“Good girl,” Brent said.
She dared a look in his direction. He seemed too relaxed, his cocky grin too easy, for the experience she’d just had. Embarrassment still simmered, and tears threatened. Why did she want to cry?
“Now what?” she asked.
He stood, and she couldn’t miss the bulge beneath the fly of his jeans. Then the fire of arousal dimmed in his eyes, and she saw something else she couldn’t quite place. Regret?
He shook his head, and blew out a hard breath. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”
He gave her one last look before he stepped out the front door. “I think you deserve better than me, Tippy,” he said.
With that he strode out of her home. She screamed in frustration, beating the floor with her fists, giving in to a short lived temper tantrum. Of all the nerve! It’d be a cold day in hell before she allowed Brent inside her home again.
****
Brent climbed inside his SUV, and had to adjust his painful erection. Tippy, goddamn what she did to him. He drove down the street, forcing his wandering attention again and again to the street. He wanted her. He’d never wanted to drive his cock into a woman as bad as he did with Tippy. Her innocence mixed with an honest sensuality he’d never found in a woman.
And the way she came. Fuck.
He pulled up to his house, and walked inside his home. As soon as he shut the door, he unzipped and pulled out his cock. Still hard, he jerked off, his orgasm quick and intense with the memory of Tippy masturbating for him. Her power over a man like him was a wicked thing he couldn’t wrap his head around. He could find another woman to pursue, but he’d tired of casual flings. What he wanted was something more stable. Someone he could be open with when it came to his darker desires. He’d dated women who he’d been a bit rough with in bed, but never had he truly let himself go.
But could Tippy really take him if he let her see that side to his passion? Or would he scare her, or worse, traumatize her? Pain play was a turn on, but he’d never hurt someone who wasn’t complicit, and knew what they were getting into.
Tippy can handle it, a little voice in the back of his mind tried to convince him. Give her a chance, she’s a strong woman.
But how on earth could he approach her? Or, more importantly, should he approach her? He’d seen the tears in Tippy’s eyes tonight. He knew he’d pushed too hard because he couldn’t get past his own wants.
Brent blew out a frustrated breath, he needed to make this right. “Fuck.”
Chapter 5
The following day dragged by, and Tippy sulked inside her home, an unread romance novel laying open on her lap. She couldn’t get Brent out of her mind, and she hated herself for how often she’d hit her vibrator since he’d left her last night. Seriously, she had a major hang up, and she was in no way proud of it.
“I need a job,” she mumbled. “I need something else to keep me occupied.”
The insurance had paid up, and she had a decent savings account, until she figured out what she wanted to do next. The bookstore had been such a struggle from the very start, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to bite into the small business drama again. But if she didn’t do that, what else was there for her? She had an English degree, with it she could try other stuff, maybe editing or copywriting. Maybe she could teach? There were things out there for her to try, if only she felt motivated to give something new a shot. Nothing appealed to her except sitting inside her home, slowly becoming a shut-in.
Except for Brent. Brent appealed to her.
“Ugh.” She pitched the book on the coffee table. “How did I let this happen.”
By eight o’clock that night she was on her third slice of pizza when someone knocked on the door. Her heart leapt with hope. She wiped her fingers on a napkin, tightened her ponytail holder, and took a deep solidifying breath. She would not appear too eager. Another knock sounded as she walked to the door, and opened it.
“Hi,” Brent said in greeting.
“Hey yourself,” Tippy returned, hoping he wouldn’t notice the pink tint she knew would be in her cheeks.
“I’d like you to go out with me tonight.” It wasn’t a command, but nonetheless it rankled her after last night.
“Why?” she asked, lifting her chin, but unable to meet his steady gaze head on.
Brent’s amazing pecs expanded beneath the black t-shirt he wore as he took a deep breath—a mouth-watering site. “I think I owe you.”
She tilted her head. “Owe me what?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked then he dropped his gaze to the floor.
