by Niki Green
Chapter Fifteen
Brent took a second to calm his breathing and control the lust driving his body. He wanted nothing more than to rid her of the little scrap of material she wore as panties. The white against her tanned flesh was intoxicating enough. When you added in her legs, her lips and her mouth she had the whole package.
When she’d sucked him into her mouth it had taken all of his control to keep from coming. He wanted to—what man wouldn’t? But not yet. First he was going to see if she tasted as good as he remembered. He wanted to see if she tasted just as sweet as she did in his dreams.
Placing a hand on each of her hips, he pulled her farther down into the softness of the couch. With her back flat and her legs wide there was no stopping him from licking and tasting to his heart’s content. His hands played along the lines of her legs and caused goose bumps to form beneath his fingertips.
He inched back, moving his body away from the junction of her thighs. When his fingers reached for the lacy band just below her bellybutton she stopped him. Moving his hands away, she let hers take their place. She slowly moved the material down her legs and let the lacy scrap fall to the floor beside them. While she stripped for him he was awestruck by the perfection of her body.
Toned, honey-tanned legs, lean waist, flared hips and more. Brent’s eyes traveled her body until they landed where he wanted his mouth to be. Her pussy was bare, devoid of hair, and he could see her glistening softness begging for his touch. He gave the lady what she wanted.
Bending at the waist, he let his tongue travel and trail the slick line of her pussy lips. Her hips bucked against his mouth, making him smile into her flesh. His tongue glided farther and farther until he found the center of her heat. God, she tasted sweet. Honey. That’s all he could think. She was just like honey.
Brent brought his hands to rest on the insides of her thighs and gently pushed them apart. The action caused her to open completely for him. His breath hitched and his cock begged to be closer. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet.
With an open mouth and utter enthusiasm, he licked and lapped at her. The grinding motion she was making with her hips brought her closer to his seeking mouth and then farther away. His thumbs rested on each side of her opening and he separated the folds and brought his tongue against her. She moaned—deep and low. Her hips thrust toward him and he let them. He savored her delectable taste.
He loved to feel her hands in his hair, pulling his face, mouth and tongue closer to her silky warmth. With one hand, he held her open for his mouth while the other made its way to her breasts. He found her nipples with ease, especially in their hard, puckered state. He rolled one between his fingers and plucked gently. Her breath caught in her throat and then she moaned and he did as well.
He found the peak of her second nipple. It was as hard as the first, and he rolled it with precision. As he worked her nipple into a harder bud, he bathed her pussy with long, slow strokes. Her hips were becoming erratic and forceful. She pulled at his hair, scraped at his bare back, and tried pulling him to her with her legs.
He lifted his body from its bent position and watched as his fingers took his tongue’s place. He flirted with her clit, rubbing the tip of his finger over it several times before descending lower. When he found her entrance, Brent slid one finger fully into her body. God, she was tight. He slid his finger back and then added a second.
It wasn’t right. She couldn’t be this hot, this wet, this fucking tight. He wouldn’t make it a full minute inside of her. Catching sight of his cock begging and pleading to be closer, to be surrounded, he gave in to temptation. Keeping his fingers deep within her, working her, stretching her, making her pleasure mount, he reached for the billfold in his back pocket.
He flipped it open with one hand and removed the foil packet from the slot on the side. Brent increased his thrusts with his fingers while ripping the package with his teeth. With practiced patience and precision, he placed the condom on the end of his straining cock. He rolled the latex over his flesh and caused a stream of pleasure to rise in him. Nope, he wasn’t going to last long.
He eased his fingers from her body and moved to place his hard thighs in between her soft ones.
Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds before both sets became fixated on the point that would soon join them. Brent took his cock in his hand, ran it up and down against her and then slowly, so fucking slowly, slid into place.
“Fuck!” He groaned. Too tight. She would squeeze him to death before this was over. He eased slowly away from her, allowing her body to stretch and soften around him. He gritted his teeth and he joined their bodies once again. Halfway to heaven.
“Look at me.” Her glassy, glossy eyes met his. Perfect. “Watch me. Watch me make you come, Peyton. Watch me.”
He let his gaze travel down. Seeing the picture their joined bodies created broke his control. Thrusting with force, he planted himself to the hilt inside of her. She moaned and he felt her legs trap his waist. He found his rhythm, which wasn’t hard to do because Peyton was more than willing to help set their pace.
When he withdrew she arched to him. When he plunged deep she brought her hips up, meeting him in the middle.
He stiffened his arms, lifted his body and let go, taking her with full force. He pumped and thrust with all his might and felt his balls draw tight beneath his cream-covered cock. The faster he stroked, the harder he hammered, the more she moaned.
“More,” she panted, her nails dragging lines into his forearms. Brent gave her more. They went at each other with hunger. As much as Brent wanted to watch, he couldn’t. He couldn’t because he needed to kiss her. He needed to thrust his tongue deep in her mouth just as he was thrusting his dick deep inside of her.
He surrendered to his need and captured her mouth, tearing at her with his tongue and his lips.
