wants slow, and honestly, I want to take my time with her too. Said no man ever, except my whipped ass of course. But really, shockingly, I do want to relish and thoroughly enjoy every single step in the build-up of our relationship.
Yep, it’s official. Bellamy Morgan has undone me. I no longer recognize myself.
And I know my answer.
“Your beautiful tits, baby. That’s what I pick. So get ‘em out for me and lie back.”
She calls it “behavior modification.” I call it…“a worth every damn second of anticipation prelude.”
Thirty-One
Bellamy
IT’S FINALLY THE night of the Sam Hunt concert. I was beginning to think it’d never get here.
Because my new outfit makes me feel so hip and sexy, I decide what I wear under it should too, so I grab the raciest bra and panties I own. Which won’t win any races, but they’re the best I have.
The lace of the bra abrades my deliciously tortured nipples, still hyper-sensitive from all the attention Jefferson gave them, and my breasts swell, hot and heavy at the reminder. The things he’d done—with his mouth, tongue, hands, teeth—I felt positively worshipped. Not to be crude…but the man can suck a tit. Very well indeed.
Dressed and putting the final touches on my make-up, I hear my phone ping. I go hunt it down and feel my brows draw together in worry as I stare at the screen, followed by a pang of guilt at my reaction.
Brynn: Be there in 30 to get you. I’m so excited!
Shame on me. Brynn’s my best friend and the one who invited me. How shitty of a person am I for being slightly disappointed that Jefferson…
Jefferson: On my way. You ready?
Alrighty, what we have here is a dilemma of alarming proportions. Guess somebody should’ve thought to plan things out…before now. Might as well ring the bell to start the fight now, which is really not how I want to begin the night. But, as always, I don’t want to be the cause of an argument either. So, I don’t reply to either one of them.
They’ll find out and be at each other’s throats soon enough.
As I’m slipping on my absolutely fabulous boots, the first knock sounds at my door. For a second, I debate answering. How entertaining would it be to leave “Thing One” out there waiting until “Thing Two” showed up to surprise them?
Pretty damn entertaining. I snicker to myself, but ultimately decide that pouring fuel on the fire wouldn’t be worth a show before the actual show and go answer it.
“Oh, hell yes,” Jefferson’s eyes rake over me from head to toe. “Giddy the fuck up, baby. You make me wanna be a cowboy,” he growls his approval.
“Thank you,” I laugh. “You look pretty good yourself.”
Does he ever. Faded jeans molded to his hips. White, untucked dress shirt tight across his broad shoulders. Hair a perfect, dark mess. And he smells divine. Jefferson Tate Kendrick could turn the heads of the blind.
“We need to go. As in now.” He tugs me to him by both hips, burying his face in my hair. “Or, we could stay here and I’ll sing any damn song you want.”
“Um,” I groan regretfully, “we have to, uh, wait.”
“For?” He pulls back, intuitive enough to scowl, but gets interrupted by his phone… blaring “Maneater” by Nelly whatever. Which does not make me happy. Whoever the hell she is, she’s gonna have to find a new man to eat.
And when he answers, right in front of me, “not happy” skyrockets to hurt, very offended, and homicidally jealous. Didn’t know I had the capability to feel all those things at once, or the last of them at all, but I’m positive now—I can definitely do jealous.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asks his “Maneater” with a smile. A real smile. Not nervous, tight or awkward. Nope, it’s authentic. Digging the knife deeper and giving it a twist.
I push off him and stomp away to go find my purse. I’m glad Brynn’s on her way now. I am so riding with her.
I dilly-dally in my room, mentally urging Brynn to hurry up, when I sense him approach. “What’re you doing?”
I whirl around to drill him with my teary-eyed glare, firmly in place. “Does it matter, Maneater? You can go ahead and leave, I have a ride,” I snip as bitingly as I can manage while also on the verge of crying.
His eyes widen, but only briefly, before the shake of his shoulders gives away his silent laughing. Then he rubs a hand over his mouth to hide what I assume is a coy smirk.
“What’s so funny?” I hiss. “You know, not only do you appear to be a liar, knowing exactly what a ‘chippie’ and ‘canoodling’ are, but you could at least keep pretending long enough to answer your booty call after my nipples quit tingling from your touch!”
And this is why I avoid arguing…I’m just not very good at it. Probably shouldn’t admit you’re still tingling if you’re trying to be mean.
“Bellamy,” he rasps my name in carnal urgency, stalking toward me. “How you manage mad, adorable and sexy as fuck all at the same time, I’ll never know, but I hope like hell you never stop.” He brushes my long hair off my neck and leans in to suck on the sensitive flesh, murmuring in between laves of his tongue. “That was Presley, asking where to meet us. She set her own, very appropriate, ringtone.”
“Oh,” my embarrassment is merely a puff of air.
“Yeah, oh,” he chuckles on my skin, pressing his body closer to mine. “You were jealous, weren’t ya, baby?”
“Very,” my honesty is effortlessly forthcoming.
