Stand (The Brazen Bulls MC Book 7)

by Susan Fanetti

  “I totally forgot about the maid service. They come once a month. I guess they did all this? That’s almost worse—do you think they’d call Aunt Mad?”

  “From what I know of Maddie, if they had, you’d have heard about it. She doesn’t seem like the type to let shit roll.”

  “No, she’s not. That’s why I love her so much. She’s fierce as fuck.”

  “Maybe Maverick cleaned up. Or maybe the maids did and didn’t think it was their business to say anything.”

  “Maybe…” She went to the cluster of plants in the corner. “Somebody overwatered these. That was probably Maverick. He overwaters the gardens and lawn at his house. Drives Jenny nuts.” Turning to the wide glass door onto the patio, she added, “And the pool guy came. The pool’s open. Shit, this house is like that one from a Ray Bradbury story, where the house keeps taking care of everything even after the family’s been nuked into ash.”

  She’d muttered the last bit, talking to herself more than him, but he knew the story she meant. “‘There Will Come Soft Rains.’”

  She spun gracefully on her heel and looked at him with warm interest. “You know it?”

  “Yeah. My grandpa’s a big reader. He likes short stories best. He’s got one of those subscription sets, you know, like Time-Life or whatever, of fancy-bound short stories by different writers. Bradbury and Asimov are my favorites.”

  “I don’t read a lot of science fiction. But we studied Bradbury in one of my fiction writing classes. I like his stories a lot. They’re more about people than gizmos.” With another glance around the room, she set her hands on her hips. “Well, I guess they cleaned the monsters out, too. I can write Aunt Mad and tell her everything’s cool, and I won’t be lying. That’s a huge relief.”

  Disappointed that she hadn’t needed any saving or even comfort, Caleb was at a loss. He watched as she walked to the other side of the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Um, should I go, then, if everything’s good here?”

  Her head popped up, and she looked at him over the fridge door. “Do you want to go?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t want you to, either.”

  “What do you want, Cecily?”

  She closed the door. “That needs to be cleaned out. I don’t know. Maybe…maybe order some food in, and have supper on the patio, maybe get in the pool?”

  “I don’t have trunks with me.”

  Her grin was sly. “Are you commando, Caleb?”

  He laughed. “No, I am not.”

  “Tighty whities?”

  “Boxer briefs. Dark blue, I think.”

  “Well, there you go. You in? Aunt Mad’s got a drawer full of like a thousand menus for takeout and delivery.”

  Sounded like a perfect night to him. “I’m in.”

  ~oOo~

  While he took her TA to pick up Mexican from the cantina down the street, and a couple of six-packs of beer from the liquor store in the same strip mall, Cecily cleaned out the fridge and emailed Maddie. When he got back, she was dressed in a black bikini, with a long blue skirt thing wrapped around her hips, showing the full expanse of her firm, fair belly, and Caleb thought he’d die. Every time she took a step, a long, pale leg kicked free of the fabric. Yep. Dead.

  They sat on the patio, beside the pool, and enjoyed tacos and nachos in the twilight, talking about nothing and everything—movies, stories, Maverick and Jenny’s kids, and their new puppy, whom Caleb hadn’t met yet.

  Other than Cecily’s chatter about Maverick and Jenny, they didn’t talk about family at all, and Caleb was glad. While this night had so far been unexpectedly awesome, a light wind of worry gusted through his brain. Worry wasn’t quite the word. Concern. An awareness of a possible, potential problem. He liked this girl, for the reasons he’d told her. In the past few hours, he’d come to like her even more, for the ease and grace and humor she’d shown him, parts of her he was seeing for the first time. From this spot, he could see spending more time with her, getting to know her even more, becoming close.

  And, should it become something serious, should they want something real together, his family would never accept her. Though his great-grandfather had taken on a white name for his family, only a few years before white hands had ended his life, no Mathews had ever married a white person, or any other race. It was a specific point of pride for his grandfather. There were plenty in the tribe who did, but the closest any of his relations had come to mixing races had been marrying with people from other tribes.

  They’d make him choose. His grandfather and brother couldn’t take away his tribal membership, but they could take away his kinship, and he had no reason to think they wouldn’t.

  How would he choose? Was it fair to start anything at all with Cecily, if down the line he might have to choose, and he couldn’t say what his choice would be?

  As those thoughts rearranged the furniture in his head, Cecily wadded up the papers from her tacos—she’d eaten three, and about a third of the nachos—and tossed them in one of the paper sacks. She took a swig of her second beer. Caleb had been sort of watching how much she drank, without being too obvious about it. He didn’t want her to get too drunk.

  “You want to go for a swim?” She stood and untied the skirt thing, tossing it over the back of her chair. There she was, all that beautiful skin. A faint spray of freckles over her shoulders, to match the spray over her nose. She hooked her fingers into the seat of her bikini bottoms and adjusted their fit over her ass. Fuck.

