“Yeah.” Brendan’s voice is tight. Maybe I’m not projecting that much after all. But again, not going there. “I’m beat, too.”
I glance back at him over my shoulder as he clicks off the light and settles into bed facing away from me. Then I tuck my hands under my cheek, my back to him as well.
I hold completely still, listening to him breathe, unable to distract myself from the new kind of tension that’s focused between my thighs.
But there’s nothing I can do about that. Not here. Not now. Not with Brendan lying in bed next to me.
I try to think about something else. Anything else. But of course, that always makes my thoughts circle back to Brendan. The soft cadence of his breathing. The feel of his thighs straddling mine. The way his hands felt on my skin, always knowing when to give more pressure, and when to back off.
Would he be that in tune with my body if he were touching me somewhere … lower?
I squeeze my legs together at the thought.
One hand finds its way under the blankets, my fingers slipping just inside the waistband of my pants.
This is a bad, bad idea. Very bad. Very naughty.
But as tired as I am, the ache just won’t go away.
Carefully, I roll onto my back, seeing if Brendan stirs or his breathing alters at all.
Nope.
I shift again, once again listening intently. And once again, no change.
The line of his body looks relaxed as he lies on his side. He’s not snoring, but he didn’t snore in the car either or give any real indication that he was actually asleep other than his slow breathing and not really moving.
I think it’s been long enough.
Slowly, I spread my legs apart and creep my fingers into my pants, under my panties, unable to hold back the sigh as I finally touch myself.
God. This won’t take long at all.
Chapter Fourteen
Brendan
I lie in the dark regulating my breathing, painfully aware of Lauren’s slim body on the other side of the bed. It’s a king-sized bed, and we’re curled up on opposite sides. You could fit another person between us. Two, if they’re Lauren-sized.
All I can think about is the feel of her soft skin, her tits bobbing in the water, her sighs and moans as I worked out her knots.
There are other things I’d like to work out.
Replaying the evening in my head leads to more filthy thoughts about what I’d like to do to her. I’ve been sporting a throbbing hard-on in my pants basically since the hot tub, and it won’t go away.
I’d thought about taking care of it when I rinsed off in the shower, but decided that jerking it to thoughts of Lauren when she could come back at any second was a bad idea.
Now, lying here wide awake and getting harder by the second, I’m not so sure.
With my luck, it wouldn’t have helped anyway. I’d probably still be here wishing for things I shouldn’t want.
Other than letting me rub her shoulders, and the brief hand holding at the store, she’s given no indication that she has any real interest in me. Yeah, she jokes around with me, and she doesn’t shy away from innuendo, but she isn’t throwing herself at me either.
The blankets rustle as she moves behind me, and I force myself to keep my breathing even. Not to move. Not to roll over and see if she’s asleep. Watching her sleep would be creepy, right?
Right. Totally creepy.
A little more rustling, and my curiosity grows, but I remain on my side, facing toward the window, still as a statue.
Her breath hitches. And she makes a little sound, then … Is she panting?
I hold my breath, listening harder.
Holy fuck.
I think she’s …
Is she?
Lying here listening to her, wondering if she’s really doing what I think she’s doing is torture.
Because dammit, if she’s getting herself off, then I’m joining in.
Without overthinking it, I sit up and turn on the light, throwing back the covers and turning to face her all in one swift movement.
She’s frozen, pink staining her cheeks, her mouth open in a gasp, one hand clutching her breast over her tiny tank top. The other hand down her pants.
“Holy fuck,” I rasp.
When my eyes travel up her body and finally reach hers, she lets out a little squeak and pulls her hand out of her pants, clapping both hands over her face. “Oh my god. I thought you were sleeping.”
“No.” I drag the word out. “Hard to sleep when the hot girl in my bed is masturbating next to me. Need a hand?”
She glares at me from behind her fingers. “For your information, I was doing just fine before you … interrupted.”
“Interrupted.” I smirk, clenching my hand in a fist by my thigh to stop myself from reaching for her. She said she didn’t want a hand. Damn. I was kinda hoping for an invitation. “Sorry for interrupting.” I nod at her lower body. “Don’t let me stop you.”
With a bark of laughter, she finally pulls her hands away from her face. “What? You wanna watch?”
“Fuck yeah, I wanna watch. Are you kidding me?”
The smile dies on her face as she looks at me, seeing that I’m serious.
“You expect me to masturbate. In front of you. While you watch. Like, put on a show.”
I lift one shoulder. “If you’re more comfortable, you can leave your pants on. It’d still be hot to watch your face while you come. But if you want to put on a show, it’d be better if you were naked.”
The pink in her cheeks intensifies, spreading down her neck to her chest. How far past the neckline of her top does it go? As I watch, her hands slide down her stomach, stopping right over her belly button. Like she wants to slide her hand back down between her legs, but she’s …
“Shy?”
“Ha. I don’t think anyone’s accused me of that in a long time. Weren’t you the one who accused me of flirting with every guy I come across? Hardly the behavior of a shy girl.”
“People still have shy moments.” My focus is all on her right hand, willing it to slip under the waistband of her pants again.
