by Abby Niles
Scarlett pressed the back of her hand to her lips, trying to hide her amusement.
“Now,” Delaney said, as serious as a schoolteacher, once she placed her hand underneath the tangerines. “Gently cup them while you’re sucking him off. Roll them lightly in your palm. Men love having their balls played with.” She held up one finger. “This area here”—she pointed to the crevice where the two tangerines met—“run your tongue over this. Even better. The length of skin between the balls and his asshole, girl…they love having that tongued.”
Mesmerized, Scarlett sat down on the couch. “What else?”
“I wish you would’ve come to me sooner, Scar.”
She did, too. If there was anyone in the world she could’ve been completely open with, it was Delaney. There was no subject—except maybe her ex—that was off-limits. Her friend never would’ve judged her. Judged Ryan, maybe, but never her.
“How do you talk dirty?”
“I say whatever I want to say.” Delaney pursed her lips then came to sit down beside her, taking one of her hands. “Babe, listen. If saying, ‘fuck me,’ isn’t your thing, don’t force yourself to do it. Sex is personal. Some things aren’t going to be for you, just like something you find you really like might not be for someone else. And that’s okay. What truly matters is finding a partner who respects your boundaries. I assume Ryan didn’t do that.”
“Ryan rushed everything. He wanted to try anal. I’d never done it. I wasn’t opposed to doing it. I was open to new things. Well—we did it. I saw stars, Delaney, it hurt so bad.”
“What he do? Just shove it in?” Scarlett let her expression speak for her, and Delaney grimaced. “Shit, girl. I’d never want to do anal again, either, if I had that happen to me.”
“To say the least, I was not as open to doing new positions afterward, which made him angry.”
“Did you tell him that he hurt you?”
“I did. He said he’d used a ton of lube like he was supposed to. Then he said if I’d relaxed it wouldn’t have hurt as bad.”
“It’s his responsibility to get you so wound up that you’re only thinking about the pleasure he’s giving you. Ryan failed. Not you. Don’t let his lack of finesse make you put all men in the same category. With the right man, sex is amazing.”
“Like it was with Blake?”
Delaney blew out a breath. “Oh, hell yeah. I’ve had good sex in my lifetime, but that man put them all to shame.”
“What was different about him?”
“Let’s just say, I knew I was in for a wild ride when he said the safe word was ‘black velvet,’ and the man didn’t disappoint. He met my kinky side one spanking after another.”
“You like to be spanked?”
“And choked.”
“Choked?”
“You wait. One day you’ll have a guy who can make your panties wet just by putting his hand around your throat. No pressure…just by putting it there.”
Scarlett did not see that as possible. “I’ll just take your word for it.”
“I’m just saying, enjoy tonight. Try new things. If you don’t like it, that’s okay. But you never know what’s going to turn you on. Something you never imagined might be the trigger to releasing all this doubt and opening you up to a sexual world that you love.”
Delaney was right. Tonight she’d let the past go. Start fresh with a new lover. One who already made her body come to life in a way it never had before, with just a simple touch. She looked forward to what else Brody would do to her tonight.
…
She was going to have sex tonight.
Scarlett’s stomach clenched as she flicked mascara onto her lashes. That damn thought had popped up in her head all afternoon. Straightening from the mirror, she thrust the mascara wand back into its tube with more force than necessary then shoved it in her makeup bag. Stepping back, she ran a palm over the cobalt blue fabric of her sundress. The short skirt barely hit mid-thigh. Thin spaghetti straps and low-V neckline showed off shoulders and cleavage. Matching strappy, spiked heels completed the outfit.
Was it too much? She’d tried wearing sexy clothes twice now and had fallen flat on her face both times. Maybe she should’ve gone with the white baby-doll dress and ballet shoes.
Self-doubt was eating away at her confidence.
