Changing Lanes (Highway 17 #1)

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Changing Lanes (Highway 17 #1) Page 7

by Leaona Luxx


  As soon as the door is securely locked, I drop my bags and pick her up. She throws her legs around me, and I pin her against the wall, taking her mouth with a fervent desire. Our tongues fight for space in the others mouth. She nips at my lip when I pull back, teasing her. Slowly, I work my way to her jaw, kissing and licking every inch.

  I suck and bite my way down her neck and over to her shoulder. Thrusting my hips into her, I wedge her to the wall, freeing my hands to rip the back of her dress apart. Pulling the front down over her breasts, leaving it mid-bicep to hold her arms down.

  I suck and nip at her until I reach her full breast, placing my mouth over it. Sucking hard, I flick the tip of my tongue over her hard nipple, swirling it over and over. She moans loudly giving me the courage to sink my teeth down, biting ever so slightly.

  Her legs tighten around my waist as I grind against her unyielding. Reaching under her dress, I tear the side of her panties, unveiling her pussy to me. Her dress around her arms and above her belly button, a sly grin breaks across my face. I could look at her like this every day.

  I run my thumb over her, spreading her wetness over her clit, giving it several rubs. Torrie bows her back, releasing a torrent of praises. I take the opportunity to work my pants down. Reaching between us, I palm my cock so I can run the head through her wet pussy, gliding it over her clit.

  She bucks from the wall, slipping perfectly that I impale her, fast and hard. Filling her completely, I suck her nipple into my mouth, encircling it with my lips. Her pussy pulses, pulling me impossibly deeper. Her core grips my cock, holding it deep.

  Taking her nipple with my teeth, I scissor it, to which her response is to quiver. Pumping her slowly, I work her pussy with every bump and grind my hips can deliver. Working us into a frenzied state in no time, our grunting is the only thing that can be heard over the slapping of our bodies.

  Her nipples add sweet friction to mine as I drive her into the wall with thrust after thrust. Torrie’s heels dig into my ass, and soon after my thighs begin to burn. Everything is forgotten when my balls slap against her ass. I run my tongue over her lips, and she surprises me when she fists my hair and presses our mouths together.

  The moment our tongues touch, we chase our climaxes together as I rest my forehead on hers. We don’t say a word; some things go beyond words. At this point, I’m not sure if she’s holding us up or I am. Honestly, I think it’s the wall.

  She straightens her legs as I pull away from her. Setting her on her feet, I steady her. Wobbling, we take the few steps to the bed, falling on it together. Laying there for an hour or so, we hold each other never saying a word.

  We have so many things we need to figure out. So much to still learn about each other. I want to know every dark corner of her mind, every hole in her heart so I can fill it with love. Love. Strange and beautiful word. Scares most. I’m beginning to learn what it means.

  Torrie snaps her eyes up to mine as if she remembered something important. Raising my eyebrows, I wait for her to tell me what it is she’s thought of. Her mouth pops open, then closes. She repeats the movement before she gasps and speaks.

  “We didn’t use a condom.” Her words reverberate in my ears. I close my eyes tightly trying to remember differently than she does.

  I open my eyes so she can see that I’m sincere. “I’m sorry, Torrie. I never meant to do that to you.”

  “Brannon, that’s not something completely up to you. I’m a big girl, I could’ve said stop at any time. And remember, I’m on Depo, so we’re covered.” She kisses me sweetly.

  “Nevertheless, I should take better care of you.” I kiss her back just as sweetly.

  “I can take care of myself, but thank you.” She kisses me again but longer.

  “I know you are capable of taking care of yourself, I just want to do it occasionally. So, I can puff my chest out, be all proud and shit.” Pressing my lips to hers, I linger until she giggles.

  “You trying to suffocate me?” She laughs again.

  “I can’t deny it, it’s crossed my mind a time or two.” Jumping her, I tickle her relentlessly.

  Breathless and exhausted, she gives up. “Okay, okay, okay. You can take care of me every Tuesday and Thursday. All day on Sunday, and we share responsibility on Saturday. Deal?” Wiggling her eyebrows, she grins.

  “Thank you. I won’t let you down,” I promise as I place my hand over my heart.

