by Sabrina York
“Hold still,” he complained.
“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”
He chuckled then and increased his pace, nipping and nuzzling her, stroking her with increased frenzy. Her body took flight. Her orgasm descended with no warning, but it was a lovely one, one that rose up from her core and encompassed her in a glimmering wave. As she continued to quake in the aftermath, he slid up beside her and kissed her, caressed her as she found herself once more.
“Would you mind taking off your shirt?” He shot her a beseeching glance. “I would love to see your breasts.”
“Of course.” She stood, facing him.
He was so beautiful, lounging like that on the bunk, with his slumberous sensual expression fixed on her. A small grin quirked his lips. It was a moment frozen in time, one she would always remember.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“And how.”
Humming traditional stripper music, she slowly danced around, toying with the hem of her shirt. She slowly lifted it, and then dropped it again, until he growled. “We don’t have all night.”
“Say please.”
“Jesus, Porsche. Please.”
She smiled triumphantly and lifted her shirt off, displaying her black lacy bra. He made a noise. A gurgle or something. She took this as encouragement and cupped her breasts, playing with them for his pleasure.
But for some reason, he didn’t seem to be pleased. He frowned. “Off.”
She affected a pout. “Are you bossing me around?”
“I’m trying to.”
“But I thought you were my cowboy to command.”
He stared at her, his eyes red-rimmed. “I am. But we may need to trade off once in a while.”
“Really?” That sounded . . . interesting.
“Like now.”
“Now?”
“Take off that bra and come here.” He unbuttoned his jeans, just enough to pull his cock out, and grabbed a condom. “I have something for you.”
And damn, did he.
His cock was full and hard and ready. She watched eagerly as he rolled on the condom, enjoying the sight. Though they didn’t have all night, they had at least this. A moment to savor.
He glanced up at her and frowned when he saw her breasts were still covered. “I said take it off,” he barked.
“You distracted me.” Still, she fumbled with the hooks to her bra and let it fall. How delicious was it that his cock lurched at that.
“Come here.” He held out his arms, and she had to comply with this order.
Mostly because she wanted it too.
She straddled him and, as he busied himself with weighing and testing the flesh of her breasts, she took his cock in her hand, positioned him, and lowered down.
She had no patience for procrastination.
The warm heat of his mouth on her nipples, the gentle suction, the not-so-gentle nips, thrilled her, but the fullness of him as she impaled herself was what stole her breath. He filled her completely; she reveled in the jerks and shudders of his hard flesh inside her.
She had to move, and did so, tentatively, testing this angle and that lunge. When she attempted a wide arc of her hips he wheezed and lost his hold on her breasts. He stared up at her, his eyes wide. “Porsche.”
“Is this good?” she asked, making an undulating move.
In response, he muttered something and grabbed her hips and tried to control her, but she didn’t let him. This was her ride.
“You’re killing me,” he said after a while, after he realized she was not and never would be a compliant woman.
“I only want to please you,” she said, dipping down to kiss him. This created a new angle, a new tightness, and she shuddered as her nerves spun in a dervish of delight. “Mmm. Do you like this?” She moved again. “Please tell me you like this.”
“Faster,” he panted. “Faster. Yes.”
And, because it pleased her to do so, she moved with more speed, harder, harsher. Bracing herself on the hard, slick landscape of his muscled chest, she allowed her wild side to take over, let her body demand what it needed, let her passion set the pace.
No doubt the trailer was rocking like mad, but she didn’t care. This was heaven. This was perfection. This was—
She gasped as his cock swelled inside her. But it was more than just that, his every muscle tightened. She responded by closing on him, meeting his gaze, daring him on.
He cried out as he came, clinging to her hips with a desperate ferocity, thrusting up into her as he released. His frenzy incited hers and she let go once more, plummeted into the miasma of feelings, sensations, and raw, unmasked connection. She felt as though every nerve was exposed. She felt as though her soul was laid bare too. As though she had given him her all, and he’d given it right back, and more.
They never broke gazes. Not as the welter of quivers and quakes shattered them, not as their movements slowed. Not as their breath finally calmed.
“Porsche,” he said, a benediction. He lifted his hand to stroke her hair, a reverent touch.
“Brandon.” She kept him inside her as she laid down on his chest and blanketed him.
His arms came around her, and he whispered her name again.
They lay like that, entwined, for an eternity.
“I wish you could stay,” he murmured at long last.
“I wish I could too,” she said.
And then, a low rumbling reverberated through the camper.
It was his snore.
Apparently, she’d worn him out once again.
Chapter Twenty-one
“Why are you smiling like that?”
Porsche blinked as Claire dropped her plate on the table with a clang. They were in the main dining room, which also served as the party room, but when the sashes were pulled back and the morning light flooded in, it gave off a very different vibe than it did in the sultry shadows of the night.
