“In here.” Brad waves me into the bedroom.
In tow, I drift my eyes over the expanse. Boxes upon boxes of my belongings litter the floor. Brad had a moving crew box up my things from my old apartment and had them moved here this week. It takes the stress off me. But I hate not knowing what is what.
“Lots to do.” I steeple my fingers and can’t help but contemplate what goes where, and how to go about keeping this all organized. I had to do that when I basically designed this entire apartment from the ground up. The walls, the furnishings, even the bathroom deodorizers. All of it’s done in my taste. Correction, Brad’s taste from my perspective. If that makes a lick of sense.
“Yes, but you’ve got all the time in the world, wife.” He gives me that dirty gaze that tells me he’s hard without having to look and my core instantly fires into a burning inferno of wanton need. Putting the fact that our bedroom is basically in shambles aside. I bite my bottom lip, soaking up his sexiness in one all-encompassing drink.
“Is somebody looking to fuck his wife in his apartment?” I wiggle a frisky brow and he frowns into subterranean unhappiness.
What? What did say?
“My apartment?” he sneers at the comment, his usual bright gaze, darkening.
Oh, crap, I didn’t realize I emphasized it’s his. Well it is. It’s surly not mine.
“Yes?” I hesitate in a near whisper, regarding the floor. He does have some rather nice oak.
“Alexis. Tylah. Saunders.” He barks, his tone so unpleasing I recoil inside. I hate when men use that tone. My dad used to speak to me that way. Me, his imperfect daughter. The black sheep, if you will.
I shake my head, erasing the thought. Brad isn’t anything like my father. My father is vanilla, and boring. A simple small-town man with devout Catholic views and a conservative Republican obsession. Nothing like my mother, or me.
“Hello…wife.” Brad stomps his foot on the ground, bringing me back into the present.
“Bradly, this is your apartment. Before we married you probably should have drawn up a prenup. I would have signed it.” I sigh and slump my shoulders. So much for a pleasant first day home. Living at Lolita’s is like it always is, a getaway. Somehow you forget your life and escape into a seemingly alternate reality. One I wish I could live in forever.
He takes a step towards me, narrowing the gap between us. I’m not good at this relationship thing. I’ve never done it. I can fuck like my life depends on it. I can fake a smile, a laugh, and even happiness for a short while. But this is different. This is real life. Without the cloaking disguise of Tylah, my alternate persona to help guide me. I’ve never hid who I am. But I’ve never really gotten to know myself either. Sure, I know certain things about myself. I know I’m a fairly decent artist, I’m caring, and I love to shop, among other various things. The rest though, is a vague internal uncertainty.
Brian dictated my life, like every good pimp should. I followed the rules, I lived for the job. I did little else but try to make other men happy. Sexually as well as emotionally. I even tried my darnedest with Joseph. That downright failed. Not only did I make a control freak fall in love with me, he is probably still stalking me, maybe even badgering John about me.
My stomach does a quick uneasy flip at the thought.
“Sweetheart.” Brad wraps his arms around me, and I look up into his beautiful adoring blue eyes. His deep voice burrowing into my soul. Speaking to me in ways I never knew possible. Who knew a simple term of endearment could turn my insides upside down and fall in love with him all over again.
“Yes, my love.” I wrap my arms around him, tucking my nose into his warm manly perfection.
“You’re thinking a lot today aren’t you?”
I nod.
“Want to talk about it?” His voice is steeped with obvious concern.
I shake my head against his chest and he kisses my hair. His hand smoothing it down my back.
“You’re not regretting marrying me are you?”
I squeeze him tighter. I could never regret that. If anything, I’m worried he might.
“I’m new to this. I’ve never had a serious boyfriend, let alone a husband. It’s a bit overwhelming. But no, Brad, I could never regret that.” I reassure him with a strong but sweet tone. I don’t want him to ever think I could regret that.
