Stand in place, p.24
Stand In Place, page 24
“Brody,” I just managed to get out, because looking at him, all that beautiful carved muscle under his smooth, sun-kissed skin, was making it impossible to think. “I have a thing too, results that tell you it’s safe with me. I’m safe.”
“I know,” he said, lifting over me, my cock still in his hand, the anticipation building, coiled in my balls, at the base of my spine, sending pulses of electricity over already stimulated nerves.
I wanted to be inside of him. I wanted to dig my hands into his hips and wrench him down on top of me, stuff him full in one long, hard thrust. At the same time, the thought of him working my length inside of him, slow, controlled, taking me in a little at a time, the long, languorous agonizing slide of feeling him open in tight, convulsing intervals, was just as hot.
When he sank down over me, taking the head of my cock, and then more, into his body, the punch of emotion I felt that accompanied his action nearly made my heart stop. He stared down into my eyes until he was impaled. His ass muscles clenching around me and the heat of his body were almost more than I could bear.
“Oh, Brody, please, baby, you have to move,” I pleaded, trying not to buck under him.
“Yeah?” he asked, lifting up, rolling his hips, curling forward to anchor his hands on my chest before clenching his ass tight.
I almost swallowed my tongue with my need for him, and I knew I was changing right there, in that moment. I loved sex, always had, but it had always been something I did, that I participated in, that I made good for others. But this, with Brody, I could feel the joining, the connection, the notching into place. It was terrifying.
My lizard brain sensed danger, that remaining there, in bed with the gorgeous man who was grinding down onto me in sinuous motion, harder and faster, milking my cock as his fingers dug into my pectorals and his eyes closed as he abandoned himself to anything but his own pleasure, was a trap. I would become addicted to being with him, of feeling like this, and extricating myself would become impossible.
“Roll over,” I begged him, my voice not my own, guttural and low.
He lifted up off the end of my cock and fell down beside me, putting his hands under the headboard of the bed, holding tight.
Grabbing the pillow, I shoved it under his ass before curling forward, lifting his legs, one after the other, over my shoulders. With my hands on his thighs, I drove forward in one long, smooth slide.
“Kaenon,” he husked, and I lifted my eyes to his, and for the first time in my life, it was as important to kiss as it was to fuck.
I ground my mouth down over his, chasing his tongue, wanting it, my body taking over, pumping into him even as I kissed him breathless. When he twisted his head away to gulp for air, I straightened up, his legs falling to my waist, ankles crossed behind my back as I pounded inside of him, the pistoning relentless as I continued to hold on to his thighs, certain I’d leave bruises.
He arched up against me, trying to press tighter, and against the solid brace of him, of his body, I lost myself, using him hard, my thrusts wild, savage, the only thing that mattered being as deep as I could get so I’d be stamped, forever, on his body and mind.
Nothing else, no one else, could ever be this for me. I had searched and of course found the one man I needed right where I’d started. The idea that we’d both returned to the same place was unfathomable and perfect at the same time.
“Don’t stop,” he implored me, and when I saw the tears, I changed my angle and took hold of his leaking cock at the same time.
He howled my name as he came, spilling hot and thick over my fingers, my hand, and wrist, the satin heat of his muscles clamping down around me as I drove to his core, hearing the continuous slap of skin as I pounded into him. And then the rush of coming so hard blurred everything together for a moment, sight, sound, smell, all of it as I lost time. Between us, our skin was hot and wet and slick, and I kept coming, pumping all I had into him, making him wholly mine.
It took long minutes for me to come back to myself, to notice the quiet and then become aware of the man under me. The two of us were a sticky mess of sweat and semen, and I could not have been happier, or more content.
“Get off me,” he ordered, voice cracked, broken, his body trembling, and I was suddenly terrified that I’d hurt him.
“Brody?” I tried to retrace what I’d done, looking for anything I’d missed. There had been pleading for more but no word of stop, of that I was certain.
“I need—” He was panting, working to calm his breathing, waiting, not speaking until he was ready. “I need to get up.”
Why? What was driving him? Why did he need to leave me? I was just as naked and vulnerable as he was. I was still inside of him, and this close, this connected, this fused, neither of us could hide. But he was on his back, on display for me, and for some reason he wasn’t comfortable with me seeing whatever it was he was trying to hide.
“You need to hold on a second,” I soothed him, not asking questions, waiting, watching to see if I could figure it out. “My muscles aren’t working yet.” It was the truth, and his, those muscles in his hot, perfect ass, were still spasming around my cock. It almost hurt because I was oversensitized, but it was still the good kind of pain that was pleasure as well, that edge that went both ways from moment to moment.
He threw his arm over his eyes, trying to hide, and I understood the need. He was just as flayed open as I was. We were both naked in more than just the physical sense.
“Look at me.”
But he didn’t move, instead swallowing over and over, and I knew he was gulping down tears that he wasn’t about to let me see.
It hit me then, the why of his desire to run, and I felt stupid for it taking me minutes and not seconds. But it was his fault; sex with him was mind melting.
