The Wright Brother

by K. A. Linde

  Having sex with him on the first date to get his hot body out of my system might be the best thing I could ever do. There was no future here. I didn’t even want to date right now. And it didn’t matter how much fun we’d had while Christmas caroling. Jensen Wright was Landon Wright’s older brother. And Landon wouldn’t disappear if this continued.

  So, I might as well have my fun now.

  “Brr,” Jensen said. He flipped on the lights, and the cabin was illuminated. “I’m going to build a fire. If you want to look in that crate right there, there’s a bunch of blankets. Make yourself at home while I get some firewood.”

  I took a few tentative steps inside as Jensen got to work. The cabin was even more spectacular on the inside with high vaulted ceilings and dark wood beams bisecting the room. The hardwood floors were a dark glossy finish, and a bricked fireplace took up half of one wall in the living room. It had clearly been professionally decorated, and it was the first time tonight that I remembered that Jensen owned and ran Wright Construction and had more money than God.

  The wooden crate was behind the brown leather couch, and I fished out a half-dozen blankets. I still wasn’t sure if that was going to be enough to keep me warm in the meantime, but it was a start.

  I burrowed into the blankets, trying to warm up my extremities. Jensen appeared with a bag of twigs and an armful of firewood. The kindling took a while to ignite, but once it started going, he was able to add logs to it pretty easily. Jensen cut the overhead light and let the flames bathe the living room in a soft glow and easy warmth.

  “Why don’t you come get closer to the fire?” he suggested.

  A sheepskin rug lay in front of the fireplace. I couldn’t tell if it was real or fake, and I shuddered. “Did that thing used to be alive?”

  “Synthetic,” he told me. “Just as warm.”

  I relaxed, grabbed the blankets, and carried them over to the rug. Jensen grabbed a pair of red pillows from the couch and tossed them to me. Then, he disappeared into the kitchen. After the sound of a loud pop, he came out a few minutes later with a tray in his hands.

  He offered me a glass of red wine with a smile. “I hope you like red.”

  “Red or champagne.” I took a sip and nearly groaned again. This was the good stuff.

  “And since we didn’t get to do s’mores”—he placed the tray off to the side, pointing at the bars of Hershey’s chocolate, graham crackers, and marshmallows in bowls atop it—“I thought this would have to do.”

  “This had better be a dessert wine,” I joked.

  He grinned and took the seat next to me, throwing a blanket over his lap. I reached for a marshmallow and popped it into my mouth. Jensen’s eyes caught on my lips, and I almost forgot that I was still holding a full glass of wine. I took a good long sip to steel my nerves, and then I placed the glass to the side.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were seducing me,” I teased.

  “I think I made my intentions pretty clear in the truck.” His hand slid up the leg of my jeans under the blanket and then across the top of my thigh.

  My breath hitched, and for the first time, I realized that I was nervous. Not of the situation. This seemed magical. But of Jensen. I’d spent much of my life thinking he was entirely out of my league, and even when I despised their family, I never thought I was above them but certainly not on level footing either.

  “But,” he said, stopping his hand and then moving back to my knee, “I would be okay if you just wanted a nice fire, some good wine, and deconstructed s’mores. I could get you home at a semi decent hour even.”

  I swallowed all the apprehension I’d been feeling.

  Who said I couldn’t be on a level playing field with a Wright? Just because they had money and prestige didn’t mean shit. Jensen wanted me, and I definitely fucking wanted him. Stopping myself from having the hottest rebound of my life sounded ludicrous.

  “What happened to, don’t plan on getting any sleep tonight?” I whispered huskily. I leaned forward, sliding his hand back up my leg.

  My own hands moved to the hem of his T-shirt and ran along the exposed skin just north of his jeans. He inhaled deeply at my bold move. Whatever hesitation I’d had from my discomfort or the sudden change of plans disappeared at that touch.

