I bowed off of the bed, unhooking my bra and pushing the straps down hurriedly. Brendan lifted his head to allow me to peel the strap of material from my body, and I took that opportunity to surge up and flip him onto his back so I was straddling him. Topless, I allowed my eyes to roam greedily over his exposed skin as I rocked against the denim concealing his hard cock, eager to ease the ache that burned at my core.
Brendan’s grin was cocky as he pushed his hips up off of the bed to meet mine, but I didn’t care. He had the right to be cocky.
I bent over and finally, finally, touched my lips to his chest and began to pepper him with kisses. Adding a few bites and licks, I trailed my soft lips over the firm expanse of his chest and stomach. He groaned beneath me, and I felt the vibration rumble through his chest. Unable to keep the pace any longer, I reached down and searched out his zipper, needing to free him and touch him everywhere. Kiss him everywhere.
My brain was foggy with need, causing my hands to fumble. He pushed me up so I was kneeling again, and scooted out from under me. With hungry eyes, I watched as he unbuttoned his jeans and took them off, revealing black boxer briefs and an impressive erection underneath. I reached for it like a woman possessed, but he grasped my wrists to stop me.
“I can’t wait,” he said gruffly, and I practically whimpered with relief. “Get on your knees,” he demanded next, surprising me even as his words caused my heart to gallop in my chest.
I’d never experienced anything other than the missionary position, so I was a little nervous, but I turned over excitedly and waited for further instructions.
“Bend over and lift that sweet ass in the air,” he said from behind me, causing a shiver to run through me as I did what he said.
I jolted, then moaned loudly as Brendan ran his hand over my ass, then farther down, slipping first one finger, then another, inside of me, causing me to instinctively push back against his hand.
“God, you feel amazing.” His voice sounded like it was coming through a tunnel, my brain was so focused on the pleasure that my body was receiving. Brendan lightly stroked my ass with one hand, as his other pumped in and out of me, and when he flicked his thumb repeatedly over my clit, I felt my orgasm start to build.
“God, yes,” I whispered, half out of my mind. “Don’t stop or I’ll fucking kill you.”
I knew I sounded like a psycho, but was beyond caring. The build was already unlike anything I’d ever felt before, so I just knew I was about to come hard. I didn’t care if he knew it, I just needed him to get me there. Now!
“Hold on, Freckles,” he said, his breath hot against my neck. I heard a rustle and tear, and barely had time to register the fact that he was protecting us both, before I lost his fingers. I was about to scream out at the loss … Yes, seriously … scream, when they were replaced with something a helluva lot better.
He braced my hips with his hands as he thrust inside, and I pushed back to meet him, grinding as I met his rhythm. I felt a dangerous thrill when he grasped the bulk of my hair in his hand and tugged it and he moved. Once our pace was set, I nearly wept with relief when he bent over me and began circling my clit once more.
With the smell of sex in the air, and the sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure, I lost myself in the feel of his thighs slapping against mine, and let myself go. Completely.
I don’t know how long I came, or how long it took for him to join me, I was too lost in the moment, but when I finally came to, we were sprawled out on the bed, slick with sweat and breathing heavily. I felt my lips curve up in satisfaction, as I drifted off into a sleep induced by good drinks and fantastic sex.
I awoke with a start sometime later. The room was dark, and the light from the alarm clock said it was four a.m. I got up slowly, and gathered my things as quietly as I could, giving Brendan one last long look before I tiptoed down the stairs, shoving my cell phone in my purse, my shoes dangling from my fingertips.
I didn’t leave a number, or anyway for him to get ahold of me. I figured this was probably his MO, and didn’t want to seem like a clinger by leaving anything behind … or worse, like a groupie who didn’t know when to let a one-night stand be a one-night stand.
I gave him a mental high-five for a fantastic time as I slipped out of his loft, assuming I’d never see him again. At least I’d always have a great story, and the memory of the hot singer with a sexy smile and smokin’ young body.
Chapter Three ~ Brendan
As I pulled my bike into the parking garage near my culinary school, I felt a rush of anticipation at getting back in the kitchen. The time I’d spent abroad had been a priceless learning experience, but I was ready to finish what I’d started, and there was only one semester standing in my way. After graduation, I was sure I would land the job of my dreams, working with Chef Agard in one of his restaurants.
I’d had the pleasure of meeting and working with him during my time in France, and was eager to learn more from the master of French cuisine.
I shrugged on my chef’s coat as I entered the building, and stopped with a grin when I saw a couple of my buddies talking as they set up their stations.
“Bren,” my friend and fellow student, Hector, called in greeting when he looked up and saw me approaching. “Long time no see, brother, how’s it been?”
We slapped hands, then I turned to do the same with Jerrod, our other buddy.
“Yeah, man, how was Europe?” he asked.
“Great,” I answered as I found my way to an open station, the students at the others already laying out their equipment. “We’ll have to grab a drink and I’ll tell you all about it.” I nodded toward the front, where the instructor usually perched, and asked, “Gordon still crazy as ever?” Referring to the teacher who’d busted our balls for two years.
