He stared in disbelief as she reached over and stuffed them in an inside pocket of his tuxedo.
"A little memento of tonight from me to you," she said, still leaning on his side of the car.
He took a deep breath and nuzzled her neck with his lips. "You're very good at this."
She leaned back and raised her brows in surprise at him. "No, you're very susceptible."
"That, too. You're going to torture me during dinner with the thought that you're going commando."
She blushed and flashed him a knowing smirk. "And I'll enjoy every minute."
"I'll have to think of an appropriate retaliation for later," he taunted.
The limo came to a halt, and they moved apart. Brent grabbed his tie and cuff links and began to put himself back together. Jennifer leaned over and adjusted his crooked bowtie.
"There. Come on, let's go eat, or we're going to be late to the next part of our date."
"Good, I'm starving," he said, watching her slip her feet back into her heels. "For food and for you."
#
Several hours later, Brent stood with Jennifer outside a club called Bubbles and wondered what he'd gotten into.
"Why is it called Bubbles?" he asked.
"You'll soon find out," she responded over the sound of the wildly pulsating music.
They paid the entry fee and the bouncer let them go through the door. At first he could barely see as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, but then what he saw had him laughing aloud. Around the walls, chairs and tables were filled with people watching dancers in a pit that was filled with foam and bubbles at least waist high. Bubbles floated on the air around the dance area.
The dancers were wet, wild, and gyrating to a sensual beat as color strobe lights flashed around them. Drenched, their clingy clothing left little to the imagination as they danced, their inhibitions vanishing in the pounding rhythm.
"Well?" she said her eyes on him. "Are you ready to get wet together?"
He stared at her. How could he resist? She looked cute, and sexy as hell. And he could hardly wait to see her in wet chiffon.
He grabbed her hand and started down the stairs. "Come on, I see an open spot on the dance floor, and my wet fantasies are calling me."
She giggled, and they skipped down the stairs. When they reached the pit, the floor was slick as they carefully mingled with the dancers.
Foam oozed around his legs, clinging to his tuxedo, but he didn’t care as he navigated them through the gyrating dancers. In one corner, a big gun spewed bubbles down on the dancers. When they reached an open area, Brent went into a swing dance, but quickly learned that was not possible on the slick floor. He switched to modern shag, but he wasn't touching her and he needed to feel her against him.
He grabbed her by the waist and brought one leg in between hers, and soon they were doing their own version of dirty dancing. And it felt good, damn good, as he stared into her soft blue eyes, knowing that the two hour ride home would be the longest ride of his life.
Scooping up a handful of bubbles, he put some on top of her head to form a soapy crown.
"Queen Jennifer," he shouted.
"And her royal subject," she mouthed as she plastered a handful of bubbles against his chest, soaking him. He swallowed trying to control the raw sexual need that filled him as she moved against his leg to a sensual rhythm. Slowly she ran her hand down his wet shirt, leaving behind a trail of heat that centered in his groin area.
Holding onto her waist, he leaned her back into the foam, soaking her back before turning her around to soak the front of her dress and then pulling her up solid against him.
When he twirled her back, she had foam from her nose down to her waist. And her dress clearly outlined her pointed nipples. She stood up and danced against him, rubbing her body around him, soaking him clear to his skin, infusing him with her heat.
He ran his hands down her arms, her slick, wet skin doing things to him he'd never considered before. His hands continued down her chest, his fingers brushing against her hardened nubs, and he considered finding a hotel room and staying in the city tonight.
Would she stay with him?
Brent couldn't resist any longer. He pulled her into his arms, dancing slowly with her. Though the music around them pulsed with a hard rock beat, he danced to his own rhythm. A dance that would soon find them naked in a bed together.
He tilted her head up to his, and his mouth covered hers with a hunger that he felt from some deep inner core. She tasted like longing and need and a mixture of the chocolate dessert they'd shared at dinner. She tasted like heaven, her lips soft as he plundered them, needing her now.
He released her mouth, but still held her tight against him, her wet, slick body fitting perfectly with his own. On the crowded floor, he'd been ensconced in his own world, but suddenly he thought there were too many people, too many bodies pressing in close to them. He needed some privacy.
"You know this has been fun. But I'm feeling the need to be alone with you," he said, almost shouting in her ear.
She glanced up into his eyes, her gaze shimmering with desire. "There are two fluffy terry cloth bathrobes waiting for us in the limo. Have you had enough of your wet dream?"
He pulled her in close and said into her ear where she could hear him above the music. "My wet dream has just begun."
Chapter Eleven
Jennifer watched as Brent briskly rubbed the terry towel the limo driver had given them against his wet clothes. She felt so hot for him that steam would pour from her body if she did the same.
So far the night had been more than she'd ever anticipated. The original plan had been to tease him sexually until he begged for mercy. But she couldn’t be that cruel, and frankly she no longer wanted revenge. She wanted Brent.
She couldn't remember an evening when she’d had so much fun. Brent entertained her, made her laugh, and when his hand touched the small of her back or her hand, she felt a surge of arousal. And now they faced the long ride back to Tyler.
Two hours alone, wet and cuddling in the back of the limo.
