“It means,” Maddy clarified, “that I take it he didn’t agree to your offer.”
Alex slow-blinked at her. “If by not agreeing to my offer you mean nearly swallowing his tongue and now refusing to talk to me, then yup.”
“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” Maddy speculated. “Nearly swallowin’ his tongue and refusin’ to talk to you isn’t a no.”
“It might as well be.” Alex’s expression was sullen. “I think he’s just too much of a good guy to reject me straight out, so he’s falling back on his patented Mute Mason act.”
Maddy didn’t know what to say to that so she kept her mouth shut.
Alex frowned at her. “So maybe his act isn’t so patented after all because you’re doing a fairly good job of it yourself.”
“Alex—”
“But enough about me.” Alex waved her off again. “Let’s talk more about you.”
Maddy was instantly wary. “What about me?”
“Would you categorize this thing you have with Bran as a love thing that turned into a lust thing or vice versa?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Would you”—Alex lifted her voice above the wind blowing over the deck—“categorize this thing you have with—”
“I heard you.” Maddy cut her off, looking around at the two crewmen who were across the deck checking some sort of rigging. “I’m just not sure I understand the question.”
“Oh”—Alex nodded—“right. So, during the wait for the Coast Guard to arrive, Mason and I were talking about you and Bran.”
Maddy’s wariness increased. “Um…why?”
“Common ground, I guess.” Alex shrugged as if the reason was inconsequential. “Something he would actually open his mouth and discuss. Anyway, I want you to settle an argument we had.” Alex reached up to pull out a lock of hair that was stuck in her mouth. The cutter was moving at a pretty good clip now, and Maddy grabbed the railing to brace herself when a larger-than-usual wave caused the ship to list.
Alex stumbled and steadied herself without so much as a break in conversation. “See, Mason said that when two people meet, three things can happen.” She raised her voice to be heard over the wind and waves. “Lust can turn into love. Love can turn into lust. Or lust can just stay lust until it eventually fizzles out. So, which it is for you and Bran? Love follows lust, or lust follows love?”
“I-I…” Maddy had to stop to clear her throat. Suddenly the sea was calling to her. Just jump in! Just jump in and escape the situation! But she’d never been one for the open ocean; it gave her the willies. So she looked around, hoping there was a hatch in the deck she could slip into.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know,” Alex said. “You were looking down the wrong end of a gun tonight. Which I’ve been told makes a person see things very clearly.”
It wasn’t a hatch that opened up. It was a door leading into the interior of the cutter.
“Maddy!” Bran called from the threshold. “Can I have a word with you?”
Oh, you wonderful man with your perfect timin’! “Be right there!” she hollered back.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to answer Alex’s question because it was super-duper personal. It was more that she didn’t want to answer because, the way Alex posed the question, it was like Alex thought it was a foregone conclusion that love was part of the Bran-Maddy equation.
And Maddy refused to do that math. She feared the solution would be too painful.
“Go on then,” Alex said when she turned back. “Let Bran dip his doodle.”
Maddy lifted a brow, glad the wind was cool enough to wick away the heat spreading across her cheeks. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before.”
“Dunk his dingus?” Alex grinned.
Now Maddy was the one nearly swallowing her tongue. “I think you’ve been livin’ on Wayfarer Island too long. You’ve picked up their bad habit of inventin’ ridiculous euphemisms.”
Alex gave her a shove. “At least one of us should get laid tonight.”
“I seriously doubt Bran—”
“And I seriously doubt you seriously doubt anything,” Alex cut in. “I mean, just look at his face. He’d have to be juggling sex toys and a bottle of lube to look hornier. Now go!”
This time when Alex gave her a shove, Maddy didn’t hesitate to cross the deck toward Bran. Mostly because she was terrified of what might come out of Alex’s mouth next. Bran quickly closed the door behind her, and the sound of the wind and the waves was replaced by the rhythmic hum of the cutter’s big engines. The stairwell they were standing in was painted bright white except for the metal treads that led down into the belly of the boat. Those had neon-yellow strips of antislip material running lengthwise across them.