“Nah,” Jerrod said, shaking his head. “Didn’t you hear? Gordon got sick and had to take some time off. They got some hot shot to take his spot. I guess she trained under Chef Agard, and owns that Irish Pub downtown.”
At the sound of my mentor’s name I perked up.
I was about to ask more when movement at the front of the room indicated the instructor had arrived, and I looked up to see … Bronagh.
I had a sudden flash of creamy skin smattered with freckles, and the sultry moans I’d coaxed from the gorgeous woman standing at the head of the class. She had her hair pulled back in a bun, and was wearing a standard chef coat, complete with the culinary school’s crest, and Chef Bronagh Callaghan written over her left breast.
My first thought was, Hell, yes, there she is … I’d woken up to find my bed empty, which wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but I’d been surprised to find my mind wandering back to that night occasionally over the last few days. There was something about her … that hair, those tits, that ass … and the sexy-as-fuck way she’d responded to my hands on her body.
It didn’t suck to see her standing before me now, but when her gaze flitted over me, then came back and her eyes widened in shock, I realized that the feeling might not be mutual.
I bit back disappointment. She obviously wasn’t stoked about finding me sitting in her class, and assured myself that I hadn’t been alone in my loft that night. The sex had been amazing. Powerful, potent, and downright animalistic. I knew she’d felt it too; her pleasure had been pretty obvious. I’d been with enough women to spot a fake, and there was no way Bronagh had been faking when we were together.
I just had to remind her of that fact, and convince her that one night was not enough to explore the chemistry we had. I had to have her again, which surprised me.
I wouldn’t mind getting her back in my bed, hell, I’d even snuggle a bit, then get up and make breakfast for her.
Going back for seconds wasn’t normal for me, being more the “hit it and quit it” type. It was the damndest thing, and I had no idea what it meant, but I wanted to find out.
Class started and I found it impossible to concentrate. All I could think about was Bronagh’s luscious body quive
ring beneath mine. I was like a man possessed.
I moved through the motions, chopping the vegetables in front of me on automatic pilot. My heart wasn’t in it. I realized that I needed to get a hold of myself and focus, when the class, or should I say culinary school, pet, and overall pain in my ass, Calla Winston walked up behind me and asked snarkily, “Hot for teacher, Brendan?”
I shot her a dirty look and went back to what I was doing, deciding to be the bigger person and ignore her parting shot.
“Looks like having the pretty new instructor will work in my favor. You just keep mooning over her, and I’ll continue to kick your ass and get that job we’re both gunning for.”
Calla had been my rival since day one. An overachiever and suck-up, she worked hard to be the best and hated that I was naturally gifted in the culinary arts. We were always competing for the top of the class, and were both applying for the coveted spot with Chef Agard. She was hot, in a bitchy sort of way, but I’d never been there. I was afraid if I got too close to that viper, my dick would shrivel up and fall off.
Needless to say, there was no love lost between us, and I had every intention of leaving her crying in my dust when I won that spot.
When a break was called, I walked out like I was going to the bathroom, then veered off toward Gordon’s old office, assuming that Bronagh would be in there.
I walked inside and shut the door, leaning against it and watching her closely as she turned.
“Brendan,” she said breathlessly, reminding me of our night together and causing my already taut body to harden even more painfully. “What are you doing here?”
I knew she was talking about more than just her office.
“I go here,” I said, stating the obvious. “I’m on my last semester.”
“I thought you were a musician,” she stated, confusion and shock apparent on her face.
“I am, but I’m also a chef … or at least, I’m going to be. Music and food are my two passions.”
She nodded, as if that made sense. For the first time I wondered if I’d found someone who would get me. Brendan the musician and cook, not just the lead singer of Whiskey Heat. Someone who would help fuel my passions and understand my need for both creative outlets.
I took a few steps toward her, holding my hand out as if I were approaching a frightened animal. I brought my palm to her cheek, and smiled when she instinctively leaned into it and closed her eyes.
“I was hoping I’d see you again,” I said softly, my lips a breath away from hers. But before I could touch her sweetness, her eyes flew open and she used both hands to push me back.
“We can’t do this,” she said hurriedly, her voice low so no one would overhear. “I didn’t know … I had no idea that you were one of my students … How could I?” I wasn’t sure if she was really talking to me, or thinking out loud, so I remained silent. “You were just supposed to be a fling,” Ouch. “A younger, very hot guy, who would release the tension that’s been building for the last two years, three months, and twenty-one days … We weren’t supposed to see each other again, and you sure as hell weren’t supposed to show up in my class.”
I tried to process everything she’d said, but, being a guy, one thing stayed at the forefront of my mind.
“You hadn’t had sex in over two years?”
The look she shot me told me I was missing the point, so I focused on the other things she said. She never wanted to see me again. My chest hurt.
I was the king of love ‘em and leave ‘em, so why did her statement cause me pain?
I moved in closer, crowding her, and when she looked at up at me warily I said, “I hope I relieved that tension. I’d be happy to do it again anytime, Freckles. All you have to do is call.”
I picked up her phone from the desk and programed my number.