As for her smile? She had a lot to smile about. Brandon had made passionate love to her last night and, heavens, it had been hawt. The memories made heat sluice through her veins. It had been the most magnificent night of her life. She wasn’t sure which of the acts she preferred. Act One had been hard, hot and frantic, with him utterly in control. And Act Two had been a slow, sweet lapping ocean of bliss. Act Three, of course, had been a wild ride, with her in charge.
She’d really enjoyed them all, but if she was being honest—which she diligently tried to do on occasion—she liked the last act best. There was something about riding him, controlling him, watching him writhe and moan and plead that just spoke to her on a cellular level.
It was highly likely that in another incarnation she might have been a dominatrix, because she’d enjoyed watching him squirm so much. He was probably lucky she had no real taste for whips and chains. Commanding him though . . . that had been delicious.
Idly, she wondered where he was. And if he might be interested in finding a place where they could . . . explore some more.
“Well?”
Porsche jumped. Oooh. That was a sharp bark. She frowned at Claire. “What?”
“Why are you smiling like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like a loon.”
She tipped her head to the side and said pedantically, “Claire, loons don’t have lips. They’re birds. They have beaks. Aside from which, I sincerely doubt they have anything to smile about because they are swimming around in their own poop.”
Claire pressed her lips together. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know.”
Porsche offered her a dazzling grin. “Well, practice makes perfect.”
For some reason, Claire wasn’t amused. “Are you going to tell me why you were smiling or not?”
“Was I smiling?” Porsche batted her lashes. “My apologies.”
The trouble was, Claire knew the innocent-look ploy. She used it often herself.
“What is it?” she hissed.
“Nothing.” More lash batting, just for emphasis.
The discomfiting scrutiny intensified. “You . . . look different.”
“Do I?” Surely it didn’t show. She poked at her pancakes. “Hey, do you think these have gluten?”
“What do you care? You’ve never had a problem with gluten.”
“I know, but it’s so trendy to eat gluten-free. I was thinking I should try it to see what all the fuss is about.” She gazed curiously at Claire. “Well, do you think they have gluten?”
“I’m pretty freaking sure they have gluten in them, Porsche. They are pancakes.”
“We should talk to Lisa about that. You know. Offering gluten-free items on the menu.”
“We have gluten-free items on the menu.”
“Oh.” She took a bite. “Well, they’re good pancakes.”
Claire’s gaze narrowed. “Porsche, what the hell is going on?”
Sometimes it was annoying when someone knew you this well.
She stared down at her plate and tried to look somber, but failed; she couldn’t stop that enormous grin from taking over.
Claire shook her head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you got laid, but . . .” She stilled and then peered closer. “Oh. My. God.” And then a squeal—one that turned heads throughout the room. “Ohmygod!” She leaned in closer and hissed, “You did. You did get laid. Cody finally made a move, didn’t he? Ohmygod. This is awesome.” She glanced madly around as though she wanted to share with all and sundry.
“Claire—”
“Tell me everything. Everything. Wait. He’s my brother. Not everything. But give me the broad strokes.”
“Claire—”
“I am so freaking thrilled. I—”
“It wasn’t Cody.”
Her face fell. Her color faded. “What?” You would have thought Porsche had kicked a kitten the way Claire stared at her. “I don’t understand.”
Porsche reapplied herself to her pancakes. She was very hungry, for some reason. “There’s nothing to understand. We kissed and then kissed some more and . . . things got, I dunno, wild.”
“Wild?”
“Yes.” She took a big bite. “Mmmm.”
“What do you mean, wild?”
“I think you know what I mean by wild.”
“Who was it?”
Porsche stilled. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like sharing. Not while these feelings were still so new, so fragile. And Claire could be like a bull in a china shop around fragile feelings. A bull in a china shop who really enjoyed breaking china. They’d been friends forever, but Claire had been set on the idea of Porsche marrying her brother since they were kids. And she clearly wasn’t taking this news well. So Porsche offered a cheerful smile and chirped, “None of your beeswax.”
Claire narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together, clearly tabling this issue for later. “Was there penetration?” A whisper.
“I think that’s what getting laid entails.”
“Oh, good lord.” She huffed a breath and glared around the room, though no one there deserved such abuse. Thankfully, most of them were engaged in conversations and didn’t notice. At long last she said, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Ford when he was disappointed with her, “Porsche, I don’t know what to say.”
“Congratulations?”
A snort.
“I thought, as my bestest friend in the whole wide world, you would be happy for me.”
“I’m just shocked.”
Porsche blew out a breath. “Shocked? Why? People do have sex, you know. And I am of age.”
“But you never . . . You’ve always . . . You haven’t . . .”
“What?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just always thought it would be Cody, that’s all.”