“You have complicated my life,” I whispered, lying down on top of him, kissing his throat, then the line of his jaw, each press of my lips softer than the last, delicate, careful, until he took a deep breath and moved his arm, turning to look at me from red-rimmed eyes. “And yeah, this is going to be a gigantic pain in the ass, because you flying up to see me, and me flying down here to see you, is going to be rough.”
He sniffled and rubbed his eyes before he cupped my face in his hand.
“But cheating isn’t going to be our problem. I don’t want to do this with anyone but you. I don’t think it’s going to feel like it just did with anybody else, so if it can’t be as good, why would I want it?”
Quick nod from him as his eyes tightened up to keep any more tears from falling.
“Brody,” I husked, not sure what I wanted to say as I eased my spent cock from his body even as I was caught, fixated, as my cum leaked from his still-spasming hole. It occurred to me then that I couldn’t have that, that I needed to leave something of myself behind to mark him. And that feeling of possessiveness, of want and need and gut-clenching, raw yearning as I brushed my fingers over his warm skin, massaging and soothing him as my breath caught on his sigh, made everything crystal clear. “I’m ready to do anything to make this work with us. Anything at all.”
He rolled over on top of me, wrestling me under him, his lips sealing over mine as he took possession and claimed what was so very much his.
Me.
I was his. Without question.
Fourteen
It was early in the morning, and I woke up hard and aching. As my eyes opened, I was treated to heavy-lidded, mahogany eyes glinting in the near-dark. His hand was lazily stroking over my rock-hard erection.
“I wasn’t gentle with you last night,” I whispered, nuzzling my face into the side of his neck. “I don’t want to hurt you or—”
“You didn’t hurt me,” he promised, his voice a silky purr in my ear as he passed me the lube from under his pillow at the same time he rolled to his side.
Slicking myself fast, I pressed myself to his back and slid my cock between his cheeks, parting them as I first notched against his entrance and then pressed inside.
“This is a lot,” I murmured in his ear, my left arm under him and across his chest, my hand gripping his right pectoral, the other wrapped around his throat, holding him still. “I want you to be able to walk.”
“I can walk just fine,” he moaned, grabbing hold of the edge of the mattress.
I pushed forward, my groin flush with the curve of his ass, fully seated, before I withdrew a fraction only to thrust back inside.
He leaned his head back, his staccato breathing letting me know how turned on he was, and the hand that had been at his throat slid over his shoulder, down his rib cage, around his hip to his cock.
“If you miss topping you can have me any—”
“No,” he said, his voice brittle and dry, full of gravel as he pushed back and I shoved forward. “I’ll tell you if I change what I want.”
I stroked and milked him, the pearly precum leaking from the thick head making the slide through my fingers easy. He felt so good, so tight, so hot, and I made each snap of my hips harder, faster, wanting nothing more than to be buried in him as deep as I could get.
When he reached back, snaking his hand under my arm, not wanting my hand off his dick, and grabbed hold of my ass, pushing me forward, keeping me close, tight, I understood that he wanted me there, plastered against him, my breath on the back of his neck as I rolled my hips forward until he slid free and scrambled to his knees, needing more than I could do on my side. The pounding I delivered, once I had leverage, made him bite his lip so hard he drew blood.
He came, and I followed, the orgasm charging up from the base of my spine, sparking over my skin like a live wire. When he collapsed down onto the bed, I followed, crushing him under me, which was apparently funny, because the throaty, seductive chuckle came instantly.
“Let me get off you,” I murmured, licking up the side of his neck, the taste of him nearly as good as his smell, all musky and warm.
“Just wait,” he rumbled, arching his back, which lifted his ass against my groin, driving my cock inside of him a fraction deeper. “I like how full I am and that I can feel your—feel you. It’s hot sliding between my thighs.”
The man did not have a problem with me coming in his ass. It turned him on just as much as it did me.
“Kiss me.”
He was laughing as he complied, and I hungrily devoured his mouth.
“I hope you have no plans to go home tonight.”
“I have a crappy little apartment close to the station house,” he said between kisses. “You can keep me here as long as you want.”
“Don’t make idle promises.”
“I wouldn’t. I’m all yours.”
I was going to hold him to that.
The smell of coffee woke me. When I opened my eyes, Jo was there, looming over me, with a “cat that ate the canary” smile on her face.
I glowered at her.
“Oh, come on,” she whispered sharply, indicating Brody with the cup in her hand.
There was stubble burn on his throat and collarbone, his lips were red and puffy, and there was a bit of bruising on the side of his neck, and when he rolled over to his left, a distinctive bite mark on his right shoulder.
“Maybe don’t try and eat him when you two are in bed tonight.”
“Give me that cup and get out.”
She shook her head. “You need to get up and shower,” she informed me. “It’s after nine; people are going to start showing up.”
“It’s after nine?” I whined.
She waggled her eyebrows at me. “If you have sex all night, you’re not going to get all the shut-eye you need.”
I grunted.
“I suspect you don’t care.”
Pulling the pillow out from under my head, I covered my face with it. I felt the bed dip beside me ever so slightly as she sat down.
“What’s it going to be, love?”
I groaned.
“That bad?”