  He shoved one of his hands up into my hair and kissed me like a dying man begging for his last breath. Our bodies were perfectly in sync. One moving against the other in harmony, unbroken by any of the million little thoughts that had flitted through my mind before coming to this moment. There was only me and Jensen. And I couldn’t think of anything else I wanted or needed.

  Heat suffused us from the warmth of the roaring fire in the grate and the friction we were creating with our bodies. Jensen’s mouth on mine pulled the pin on a grenade, and as his hands dragged my shirt over my head and slipped me out of my jeans, the tension exploded between us.

  I forgot that I had once been cold and just marveled in everything that was Jensen Wright. I kissed my way down every inch of his six-pack abs. Then, I unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants to his ankles. He bulged out of his boxer briefs, and I licked my lips. I was one of those freaks of nature who loved giving blow jobs. I loved making a man squirm underneath my ministrations. And Jensen certainly didn’t object when I removed him from his pants and dropped my mouth over the head of his dick.

  I licked all around the head and then down the shaft. His hand buried itself into my hair as I took him fully in my mouth. And his gasp made it all worth it. I bobbed up and down on his dick like I was deep-throating a Popsicle. His eyes were hazy and unfocused as I worked my magic. I could feel him getting close, and he grunted.

  “Emery,” he murmured to warn me. Proper etiquette and all.

  But I had no intentions of stopping.

  I sucked him off until hot liquid filled my mouth, and he was shuddering in ecstasy. I pulled back from his cock, braced myself, and then swallowed his cum like a champ. His smile was infectious.

  “Holy fuck, woman,” he growled.

  He didn’t even wait for a response. He pushed me back onto the fur rug, opened my legs wide, and buried his face between them. I cried out as he lapped at my clit while his fingers dug into my inner thighs. My back rose off the rug as trembles ran through my body. He slowly inched one hand down to the lips of my pussy and tenderly stroked my opening.

  “Oh God,” I cried out when he inserted two fingers at once inside me.

  He didn’t pump in and out like I’d thought he would, but instead, he strummed the inside of me like he was playing a guitar. My body responded like a harmony.

  I tried to close my legs as pleasure hit me from head to toe, but he just forced my legs further apart. Then, he reached out with his free hand and tweaked my nipple. I nearly came right there. My nipples were unbelievably sensitive. And, since I responded so well, he left his hand there, playing with my nipple, until I cried out, and my orgasm hit me full-on.

  My legs seemed to have a mind of their own, shaking like I’d just run a marathon.

  “I take it back,” he said, kissing up my orgasm-flushed stomach and then to my nipples. He lavished each one with his tongue as I writhed beneath him. “I like your screams as you come better than your groans as you ride me. I wonder if I would like your screams as you rode me the best.”

  “Do you want to find out?” I breathed suggestively.

  “I want to find all the ways to make you scream.” He nipped at my nipple, and I cried out all over again. “Fuck, woman. Fuck.”

  I could feel his dick against my leg, already hard again. I lazily stroked my hand up and down his cock, and it was his turn to twitch at the movement.

  “Please,” I pleaded.

  “Oh, I do like when you ask nicely,” he said with a grin.

  “Then, let me try again,” I said, bringing his lips down to mine. “Please, oh, please, Jensen Wright, fuck me. Fuck me right now.”

  He located a condom in his jacket pocket and
slid it on before positioning himself at my opening. He positioned himself on his forearms so that he could kiss my lips one more time. My hands rested on his biceps.

  God, I want this. I want him.

  “I’d like to give you what you want, Miss Robinson,” Jensen said, teasing his dick against my pussy. “I might have to hear you ask one more time.”

  I hooked my legs around his back and tried to tug him forward. I even lifted my hips off the ground, but he easily held me at bay.

  “I want you inside me. All of you. Until you have me screaming again from your cock and not just your mouth.”

  “Fuck,” he whispered and then slid inside me.