“Clearly you don’t.”
My eyes find hers again, and she gives a tiny nod at my crotch. Looking down, I see that I’m squeezing my cock through my pants. Damn, I was so focused on hoping she’d touch herself more, that I didn’t even realize what I was doing.
Instead of jerking my hand away, I give myself a rub, meeting her gaze head on. “Nope. You want a show?”
Her breath catches, and the tip of her pink tongue pokes out to wet her lips. Her brown eyes look hungry in the low light.
“Yeah, you want a show. We’ll make a deal. You take off your pants, I’ll take off mine, and we’ll give each other a show.”
Her brows draw together, but she doesn’t object. I rise up on my knees, hooking my thumbs in the waist of my pants, edging them down a little. “You like the idea.” I keep my voice quiet, my rampant lust lending a husky rasp that’s unintentional, but she seems to like it. Her eyes flare as she watches me tug my pants lower. And her hands slide to her own waistband.
“Yes.” I don’t mean to say it out loud, and when awareness sparks in her eyes and they fly to mine, I’m afraid I’ve broken the spell. If she doesn’t go for this, I’m going to have to go whack off in the bathroom. She’ll hear me, but at this point, I don’t care.
But then she nods. The barest tilt of her chin, but it’s there. And her hips lift, her hands pushing off the fabric of her pants, kicking them to the end of the bed, leaving her bare from the waist down. My eyes eat up the smooth expanse of skin showing from hip to toes. I want to reach out and run my hand over it, but I don’t. That’s not the deal we’re making.
“The top too?”
She shakes her head. “You first.” Her voice is as raspy as mine.
I stand and pull the waistband away from my body, pushing my pants to the floor, then climb back onto the bed on my knees, my hand goi
ng immediately back to my cock, stroking myself slowly.
Her eyes are glued to me. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips again, and I want to kiss her, suck on that tongue.
“The top?” I prompt instead.
She sucks in a breath and sits up, her legs parting and giving me the barest glimpse of the neatly trimmed coppery hair between her legs. And then the top is gone, and those perfect, pink-tipped tits are in view, and it takes all my willpower not to reach for her.
“Better?” she asks.
I nod. Words are lost to me now.
With her eyes on me stroking myself, she parts her legs, sliding her fingers between them. But I can’t see anything with her lying like that. I need to be between her legs.
I shake my head. “Turn this way. Or let me come over there. I can’t see.”
At first I think she’s going to object, but then she nods again, moving herself so she’s diagonal on the bed, and I edge over, between her feet. “Perfect,” I breathe.
Her sweet pussy is spread before me, her fingers running up and down, sinking inside her, then sliding up to circle her clit. “Yeah, baby. That’s it. Show me what you like.”
I babble encouragements, so turned on that I’m barely aware of what I’m saying, just realizing that the more I talk, the more dirty things I say, the more she relaxes into it, frigging her clit with her fingers, her breath picking up.
My own hand starts moving faster, and my hips press forward so I’m fucking my fist.
I have to force myself to back off, giving the head a good squeeze to get myself back under control, because this is one of the hottest things I’ve ever done, and I’m not ready for it to end.
Chapter Fifteen
Lauren
Holy shit. I can’t believe I’m doing this. That thought runs through my head on a loop.
The other thing that’s phasing with it is, This is so fucking hot.
Brendan’s muttering dirty things as I touch myself. Things like, “Fuck, baby, fuck your tight little hole with those fingers. Yeah, babe, like that. Goddamn that’s hot. Fuck. You make me so hot. I’m gonna come soon. I don’t want this to end, but I don’t think I can hold off much longer. I’m gonna come all over you. I’m gonna mark you, and you’ll be mine.”
I’d be worried about that last bit, except that he’s clearly out of his mind with lust. And even though he’s telling me what to do, everything he says matches what I’m already doing. And it’s so fucking hot that I’m about to explode myself.
Focusing on my clit with one hand and pinching my nipple with the other, Brendan’s dirty talk is a constant soundtrack that pushes me over the edge. “Fuck. I wanna pinch that nipple. I wanna suck it and bite it and fuck. Oh fuck. You look so hot when you come. I’m gonna blow. I’m gonna come all over your belly.”
And then he edges closer, jets of warm come splattering all over my belly, some of it hitting my arm. I’d be grossed out, except that was so fucking hot, and I’m blissed out coming off my own orgasm.
We stay there, frozen, staring at each other, both of us breathing hard, one hand still glued between my legs and the other on my breast. Brendan’s still holding himself, his eyes roaming my naked body, working their way up to my face.
Clearing his throat, he edges back off the bed, seeming a little unsteady at first, but he straightens his legs. “Uh, hang on. I’ll …” He clears his throat again and ducks his head, moving toward the bathroom.
Slowly I pull my hand from between my thighs, straightening my legs, feeling suddenly self-conscious, like I need to cover up.
But I can’t figure out where to put my right hand. My belly’s covered in come, I’ve got some on my arm, and if I move it’ll drip everywhere.