She snorted. “Cody doesn’t know I’m alive.”
“Of course he knows you’re alive.”
“You know what I mean. But it hardly matters. The fact is, I enjoyed myself tremendously and I fully intend to do it again as soon as I have the opportunity.”
“Porsche McCoy—”
“Oh look! There’s Hanna!” She frantically waved across the room until Hanna and her party noticed her and made their way over.
There. Now Claire would have to drop the subject, because the last thing she wanted to talk about with her best friend—who fully expected her to marry her brother—was the fact that she was falling in love with another man.
• • •
After the morning trail rides, Brandon stopped by the dining hall to grab a bite for lunch. To his surprise, he’d enjoyed taking the ladies around the property on Cade’s excellent stock. And they’d enjoyed it too. Especially when he told them his cautionary tale about entering a field with an uncastrated bull.
Hopefully Porsche wouldn’t be too annoyed that he’d used her as a bad example.
He was about to dig in to a nice thick burger went hell rained down upon him in the form of Claire Silver.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” she hissed over his shoulder, reminiscent of an asp preparing to strike. “What are you trying to do?”
He craned his neck around and blinked at her. “Who? Me?”
Apparently she didn’t buy his innocent act. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him the way she probably glared at her brothers when she was pissed at them. It was a pity he’d never had a sister, because he wasn’t sure how scared he should try to be.
But she was pretty fierce. “What, exactly, are you trying to do?”
“Um.” He glanced at his plate. “Eat?”
She leaned closer and made a sound. Something like a snarl. “With Porsche.”
“Porsche?” He blinked again. Several times in succession. “I thought you knew.”
“I thought I knew, but I didn’t know, did I?”
Oh crap. She’d found him out. Had she found him out? Would Porsche have told her friend? Yeah, he supposed she might have. But to protect her in the event she hadn’t spilled all the beans, he decided to play dumb. For the moment. It was hardly a stretch for him. “What are you saying, Claire?”
“You’re supposed to be helping her win Cody. But you’re not doing that. Are you?”
“On the contrary. She asked me to act as her boyfriend. I’m doing that.”
“You seduced her.”
Ah crap. The cat was out of the bag. He firmed his expression and painted it with aplomb. “Technically, she seduced me.” It needed to be said.
“Oh balderdash. Porsche couldn’t seduce a horny college boy.”
Yes, she could. “Do you have a point, Claire?”
“Yes I do! I have a point.” She seemed to struggle for it though. “Oh. Yeah. You were supposed to be pretending. You weren’t supposed to do it.”
What a small word for what it had been . . .
“We got carried away. Besides, why should it concern you?”
“She was saving herself for Cody.”
He froze. Stared at Claire. His eyes burned. “What?”
“She was saving herself. For Cody.” She spoke as though he was dense, but then, he was. His brain had seized, congealed, melted down his spinal column.
“Are you saying she was . . . a virgin?” Holy crap. She couldn’t have been! She would have said something. And fuck. The way he’d taken her in the dressing room—hard, hot, and against the wall. Not even undressing. Not even baring himself before her. He’d taken her like a beast. She’d wante
d it that way, but hell. He should have been gentler. He should have given her more of himself for her first time.
As for the second time, at least he’d made sure to pleasure her before commanding her to ride him. To his everlasting relief, she seemed to have enjoyed that.
But still, if one took the night in its altogether, it was hardly the romantic initiation she deserved if she’d never been with a man.
Oh, Christ. She’d never been with a man.
He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. It didn’t help.
Claire was oblivious to his internal fracas. “I think that’s what saving herself means,” she snapped. She threw up her hands and howled, “Now it’s all ruined!”
Annoyance bristled at his nape. Which was probably why he snapped, “Oh? Does Cody only sleep with virgins?”
She made that growly sound again. He took that as a no.
“Look, Cody had his chance. He had years of chances. He blew it. Each and every time.”
“But they were meant to be.”
“Were they?”
Claire glowered.
“If they were meant to be, don’t you think he would have kissed her? At least once? Don’t you think they would be together? By now?”
“He just needed a push. You were supposed to be that push.”
“I did my best to make him jealous. He never bit.” He offered a really snarky smile. “What else can I say?”
She went pale and her hands closed to fists and she sputtered beneath her breath for a moment and then snapped, “And to think I helped you.”
She hadn’t, but she didn’t really seem to be in the mood to hear that. “Look Claire, I know you think I took advantage of your friend”—she opened her mouth to agree with him, but he didn’t give her a chance—“but that’s not how it is. I care for her. I really do.”
Her brow rumpled. “But it’s Porsche.”
“I know. From the moment we met, I knew she was something special. I knew I wanted to get to know her better. And when she offered me this chance to be her boyfriend, well, hell. I couldn’t say no.”
“But she’s in love with Cody.”