  She rolls me over, straddling me. Ain’t gonna lie, it’s a helluva a view. Her mouth on mine, we kiss slow and easy. Tasting each other, savoring every touch. Torrie places soft kisses on my chin, neck, and down my chest.

  She sucks on my nipple before reaching between her legs to grab my cock. Pumping it a few times, she strokes her pussy with it. Dragging it through her wetness and over her clit. Palming her breast, I steady her when she rises on her knees to adjust herself over my hard shaft.

  Unhurried, she lowers herself on me. Her pussy pulses around me, making me throb with want. Sinking lower until she takes me fully, her slow, torturous rhythm sends shock waves through my body. With every up and down, her pussy clinches, tightening on me as she swivels her hips.

  Our pace quickens as she rocks back and forth on me, and I begin to rub her clit when she thrusts forward. One last pass with my thumb, she’s screaming her release, and I follow her as I groan her name through mine.

  “Do you like soufflés?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure.” His eyes are big with wonder.

  “It’s a chocolate mousse,” I explain.

  “Sounds great. Is that what you want to make for Thanksgiving?” He leans over to look the recipe I have pulled up on my laptop.

  “Yes, what do you think?” Raising my eyebrows in question.

  “I think it looks delicious.” He smiles at me. “It’ll be perfect.”

  Early Wednesday morning, we grab our bags and leave for the airport. Brannon shows no surprise when a car and driver sits waiting for us when we land. He’s a little shocked with the traffic and none too pleased. Showing him the sights as we get closer to the city, we discuss coming back just for sightseeing.

  Brannon’s birthday is February ninth, maybe a trip for his big day or Valentine’s Day? Or both? He’s nervous, he won’t admit it, but he is. He’s twisted in his seat a hundred times. His poor tie may not make it another fifteen minutes. I giggle at the thought.

  “What is it? Is it me? What?” Oh, yeah. He’s primed.

  “It’s not you. You are adorable and handsome when you’re not fidgeting.” I pat his hand to help calm him.

  He pretends to pick lint off his pants. “I was going for manly and self-assured.”

  “That’s what I said, isn’t it? Confident, a man’s man.” His eyes snap to mine as we chuckle.

  “Pretty sure that was it. I’m nervous, sorry.” Giving me a tight smile, he does his best to look relaxed.

  “No reason to be nervous. It’s me he doesn’t approve of, babe.” I lean over and kiss him.

  JFK airport is thirty minutes from my home, but with traffic, it’s about an hour or maybe more. Naturally with the holiday, the highway is packed. The longer it takes us to get to my parents’ home, the antsier Brannon becomes.

  Crossing the Hudson, the landscape changes as the road becomes tree lined and sprawling homes set off the road behind gated communities. Greystone on Hudson is a majestic sight to see, only the elite live here. It’s ostentatious and pretentious.

  I know, I grew up here, but it’s my parents’ home. I’m not against being wealthy, and I’m not a do-gooder. I just have a strong belief that a home big enough for you and your loved ones is what you need. Nothing more. And how many homes and shelters could the extra money build to help people?

  My father would say I’m being absurd. He thinks the charity works he allows the company to help with absolves him from doing more. That the money he earns should be used for family, only family. He hasn’t even made provisions for charity if he should pass away.

/>   What good is it to accumulate such grandeur, if you are not willing to fight the good fight? Brannon has no clue. He honestly thinks he needs to impress my father, to show him he’s a good man. Personally, from what I’ve learned over the last three months about Brannon, my father has some catching up to do.

  When Brannon let’s go of my hand, I look up to realize we are at the gates of my home. His eyes are bugging out of his head with his mouth hanging open. The broad, paved drive leads us to the grand house sitting just beyond the trees.

  We circle the drive, coming to a stop at the entrance. The almost twenty thousand square foot home sits on two and a half acres about thirteen miles outside of Manhattan. Nine bedrooms and eleven baths are over the top for a family of three.

  My father argued the extra room would be nice for out of town guest, then he added a second kitchen on for parties. I must admit, the loft library is my favorite place in the entire house. The cozy couch sits on an elevated platform and makes for an amazing reading nook. I’d squirrel away up there for hours every day while my parents’ do what they do.