  I rocked my head back and moaned at the feel of him stretching and filling me. It was perfect. Utter bliss. This was even better than I’d thought it would be. He started moving in and out of me, and I used my leverage to meet his practiced thrusts. He was controlled and methodical, and I was aching for more.

  He was devilishly grinning at me, as if he knew how much I wanted him to fuck me senseless. But he held back as he worked me into an uncontrollable frenzy. Until I was right on the brink of the biggest orgasm of my life. Until I was ready to beg him to let me release.

  “Jensen, God, please. Harder.”

  He picked me up off the rug, and let our naked bodies be silhouetted by the firelight. He held me up in his arms with his hands on my hips. Then, he moved me up and down on his dick as hard and as rough as I had just pleaded with him for. My tits bounced in his face, and his cock drove into me. And, as our slicked bodies were hitting the peak, I screamed out his name into the cold night air. He grunted and came inside me a few thrusts later.

  We both sat perfectly still, collapsing in on each other.

  “Wow,” I whispered. “Holy fucking wow.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “We’re…we’re going to need to do that again.”

  “A few times.”

  Jensen was right. As we spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms, we found that he did like my screams best when I rode him.

  Thirteen

  Jensen

  I came to, holding a beautiful, naked woman in my arms. My eyes jolted awake, as I was unable to believe the turn of events. Not because I’d had the most amazing sex of my life. Or that the person I’d had it with was Emery Robinson. Or even that I was enjoying having her in my arms the next morning.

  It was because I had slept.

  I had really slept.

  My eyes darted to the red alarm clock on the nightstand next to the bed we had migrated into at some ungodly hour last night. But, right now, it read nine o’clock.

  Nine o’clock.

  I had slept for seven blissful hours. I didn’t even care that I was late for work for the first time in my life or that I probably had a thousand emails and just as many texts and calls to find out if I was alive. I hadn’t slept seven straight hours since my father died nearly a decade ago.

  “Mmm,” Emery groaned, rolling over to face me.

  In the light of day, she was even more gorgeous than lit by candlelight, and I hadn’t thought that was possible. I’d been a fool to think she was beautiful as she could get coated in makeup with her hair done. Here she was with traces of last night’s mascara on her eyelashes and her hair down and messy in a freshly fucked way, and I was done. I was…totally fucked.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Nine.”

  “That early?” She stretched her arm out.

  “Mmhmm,” I said, suddenly realizing how utterly fucked I was. Utterly and completely fucked. I needed to get out of here and stop this now.

  I couldn’t have had fucking incredible sex and slept through a whole night with a woman who was so wrong for me on every level. Attachments were overrated, and I had prided myself on being emotionally unavailable. I needed to find that in me now.

  Emery Robinson had belonged to Landon. She was living in Austin. She’d grown up here. And I could think of a hundred other strikes against her.

  I flung the covers off my naked body and moved to get out of bed. Emery reached for me with her delicate little fingers, and I careened away from her. I avoided her gaze. I didn’t want to see if she was hurt. I wasn’t an asshole. I just…couldn’t do this. I couldn’t feel anything for her.

  I searched in the closet for clean clothes. Ours were still strewed across the living room.

  “I’ll just…get your things, so we can go,” I said, stomping out of the room before she could say anything.

  I found my cell phone first and glanced at the influx of messages. I texted my secretary, Margaret, to let her know I would be coming in late. Something had come up unexpectedly.

  My phone dinged with a message from Vanessa, and I nearly threw the thing across the room. Just what I wanted to deal with my ex-wife after the night that I had and the morning that only reminded me why this was all a bad idea. Instead, I returned the message, because I knew she would hound me if I didn’t, but I made sure that my impatience was blatantly clear.

  I ignored everything else and scooped up Emery’s clothes from the floor.

  She was sitting up with the charcoal-gray sheet wrapped around her body. She seemed off-balance, as if last night had been a dream and she was waking up and realizing it hadn’t happened. She had been so comfortable with her body last night that it seemed a damn shame that she was covering it up.

  “Just late for work,” I told her. “We have to get going.”

