Yours to Savor

by Scarlett Edwards

  “I want… you!” she gasped, and he turned her head back and kissed her, all the while his fingers steered her closer and closer to climax.

  Sandra recognized the familiar tension just before it hit her. She moaned into his mouth as her muscles clenched around his solid fingers, pulling him farther inside. She separated from his kiss to suck warm air into raw lungs as she came long and hard around him, overwhelmed by a wave of pure pleasure.

  Sandra was astounded that she had come so quickly. However, things like that seemed to happen around Brandon. When the stars cleared from her eyes and her limbs felt a little more steady, Sandra found her man smiling just inches from her face.

  “I can’t believe… you just did that,” she told him.

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “No ‘buts’, Sandra. No second thoughts. No hesitations.” He smiled that triumphant smile at her. “Just do what feels right to you. I’m only getting started here.”

  Sandra took a little step back, and thought about turning around before she remembered what had happened the last time she’d tried that maneuver. She squared herself to Brandon instead. Her body was still numb from the aftermath of the orgasm, but the small space she’d created between them made it easier to think—a little. “Brandon,” she began, “I want you, just not… here.”

  “Why not here?” Brandon asked. And even though it was clear to Sandra how much he wanted to, he did not step closer to pressure her. His words were gentle. “What are you scared of, little dove?”

  Sandra gestured around the empty café front. “All the windows. Somebody might see—”

  “Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”

  “What? No, of course not!”

  “There were more people at the ballet,” Brandon reminded her, taking a careful step closer, “and I locked the door when I came in.”

  “But the windows are wide open! And it’s not like there are blinds we can pull down. Anybody walking by can look in and see!”

  “So they’ll get a good view of us.”

  “Brandon, you don’t understand,” Sandra grated. “In a town this size, if one person sees, everybody will know!”

  “So? You told me yourself you haven’t let many people into your life since you came here.”

  “Brandon, that doesn’t matter! If somebody sees, and word gets out, I’ll get a reputation, and I can’t have that, because… because…” she trailed off, struggling to finish the sentence. She ground her teeth in irritation. She was frustrated by Brandon’s persistence, but even more frustrated by how badly her body wanted him right now—which made it all the harder to resist.

  “Because what?” he prompted.

  “Because—ugh! You’re not making this easy for me!”

  “Who said it’s supposed to be easy?” Brandon’s voice took on that rumbling quality again. He came forward and took hold of both her hands. “Simple, yes. What could be more simple than two people expressing their desire for each other? But easy…” he brushed a fallen strand of hair from her face, “…no. Not easy. Never easy. But remember what I told you: trust your body. Listen to what it tells you. Put aside your preconceived notions of what society wants out of you, and focus on what you want.” He peered deep into her eyes. “I can see what you want in the way your pupils widen when I come close. I can see it in the way you shiver when my fingers brush your skin. I can see it in the way you start to breathe a little faster when I’m near. I can see it Sandra. Can you?”

  “I know all that! And I’m not denying being attracted to you. I don’t deny wanting you. But, I just can’t—”

  “Stop. Don’t say that. I want you to be free with me, Sandra. I don’t want you to feel limited by anything. I want us to have fun together—”

  “And we do!”

  “Yes, but I know you can give me more.” Brandon smiled. “If your… refusal… comes from fear of your friend Cassie finding out, you can tell me.”

  “It does,” Sandra admitted. “In part.”

  “But it shouldn’t. She’s going to dinner with her husband. She told me herself when I ran into her. That’s how I knew where to find you. Besides,” he added, stepping so close to her that his body heat clashed with hers, “if she does find out, you can just blame me.”

  Sandra blinked at him, lost. She desired Brandon more than anything right now. She could tell from the pulsing need in her body, from the tease of that first orgasm, from the promise of even more pleasure… But something in the back of her mind stopped her from acting on it. Despite what Brandon had said, this wasn’t like the ballet. There, everybody had been focused on the performance. Here, absolutely anybody who walked by outside would see. It could be Doctor Baker, or his wife, or even their kids…

  While she hesitated, Brandon lowered his head to kiss her—but stopped just a hairsbreadth away. “I’m not going to fuck you unless you tell me to.” The solemn weight of his words made the hairs on the nape of her neck stand up. “But if it’s permission you need, you have it. I give you permission to let yourself go, and be free. A sheltered existence is no way to live a life.”