“Stop overthinking,” Delaney said from Scarlett’s bed. “You look petrified. Number one, it’s Brody. You know him. You always have fun together. Number two, I know you guys have made this arrangement, but you’re putting too much emphasis on the end result. Go into this just wanting to have a good time, and let the rest fall into place.”
She looked at Delaney’s reflection in the mirror. “Great advice. Got any on how to shut my mind off?”
“Tell it to shut up.”
“Easier said than done,” she muttered.
The doorbell chimed, and she jumped as Delaney’s head snapped toward the door.
“Listen to me,” she said hurriedly. “Go with the flow. No expectations. Seriously. Let the night unfold naturally. If you go into this all freaked out like you are right now, you’re going to stress yourself out, and then shit can go bad tonight. Just. Have. Fun.”
Scarlett inhaled a deep breath. No expectations. Just have fun.
She could do that.
“Here goes nothing.” She strode out her room. Delaney’s, “You got this,” followed her into the hall. As she made her way to the front door, her heels clacked loudly on the hardwood floor, a reminder that she, alone, would set the tone for tonight. She could either keep with the anxiety, or open that door like a strong, confident woman, ready to face whatever Brody had in store for her.
She chose the latter.
Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door. Air whooshed out of her lungs at the sexy-as-hell man standing on her doorstep in a pair of faded blue jeans that rode low on his hips, and a dark gray T-shirt that strained against his muscular heavyweight build.
Nothing about what he wore said they were heading to anything special.
She’d already made a mistake in this adult relationship thing. She’d treated tonight like a date. She shouldn’t have. She should’ve dressed in her regular clothes and not spent hour agonizing on what to wear.
A wolf whistle caught her off guard, and she jerked her gaze up from his massive chest to his eyes. Blatant hunger stared back at her from their caramel depths. Desire sliced through her, making her nipples bead.
Maybe she hadn’t picked the wrong outfit after all.
“Fucking hot,” he murmured.
And she stood a little taller, thrusting her breasts out. It was amazing how Brody made her feel like the sexiest woman in the world. Not cute. Not adorable. Not even pretty.
But hot. Sensual. Sexy.
“That makes two of us,” she said. “Damn, I’m a lucky girl.”
A grin stretched his lips. “You ready?” He held up his hand.
It took her a moment to register the helmet. Then her gaze shot past his shoulder to the road, and her throat tightened. Parked at the curb was Brody’s Harley.
She didn’t ride. He knew that. Had respected that in the years she’d known him. Why would he bring that damned thing tonight?
“Where’s your Mercedes?” she asked, unable to tear her eyes off the death machine.
“At home in the garage.”
She finally dragged her gaze to him, only to come face-to-face with his challenging expression. Oh, he could totally go screw himself. “I’m not getting on that thing.”
Unlike a lot of women, she’d never had any fantasy about riding a motorcycle. The idea terrified her. Being in a car was unsafe enough, out on the roads with all the crazies, but a two-wheeled out-on-the-open-road bike was suicide. She watched the news.
“Yes, you will,” he said, not the slightest bit deterred by her refusal.
“Oh, really?” She crossed her arms, irked by his assurance. “And how exactly do you plan to make me?”
He mimicked her pos
ture. “I’m not going to make you. You’re going to do it yourself.”
“How’s that?”
“Because you want to try new things.”
“True. But riding a motorcycle is not on my bucket list. Sorry.”
He stepped forward, crowding her into the door. Her heart picked up pace as the scent of his cologne swam around her nose. “Think about it, Scarlett. The vibration between your legs. Your arms wrapped around my waist. The wind whipping past you. No compartment holding you in. You’re one with the outdoors. It’s a freedom you need to experience at least once.”
The image he painted formed in her mind. All she could focus on was his large body cradled between her legs as they flew down the highway, her blond hair whipping behind her, her palms pressed to his chest. Why was the idea enticing?
Because it was Brody. Anything with him enticed her.
She couldn’t do this, though, for two reasons. One, she couldn’t give in that easily. What kind of message was that sending? And two, how could she agree to something she’d never wanted to do, all because he’d said a few perfect words?