Her mind returned to that night so many years ago when they'd made out in the back of Brent's father’s Mustang. In her memory that night seemed so perfect until she'd lied to him about who she really was. And fifteen years later that lie still haunted her.
She’d been dishonest with him and now didn’t know how to correct the situation without losing his trust. Of course, he’d never mentioned that evening with her sister, but she didn’t want to think of that now. Not when all she could think about was how much she wanted to be with Brent again. She knew the truth even if he didn’t.
"We could get a room and spend the night here," he suggested, leaning close to her ear, sending warmth spiraling through her cool body.
A firestorm raced through her. "Oh, no. The night is not over."
He frowned. "There's more?"
"Oh yes," she whispered. She’d purposefully planned the ride home to fulfill one of her recurring fantasies.
Brent picked up the soft terry cloth robe and held it out for her. She slipped her arms in and wrapped the bulky robe tightly against her wet clothes.
He held the door open, and she climbed into the back of the big car. Muted lighting shone through the door panel as Diana Krall sang a seductive melody over the car stereo.
Jennifer sat down and twisted the gold bangle bracelet around her wrist. To no avail, she tried to relax her tense body, which hummed with enough sexual awareness to power a third-world country.
Brent sank on the seat beside her and put his arm around her, pulling her close. She gazed up into the emerald sheen of his eyes, reciprocating the heat that blazed there.
"Tired?" he asked.
"No," she answered. How did she explain to a man that slow dancing at Bubbles had more than made her ready to explore every inch of his naked, wet body?
"Good," he whispered. "Because I'm still wet."
"Me too," she said, lowering her voice. "And hot."
The time for card games was over. She wanted to spend the next two hours fulfilling her fantasy of having sex in a limo.
"Tag?" she whispered, reaching out to untie his robe. Her fingers slipped beneath his wet tuxedo coat. She unbuttoned his shirt and slid her hands inside his shirt, feeling the naked skin of his chest, caressing his taut muscles.
His mouth covered hers, his tongue seeking out the intimate recesses of her mouth. A moan echoed in the car and she realized the sound came from her.
He broke the seal of their lips, his breathing heavy. "Tag. You're it."
She responded by covering his mouth with her own, nibbling on his bottom lip, teasing and tasting him while her hands massaged the naked skin of his back.
Heat seemed to radiate from him, and she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Slowly she released his mouth. "Tag, you're it."
For a moment he said nothing, his breathing quick and heavy. "I guess this means I'm going to have to kiss you again."
"Gee, that's a shame," she whispered.
"Then again, I think we should play strip and go naked, only this time without the cards." He rose up to remove his terry cloth robe and his tuxedo jacket at the same time.
"Who needs cards," she breathed. "Let's just get naked."
He laughed, reached over, and turned the volume up on the music. The privacy screen was still in place from the trip down. He faced her, his hands reaching for the sash of her robe as he pulled it free. "You first."
His mouth covered hers as his fingers slid down the zipper in the back of her dress. He tilted her until her naked back touched the leather seat of the limo. Reluctantly she released his lips as he peeled the wet dress from her body. A shiver of awareness went through her as the air touched her cold, wet skin.
Brent made her feel like a woman. He had the power to make her feel desirable and sexy, needed and intelligent. And when they were together, she had fun. She laughed. She played. And now he would fulfill not one fantasy, but two.
He stared at her in the semi-darkness at the black silk bra she wore and slowly ran his finger over her breast, pebbling her nipple until it stood erect. He leaned over and put his mouth on her breast, nuzzling her through the silk.
“You taste like bubbles,” he murmured.
Jennifer gasped at the sensation of his mouth on her, but she wanted nothing between them. As if he sensed her eagerness he unhooked her bra, releasing her breasts as he slipped the wet garment from her.
All the years of dreaming about her first time with Brent were about to culminate in a second opportunity. Only this time, Brent would know he was with Jennifer, not Julia, fulfilling her long-held fantasy of the two of them together.
Her second fantasy began the night she watched Kevin Costner and Sean Young making love in the backseat of a moving limo in the movie No Way Out. Since then she'd dreamed of just such an occurrence, only Brent starred in her movie, not Kevin Costner, and no subterfuge existed between them.
The feel of his hands caressing her breasts, rubbing the nubs of her nipples, had her arching her back for more, needing to feel him against her.
An impatient groan resounded from Brent, and he rose up, his breathing labored and harsh.
"So beautiful," he murmured as his lips closed over her breast, pulling the taut bud into his mouth. He twirled his tongue around the hardened nub, and Jennifer ran her hands through his wet hair, grasping his head to her breast.
She moaned as his tongue drew erotic circles around the tight, hard tip of her nipple. She leaned her chin on the top of his head and inhaled his clean, vibrant smell—like a fine, heady wine more potent than any drug.
She'd wanted this night, needed this night more than she'd needed her next breath. Tonight's gamble could turn into tomorrow's folly, but this moment felt right. Brent felt right.
Jennifer reached down to his trousers where she quickly unbuttoned them and slid the zipper down.
Brent removed his mouth and pulled the wet dress over her hips and down her legs. She lay before him, naked as the day she was born, reveling in the passion shining from his gaze.