When Bran reached into his pocket, he didn’t pull out a clutch of sex toys or a bottle of lube. But it was close. He yanked out a long strip of condoms. “Snagged these from the ship’s medic when he was redressing my wound. And the captain said Mason and I could bunk out in his private cabin for a few hours to rest and recuperate, but as luck would have it, Mason says he’s gonna hang out up on the bridge.” Bran was talking so fast, he could’ve given Alex a run for her money. “So what’d’ya say? Wanna join me in the captain’s quarters?”
“First of all”—Maddy held up a hand—“how is your wound? Are you in much pain?”
“Nah.” Bran shook his head. “The medic gave me a shot of antibiotics and a local anesthetic, so I’m feeling great.” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned his pirate smile.
And there he is, my modern-day marauder.
Except he wasn’t hers. Not after tonight. That void that had appeared inside her earlier was back, growing steadily until she wondered if she might tumble in and be consumed by it. She forced a smile and asked, “And second of all, a whole strip of condoms? Isn’t the ride to Key West less than three hours?”
“I’m an ambitious man,” he told her.
“Wow.” She shook her head. “That Alex is sharp as a tack.”
“Wha’d’ya mean?”
“Never mind,” she said. “So where’s this private bunk you speak of?”
“Follow me,” he said, leering at her before tromping down the stairs. His steps made bong-bong noises on the metal treads.
Why does that sound so familiar?
Oh, right. It’s the noise an empty heart makes when it beats.
The same noise her heart was making…
Chapter 22
11:36 p.m.…
“Why do I get the impression I’m bein’ stalked by a big, hungry beast?” Maddy said, spinning and pressing her back against the bulkhead.
The captain’s cabin was a tiny room just big enough to house a twin-size bed and one small desk. Not exactly what Bran would have wished for his first time with Maddy.
But beggars can’t be choosers.
“Probably ’cause you are,” he told her, unbuttoning his shorts and yanking down his zipper. He stepped out of his shorts and boxers and kicked them aside, then bent to unhook the knife and sheath from around his calf. Standing in front of her in nothing but the fresh bandage, he watched her eyes widen.
“Wow!” she said, catching her top lip between her teeth. His dick jumped at the sight, bobbing unabashedly in front of him. “I think you just set a land speed record for droppin’ trou.”
“Send my name to Guinness.” He stalked toward her. “I don’t have nearly enough time to do to you all the things I still wanna do to you. So I refuse to waste one single moment on the boring task of undressing.”
“Well, in that case…”
He stopped in his tracks when Maddy whipped her T-shirt over her head and unhooked her bra in one fell swoop. Her shorts and panties hit the floor a second later, and his tongue glued itself to the roof of his mouth.
What the hell
is that wheezing sound?
Then he realized it was him. The air was leaving his lungs like a couple of balloons with slow leaks because Maddy was, in a word, gorgeous. Pale skin and high, small breasts. A thin waist that flared to dramatically curvy hips.
And now his mouth was watering. Which was handy. It helped unstick his tongue.
“It’s lighter than I thought it’d be,” he said.
“What is?”
“Your pubic hair,” he told her and watched her brow furrow as she ducked her chin and glanced down at the little line of hair that created a landing strip above her plump, swollen lips. “I thought it’d be dark like your eyebrows. But it’s blond. Not quite as blond as your hair, but pretty close.”
“You’ve been thinkin’ about my pubic hair?” she asked incredulously. Then she raked in a startled breath when he closed the distance between them.
Her smooth belly welcomed the hardness of his shaft. Her tight nipples abraded the hair on his chest. Just as with any time they touched, a strong voltage seemed to crackle over his skin.
Warm. She was so damned warm. Soft. So unbearably soft. He wanted to make her warmer and softer still. Love her so long and so hard she became putty in his arms.