“Respect, Tippy. I’m not that high school jock anymore, and I want to prove it to you.”
She blinked, not expecting that answer.
“Let me grab my jacket.”
Afterwards, she followed him to his SUV.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he drove down her block.
“My place,” he replied.
Her heart banged against her ribs. “Oh,” she said, not sure what else to say.
“You wanted to know my intentions,” he said. “I’m going to show you my intentions tonight.”
Tippy took a deep, shuddering breath that filled her lungs, willing her body to stop trembling. She huddled against the passenger door, both thrilled and anxious. His house? Heck, what did she even know about Brent Kingston? High school run-ins didn’t count, neither did a few brief make-out sessions. Her usual introvert’s suspicion took hold. He could be a closet serial killer, using his job as preying grounds. She chewed the inside of her cheek, imagining him with a basement full of victims, rolling the image around in her brain. Then she grinned at her own wacky ideas. He was overbearing, yes, but she couldn’t imagine her city producing anything as interesting as a serial killer.
“Have you talked to that guy again?” he asked, dragging her out of her rambling thoughts.
She sat up straighter. “Who? Jason?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Good.”
She rolled her eyes. A snide comment hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she kept quiet. She needed to quit antagonizing him. What was the point?
“So what am I in for tonight?” she asked.
Brent made a low rumbling sound that sent a warm shiver up her spine. “You’ll see,” he said.
“I should warn you, I’m not great with surprises.”
“I think you’ll like this one.” He shot her his magical grin, then reached out, and squeezed her knee. His hand stayed put, and his thumb drew lazy circles on the outside of her knee, the action mimicking the way he’d worked her clit. Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard. Since when had a knee become an erogenous zone?
Tippy let out a nervous laugh. “You don’t have a bunch of women chained up in your basement, do you?”
He shot her a quick look. “What?”
She stared at his hand, the heat from it passing into her bloodstream. She might self-combust. “Nothing,” she said. “Ignore me, I read too much.”
“I actually read a lot too,” he said. “Someone told me in high school that literate men are sexy men.”
She blushed, remembering when she’d said those words.
“Mostly World War One stuff, though,” he continued on. “I always liked history the best in school.”
“I assumed you liked football the best,” she said.
He chuckled. “Yeah, well I knew early that I’d never make a career of it. Unlike some kids. I made other plans.”
“Like being a cop?” She peered at him in the dim lighting. His face was made up of shadows.
“I graduated college with a criminology degree, and applied to the force here. My uncle worked as a state trooper, until he retired. I’m hoping to move into what he did in a few years.”
The idea of anyone putting themselves in that much danger for a career boggled her mind. “Don’t you get scared?” she asked.
“It’s pretty quiet being a cop here. I know things are di
fferent when you’re a trooper, but I think I can handle it.”
“Why do you do it?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I can help people who need help.”
“And it’s not just a power trip?” She’d heard that some cops got off on the power thing.
He laughed. “You think I crave power?”
She blinked, staring at him. “Well, yeah.”
“Nah, I want discipline. In all things.”
Before she could think of a reply, they pulled into a driveway. He cut the engine, then reached over her, popping open the glove box. He produced a black object. It took a second for her to recognize it.
“Put this on,” he said, handing her the eye mask.
Her heart rate jumped, the game was on. Had she ever trusted someone enough to do this? Is it trust or is it sheer stupidity? Regardless, she felt she couldn’t back out now. She slipped the mask over her eyes and waited until Brent walked around his SUV to help her out. He took her hand, and led her toward the house she’d only just glimpsed. A modest ranch-style, much like her own.
He guided her through his front door and to a couch.
“Have a seat and leave the mask on. I’ll only be a minute.”
She took a shaky inhale, the room smelled of something delicious. Like chocolate and vanilla. Her stomach rumbled.
Then Brent returned, and he slipped the mask from her eyes. She gasped. The room was filled with lit candles. Before his lit fireplace lay a blanket, on it a picnic basket, and a bucket with a wine bottle, and two wine glasses.