  His throat made a loud, dry click when he swallowed. “You’re supposed to wait half an hour.”

  “Dude, I’m not doing laps. I just want to splash around. It’s heated. Come on, strip down to those dark blue boxer briefs and join me.” She turned and trotted to the pool, her ass jiggling, and Caleb was not about to stand up just then. No fucking way.

  He was jumping the gun to worry about his family. Leaping ahead of the gun. Vaulting over it. That was a concern for much later. Right now, there was a beautiful girl in a tiny bikini asking him to swim with her. He finished his beer and cleaned up the leavings of his dinner. When he could stand and take off his clothes without making an awkward scene, he undressed and joined Cecily in the pool.

  The water was exactly the right temperature—warm enough not to shock, and cool enough to be refreshing. Cecily had been floating on her back. When he jumped into the shallow end from the side, she stood, splashed him full in the face, then flipped and swam to the deeper end.

  “That’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” Caleb dunked under to get fully wet, but he didn’t chase her. Instead, he hooked his elbows on the side of the pool and stretched his legs out to float.

  She treaded water across the pool, watching him. He rested his head back and stared up at the darkening night sky.

  “You’re no fun,” she pouted.

  He ignored her until he heard her swimming closer. She went under, and then he moved. When she popped up, he caught her around the middle and hoisted her out of the water. She screamed and spluttered, but he gave her only a second in his arms to catch her breath, and then tossed her toward the deep end.

  “Okay, now it’s war!” she yelled when she broke the water again.

  With a laugh, he stretched his arms wide. “Come and get me, iňloňka.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s the Osage word for a mountain lion.”

  “Oh. Why do people always call me cat names?”

  “Because you spit and claw and howl when you’re mad or hurt or scared.”

  Her mouth opened, and she took in a breath, and Caleb expected an argument. Then she let it out and shrugged. “Okay. That’s fair.” She dove under, and he locked his legs and waited for her to get to him.

  She almost got his legs out from under him anyway, but he was considerably stronger, and he grabbed her again and pulled her up, meaning to toss her back to the deep end.

  “Wait! Wait!” she sputtered and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Wait.” She
clung to him, panting, smiling, her slick body all over his, and the last thing Caleb wanted to do was throw her away.

  Fuck. That hadn’t taken long. Five seconds with her in his arms, coiled around him, and he was hard—and there was no way she didn’t know it. The full knowledge was digging into one of the soft cheeks of her ass.

  She squirmed just enough to make sure he knew she knew—and to make him even harder. They stared at each other.

  Setting her down in the water, but keeping her close, he put his hand on the back of her head and leaned in, meaning to take her mouth and claim the kiss he’d been thinking about since they’d sat on the front porch. But she pulled away, rocking her head back with force. She stared him dead in the eye, didn’t try to free herself from his hold or unwind her arms from around his neck.

  Didn’t she want this? “Cecily—”

  Surging suddenly forward, she cut him off with a kiss. Surprise grunted out of him, and he took over, holding her head in his hands, covering her mouth with his, pushing his tongue past her lips. And then they were wrestling, grappling, vying for dominance. Her arms tightened punishingly around his neck, and she leapt up, hooking her legs around his hips, and fuck, she was right there. His cock shoved at the confines of his underwear and her bikini, just right there. She rocked her hips, dragging herself over his shaft, and Caleb tore his mouth from hers with a groan.

  “Tell me you have condoms,” she gasped and latched her teeth into his throat.

  He kept a couple in his wallet. “Jeans,” he answered as he tore a triangle of her top away from a tit and put his hand over it. Fuck, her nipple stood out like half an inch. He had to get that in his mouth. Shoving her back to make some room between them, he ducked down and sucked that hard nipple into his mouth. Her back arched beautifully in his hold.

  “Oh god, condom!”

  He let go of her tit and got a firmer hold on her body, keeping her wrapped around him. She tucked her face to his neck again and latched on like a little vampire. Carefully, he walked through the pool, up the stairs, over to his chair, where he’d hung his clothes over the back. He snagged his jeans in his fingers, and carried her over to the huge double chaise lounge, which he assumed Ox and Maddie had procured for just this purpose.

  All that carrying of her slick body was getting problematic. He set her down, managing to do it with some grace, and she squirmed out of her bikini while he worked his way out of his sodden underwear, fished in his jeans for the condom—he had only one—and got it on. She lay pale in the moonlight, waiting for him, her eyes bright, and her whole body alive with desire, even as she lay there. A flash from that night in the crash pad lit up in his head. She’d been half asleep—no, half passed out. And he’d fucked her. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he shouldn’t, that a girl who’d been barely capable of walking up the stairs hadn’t been at all capable of making a real decision. Yes, she’d been all over him in the party room, but he should have known better. He hadn’t been drunk. He should have taken care of her, not advantage.