  And then his lips brushed hers, delicately, like a touch of morning dew on a rose petal. His tongue traced the outline of her upper lip, savoring every little curve. Sandra closed her eyes and shivered, trying to understand everything he was saying. Brandon was so many things at once: commanding, caring, sweet, passionate. Understanding. Everything he said made so much sense—it was like he understood her better than she did herself. And that succulent preview of pleasure from just a minute ago had her heart racing. Her body wanted to give in to temptation so badly. But her mind…

  The hell with it.

  Her mind wanted it, too.

  “Yes,” Sandra shivered. “Brandon, I am yours. Yes. Fuck me.”

  A virile growl erupted from his throat, and his mouth crashed into hers with unrestrained fury. His hands flew to her hips, and he hoisted her up to his waist. Sandra wrapped both legs around his back and kissed him back, unleashing all the pent-up passion that had been stewing inside her.

  Brandon carried her around the counter in a wild dash, knocking over chairs and tables in his haste, all the while kissing her and ripping into the smooth skin of her back with his fingers. Sandra yelped as he let her go, and her body slammed against the counter. But then he was on her again, clutching her hair with his hands while bruising her mouth with his kiss.

  Sandra’s hands worked to tear Brandon’s shirt off, and when he realized what she was doing, he stepped back and lifted his arms to let her yank it over his head. Sandra twisted around to toss it to a chair, somehow cognizant that it shouldn’t just lie on the dirty floor—and when she looked back at Brandon, she was seized by a paralyzing sense of wonder and awe.

  She could hardly believe the wonderful specimen of a man standing before her. Yes, she’d seen him shirtless before, and yes, she’d felt his body drilling deep into her before. Something about the way the overhead lights cast shadows on his muscled limbs made his body look like a marble carving.

  Seeing him in the shadows like that, she felt almost self-conscious about her body. He was stunning, like a Roman god come to life… and Sandra knew that no woman could match that sort of physical beauty. Lying there helpless, staring up at him, she felt akin to a lamb given to sacrifice on the alter.

  But the way Brandon looked at her eased all her doubts. He smiled, making her feel beautiful, and moved his hands to undo his belt.

  Sandra sat up so fast she got lightheaded, but fought through it to push down his pants. She sucked in a marveling breath at the massive erection tenting his scarlet red Emporio Armani briefs. Her breaths turned to quick little gasps, boiling with anticipation. She squirmed out of her jeans as Brandon pulled them down, and when he stepped between her legs, she tugged down his briefs with an eager hand.

  His penis sprang out and slapped against his belly, full with blood, aggressive and beautiful but almost fright
ening.

  Her chest heaved up and down with every breath, and she could feel the tingling flush on her neck and shoulders. “I want you to fuck me hard,” she found herself saying, “and fast. Now.”

  Brandon smiled, and chuckled. “Looks like you found your freedom.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Sandra cried out as the full length of Brandon’s penis slid inside her. She was soaking wet, and all her muscles were loose and ready for him, but even so, Brandon was so big that every thrust threatened to tear her in two. But that was just what she loved about him.

  “My God,” Brandon breathed, “Sandra, you’re so tight.” His hands were balled into fists, pressing hard against the counter so that the striations of his arms and shoulders showed. Sandra’s hands moved to grip his straining triceps. It was like holding onto solid steel as he pulsed into her. Each thrust tightened the muscles of his chest, his abs, and soon Brandon’s entire body was lined with a glistening sheet of sweat. Sandra dropped her head back and moaned with untold pleasure as his strength surrounded her in an erotic mire of unrestrained sex.

  The sounds they made filled the empty coffee shop, bouncing off the walls and ceiling to echo back in her ears.