“Good, so why don’t you go and lay in our bed and I’ll bring you a glass of ice wine. Then we can cuddle until I have to go off and be Mr. Restaurateur and you can be Mrs. Take-The-Numbers-I-Left-On-The-Kitchen-Counter-And-Talk-Art-With-Prospective-Buyers.”
I pinch his side and he growls. “Well, that’s an awfully long name. But it sounds like a good idea. I need to start some kind of…” I trail off and he grabs me by the shoulders, stepping back. His eyes burn into me.
“Sweetheart, this is an adjustment for you. Take all the time you need. Now go lay down and I’ll be back.” He kisses my forehead and off he goes. I obey his caring order and cuddle down into our bed. See, I can get used to that. Our bed. Hum… It’s got a nice ring to it.
This is definitely an adjustment. That’s the understatement of the decade. Ex-escort turns into loving housewife. I scoff at the thought. I really have to do something to keep from going stir-crazy. Becka used to help with that, as did many different sexually charged men with fat wallets. What will I do with my time now? God, the thought of going completely domestic makes my stomach lurch. Does Brad want a domestic goddess? Another thing we probably should have discussed before this all went down. Here I thought I was running to Lolita’s to outrun a crazy stalker and a perspective proposal to be a roommate. Now, I’m a married woman, with no job and a husband that I barely know. A sexy, caring, big dicked husband, with a sweet heart, ambition, and a small fortune. But what else do I really know? Other than his mom and sister. Who are my family through and through. I know more about Amy than I do Brad. We like the same music, and some of the same food. We only drink ice wine and Corona’s. Which I guess is a great start. Adding to that list is a top priority for me.
“So is that pretty brain of yours ready for a break?” He sits next to me in bed and hands me a Mikasa glass full of wine.
I take a sip. Yum… this one might even be better than the other’s I’ve tried. God knows the week I was here doing his apartment, I downed a few delicious bottles as I decorated this place. That was so much fun. Stressful, yes. But still a heaping mountain of fun. Naked decorating, eating chocolate, drinking wine, listening to rock music and dancing. All so perfect.
“My brain is sort of on overdrive. Sorry, babe.” I lean against the black headboard and he butts up right next to me. His hand resting on my thigh. Even that little bit of affection grabs onto my heart strings and pulls. Brad, so caring, so manly, so…so…picture-perfect.
“Let’s talk about it.”
I nod. “Okay.”
We easily break into a long two hour conversation. I never knew I could talk so much. Or that a man could either. He seems so curious about me, and I about him. Leaving me to feel a whole lot better about my brain fogginess. And so many of my worries washed away as we talked. He explained wouldn’t be opening another restaurant out of the city for at least another eight months. Which should give us enough time to grow accustom to each other. The thought of him leaving me for weeks at a time seriously breaks my heart. Maybe when the time comes I’ll go with him. We even got down into the basics like he hates anchovies, green olives, any kind of regular wine, even peas. Go figure, a chef who hates peas. Isn’t that against the law? It’s like when you graduate cooking school there should be a list of foods you must like, peas, corn, potatoes, lettuce and I’m sure the list would hit into the thirty items range. Along with chicken and beef.
“So I’ll help at the restaurant when you need me and do art for clients. Sounds like a good decision.” I sprawl out on the bed.
“No, this is a better one.” He states and crawls between my legs. His hands find the bottom of my dress and he slides
it up, up, up. Until my panties are exposed and a naughty smile graces his tanned, stubbly face.
“I think I’ve spent too much time this week making love to my wife with my snake. Maybe my mouth will just have to do the trick tonight.” He winks and bends his face down so his hot breath is saturating my panties into a deeper soppy wetness. Fuck, my man is so sexy.
“How about this.” He runs his tongue up and down my panties and I pull at the bed sheets. Bowing my back off the bed. I’m so tender and every little touch shoots electrifying zings up and down my body.
“Ooooo…” I whimper as his tongue finds my perky bud. She came out of her shell just for him.
“You smell so good.” I can feel his smile against my mound and he nips my clit through the thin cloth of my new boy short panties. Shhhiiittt.