  “Right. Of course,” she said.

  She took her clothes out of my hand, and I gave her privacy to change. The notion was absurd, but between being late for work, how content I had felt the moment I woke up, and the text from my bitch of an ex, this morning itself felt absurd.

  Emery appeared a minute later, dressed in the clothes she’d worn last night, with her dark hair up in a high ponytail. “All ready.”

  “Great.”

  We hustled back into my truck. The drive across town was quiet, punctuated only by the Christmas songs that were still playing on the radio. I didn’t have it in me to turn it off even though they reminded me of our night together. I pulled up in front of her sister’s house twenty minutes later.

  She smiled weakly at me. “Have fun at work,” she choked out.

  I wanted to kick myself. But I’d known that this wasn’t a smart idea. I didn’t date girls in town—whether or not they were here for a weekend—for a damn good reason. It made things…complicated. And complicated was not something I could afford outside of the boardroom.

  “Thanks. Have fun with your sister.”

  “My sister,” she repeated numbly. “Okay. Well, um…bye.”

  She hopped out of the truck, gave me a half-wave, and then darted for the confines of the house. She didn’t look back before disappearing into the house, and I had the distinct feeling that I had just made her feel cheap.

  “Shit,” I whispered in the still-freezing air.

  I hurried back to my house, took a much-needed shower, and then changed into a crisp black Tom Ford suit that I’d had custom-made at Malouf’s in town. It was like the Nordstrom of Lubbock. Family-owned, the store provided and tailored designer and custom-fit clothes by appointment only. I had a standing appointment. I looked like a million bucks. I should feel like a million bucks after last night. Instead, I felt like something had gone horribly wrong when it should have been much simpler.

  An hour later, I tramped into my office and was ready for lunch since I’d foregone breakfast in my haste to get into work. Margaret was hot on my heels when I entered Wright Construction.

  “Good morning, Mr. Wright,” she said, shuffling along with a notebook, iPad, and a pad of sticky notes. “Mr. McCoy called this morning, said it was urgent about the merger, sir. You also had a call from Vanessa. Well, two calls, but I let one go to voice mail. Nick Brown left a message about canceling his appointment because he’s going out of town. Alex Langley called out sick. Persona
lly, it sounded like he was out late and hungover. Elizabeth Copeland had an important update on the Lakeridge complex, sir. Sounded rather urgent as well.”

  “Margaret,” I said with a sigh as I reached the door to my office.

  “Yes, sir?” She was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this early in the morning.

  “I feel a bit under the weather. Cancel all of my appointments for the day and let Mr. McCoy know that I’ll handle the merger in the morning.”

  “But, sir—” she said again.

  “Margaret, let me run my company.”

  “Of course,” she said in a daze, handing me the iPad with my daily notes on it. “Also, Morgan is waiting in your office.”

  I sighed heavily. “Thank you, Margaret. That will be all.”

  When I entered my office, Morgan was sitting on the top of my desk, fiddling with the Newton’s Cradle kinetic pendulum that swished back and forth. Her dark eyes met mine across the room. “Late night?” she asked with a sardonic tone.

  “Indeed.”

  I set the iPad down on my desk and flipped through the list of things for the day. Margaret would cancel all the extraneous items, but I had a lot to catch up on.

  “What’s with the late start, bro?” She hopped off the desk, landing on her sky-high heels, and grinned down at me.

  “I slept in.”

  Morgan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Yeah, right! You don’t sleep. You’re a vampire.”

  I shrugged. I had no response to that because, up until last night, that had been true. “Don’t know what to tell you.”

  “How about who you were fucking when you slept in this morning?” she asked with a mischievous light in her eyes.

  I stared back at her with a blank expression on my face and then nodded at the iPad.

  “Wait…do I even want to know?”

  “Probably not,” I told her.

  That was a lie. Morgan would love the juicy details. She adored gossip. She read all those trash magazines just to laugh at the absurdity of it all.