  “It’s going to be fine.” I squeeze his hand as we walk up the front steps.

  “I’m with you no matter what.” He offers a tight smile. God love his heart, he knows he’s facing the firing squad and yet, he marches on.

  “After you,” Brannon says as he holds the door open for me.

  “Thank you.” I wink at him.

  Walking into the black and white grand entrance makes quite a statement; I’m too rich for my own good would be my choice. I look toward the curving stairway for signs of life, but I see no one. Welcome home, baby. Not a soul in sight on the balconies either.

  It’s then I notice Brannon isn’t by my side. I turn to find him standing by the doors with our luggage. His hands crossed in front of him as he checks out his surroundings. He’s tightened his tie so much so the Windsor knot looks like he’s tied a knot to hang himself by.

  I walk over to him and loosen his tie, retying the Windsor knot. “Are you trying to hang yourself already?” I giggle at the look on his face.

  “Maybe.” He eyes me carefully as he fidgets nervously.

  “You’re amazing, you’ll be fine.” I place my hand on his chest, and he grasps my fingers within his.

  “Let’s not fool ourselves, you’re the amazing part of this duo.” He grins as I smile reassuringly, and so many words are exchanged with our eyes—support, understanding, faith and love. I’ve seen it a few times in his eyes but passed it off as adoration. I return the same tenderness.

  Our moment is interrupted by a deep, ‘ahem’. My spine stiffens, and I turn to find my father watching us. Winston Harrington stands tall, dressed in his suit and tie, his now gray hair slicked back all over his head. His blue eyes appraising Brannon, sizing him up. I really don’t want to know his thoughts. But the look on his face tells me I’ll be hearing it. Damn it. How could I let him catch such a personal moment?

  Weakness. My father looks for it in every endeavor. He hunts down your weakest point and eats you whole. Crushing you with your most fragile possession, the thing that means the most to you. He will break the very essence of your being just to remind you where you can be found on the food chain.

  “Father. It’s good to see you. How have you been?” Greeting him with a handshake, I wait for his response.

  Scowling across the room at Brannon, he challenges, “Your friend? It’s a man.”

  “Yes, he’s a man. I told you and mother I was bringing a male friend home for a few days.” Stepping away from him, I feel a warmth beside me suddenly. My eyes dart to where Brannon now stands.

  “Mr. Harrington, it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Brannon holds his hand out, though my father never acknowledges it.

  Father continues to stare at Brannon, who refuses to look anywhere else. “I’m sure. Torrence, how long will our guest be staying?”

  “Thursday evening. We’re traveling to visit his mother for the remainder of the holiday.” Neither men look away or at me, scrutinizing each other.

  “Torrie, it’s so good to have you home, darling.” My mother breezes in with her easy way and bright smile. Her blonde hair is piled high on her head, making her petite body look a tad bit taller than her five-feet-four-inch height. She hugs me tightly before moving to Brannon. “Brannon, I’m pleased to meet you.” She holds his hand a little longer than what’s appropriate. Her silent encouragement.

  “Mrs. Harrington. I’ve heard so much about you, it’s a pleasure.” Brannon caresses my mother’s hand, flashing her his drop dead smile with his southern country drawl. I think she swoons.

  “I must say, I don’t think Torrie’s description did you justice.” She pats his hand.

  “Most men can’t compare,” I add before shooting him an approving glance. My mother is smitten with him, I understand the appeal. Brannon’s all swagger but not boastful, he’s a perfect blend of cocky and sweet.

  My father interrupts, “We shall see. Let’s freshen up for dinner.”

  I show Brannon upstairs to our separate rooms. My father pulled me to the side as Brannon grabbed our bags to inform me, I was not to sleep with that boy under his roof. Adding before he left, I should grateful he didn’t throw him out. Daddy dearest at his best.

  Brannon is such a great man, he acts as if there’s not a problem in the world. He smiles sweetly and continues to do as I ask, no matter what it is. After hanging my clothes, I decide to wear my father’s favorite color, blue. A dress my mother bought me to celebrate his birthday last year. I made sure Brannon had a matching tie.