“Brad.” I cry out, propelling my hips downward, into his face. Needing more attention. My pussy aches with satisfied grace. And his mouth offers it a kind of relief that I didn’t know I needed.
“How sore are you?” He kisses me through the fabric, as he audibly inhales my womanly scent, and sighs, nuzzling his nose between my folds, bumping it lightly against my hardened clit. I whimper in anticipation.
“Very.”
“Does this hurt?” His mouth opens and covers my entire pussy and he sucks. Saturating the fabric in a mixture of his hot saliva and my nectar. Groaning he devours my pussy over the cotton and I close my eyes, my hands find their way into his short hair, holding him to me. As my hips undulate in a rhythmic pleasure dance. I allow myself to feel him, to enjoy him. For once I don’t worry about his wants or needs. I think of what I want. Without a second thought I grab a fistful of his hair and greedily position him over my clit. His hand reaches up and feeds a single finger under the edge of my panties, softly caressing the outer edge of my swollen hole. And I let myself go. I moan, and writhe, allowing him to pleasure me and me to accept it without worry.
“More.” I wantonly whisper.
Teeth encase my clit and saw it through the fabric. Sparks of white-hot ecstasy burst and I am drawn under his spell. My climax fast approaching.
Grumbling in his throat Brad teasingly pleasures my button. As his finger glides into my wetness, curving just right so it’s massaging my g-spot with loving strokes. The tenderness eases and an all-consuming need overtakes all thoughts. I. Need. To. Come.
Effortlessly Brad engulfs me in heavenly bliss. Raising me higher and higher until my hips freeze. All the air in my lungs blows out in a single shaky breath. And I go ridged as Brad’s teeth never stop. My hands ball into fists in his hair and he bites my clit. Delivering me the final blow to jolt my system and hurl it a hundred miles an hour over the edge. I fall down and down into the most exquisite kind of ecstasy imaginable. Humping his face, and screaming with no sound. My pussy bursts like a volcano of molten rapture. My eyes rolling into the back of my head. My toes curling to the point of pain.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I scream in my head. Coiling myself around the delicious moment. Feeling every little pulse of white-hot release steeping my veins. The precise rawness of Brad’s teeth assaulting my clit. The warmth caress of his finger delicately coaxing my pussy into ripples of ecstasy. I drown in it all. In my new apartment. My new life. And I’ve never felt more complete. More at home. No matter the trials and tribulations. I know in this moment, as I feel his hot mouth pull from my throbbing core. That this is my life and Brad is my forever. Sometimes when you find the right person you just know. And with him. I did.
I open my eyes to see a reddened lip handsome man resting his chin in my mound.
“That was beautiful.” He whispers.
I blush.
“Hey, Alexis, I love you. Welcome home.”
A sated smile greets him, and I whisper. “I love you too. And I’m glad to be here.”
The End
Stay Tuned for
Bound Attraction – Becka’s Story
Which will contain more of Brad and Alexis’s story.
Authors Insight
I want to say thank you for reading and following along with Alexis’s story. I wanted to give everyone Brad’s POV from when they first met, at the beginning so you could understand his insight and feelings before I made the leap into marriage as quickly as I did.
When I wrote this story I wanted it to be a novel. But as time carried on I felt that I would be forcing the story to unfold if I added more. So I left it with their HEA. The next books in the Attraction series which will be three more. Will give you even more of Alexis’s story and how her life turns out with Brad. Along with all of the characters we’ve grown to love in this series.
Thanks again.
Much Love
Author S.K. Logsdon
-Bonus-
LEX: Unconventional Hearts Novel
Available Now
-First Two Chapters-
~Chapter One~
“Lex, are you about done?” Roni, or should I say Veronica my quasi best friend who happens to live on the same parcel of real-estate I do, calls from our small shared backyard.
“I’m in here,” I yell, walking over to the window that’s open above the white apron sink. I’m standing in the kitchen, slaving rather tirelessly over my vintage stove. It’s exhausting being me sometimes.