“I’ve been thinking about everything about you,” he admitted, then silenced whatever reply she might have made with a kiss.
* * *
11:37 p.m.…
Maddy moaned when Bran’s tongue speared deep. His hands were on her breasts, softly kneading, his fingers gently strumming. As for her hands? They were everywhere. His thick hair. His broad shoulders. His flexing back.
She wanted to touch all of him. Learn every single one of his textures. Hard and smooth. Rough and warm. The more she touched, the hotter he burned, the louder he growled, the more urgent his mouth became.
“Let me just…” He trailed off and worked a hand between her back and the wall, palming one globe of her ass and lifting her slightly so he could rub himself against her. “God, you’re soft,” he whispered, sliding his tongue into her ear as a drop of passion oozed from his tip and left a warm, slick spot above her belly button.
Between her thighs she was already wet. Ready. So ready. She’d been ready for months. Maybe she’d been ready for this, for him, her whole life.
“Bran,” she whispered against his scratchy cheek between wet, biting kisses along his jaw. “Please make lo—” She stopped herself before she could say Make love to me. Instead she finished with “Make this night somethin’ I’ll never forget.”
“Maddy, I—” He stopped himself too, and her heart clenched. She felt like something important, something portentous was dangling off the edge of his tongue.
“What?” she demanded. “What is it?”
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose near her temple, breathing her in. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
It wasn’t exactly what she expected to hear. Perhaps it wasn’t exactly what she hoped to hear. But it was still pretty darn good.
In Bran’s arms she felt beautiful. The way he held her, so gently yet so desperately. The way he kissed her, like he wanted to devour her whole. The way his big body shivered when she touched him.
Yes, with him she was beautiful.
“Please, Bran.” She reached between them to palm his hot, hard length, kissing his chin, delighting in the prickly stubble that tickled her lips. He groaned when she stroked his shaft. He was so thick she couldn’t close her fist around him. And his heavy veins pulsed against the pads of her fingers, keeping his member stiff and engorged. “You’re ready. I’m ready. I don’t want to wait anymore.”
It was all the invitation he needed. With a hungry moan, he picked her up and sat her atop the desk. Eep! The metal was cold against her bare bottom. Oh, heavens to Betsy, yes! His mouth was hot against her lips.
“Stay right there.” His voice was full of desire. “Don’t move an inch.”
The air inside the little room was warm and humid. A thin layer of sweat dampened his skin and made it glow with health and vigor.
And he calls me beautiful? He was the gorgeous one.
She had to curl her hands around the lip of the desk to keep from reaching for him when he backed away to grab his shorts and pull out the strip of condoms he’d stuffed in the pocket. Every move made his muscles ripple. He sported more than his fair share of scars, she noticed. Little badges of bravery. But they only seemed to highlight his perfect proportions. Tan skin, broad shoulders, and lean hips. Legs, chest, and belly lightly dusted with hair. He looked like he should grace the cover of a men’s fitness magazine.
A dirty men’s fitness magazine, she thought a bit giddily, watching him rip open a condom packet with his teeth.
There was no ignoring the column of male flesh jutting from between his thighs. It was long and thick, roped with veins, and so flushed with blood it was nearly purple. The glans was large and flaring and seemed to pulse when he fisted the condom down his length.
That part of him was gorgeous too. In a blatant, unabashedly male way.
Hell, even his testicles, large and heavy and pulled up tight beneath the thick base of his shaft were—
Whoa, Nelly. All thought fled her head because suddenly he was there. Standing between her spread thighs and using his thumb to bend himself toward her waiting entrance.
“Scoot to the very edge,” he instructed hoarsely, his eyes nearly black with passion.
She didn’t hesitate to comply, propping one heel on a drawer handle and the other on the seat of the chair sitting next to the desk.