“Wow,” she said. “You did all of this for me?”
“You didn’t think I could be romantic? What do you think?” he asked. He seemed nervous, reminding her of the boy he’d been when asking her to the prom. Perhaps she’d misjudged him back then.
“I think it’s amazing. No one has ever done anything like this for me before.”
The truth, a guy had never romanced her. She’d only gotten flowers three times her entire life, and two of those had been from her father.
Brent took her hand, taking time to kiss each of her fingers. He peered up into her eyes with his fathomless blue gaze. “You deserve this.”
Did she? And was this his ploy to take her virginity tonight like some big prize? The nagging suspicion quelled part of the excitement, especially since she was ready to hand it over, wrapped in a big bow.
“What smells so good?” she asked.
“Chocolate raspberry cake.” He gave her a rueful grin. “I can’t take credit for it, I bought it at the bakery. And the rest of the meal is curtesy of a local restaurant.”
He tugged her off the couch, and they both settled on the blanket facing one another. He pulled takeout containers out of the basket, and she realized it was mostly yummy looking finger foods. Dainty crackers with spreads, cheeses, fruits, and olives. And the cake was a thing of true glory when he produced it last. He held it up before her nose, letting her inhale its delectable aroma.
“Can we start with this?” she asked, salivating.
“No, we save the best for last,” Brent replied with an indulgent smile.
Though she had a tummy full of pepperoni pizza, she dug into the food, surprised at her own appetite. “Amazing,” she mumbled over a bite. “And amazing I can be bought so easily with food.”
Brent chuckled. “I’m glad I chose well.”
He poured her a glass of white wine. She sipped it, before downing more of the topped crackers. A lady would at least pace herself, but she was bad with eating her feelings. And her nerves were strung tight and ready to snap. They talked of light topics: college life, jobs, and other silly things that didn’t address the dancing gorilla in the room. What exactly would happen after they’d finished eating? Tippy finished her glass of wine, then took another that Brent offered her, deciding to nurse it. Becoming tipsy and falling fast asleep would be pretty pathetic. Tonight was not the night to follow the routine of her typical lonely Saturday evenings.
When they made it to dessert, the cake was absolutely divine. Luscious, sweet, and creamy, she savored every morsel of her slice. Brent watched her closely as she licked her fork, moaning with the sheer chocolate-induced pleasure.
“Thank you,” she said. “The meal was wonderful.”
He reached out, and stroked his thumb under her bottom lip. “You had a little raspberry sauce here.”
The unexpected touch sent a thrill through her. She let out a shaky breath. The meal was finished. Her gaze flitted about the room, too nervous to rest on Brent for more than a few seconds. His eyes twinkled in the candlelight, and his face held a drawn expression.
This Brent was so different than the Brent she’d dealt with the past couple of weeks. She felt like she was dealing with a stranger. And she’d always been terribly shy around strangers when they weren’t customers in her bookstore. Her gaze at last settled on her hands, clenched tight on her lap.
“Are you okay?” Brent asked, his voice sounding loud in the cozy living room.
“I-I guess I don’t know what to expect next. You’ve done a one-eighty on me. I never would’ve imagined you’d have this side to you.”
“I have more than one side to me.” He reached out and took her hand. “And all those sides are completely smitten by you.”
Butterflies exploded in her belly. He captured her gaze, not allowing her to look away.
“Smitten?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “Are you a closet romance novel reader?”
His broad smile warmed her. “I can’t say I’ve ever read one. Are you a fan?”
“Yes,” she admitted then felt foolish for it. Surely he’d judge. Not that it mattered, she reminded herself. But it does matter. Brent matters. She swallowed at the thought.