“I like that,” he rumbles, “a helluva lot. As sexy as it is, and I wouldn’t mind seeing it again, let me set the record straight.” He pulls back, producing his phone. “Cleared it out. Not one girl in here that isn’t family or an employee besides you. No passcode either if you want to look for yourself.”
Sheer, undiluted delight zaps through me, but I try, no doubt failing, for a neutral expression. “I don’t need to look, I believe you. I’m sorry I assumed the worst. And, while we’re on the topic, same. No guys in my phone except you, my dad, my boss and your Squad. Oh, and Marshall.”
“Marshall needs to go,” he says calmly but adamantly, rubbing his thumb across my cheek.
“He’s my study p-”
“Nope.” His head shakes slowly back and forth. “I took Sociology. I’m your study partner now, and I’m very effective. I, too, give rewards, positive reinforcement, for every correct answer.” He winks. “Now tell me you’ll remove him, because you want to study with me.”
“Okay.” I smile, more than happy to agree.
“O
ne more thing. Are you on Snatchchat?”
“What the hell is-”
“He means Snapchat,” Brynn, who apparently let herself in, stands in the doorway, rolling her eyes.
“Hey, by all means, come on in.” He turns to jibe his sister. “And that’s what I said, Snatchchat.”
Ryder stands behind her, giving it his all not to laugh but nodding in agreement. “Are you on there, Brynny?” he asks her.
She glances over his shoulder at him. “Of course not! It’s a cesspool of dipshit guys who love to post half-naked selfies in hopes of a hook-up. Not interested. Are you on there?” she questions him right back.
“No,” he laughs, kissing her cheek.
“All right then. So, we going or what?” She turns back to us.
“Please stand by,” Jefferson holds up a finger. “Baby, are you? On it?” His bottomless, chestnut eyes speak volumes, desperate to hear me say I’m not.
“No,” I snicker, and as expected, the distress in his gaze instantly turns into predatory triumph.
“Me either.”
“I don’t even know what it is, neither do you from the sound of it. Snatch, Snap, whichever, I think we’re good.”
“God, I love you. That’s my girl.” He drags me to him and kisses me madly, seemingly unaware, or unconcerned, with what he just blurted out.
But I didn’t miss it. Neither did Brynn. When I look over, her eyes are about to bulge out of socket and her jaw’s on the floor. I give her a small shake of my head, silently begging her to leave it be.
“Hey.” The present dawns on Jefferson and he stares at Brynn. “Why are you here?”
She crosses her arms and slants her chin defiantly. “We’re giving Bellamy a ride. My tickets, my invite, my friend. Didn’t she tell you?”
“No, no she didn’t.” He cuts me a disgruntled side-glance.
“I, uh, wasn’t sure what the plan was,” I stammer, looking down to fiddle with the strings at the hem of my skirt. “No one set anything in stone…until you both texted me at the exact same time that you were already on your way. I honestly hadn’t even thought about it. Much like everyone else.”
“No worries,” Brynn pops a shoulder. “We can all ride together.”
Jefferson manages to taper his growl to a low rumble in his chest, tightly wrapping his arm around my waist and tugging me to his side. I can’t see from this angle, but, just a hunch from the answering, curt nod Ryder gives him, Jefferson somehow communicated to Ryder it’s time for that “talk” they had to kick in full speed ahead.
“Brynny, now that I think about it, we’re gonna ride in my car, alone. You’re on a date, with me. Let’s go,” he proclaims roguishly and grabs her hand. “We’ll meet up with you guys at our seats.”
“But-”
“No buts, Brynn. Let’s go.”
Well, well…Ryder’s gone and got himself some alpha tendencies. And I must say, they look damn good on him.
“See ya there, Brynn,” I call out, muting my laughter. “Looks like he listened to you.”
“Thank God,” Jefferson groans, nuzzling his face into my neck once more, digging his fingertips into my hips.
“Babe,” I exhale, “we gotta go. If I miss a single song, you’re cut-off.”
He lifts his head and melts me with a seductively suggestive curl of his lips. “And after, if I get you there on time?”
“Hmm,” I bait in throaty enticement, smoothing a hand up his chest. “Who said we had to wait until after?”
In one fluid movement, accompanied by a brutish gnarl, I’m hoisted over his shoulder and being carried, in double-time, toward the door. “You got everything you need?” he actually thinks to ask.
“Get my purse, right there,” I point…the wrong way, seeing as I’m upside down and facing his do-not-mind-at-all ass.
He grabs it, slams the door behind him and turns to lock it, then has my ass placed in his passenger seat before I can even catch my breath. He starts the car, shifts it into drive and lays his hand on my thigh.
“Love the skirt,” he comments in a smooth, yet manly, tone.
I force down a deep, slow gulp and decide to push; it’s been plaguing my mind since he said it. Probably a slip-up, but I have to know for sure. “Anything else you love?” I whisper, my nerve fading quicker than my voice.
“Lots of things,” he chuckles. “Why, whadda ya mean?”
“Nothing,” I quietly sigh…and turn on the radio.
Thirty-Two
JT
WHAT THE HELL just happened?