  The contrast between that girl two years ago and this girl now made it all the more obvious what a shit he’d been. It killed him that she wouldn’t let him try to make it up to her.

  But he could do better, be better now.

  “Caleb?”

  “You do want this?”

  She frowned, and he knew she’d sensed the origin of his doubt. Then she spread her legs—she was shaved bare, dear God—and said, “Caleb Mathews, will you please put your penis into my vagina and thrust in and out until we both achieve orgasm?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, you know? That was not even a little bit sexy.”

  “No, it wasn’t. How about this: fuck me, Caleb. Make me come.”

  “That’s better.”

  He climbed onto the chaise, hooked her leg over his hip, and gave her what she wanted. As he pushed in, her head arched back and her black-polished fingernails settled into his shoulders. Tiny gasping cries came out with her every exhale, with his every push.

  “Is that good?” he gritted. All his muscles had tightened to it maximum capacity.

  “Yes. Shut up.”

  He chuckled, but then he was completely inside her, and she moaned and flexed her hips, and there was nothing funny in the world. Oh, shit, the way she gripped around him, the way her body moved with his. Needing more, he shoved his knees up and under and grasped her hips, meaning to drive into her from this leverage, but she unhooked her claws from his shoulders and snaked them around his neck again, pulling herself up from the pad of the chaise. Understanding what she wanted, he wrapped his arms around her and sat back on his heels. She sat on his lap, and they both cried out when they found the depth they wanted.

  She’d wanted him to fuck her, and in this position, she had to do most of the work. Unless—he hooked his arms under her thighs and lifted. Yeah, that would work. He let her fall back onto his lap.

  Her eyes flared wide open. “Oh, fuck yeah.”

  “You want me to fuck you hard?”

  “Yeah. Like that.”

  “Hold on, sugar.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  Note to self: Even in the middle of a fuck, she was willing to argue. “Sorry. Hold on.”

  “I like that other word.”

  “Iňloňka?” As endearments went, it was kind of a mouthful.

  “Yeah. I like the way it sounds.” Her fingers twined in his wet hair. “The way you say it.”

  He couldn’t resist taking a kiss from that adorable mouth. “Hold on, iňloňka. I’m about to fuck you dizzy.”

  Sweet Jesus, the feel of her ass in his hands as he lifted her and dropped her again and again, spearing her. Her cries filled the night, echoing off the tile walls of the pool beside him. The wavering pool lights danced over them, making it all look like a dream, and maybe Caleb would have thought it was a dream, but her fingernails strafed his back, and her teeth bit down on his lips, and all his senses were entirely engaged. They were here, this was happening—and she was coming, her head flung back, her nipple in his mouth, his hands full of her ass.

  “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” she gasped. “Fuck, fuck! Now, now, now, now, now, now! Yes! Oh fuck, yes!”

  He dropped her tense, twitching body back onto the chaise and got the leverage he’d meant to have before, rocketing hard into her, chasing down his own finish. When it landed on him, it went straight through him like a blade, cramping his gut and making his toes curl.

  Then he let his limp body fall onto her.

  “Hey, Caleb,” she whispered after a few seconds.

  “Yeah?” he muttered into the pad.

  “I’m dizzy.”

  He turned his head and saw her smiling blue eyes, lit with liquid light. “Good. Me too.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  He was heavy and warm, and so smooth. Despite the lush mane on his head, his body was almost completely hairless. Even under his arms and around his—very, very nice, and her first uncircumcised—cock, there wasn’t much. She’d dated a guy in college who was on the swim team and shaved all his body hair, but his skin had always felt like fine-grain sandpaper. Caleb’s skin was as smooth as hers. He just didn’t have much body hair.

  Neither did she, really. She shaved her legs like twice a month, because what little hair grew there was soft and invisible. Her genes were mostly Danish and Scottish, and she supposed they weren’t generally hairy people, either.

  Still, she’d never felt a man’s body like this. Cecily couldn’t keep her hands still; they craved the feel of him, firm and satiny, contoured with muscle—but sleek, not bulgy.

  When his breath had slowed to normal, he lifted onto his elbows and smiled down at her. His wet hair fell around their faces in thick hanks. The only light was the moon and the pool; she hadn’t flipped the switch on the patio lights. Curtained in his hair, with the soft, wavy blue light gleaming through, she could almost believe this was a dream.

  Then he lifted away and pulled free of her, and the s
hock of losing that connection brought her back to reality. Was he done? Was this over? She didn’t want that. For the first time in, shit, years, she felt totally good while she was totally sober. She did not want that to be over. No, she did not.

  She tightened her thighs around his hips. “Wait. Don’t go.”

  His eyes fixed with hers for a second, and he brushed a wayward strand of her hair from her cheek. “I just want to take the condom off. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her legs relaxed, and he turned and sat at the edge of the chaise. Cecily lay and watched him divest himself of the condom, tie it off, and drop it to the patio floor. “Gross.”