Sweet. So sweet.
Those where his last thoughts. Peyton clenched around him, sank her nails into his shoulders and screamed and moaned and groaned as she came. And she kept coming. Brent felt her muscles jump and tremble around him. It was his undoing. Locking their mouths together, he increased his tempo, drove himself deeper until he felt the orgasm begin deep inside of his soul.
He came in heavy and long spurts and his arms, legs and whole body shook at his release.
Exhausted and satisfied, he let his body relax against hers. Even though they were finished, both of them sated, his lips still traveled across hers. She returned every other kiss. Her breathing was as labored as his was and the smile that creased her face was limp and lazy. The smile of a happy woman.
He wanted to stay as they lay forever, but that wasn’t possible. With more regret than he should have had, he pulled away from her and stood up from the couch. He hitched the jeans he still wore to his hips and covered his semi-hard flesh as much as he could. Walking toward the kitchen, he sucked in a giant breath. He let the air fill his lungs and relax his muscles. When he grasped his cock to dispose of the condom, he realized he was still more hard than not.
He couldn’t get enough.
He couldn’t get enough of her.
As he walked back to the living room he found Peyton pulling the soft cotton gown over her head. His voice must have startled her because she jumped when he spoke.
“You’re not going to need that.” Embarrassed by her nakedness she blushed a light pink color.
“I’m not?”
“We’re not finished. Not by a long shot.” His made his way over to her and wrapped her in his arms. She opened her mouth to speak but didn’t. Taking her by the hand he led her to her room.
Inside, he watched her move to the bed first while he worked to remove his boots. Toeing each of them off as he walked to the edge of the bed didn’t take a lot of effort. Once at the bed, he pushed the jeans resting against his hips to the floor along with his socks. From the corner of his eye he saw Peyton watching him from the far side of her bed. The comforter had changed as well as the wall color, but th
e room and its furnishing were the same as the last time he had been here.
He quirked a finger in her direction and beckoned for her to come to him. She did without pause. His lips found hers without any trouble. One kiss after another, he drank from her swollen mouth. He lifted his head briefly and saw the light from the bedside lamp reflected in her eyes.
Gorgeous.
“Now, let’s see how this bed feels.” He pushed her back onto the comforter and covered her body with his before she could speak or think. He liked her like this. Soft, sweet and willing. Of course, he kept the knowledge of who he was in bed with at the back of his mind.
“Peyton?” He lowered his voice as her name drifted from his mouth.
“Brent?”
He liked that. He liked the way her voice wrapped around his name. “I like that,” he admitted, and it earned him a smile from her.
“What?”
His teeth found that sweet spot at the side of her neck where her pulse began to beat heavily once again as she spoke. He nipped with his teeth and heard her moan once more before answering. “The way my name sounds coming from your lips.”
“Brent,” she whispered. “Brent.” With the last syllable out, he took her lips and then took her body well into the night.
Chapter Sixteen
Peyton stirred from her sleep hours before the sun even decided to come up. She tried to stretch and realized that a heavy hand rested across her stomach. That hand connected to an arm and that arm to a body—Brent’s body. He lay beside her, sleeping on his side with her body pulled close to his.
He was warm and his even and slow breathing caused a drowsiness to fall over her mind, body and soul. She turned her head slowly and quietly and studied him. In his sleeping state he didn’t look as harsh as he usually did. To most people, Brent was standoffish and not the easiest to get to know or to get close to, but she knew better. Brent was Brent. No, he wasn’t as kind hearted as Nick, or as boyishly charming as Jace or Hayden, or as friendly as they came like Chase. Brent was something entirely different.
She used to relish in the fact that she knew him—really knew him. She knew that he liked sitting at home watching movies cuddled together on the couch as much as he liked going out and raising hell. She knew that when asleep, his body was never far from hers. She also knew that the Brent she knew was totally different from the one most everyone else knew.
She tried to resist her next move, but found it impossible. Without waking him, she turned in his arms so that they were face to face, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. She missed this. She missed waking up in his arms. She missed the ease of lying beside him for hours before he woke up, listening and feeling him breathe. She missed the morning sex. She and Carter—
The second she thought of Carter a brief morsel of guilt did rise in her bones. She and Carter had never lain in each other’s arms for hours on end. She and Carter had never held each other all night long because neither one could stand to be away from the other’s touch. She had been faithful to Carter the entire length of their courtship and engagement, physically, but in her heart and in her mind she had cheated a million times.
That hadn’t been fair to Carter, but it hadn’t been fair to her either. After being alone and left to worry and wonder longer than she liked, about Carter and his whereabouts and his doings, she needed someone to hold her. To comfort her. To show her that they cared. She should have stopped at that.
She should have never let her mind or her feelings travel any further, but they had. They had wandered to the what-ifs in life. What if Brent was around on a permanent basis? What if Brent was lying beside her every morning when she woke up? What if it was Brent she came home to? What if it were Brent she was planning to marry instead of someone else? Instead of his best friend?