Everything was great, my girl was happy and now she looks as though someone told her they got her a puppy…but ran it over before they could give it to her. And I haven’t the first fucking clue why.
We pull into the parking lot of the concert venue, and damn well knowing better, she flings her door open before I can do it for her and jumps out.
And now I’m pissed. Which means, the silent treatment tantrum I let her have on the drive over ends immediately. I refuse to be punished without at least knowing what I did wrong.
“Bellamy,” I growl, striding her way and blocking her path. “Enough brooding. Talk.” I balance the harshness in my tone with a gentle hand on her arm. “Just tell me how I screwed up and I’ll fix it. You and I both know it’s burning a hole in your tongue to school me, so please do.”
“This isn’t a “girl” answer, okay?” She sighs, hiding her face in my chest. “You really didn’t do anything wrong, at all. I’m just being silly. Can we forget about it and enjoy our night? Please?”
“Hey,” I lift her chin with a finger, peering down into heartbreaking, despondent pools of aquamarine. “Damn, baby girl, you’re killing me. What’s wrong?”
Like a magic trick, her expression and the air around her instantly shift back to that of the feisty, optimistic girl I know. “Nothing, I promise,” she smiles too wide and clips too loud, lacing her fingers through mine and pulling. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”
Something still looms over us, but she’s made it clear that no amount of my pestering is gonna get her to talk until she’s damn good and ready, so I push it aside for later and lead us to the gate.
The line moves surprisingly fast and right inside the lobby awaits the rest of our group…and Sutton?
“There you are!” Brynn all but pummels Bellamy, pulling her from me while Presley flanks her other side. “I have got to pee, figured we’d go as a group and get it out of the way. You guys wait right here,” my sister barks at us and the three of them take off toward the bathroom.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Sutton, shifting so I can keep an eye on the girls while they wait in line.
“I plead the fifth,” he laughs. “Came to a concert, not my death.”
And I would have to actually kill him, as in the use of weaponry, ‘cause his big ass wouldn’t go down any other way.
Yeah, he’s not being ominous at all. Surely he figures I’ll let that go. Unless of course, he remembers who I am.
“What’s that mean? You put it out there, man up and finish,” I snarl, in two part—his weird vibe and the fact Bellamy’s now out of sight.
“They’re fine,” Ryder laughs. “That’s Brynn’s shirt just inside the door, they moved forward in line. I’m watching.” Good man.
“Okay,” I shoot him a look of appreciation. “Now you, finish,” I scowl at Sutton.
“Well,” he drawls, rubbing the back of his neck, “I saw Brynn at the store this morning…”
He’s outnumbered now, ‘cause Ryder cuts one eye his way with a more than interested brow lift at the mention of Brynn’s name, quickly returning his focus to the bathroom, but ears still perked.
“And,” Sutton continues, “she might’ve mentioned that Presley was coming tonight. And that she’s currently single. So, I called a buddy and snagged a ticket. Can you blame me?”
Ryder and I let out simultaneous, relieved breaths. Sutton really took the scenic route on that stor
y, causing very unnecessary alarm. Presley’s not only older than me, and obstinate as all fuck…but she’s perfectly capable, proven many times over, of handling her own shit. Honestly, I’m more worried for Sutton at this point. He has no clue what trouble he’s inviting upon himself.
“No death happening here,” I laugh. “Unless it’s at the hands of Presley.”
“I heard that,” Ryder joins in my laughter. “She’s a pistol. Good luck, man,” he slaps Sutton on the shoulder.
“I like ‘em fiery, and hot as hell. Presley Beckett,” a sharp breath whistles between his teeth, “can do any damn thing she wants to me. With those hands. And mouth. And-”
“Got it,” I cut him off. “Still my cousin, thanks.”
“Still your cousin, what?” Presley asks, the girls now back.
“Nothing,” I groan. “Forget it.”
“Okay,” she shrugs, her mind and eyes already flitting to bigger and better things. “Look, let’s go buy our T-shirts before they sell out.” She points to the booth where they’re being sold. “Bellamy, come with,” she doesn’t ask, dragging her away.
“Y’all go watch them,” I tell Ryder and Sutton. “I need to talk to Brynny. We’ll meet you all at our seats, for real this time.”
Once we’re alone, my sister and I get in the line shuffling into the arena. As I’m choosing my words, she speaks them for me. “Lemme take a stab at it, bro. Bellamy’s acting weird.”
How the hell do women do that? I’m rendered even more speechless, not that she needs me to even talk obviously, and silently gawk at her.
She nudges me forward in the moving line and snickers. “I haven’t had a chance to ask her yet, so I’m not sure if you messed it up after and hurt her feelings, scared her, shocked her or she’s just inside her head deciding how she feels about it, but I do know what set whatever is going on in motion.”
“Wanna share with the class?” I ask, turning to buy a four-crate of draft beers from the passing vendor.
“Yeah, it’s for the greater good, so I don’t mind telling you. But you have to swear to somehow fake figuring it out on your own. Do not tell her I told you or this will be the last time I ever help you.”