She racked her brain for another reason. What if it rained? It’d ruin her hair she’d spent so much time on.
She finally settled on, “I’m not dressed for a bike ride.”
“Excuses. Change. Problem fixed.” He lowered his head until his lips were just above hers. “Stop fighting it. Come with me, Scarlett.”
The innuendo went straight to her clit, making it pulse to life with a demanding ache. Her body wanted what he was saying. She wanted it. Was this an adult relationship? Every word a hidden sexual meaning?
She was totally fine with it. She loved this wordplay, hoped she could be a worthy opponent for him. One way to find out.
“Only if you let me ride you first.”
She swallowed. That had sounded so damn stupid.
Approval turned up one corner of his lips, though. “You’re going to get the ride of your life, darlin’.”
A shiver scurried over her. She may be a novice at this sexy talk, but Brody sure wasn’t. She looked forward to what he’d say next. Actually looked forward to trying to one-up him with her comebacks.
“I’m holding you to that, buddy,” she said, then moved past him and hurried to the back of the house to her bedroom.
As soon as she entered, Delaney’s brows furrowed. “Uh, what happened? I couldn’t hear anything but your mumbles.”
“Brody brought his bike.”
A pleased grin came to her friend’s face. “Oh, girrrl, I love this man. You’re going to love it.”
Scarlett wasn’t as confident.
After changing into a pair of dark jeans and a light blue and white paisley-printed halter-top, she walked back to where Brody waited. He let loose another wolf whistle. Sexy outfit be damned—this man made her feel desirable in anything she wore.
He opened the front door and gestured for her to go first. As she passed him, he placed his hand on her lower back, closed the door behind them, and didn’t remove his palm until they reached his bike. She loved how that made her feel—like she was special and protected.
As he grabbed an extra helmet, anxiety attacked her insides. Was she really going to do this?
Brody brushed her hair behind her shoulders, then he tugged the helmet down over her head. The padding hugged her cheeks and scalp.
“Ready?”
She glanced at the motorcycle. Honestly, she wasn’t sure. As much as she liked what Brody had said earlier, facing the reality was a different matter. There was no part of her that wanted to get on that damn thing.
As if sensing her hesitation, he put on his helmet, straddled the bike, kicked it to life, then yelled, “Climb on, darlin’.”
Yeah, she wanted to climb on—just not the bike. Biting her lip, she hesitated for a moment longer before hopping on behind Brody, having to spread her thighs wide to be able to accommodate his body. As he pulled away from the curb, she wrapped her arms tight around his waist, noticing immediately the way the powerful engine vibrated against her.
Oh, this wouldn’t be good. Having Brody between her legs was already turning her on; add a seat vibrator to the mix, and she was certain to embarrass herself.
Blowing out a breath as Brody sped away from the curb, she tried to concentrate on the passing scenery, quickly noting that he wasn’t going toward the city, but more out into the country. The bumpy asphalt was more enjoyable than it should’ve been, considering. But every little jostle hit her just right. Lowering her head to the area between his shoulders, she tried to think of anything else, but it was impossible. The longer they rode, the more the seat made her throb, causing her to squirm. As a whimper escaped, she tightened her grip on Brody. She wanted to grind against the seat, anything to relieve the building pressure.
Brody pulled onto a deserted lane then guided the bike behind a line of trees, obscuring the view to the road. After kicking the stand down, he yanked off his helmet and climbed off, leaving the engine idling.
Without a word, he came to stand beside the bike, directly behind her. After removing her helmet, he said, “Lean back.”
She shot him a questioning glance, uncertain of what he wanted her to do. He placed a hand on his upper abs. “Here.”
Curious, she carefully leaned back so her shoulders were supported by his body. The move caused the crotch of her jeans to move against her clit, and she bit back a moan. After he repositioned her where he wanted her, he flicked open the button of her jeans then lowered the zipper.