Carter hadn’t deserved her unfaithfulness, real or not, but she didn’t deserve his disregard for her either. But still, two wrongs never made a right. Carter had been there when Brent hadn’t been. Carter had been there when Brent had shut her out. He had offered her his comfort, his caring and his love. He had offered her all of the things Brent had offered her once upon a time.
Once upon a time before her life had changed in a flash. She and Brent had ended over a stupid fight and the stupid words tossed about during that stupid fight. Feelings had been hurt and ties had been broken, along with Peyton’s heart. Carter had picked up the pieces—he just hadn’t known how to put them back together.
Peyton had wondered more than once in the last few years if Carter had asked her to marry him out of some misplaced sense of honor. She, Brent and Carter had been friends long before there was ever a “she and Brent” and even longer before there was a “she and Carter”.
Carter had taken her on her first car date. Brent had escorted her during the homecoming festivities her sophomore year, it had been his and Carter’s senior.
Carter had given her her first kiss, a kiss she’d thought she would never receive thanks to Murphy and Reed and their ever-present meddling ways. It had been a silly little peck on the lips under the mistletoe one Christmas, but it was a kiss nonetheless. It had been Brent who had taken her virginity the summer before she’d gone away to college, and when she had come back they had picked up right where they’d left off. Carter had always been around as the prominent best friend and third wheel on date night or any other night.
It wasn’t until years later that she ever looked at Carter in a different light. Carter was handsome—there was no doubt about that. He had that lanky cowboy build with sun-streaked blond hair and laughing blue eyes. He was lean and muscular and could hold his own against everyone, except for Brent.
Her and Carter’s relationship and Carter’s loyalty toward her had caused a rift between Brent and him. That rift had opened up the door to dating, and dating had led to the engagement, and that now-broken engagement had led to Peyton’s present condition—wrapped in the arms of one Brent Kiel.
She didn’t want this to end. She didn’t want Brent to walk out of her life as easily as he had the first time. She wanted him to stay. She wanted to tell him about her and Carter and how they weren’t technically together anymore. She needed to be honest with someone she loved—and she did love him. She had always loved him and always would. She wasn’t shocked by her heart’s true feelings. She had always known where they truly belonged—they belonged with Brent.
Brent who lay beside her.
Brent who held her so tightly in his grip.
Brent who had made love to her more than once, with the knowledge that she had a fiancé—as far as he knew. Why had he done it? Did he really want her or did he want to show her he could have her no matter what and no matter when? Did he honest to goodness want to be in her bed or was this some fucked-up plan for revenge?
“It’s too early to be thinking so hard.”
Peyton blinked a few times, refocused her eyes and saw that Brent was awake and watching her. How long had he been awake and how long had he been watching her turn over the last few thoughts in her head?
“Good morning.” What else could she say to the man she thought might be using her for one reason or another? Silently, she prayed that was not why he was still in bed with her. Pity would have been better. She could deal with his pity, but not his need to boost his ego by using her.
“Barely. What time is it?” When he asked his question he also pulled Peyton closer to him. She realized he must have been awake for a little while judging from the erection brushing her belly and sending chills through her body—a body still exhausted and a little sore from their lovemaking the previous night. Was it lovemaking? That was the second time in a span of a few minutes where she’d thought of their actions as lovemaking or making love instead of just sex.
“Almost four.” She didn’t have to move to see the time. The clock on the chest of drawers across the room could be seen from where she lay. “Did you sleep well?” It was a stupid question, but it was the only one that came to mind.
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br /> “I must have. I don’t even remember falling asleep.”
Neither did she. All she knew was that when she finally did fall into her dreamless sleep, she had been wrapped in Brent’s strong arms.
“I need to be going in a little while.”
Peyton knew he would have to leave sooner or later. He had to be at home and in the house before anyone else was up and moving and before any questions could be asked about where and with whom he had spent his night. Peyton wondered if he had devised his escape plan before coming over last night.
She started to move from her comfy spot in the bed and in his arms, but something stopped her. He stopped her. Brent’s arm had tightened on her waist the second her body had budged an inch.
“I didn’t say I was leaving yet, just in a little while.” As he spoke, he rolled until he rested in between her thighs. Peyton was shocked that her legs moved to accept his body without a thought from her.
She watched as he wrestled with the sheet that had wrapped around him as he rolled. When he had removed the only barrier blocking his skin from hers, she stifled the moan she felt rising inside of her.
“Are you sore?” he asked as he kissed one cheek then her jaw and then the other cheek.
“No.” She lied a bit, but she wasn’t about to stop what was sure to happen.
“You’re lying,” he said with a smile before he grazed her lips.
“Does it matter?” She returned his gesture with her own fleeting kiss.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” Peyton moved her thighs farther apart and moved her body so that the thick crest of his cock rested at her entrance. She was wet and she saw his breathing change when he realized it as well. She disgusted herself. Two seconds ago she was twirling the thoughts of knocking his block off for using her body for sex and now that same body and mind were melting with his touch.