Moving the pillow, I looked up at her.
She snorted out a laugh. “You look so miserable.”
“Monthly flights,” I whimpered. “All the time.”
Valiantly she tried to kill her smile, pressing her lips together tight.
“It’s not funny.”
“No.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Yes, well, as the poet said, dear, the best-laid plans of mice and men and all that,” she said, paraphrasing good old Robert Burns.
“I blame you,” I assured her.
“Me?” She pretended to be affronted.
“Not once did you say that Brody Scott was back in town.”
“Oh, that again? I’m certain I did,” she said innocently.
“You lied the other day, and you’re lying now.”
She gasped and clutched at her heart. “You cut me to the quick.”
“Get out so I can shower.”
“I want strawberry crepes today,” she announced haughtily.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She stood up then. “And put new sheets on this bed, and open the windows until it gets hot out. This room needs airing out. It reeks of sweat and spunk.”
“Oh, could you not,” I groused at her as she left the room, cackling.
I was going to give Brody hell, but his snore told me he was still sleeping, though how, I had no idea. The fact that when I curled around him, he nestled back against me, made me smile like a simpleton. I so very much more than liked him, and God, what a mess.
After I took a quick shower, I closed the door behind me and went out to the kitchen to start on Jo’s crepes. Fifteen minutes later, Everett and Rochelle showed up.
“We brought trees,” Rochelle imparted, walking up beside me and kissing my cheek. “And men.”
“Awww,” I said to her, “guys for me? You shouldn’t have.”
She laughed and I could tell she was tickled. “No, dingus, to dig up the old stumps in the orchard and plant new trees.”
“Everett,” Jo spoke in awe. “You brought me new trees?”
“And surprise,” he revealed, walking over to her and taking her small, soft hands in his. “I got a sapling from Mom’s garden, from that same cherry tree that Jo brought you back from Japan. I called her yesterday and asked if I could have one of the younger trees, and she said yes.”
I was quiet because I didn’t want anything from my mother, ever, but it would make Jo happy, and that was all that mattered.
“Kaenon,” she said knowingly, and when I lifted my eyes from the strawberries I was slicing, her eyes were like lasers on me. “Is that all right?”
“Of course,” I replied fast, hoping to sound nonchalant.
“Are you certain?” she pressed me.
I took a breath. “Yes, Jo, I’m certain.”
She turned her attention back to Everett then. “Thank you, my darling.”
And I watched my brother melt to the floor, right then and there, under my grandmother’s pleased smile, adoring gaze, and words of thanks.
A half an hour later, when Maeve and her family showed up, there were crepes and eggs and bacon and turkey sausage for them. The kids both wanted banana and chocolate crepes, Maeve wanted blueberry and whipped cream, and Will wanted strawberry and mascarpone, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble. I appreciated Rochelle taking care of the eggs and bacon for me, though she drew the line at turkey-anything other than the kind you had at Thanksgiving. She also made breakfast burritos, as she’d done the day before, for the guys who were digging up the stumps in the orchard and planting the new trees.
“You know, I hired all three of those nice boys you had over here yesterday for my shop,” she told me.
Nice boys? “Oh, you mean Artie and Mike and Vance?”
“I thought it was Hoyt?”
“It is, but he goes by Vance.”
She grunted. “I guess I would too, if my name was Hoyt.”
“That’s exactly what I said.”
“Yes, well, I hired Artie to be in the shop with me. He’s quite charming and polite and just as cute as a button, so he’ll be my sales associate, and Mike is going to be my delivery driver, picking up inventory and dropping off consignment items, and Vance will be in charge of the stockroom. Both Artie and Mike said he’s quite organized.”
“What about when school starts?”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”
“That’s really nice of you.”
“Well, they worked so hard for you yesterday, and you can tell a lot about young men from how they treat their significant others, and they were wonderful and kind and polite to their girlfriends.”
I had to agree.
“It sounds like your Saturday was filled with just a crazy amount of people,” Maeve chimed in, getting up from the kitchen table and walking over to me, her hand on my back, rubbing gently.
“It was amazing,” I told her. “So many people came to see Jo.”
She scoffed.
I glanced over at her.
“To see you, Kaenon, not me.”
“Both of you,” Everett said, playing peacemaker. “Equally.”
“Your aunt Rose hit Kaenon,” Jo told Maeve.
“I’m sorry?” she said abruptly, bristling, her tone like ice.
It was nice to see her get instantly defensive, and I could almost hear “the hell you say” in the undercurrent of her voice.
“Because everything is in his name,” she explained.
“So what?” Maeve snapped. “What is anyone going to do with the house or the land or anything else, anyway? Sell it?”
“That was Everett’s plan,” Jo said honestly, shrugging.
“A piece,” Everett stressed to her. “Only the parcel that drifts down into the canyon, nothing else, for crap’s sake. I would never part with the house or the garden or Peg’s cottage,” he railed at her. “The hell kind of monster do you think I am?”
It was quiet, even the kids didn’t say a word, and into that silence walked Brody, one eye open, one closed, not all the way awake, in a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt that had seen better days, given how faded it was.