“Brody!” She tried to sit up, but his other hand latched onto her shoulder, keeping her in place.
“Shh. You were about to come apart behind me, and I’ll be damned if it’s the vibration from the engine that gives you the first orgasm of the night.”
His hand slipped under her panties and over her slick clit. Groaning, she relaxed into him, widening her legs so he could rub the delicious ache better.
“Damn, woman. You’re fucking turned on,” he said as he slipped one finger deep inside her.
At the amazing sensations, and the friction of his palm rubbing against her, she closed her eyes, reached behind her, and gripped his biceps, grinding against his hand. Never before had she done something like this. Never out in the open, outside, barely hidden.
The idea of getting caught only fueled her desire. She moved her hips. With the combination of his fingers, the vibration from the engine, and the motion of her hips, she came hard within seconds. Throwing her head back, she moaned her release, her entire body tense.
“That’s right. Come for me, darlin’.”
As the orgasm abated, he continued his pressure, pushing her immediately into another climax. When she came down from that one, he slowly removed his hand from her panties.
Slowly, he inserted a glistening finger into his mouth, his eyes locked on hers.
An orgasm wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted him pounding into her. From behind. Right here on the dead leaves covering the ground.
“Fuck me, Brody.” The words just slipped past her lips without thought.
When she realized what she’d said, her face heated, but she didn’t regret the words. Not at all. For the first time, she was completely in the moment. It was all about the way he made her body feel, and she was open to anything as long as these sensations continued.
He fisted his hand in her hair and tugged her head back. Her breathing became choppy as lust flared, white-hot, through her. She loved that he pulled her hair.
Leaning down, he stopped right above her mouth, his breath fanning her face. She could smell herself, and it only increased the hotness of this moment.
“I plan to. Many times.” He kissed her lightly, then he straightened and released her. “But not right now. That was for you.”
He moved in front of her, tugged his helmet back on, kicked the stand back up, and then turned the cycle around.
Her oversensitive clit ached with the vibration. If t
he rest of their outing went this way, by night’s end, she was going to be a bundle of live nerves.
…
Brody could still taste her.
It was an intoxicating flavor, one he couldn’t wait to bury his face in and get more of. He revved the engine, speeding up the bike. He’d kept the plans for the night deliberately light—take her outside her comfort zone by getting her on his bike, go for a joy ride, then end up at his condo.
The moment behind the trees had been unexpected and had only encouraged him to cut their trip short and head back to his place—pronto.
Not that Scarlett would mind. Not with her, “Fuck me, Brody.”
He’d done that. He’d gotten her so aroused, she’d finally just asked for what she wanted.
By night’s end, his plan was to fuck away all the negative thoughts his ex-best friend had put into her head. Ryan didn’t deserve any space in her head or her heart. She was the most goddamn beautiful woman he’d ever had the pleasure of watching come. The rock-hard erection he’d gotten just from feeling her squirm behind him had been nothing compared to how hard it had pulsed against his zipper as she’d released. Twice.
He flew down the road. Ten minutes later, he guided the bike into his assigned garage next to his Mercedes. As they rode up in the elevator, tension crept back between them. Scarlett seemed nervous, judging by the way she was picking at her thumbnail with her other one. Doubts had hold of her again. Not good.
He’d seen her walls come down, and he couldn’t wait to topple them again. The challenge of taking Scarlett from a nervous, unsure woman to so fucking turned on that she was completely there with him was hot as hell. He got hard as a rock watching the transformation.
He’d allow her the few moments of uncertainty, of overthinking, before he made his move. It wasn’t a bad thing for her to have them first, to worry a bit before she saw for herself that it was for nothing.
After he opened the door to his condo, he motioned for her to step inside. She’d been here before, of course, so he didn’t expect to do the usual look around that normally happened when he brought someone home. The living room still had the same black leather sofa/love seat combo, the same dark wood coffee tables and end tables, and the same huge picture window looking out over the skyline. Nothing had changed over the past year.