“Brendan,” she called when I turned to leave. “It’s against school policy. No one can know what we did, even if it was by accident … and it can never happen again.”
Her flash of regret was so quick, I’m not sure if she even realized it happened. I did. I shot her my most confident grin and a wink.
“No one has to know, Bronagh … I’m good at keeping secrets.” I nodded to the phone she now held in her hand. “Call me.”
Chapter Four ~ Bronagh
After the day I’d had, I couldn’t wait for the weekend and Bellini’s, I needed my girls and some gin … stat!
“Okay, Bronagh, what’s the big emergency?” my friend Ming asked when we were all settled in the corner booth of mine and my da’s pub. “Not that I’m not always up for drinks, but you made it sound like you’d just found out that Henry Cavill is gay, and all hope for your future together was lost.”
I smiled half-heartedly at her joke, but my mind was too boggled to fully appreciate her quick wit.
I figured it was best to just rip the Band-Aide off quickly and get straight to the part where they agreed that I was right, and needed to forget that I’d ever seen Brendan naked.
As if that could ever happen…
“I went home with that lead singer the other night, had fan-freaking-tastic sex, and it turns out he’s one of my students at the culinary school.” That said, I let out a long breath, then picked up my dirty martini and took a swift drink.
“Yay!” Cass, the third member of our trio, shrieked, startling me with her exuberance.
I gave her the stink eye over my glass.
“What part of what I just said made you think, ‘Yay!’ was an appropriate response?” I asked.
Cass looked at me like I was a moron.
“Um, the part where you went home with that stud from the bar, and finally used your vagina for something good again.”
“How do you use your vagina for something bad?” Ming asked, looking totally serious.
I rolled my eyes at both of them and reiterated, “He’s one of my students, Cass. I could lose my job.”
“Oh, poo,” Cass said, sticking her tongue out. A look that on me would have made me look like a toad, but on her was totally cute. “It’s not like you’re his high school English teacher or something. You’re a grown woman, and he’s a grown man.”
“Well, practically grown, anyway,” Ming said with a smirk.
“Shut up,” I replied, feeling my cheeks warm at the reminder of our age difference.
“It was just a one-night stand, right?” Ming asked, running her finger along the stem of her wine glass as she pondered my dilemma. “Neither of you knew that you were his instructor at the time, and it’s never going to happen again, so … no harm, no foul. I’m sure if you explain the situation, he’ll keep his mouth shut.”
“But what if she wants a repeat performance?” Cass asked, tossing her long caramel-colored hair over her shoulder. “She just said it was great sex, and Ming, she’s finally having some. Why can’t they just keep it on the down low?”
“First,” Ming said, causing me to turn my attention to her. I felt like I was watching a tennis match, with as often as my head was turning back and forth. “No one says down low anymore. Second, a hot piece of ass isn’t worth losing her position … unless,” she began, then turned her focus on me. “He’s more than a hot piece of ass, and you want to explore some sort of relationship with him.”
I blinked at her, then blinked again, unable to come up with an immediate response.
Am I interested in pursuing something further with Brendan? The sex was the best I’d ever had … I can’t deny that, but is there anything else there?
I thought back to our time together, the brief moments when we weren’t engaged in sexual activity, and I could admit that I was intrigued. His loft was cool in a creative/hipster sort of way, and the fact that he was a musician and a chef told me that he was not only creative, but probably had a sensitive side underneath his playboy exterior. I’d watched him embrace his brother on stage, their affection for each other was tangible, so I knew he had the ability to feel things deeply, and express those feelings
… but was it even an option? After our night together, I’d figured that was the end of it, but he had come up to me in my office and given me his number…
The sound of Cass clearing her throat had me coming out of my head and back to the present.
“I feel like you just had an entire conversation in your head and we totally couldn’t hear it.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, then took another drink before saying, “I might be interested in finding out if there’s more between us than just sex, if it wasn’t for the fact that not only is it against school policy, but he’s only, like, gah, twenty-five or something.”
“So what?” Cass asked, her face challenging, and I realized that as someone whose husband was seven years older than her, the age difference wouldn’t be an issue for her.
“It’s different for you, Cass, you’re with an older man,” I said, thinking that explained everything. When her expression didn’t change I clarified, “Women mature faster than men, so you and Geo are mentally the same age.”
“That’s a generalized statement,” Ming said, shaking her head disapprovingly. “Did he act like a moron when you were together? Did he get out his crayons and color at the dinner table?”
Cass bit back a laugh at our friends’ remark, but I just looked at Ming incredulously.
“You can’t think this is a good idea,” I argued, knowing my friend was usually cautious at best when it came to men.
Ming looked up at me through the fringe of her jet-black bangs and said evenly, “I understand your concerns, but, Bronagh, this is the first spark of passion I’ve seen out of you since we graduated high school. Maxime was an asshole of epic proportions. Not only did he cheat on you throughout your marriage, but he treated you like a prized possession, instead of a wife. You’ve dedicated your life to food, and that’s great, it’s wonderful that you’re doing what you love, but Nonie, there’s more to life than work.”