  “Brandon, harder,” she pleaded. “Go harder!”

  He increased his efforts, tugging her hips toward him, sliding her ass off the counter so she was suspended like a drawbridge between the cool granite surface and Brandon’s powerful cock. He pounded into her with even more force, spurring her toward her second climax with astonishing speed. And when it came, Sandra screamed out his name as her body tightened and shook uncontrollably, her clenching muscles pulling him deep inside her, propelling him toward his own orgasm. Brandon gasped her name and exploded into her in perfect harmony, his hot seed filling her insides to the brink.

  Sandra loved the way Brandon stayed inside her as he lowered her back onto the counter. He dipped his red-hot body over hers and kissed her, sweet and slow, in utter contrast to the urgency of his need before. The passionate strokes of his tongue told her how much he savored the moment, how much he savored her. All of Sandra’s sensations heightened in the afterglow, and her emotions started reeling from the heartfelt intimacy of his touch, made more real by the feel of his cum inside her.

  “You didn’t just fuck me on the counter,” Sandra whispered when his mouth detangled from hers. “You made love to me.”

  Brandon looked at her through that unblinking green gaze, and for a long moment, did not say anything. Finally, he lowered his head in a miniscule nod. “Yes,” he answered. “I think I did.” His hands moved up to rest on the flesh of her tummy, just below her ribs. He kept them there as he stared deep into her eyes, and his slow, languid breaths matched hers one-to-one. “I love to feel your body move when you breathe.”

  Sandra smiled, feeling more content now than she ever had in her life. Brandon closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “You smell that?” he asked. “The bitter hint of coffee made sweet by our love?” He opened his eyes and smiled back. “From now on, I’ll always associate the smells of a coffee shop with you.”

  His hands went behind her back, fingers knotting together, and he lifted her up as easily as if she were made of cotton fluff. Which, coincidentally, wasn’t far from how she felt at present.

  “Now,” he said, his face close to hers, “we’ve got to clean this place up.”

  Sandra lay beside Brandon, tucked beneath the sheets of the king-size bed, basking in the tender serenity of the moment after their lovemaking. Brandon had brought her to Clarisse’s beach house once he’d helped clean up Cassie’s Blend. As soon as they walked in it was another mad rush to the bedroom. But when Brandon had undressed her this time, he’d been sweet and gentle, and made love to her slowly. It was completely unlike the raw intensity of sex in the coffee shop.

  Sandra sighed, and moved her head to his chest as her breathing returned to normal. Through the sliding glass door, she could see the glittering stars reflect off the dark sea. Brandon ran his fingers through her hair, tightening his grip at the back of her scalp before loosening it again to rake down through the strands.

  “When is Clarisse coming back?” Sandra wondered aloud.

  “Hmm?” Brandon tilted his head to look down at her. “She’s in Seattle for a few more days. She took my place there so I could spend more time with you.”

  Sandra smiled, shifting her arm so it lay over his abdomen. “I hope I’m not distracting you from work.”

  “You are,” Brandon admitted. “But it’s the best kind of distraction.”

  Sandra sat up, looked over at him. “If you need to be there—”

  “Clarisse can handle everything just fine. Besides, I always have my phone on me.”

  “Both of them?” Sandra laughed.

  “Yes. And my laptop has a great camera. I don’t need anything else to have a presence at our meetings.” Brandon winked. “Telecommunication is a powerful tool.”

  “Okay,” Sandra agreed, content. She lay back down on his chest. “I just don’t want you to be held back by me.”

  “Babe, I’ll never be held back by you. And you shouldn’t let anything hold you back, either. You remember what I told you today?”

  “That a sheltered existence is no way to live?”

  Brandon smiled. “Exactly. I want you to take that to heart. I really mean it. You came to Ocean Shores to escape from your past. I get that. But it’s not the past I want you to live for. It’s the present. The future.” He picked up her small hand in his, and matched their palms together. “The future…” he repeated, “…with me.”