Brendan saves me from trying to figure out how to extract myself by returning with a wet washcloth. It’s warm as he uses it to clean me off, and I watch his profile, the look of concentration. And I don’t miss the way he never meets my eyes, even as he gets the stray splatter from my arm.
Once I’m cleaned up, he disappears into the bathroom again, the water running as he rinses out the washcloth. I’m not sure what to do with myself. Do I get dressed? Just get under the covers?
I sit up, trying to figure out the best course of action, and that’s how I am when Brendan comes back into the room. He stops at the foot of the bed, his eyes flicking over me again, then he bends and picks up his pajama pants. I guess there’s my answer about getting dressed.
I reach for my discarded tank top first, pausing as I pull it over my head when he clears his throat again.
“Are you getting a cold?”
He looks up at me, surprise on his face. “What?”
“You keep clearing your throat. Are you getting sick?” Maybe that’s why he’ll come all over me but hasn’t even acted like he wants to kiss me.
He shakes his head, straightening the waistband of his pants. “I don’t think so.”
Standing, I pull on my own pants. Brendan climbs into bed, pulling the covers up again, barely glancing at me as he reaches for the lamp. “Get in bed,” he says, his voice suddenly gruff. “We should get some rest if we’re going to get back on the road tomorrow. It’s still a long way to New York.”
“Right.” I hate that my voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. But I pretend like everything’s normal and that I’m not dying inside.
He waits till I climb back under the covers to turn off the light, curling onto my side, my back to him once more. Tears sting my eyes, but I fight them back. I don’t want him to hear me crying. And I no longer trust his silent stillness as sleep.
I revert to my old habit of reciting poems in my head that I memorized in high school for a speech competition to help me get to sleep. It’s soothing, familiar, and gives me something to focus on besides what just happened with Brendan. And the way he soundly rejected me immediately after. And how awkward the rest of this trip is going to be.
Like he said. It’s a long way to New York. Though I’m not sure I want to finish the trip anymore.
Chapter Sixteen
Brendan
It takes me forever to get to sleep. Lying in the dark, I listen to Lauren settling into the bed, aware of the tension that’s found its way back in her body. She sniffles a few times. Is she crying? I hold my breath, listening for the telltale catch in her breathing, but it remains steady.
Maybe she’s coming down with something. Maybe that’s why she asked if I was getting sick.
Maybe I’m a complete and total dumbass.
I make a concerted effort not to groan out loud, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes. Because what the fuck is wrong with me?
I should’ve just gritted my teeth, let her finish by herself, waited for her to go to sleep, then gone into the bathroom to jerk off alone.
Instead, I demanded a show and gave her one in return.
And holy fuck, what a show it was.
But after, when I caught my breath, I realized what a huge mistake I’d made.
Because after watching her come like that, after marking her, I wanted her. Bad. More than before.
I couldn’t look at her face while I cleaned her off, because I wanted to taste her lips, and follow it up with every inch of her skin, then settle between her legs and make her come on my face. I wanted to be the one to make her shatter with pleasure.
Then make her come again while I pounded her deep inside, feeling the way she clenched around me like a vise.
Which has me stifling another groan, because I’m fucking hard again, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
After reliving every second of watching her masturbate, of doing the same for her, of how she got more into it the more filth spewed from my mouth, the way she flushed from tits to hair right before she came, the way her perfect pussy looked as she pleasured herself, I eventually drift to sleep.
I know I must have slept because Lauren moving quietly around the room wakes me up. Sitting up in bed, I rub my eyes. “What time i
s it?”
“Ten thirty.”
Her voice is tight and controlled. She’s packing her things, fussing with the plastic shopping bags, pulling the leftover snacks from last night out of one and wrapping her bikini in it before putting it in her bag.
Damn, that bikini. I wouldn’t mind seeing her in it again. Maybe we can stop for the night somewhere else tonight. Find a place with a pool. After we get back to the room, slowly tug on the strings and watch the tiny, wet pieces of fabric fall away, cupping her breast in my hand and rubbing my thumb across her nipple before bending to take it in my mouth …
Fuck.
I need to stop.
She won’t even look at me. No way is she going to let me touch her. Anywhere.
“We should probably get on the road soon.” My voice comes out gruffer than I meant it to.
All I get from her is a nod. She tosses the box of protein bars onto the bed next to me. “Check out’s at eleven. If you’re fast, you can take a shower.”
Leaving the box of protein bars, I grab clean clothes from my suitcase and head for the bathroom, taking a quick shower, not bothering to shave. Not like I need to make sure my face is smooth for any particular reason.
Once I’m done, we pack up and head out. The silence in the car is deafening. I open my mouth to say something, to try to make this better, knowing I’m the reason it’s all fucked up, but I can’t come up with anything.
What can I say, anyway?
Sorry I interrupted you flicking the bean and made you let me watch?
Sorry I came all over you, but you seemed into it at the time?
Somehow I don’t think either of those options would go over well, and nothing else is coming to me. Lauren’s not helping, either, with her face steadfastly pointed at the window.
Finally, I settle on, “Thanks for making me buy those boots last night. It made walking in the snow a lot easier.”
Overtones (Songs and Sonatas Book 6) Page 7