He made her feel beautiful and special and oh-so wanted.
"While I find your gaze very stimulating, I would like it even better if we were both naked," she whispered in the darkness.
He laughed and stripped his wet pants and underwear from his muscular body as the moving car sped down the highway. "My pleasure."
Moving over, she made room for him to lie down beside her on the leather bench seat. For a moment they stared at each other in the darkness, a sense of anticipation stilling her breath as she drank in the sinewy strength of him. Jennifer reached out and touched him, her hand sliding down his naked chest past his waist and trailing down his stomach. She touched the tip of him with her fingers.
Anticipation and excitement filled her and she wanted him to feel all the passion that gripped her.
"Oh, God," he whispered as his lips crushed hers.
This time his kiss was hard and demanding as his fingers found her center and wrenched a moan from her. All her senses seemed centered in the pulsating middle of her. Moonlight streamed through the open roof, casting shadows in the moving car like a kaleidoscope while he teased her until she wanted to beg him to ease this pleasant torture.
Wrapping her hand around the hardened steel of his shaft, she returned his strokes of pleasure. Strong and virile, he moaned, and her passion for Brent spiraled out of control.
She wanted Brent. Had wanted him since she'd returned to Tyler and reawakened all her fantasies about him. She wanted him regardless of his fear of commitment and marriage. She wanted this night if that was all he had to give.
This man touched her on levels she'd never known existed. And somehow she hoped tonight would eradicate her teenage fantasies, and she would get him out of her system once and for all.
Oh, God, she wondered at the folly of that thought.
His fingers gently stroked her womanly folds, eliciting a moan from her and she felt a tight curl of need and desire spiraling from the very center of her. It felt as if she'd waited forever for this night, and she couldn't wait another moment.
"Now, Brent, now," she urged, needing him inside her, filling her, replacing her old memories with new ones, satisfying her on every level.
He rose up, reached over, and slid a condom from his pants pocket. Quickly he opened the Mylar packet and slid the protection into place.
Returning to her arms, his mouth came down on hers hard for yet another potent kiss that left her dazed, her breathing harsh, and her body tense.
Hot, hard fingers worked their magic, teasing her until she thought she would scream with want for him. Rolling her beneath him on the crowded seat, he pushed her legs apart, sliding his own between them.
She gasped with pleasure as he swiftly entered her. With each powerful thrust she met his rhythm, her pulse pounding to a sensual beat all its own. She'd never experienced such want, such pleasure. Sure, there had been other men, but with Brent she felt different. He made love to her soul, nourished her from within, filled some niche no one else had ever filled.
And this time he made love to her.
She looked up to meet Brent's gaze. His eyes blazed with passion for her. No one else but her, and in that moment, the ecstasy reached its zenith and she clung to Brent as the world shattered around her.
Brent pulsated inside her and with a shudder reached his own release, leaving them both crashing back to earth in a wave of pleasure. Limp, they lay in each other's arms. Jennifer listened to their harsh breathing while Diana Krall purred “The Look of Love.”
From somewhere inside her mush-filled brain, she wondered if he would realize that this wasn't their first time. No, fifteen long years had passed, and he thought he'd been with Julia.
Yet once again Jennifer felt like the young girl she'd been that night. Only this
time everything felt perfect. This time he'd been with her.
The next morning Brent let the warm spray of water from the shower splash over him. Behind him, patiently waiting her turn in the small shower stall, Jennifer leaned her naked body against him.
"Hmm you keep doing that and we're never going to eat breakfast. We'll spend the rest of our lives right here in your shower," he said, feeling his body already responding to her caresses.
She laughed, her voice deep and sensual as she ran her fingers down his spine. He loved the way she laughed. "Or at least until Julia comes home and finds two naked bodies wrinkled beyond recognition in the shower."
"What time is your sister due home?" he questioned.
"Sometime this afternoon."
He turned around and faced her, his erection rapidly swelling. "Good, we've got all morning then."
Brent wrapped his arms around her and hauled her under the showerhead. She gasped as the warm water pelted her face. He laughed and covered her mouth with his in a playful kiss. He released her mouth, still kissing her face, nuzzling her wet hair. "I thought you might need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation."
"You can start with my mouth, but there are other areas that need your care," she teased.
He picked up a bar of soap and trailed it down her neck, over her shoulders, his hand making a slow soapy descent. When he reached her chest, his hands lathered her breasts, sliding over her pointed nipples, loving the way they hardened beneath his touch.
With the soap in his hand, he slid the bar down her belly to the tenderness between her legs. His fingers slid suds over her center, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her. He watched as her eyes darkened with pleasure, her breathing became shallow and quick. He felt her body clench around his fingers as Jennifer grabbed onto the shower wall, her body shuddering with release as another orgasm rippled through her.
He couldn't help but smile. You would have thought they were a couple of teenagers, going at it all night long and again this morning in the shower. But she did that to him. She made him laugh, she soothed him, and she pleasured him with the slightest touch. He enjoyed her company, and he adored her playful nature.
My Sister's Boyfriend (The Trouble With Twins 1) Page 13