  Sandra felt a warm feeling bubble up inside her on hearing those words. “How is it you can be so perfect, Brandon?”

  He smiled, but shook his head. “I’m not. Far from it. But with you beside me, I know I’m getting a little better every day.” He brought her hand to his mouth, and brushed her knuckles with his lips. “You told me about your sister, and your nightmares. Do those still bother you?”

  “No,” Sandra said. “Not since I met you.”

  She felt Brandon exhale against her head. “I’m glad.”

  “They’ve never been gone for so long before.” Sandra pushed herself up and swung her leg over his body, settling down on his chest to look him straight in the eye. “I still don’t know what you did to me, Brandon Galliani, but I hope it never lets up.”

  “As do I.” Brandon closed their hands together and tangled his fingers with hers. “Tell me, Sandra, when your nightmares come… what do you see? What do you remember?”

  Sandra frowned. She didn’t want to ruin the moment by bringing up that heavy topic… but Brandon had told her she should feel free around him. This could be a first step. And Brandon still hadn’t told her about Chicago. Sandra needed his trust for that—the type of trust that didn’t just sprout up overnight. But, maybe, if she told him her story, he would finally be ready to reveal that part of his life to her.

  “Not a lot,” she admitted after a long pause. “Most of the details are just a blur. When I have the nightmare, it’s my emotions that stand out. But I do remember following my sister to the house. I remember being scared inside, feeling terrified by all the strange people. But even through that, I remember having this… I don’t know, this determination… to see my sister home. I remember seeing the flash of her yellow heels. I remember pounding on the door to get her out. And of course, I remember the explosion. The flames, the heat, the overwhelming sense of loss and dread compounded by my utter failure.”

  “You said before somebody pulled you out of the house after the first explosion?” Brandon asked. “What about him? What about the man who saved you? Do you remember anything about him?”

  “Yes,” Sandra nodded. “I do. But I try to avoid thinking about him when I can. I never found out who he was. Even though I know I should be thankful to him, every time I think back… I think that maybe, if I had just had a little bit more time, maybe I could have changed things, you know,
saved my sister, somehow, if only that man hadn’t…” Sandra recognized the swell of sadness growing inside her, and shook her head, determined to fight it off. “No. You were right. I can’t live in the past. It doesn’t matter what I could or couldn’t have done. It doesn’t matter what he did. What matters is what I have here.” She forced herself to smile, stifling the melancholy feelings. “What I have with you.”

  “But if you did find out who he was,” Brandon pressed, “if you saw a newspaper article from back then and saw him in it, or somehow met him in your life… what you would say to him?”

  “What would I say?” Sandra echoed. This conversation was getting heavy, fast. “I don’t know what I would say. Thank you, maybe. Or maybe not. Maybe I still have that bit of hatred for him. I know it’s irrational, but sometimes our feelings can’t be helped.” She frowned down at Brandon. “Why? You knew about the fire when I told you about it on VEGA. Do you know something else?”

  Brandon hesitated, so briefly that Sandra thought she might have imagined it, but then shook his head. “No. No, I don’t.”

  “How come you remember it, though?”

  Brandon shrugged. “I told you before: anybody who lived in Chicago would. You were probably too young to pay attention to the news, but it was the biggest news story for weeks. There was a huge police investigation after. The city councilors were appalled that a meth lab could be housed in such a comfortable, upscale neighborhood. They blamed the cops for negligence. People died in the fire—your sister included—and there was a public uproar about law enforcement incompetence. It was a big thing, back then.”

  Sandra nodded. “Okay. But what about you, Brandon? What happened to you in Chicago?” She felt him stiffen under her. She slid off, but pressed on otherwise. “You told me I should feel free around you. Well, I’ve wanted to ask you about Chicago for a long time. You promised once you wouldn’t lie to me, on our date at the Space Needle. And I can understand if you’re not comfortable enough to talk about Chicago, but I’ve basically told you everything about me. And to me, your past is still shrouded in darkness. I don’t know anything about your family. You haven’t told me anything.”