  I shoot him a quick message to let him know that I’ll be ready in twenty minutes and to wear the blue tie. He sends me thumbs up and a winking emoji in return. He’s nervous as hell, but it’s so adorable. I pile my hair up, leaving a few pieces hanging loose. Sliding into my silver heels, I walk out my door.

  Brannon stands across the hall, leaning against the wall. His hands are laced in front of him, his legs crossed. Whatever he’s thinking evaporates when he raises his head at the sound of my door closing. His face radiates, and his smile is so wide.

  “What?” I ask shyly, appraising my dress as I spin from side to side.

  “You’re beautiful.” He pushes away from the wall, kissing me on the cheek before placing his hand on the small of my back. “I’m thankful for you, Torrence. Know that,” he whispers in my ear before we descend the stairs.

  “Thank you.” I squeeze his hand before we separate.

  We’re met at the bottom by our butler who then escorts us to the dining room. Never have I been met by Wayne, even during parties. My father is trying to intimidate Brannon. I’ll be damned if he does. I decided on Monday to tell my mother about Brannon and what he’s becoming to me. I guess it’s time I tell my father.

  “Torrie, I adore the blue on you, sweetheart, good choice. Brannon, nice touch on the matching neck tie.” Mother gives Brannon a boost of confidence.

  “Thank you. Torrie suggested it.” Brannon straightens it before pulling my chair out.

  “I’m sure she did. Did she also purchase it?” my father hurls at him. He’s doing his damnedest to make Brannon angry. Brannon doesn’t bite.

  Snapping at the rude remark, I retort, “No, I did not. It’s his neck tie, Father.”

  Brannon leans in to get a better look at my dad. “It’s the tie I wore to my dad’s services. I thought it would be suitable for our first meeting.”

  “Maybe thinking isn’t your best attribute.” Jerking my head around to my father, I glare at him, but Brannon handles it well.

  “Maybe so, sir. But I made the trip anyway. The necktie is important to me, so is this trip.” Brannon stares my father down, and chills run up my arm at the sudden tension swirling the air. I’ve never seen anything like it. Someone standing up to my father.

  “Dinner is here. I hope you like lamb, Brannon, it’s our chef’s specialty.” My mother keeps trying to save this, but I’m more than rea
dy to leave.

  “It’s perfect, ma’am. My momma makes an incredible jelly with hers,” Brannon replies.

  I’ve never been so humiliated as I am right now. The old parable, ‘silence is golden’ has never been truer. I’m thankful my father didn’t continue to insult Brannon; I don’t think I could’ve taken another minute.

  After dinner, I take Brannon to look around the grounds. The leaves on the outer edge of our property are picture perfect with their bright gold, red, and burnt orange hues. They crunch beneath our feet as we walk a path down to the Hudson.

  “Well, that was embarrassing,” I say as I shake my head.

  “Torrie, it wasn’t you and you can’t control him,” he offers as he tries to calm me.

  “Humiliating is a better word. He’s such a prick. I should’ve known. I’m sorry for putting you through this, I don’t deserve you.” I lean against his shoulder as we walk.

  “There’ll be none of that, you always forget how incredible you are, Torrie. Don’t let him rob you of your brilliance.” He turns his head, kissing me on mine.

  “Thank you. I don’t know how you withstood his harsh words.” Brannon truly leaves me in awe. I’ve seen him angry but never enough to lose control. His maturity is sometimes beyond the pale.

  “We need to be getting back, it’s getting late,” he says as he turns us to the main house.

  “I’d prefer to keep walking to the airport.” We chuckle

  “Let’s stop in the library, maybe we can find a something to keep our minds busy.” I pull him toward the doors.

  “Sounds great besides, I’d follow you anywhere,” he says with a wink.

  “Bronte and Austen are my favorites, although I do love Thomas Hardy,” I tell him as we browse the shelves.

  “Mary Shelley blew my mind when I was ten, and I’ve never looked back,” Brannon says. “Not to be cliché but Poe and Steven King. I know, such guy reads.” He laughs.

  “I love them also.” I smile.

  I wish I could say I was surprised when we make our way to the stairs and my father appears. Startling me, my father calls my name, “Torrence. My office, now.” He turns on his heel and exits the foyer.

 

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