He didn’t bat an eye at her admission. He stood up, pulling her with him. His knuckles brushed her cheek, and she closed her eyes, swaying toward him. His mouth claimed hers, the kiss gentler than all the ones that had preceded it. A coaxing seduction as he took her lips, and tongue. She clutched at his shirt, pressing into him, needing his support. He reached down and cupped her bottom, squeezing it. She moaned.
“Let me have you tonight, Temperance,” he said against her lips. “Let me have all of you.”
How could she possibly say no? She gripped the back of his head, pulling him in for a kiss that said everything she couldn’t say out loud. Brent scooped her into his arms and carried her through the house. He lay her down on his bed, going with her, never breaking their kiss. Then his hands became aggressive, jerking at her shirt, yanking it over her head, before he shoved her pants down. Feeling his urgency, she kicked out of her shoes, and lay below him in just her panties and bra.
He looked over every inch of exposed skin, his gaze like a palpable caress that sent hot tingles over her skin. She sought the shame or embarrassment she should have felt lying beneath him in such a wanton way, but her desire left no room for anything else.
Brent stood, and pulled off his shirt, then his pants, leaving him only in a pair of boxer briefs. His erection strained the cotton, and her bashful gaze fixed on it. She’d never seen a naked guy in real life, and she wasn’t quite sure what exactly to do next.
He returned to her, stretching alongside of her, laying his hand over her stomach. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.
Tippy licked her lips, and nodded, her heart beating so loudly it echoed in her ears. “Yes.”
“I’ll take things as slow as I can, but I can’t make any promises. If I hurt you, tell me.”
“Do we need a safe word?” she teased.
He grinned. “Next time, sweetheart.”
He claimed her lips as he palmed her breast through her bra. His thumb worked her nipple, until it budded. Tippy groaned, arching into the touch, needing so much more. He left her lips, and his teeth replaced his thumb. He squeezed the sensitive nub through the lace of her bra. She cried out in both pain, and delight. He sucked hard, pinching the other nipple, until her head swam.<
br />
“Please,” she begged. “I need more.”
He growled, a sharp jerk rid her of her bra, and his hot mouth covered her breast, his teeth surely leaving behind bruises as he took sharp nips of the soft skin. But she wanted even more, he made her mad with indescribable desires. Her nails raked his back, drawing out more feral sounds from her new lover.
“You’ll be the end of me,” Brent said on a ragged breath.
She said nothing, her teeth finding his shoulder. She bit down, and he bucked into her. “Ah, sweetheart, just like that,” he called out.
He wedged his hips between her thighs, and she felt his hard cock press into her slit. Her insanity grew, and she thrust against him, instinct taking over. She’d envisioned her first time a fumbling and fuss-filled event where she’d try to figure things out as she went along. She never imagined this height of lust, of greedy need.
He reached out, and yanked open the top drawer to the night stand, withdrawing a foil packet. A condom. It seemed larger than life in his hand. His eyes found hers.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He slid off the bed long enough to rid himself of his boxer briefs, while she wriggled out of her panties. She watched, fixated, as he sheathed his cock in the latex. When he returned to her, he slipped his hand between her thighs, stroking his fingers within her pussy.
“You’re so wet and ready for me,” he said on a husky breath. He brought those fingers to his mouth, licking off her juices, before moving between her thighs again. Braced up on his hands, he stared down to her. “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he said.
She did so, opening up to him. He reached between them, and traced the end of his cock through her pussy, before testing her entrance. She tensed.
“It’s okay, Tippy,” he coaxed. “Relax.”
He took shallow thrusts, while he rubbed his fingers over her clit. Shivers of pleasure washed through her as she took him further and further inside. Then he stopped, letting her adjust to his girth.
“God you feel good,” she said, arching, and moving into him.
He circled his hips, and she gasped. He slowly pulled back then thrust forward, and the pleasurable shock of the movement tore a sharp cry from her throat. He drove into her, over and over, sending her spiraling higher and higher, until she couldn’t catch her breath. He threw his head back, and she stared at the strong column of his throat.
The Virgin Bet Page 5