“So soft and pretty,” he said, stroking his flaring head through her juices, coating himself and the latex covering him. He stopped for a moment to gently slap his plump glans against her throbbing clitoris before he finally—glory be and hallelujah!—disappeared the tiniest bit inside her.
“Lord, yesss,” she hissed, her body grabbing at him, sucking at him. Her hiss turned into a groan when he refused to stroke deeper. Frowning, she hooked her heels behind his ass to drag him closer. She needed to be filled. Stretched. Completed.
“Slow, Maddy,” he gritted between his teeth. “The first time only happens once. I wanna see it all. Experience it all. Watch, Maddy. Watch us.”
And despite her thundering heart and struggling lungs, she looked down to see him slowly, ever so slowly, impale her. His shaft looked huge between her thighs, deeply hued compared to her blushing pink.
Oh, Jesus, help me. She’d been with three men—which isn’t zero, no matter what he says—but nothing had prepared her for this. For him. Because she was rather small and he was rather large and—
Oh, oh, oh!
Inch by incredible inch he pressed deeper, spread her wider, filled her up until there was no part of her he wasn’t touching. And then, with a grunt and forceful jab against the resistance of her body, he seated himself to the hilt.
Holy hell, she’d done it. She’d taken all of him.
But just barely…
His hot head smashed against her cervix, making her belly feel full and achy. Her channel was stretched until the pleasure bordered on pain. She felt like she deserved a trophy. Or at least a high five.
“So tight,” Bran whispered, his chest heaving.
A drop of sweat rolled down the side of his tan neck, pooling in the hollow above his collarbone. She wanted to lean forward and lick it away, take a bit of his salty, male essence inside her. But she couldn’t move. She barely dared to breathe.
“Y’okay?” he asked, hooking a finger beneath her chin and forcing her to meet his eyes. They were sparkling and dark, half-lidded and lazy. Bedroom eyes. Hubba, hubba.
“J-just go s-slow at first,” she panted. “I need t-to—”
“Anything,” he whispered, catching her mouth in a blindingly sensual kiss. “Anything you wan
t, Maddy.”
And then he began to move.
Just a bit. Just a subtle stroke that slid his shaft an inch out and then back in. Maddy was suddenly aware of nerve endings she hadn’t known existed. All of her was touched by him, caressed by him, seemingly surrounded by him even though she was the one holding him inside.
“Again,” she said, opening her mouth wider for his kiss, opening her legs wider for his cock.
“As many times as you want,” he promised, stroking again. Again and again and again. Each one a little longer. Each one a little harder. Each one better than the one before until Maddy lost the ability to see. Lost the ability to hear. Lost the ability to do anything but feel the delicious friction he created with every retreat and advance, with every thrust and parry.
“Bran…” She said his name breathlessly over and over in cadence to the rhythm he set, meeting him stroke for stroke, their bodies slapping together as they strove for that ultimate pinnacle.
Sweat slicked their skin. Their breaths grew ragged. The tension increased. And Maddy had no idea how long he made love to her, driving her up, higher and higher. She just knew she wanted it to go on forever. But then he snaked a hand between their rocking bodies and used the rough pad of his thumb to press the bundle of nerves at the top of her sex, and her orgasm built to a fever pitch. It lit her up, burned her down. Her body flexed and flowered and readied itself for the inevitable.
“Yes, Maddy,” he encouraged. “Yes, babe. That’s it. Come for me. Come all around me.”
And Lord help her, she did. Her whole being disintegrated into an ecstasy unlike anything she’d ever known.
* * *
12:02 a.m.…
Bran had never seen anything as gorgeous as Maddy in the throes of rapture. Her head was thrown back, her pretty breasts upthrust, and her beautiful upside-down mouth open in a soundless scream. Her body gripped his, her inner muscles squeezing and contracting and fluttering along his length. It was exotic. Erotic. And at the same time so fundamental that he felt it not just in his cock, but in his bones. In the fabric of his soul.
Devil and the Deep (The Deep Six) Page 24