Quieter now, Roni reaches my back screen door and welcomes herself inside.
“Are you attempting to boil water, again?” she inquires, sarcastically with a juicy all-knowing smile as she plops her jean-clad country girl butt down at my table, seated in the most perfect breakfast nook. Complete with bay windows, draped with mint green swags, a booth with a floral print cushion, two chairs, and a rectangular farmhouse table.
“I’ll have you know, I’m using the kettle for some tea, Sassy Britches. Would you like some?”
Already knowing her answer, I pull two blue paisley printed mugs from inside my newly renovated white cupboards. I had my dream kitchen installed six months ago, leaving me with pale pink walls, a giant silver chandelier, a refurbished nineteen fifties stove, and a sealed wood slab countertop. It’s almost like having a butcher block as my entire counter, except its smoother.
“Don’t I always? And you wouldn’t…”
Holding up the biscotti that I ordered online, shushes her. Well, for the time being. It won’t last long. Never does.
This is a daily routine for us. I wake up at six on the nose, do a rather invigorating yoga session, alone in my meditation room—I had one of my five sizeable bedrooms converted to Zen status two years ago and it’s been money well spent ever since. After yoga, I shower and primp—it takes a lot of time. Between my hair and my entire makeup regiment, it’s no quick routine, and by eight, I’m downstairs doing this.
Lifting the annoying whistling teakettle from the stove, I serve our tea and biscotti on petite white scalloped edged plates, and take a seat across from my fussy best friend. Who just stumbled out of bed less than ten minutes ago and is ready to get on with her day. The perpetual indigent slob, or so you would think; looking at her day in and day out.
“So are you going to make me check it myself or will you give me the goods willingly?” She winks, pulling her green tea to her mouth and giving me a god-awful smirk over the rim of her mug.
“Work’s great,” I uppity answer, aimlessly avoiding eye contact. I can feel her pupils drilling holes into me as we speak.
“That. Is. Not. What. I. Meant. Lex, and you know it,” she clips, seething in her chair, biting angrily into her breakfast. It’s not much of a breakfast. I know this. But I swap out flavors of tea and biscotti on a weekly and sometimes daily basis to keep it fresh and interesting. It’s our thing, and has been for the past six years.
“Mmmm,” she foodgasms.
Yes, I know, those chocolate chip with macadamia nut ones are my new favorite.
“Good?” I sip my tea, following her lead.
“Delicious as ever. One minute I swear you’ve found the best biscotti and the next yo
u surprise me with an orgasm on a plate.”
Awe, isn’t she darling? That’s a Roni compliment sandwich for ya, ever the proper lady.
“Now…” Quickly rendering her happy mood useless, she moves into starring daggers at me, more intensely this time.
Alright…alright…I surrender. For now.
“My profile has had sixty two hits and I’ve received twenty one emails since last night,” I sputter blankly, and internally I’m wallowing in unhappiness even speaking about this.
“That’s fantastic!” She claps—literally—like a two year old girl whose mom just bought her a sparkly Barbie doll.
Yes, soooo…joyful, Roni—not!
If only she’d have the mountain of obstacles, I have to overcome to find a date, let alone a boyfriend. She doesn’t get my dilemma, between my giant secrets and even larger scars. It’s impossible to force her to recognize I’m not a normal girl. I may look like one, but parts of me are so hard to admit. I just choose not to. It’s better for everyone if I pretend to be okay. Even if I’m not—well, not entirely. Don’t get me wrong, my life is spectacular. It’s the darkness that looms over me, that’s not.
“So? Did you pick one?” She is way too excited and getting a tomboy like her excited is a rarity.
“One what?” I play stupid, I know what she means.
“To date, silly.”
“No, I did the profile for you. To keep you happy. I’m not planning on securing any dates.”
Honesty is the best policy, for the most part. Even if I know it’s going to peeve her off.
Forever Attraction Page 11