Fuck. I’ve never chased a woman. Only ran from them.
“I need something to remedy this overwhelming desire I have to see her.”
She doesn’t throw herself into my arms so I’ll not get my movie-like reunion. “It’s probably not an oil you need. Have you tried calling her? Or maybe texting?”
“I wanted to. Thought about it every day since she left.”
“But?”
“I was afraid she might have come to her senses and decided I was a bad idea.”
“I bet she doesn’t think you’re a bad anything. This woman’s probably been feeling the exact same way. Scared.”
I move closer to Wren and place my hand on the side of her face. Hers comes to rest on top of mine as she turns her face inward to kiss my palm. “You’re here with Ollie?”
“It came together at the last minute. I didn’t want to call because I was afraid you’d tell me it would be better if I didn’t come.” Easier to get forgiveness than permission.
“I’m very happy you’re here.”
Wren wraps her hand around mine and uses it to lead me to the checkout counter. “Wynter, can you close tonight without me? Brou and I haven’t seen each other in a while. We have some catching up to do.” That sounds promising.
“No problem. Have a good time.”
“I need to get my bag and then we can go.”
I follow her to the back of the store, and we slip out the exit. She stops in the dark alley and takes my hands. “I wanted to stay that next day to see you. But I couldn’t.”
“I understand. I wish I didn’t have to leave you to go to Bridgette that night. But I had no choice.”
“I keep up with them through Ollie. He said she and the baby are doing well.”
“He’s still a little guy but a big fighter. The doctor calls him a growing preemie. He says he sees no long-term problems from coming so early. We’ll be playing baseball together before you know it. I’m going to make a pitcher out of him.”
“I’m glad everything turned out okay. I know and understand how much they mean to you.”
“You’re one of the few who do.” So non-judgmental. I think it’s another one of the reasons I like her so much.
I haven’t touched her in a month. It’s all I want to do. This isn’t the most ideal place but I can’t help myself.
I cradle her face and bring my lips to hers, but stop before they come together. Only our breath touches. “For thirty days and thirty nights, I’ve hardly thought of anything but you.”
“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about you too.”
“Is there any chance we can get back the night we should have had a month ago?”
She nods, her eyes never leaving mine. “How long are you staying in Savannah?”
“Driving back early Monday morning.”
“I think we can get our night back plus two more.” Three nights. Surely that will be enough for me to get my fix so I’ll stop obsessing night and day over this woman.
Porter was right. I want her so bad I can’t stand it.
I’m risking my friendship with Stout. My business relationship. Maybe even my livelihood. And I don’t care. She’s worth the gamble.
I’m going all in.
Lawrence Thorn
I can’t believe Brou came to me. Showed up in the middle of my store out of the blue like that. “Where are you staying?”
He laughs. “The Bohemian. I thought it was fitting. And close to your shop.”
“I’ve always wanted to see that hotel but have never had a reason to be in it.” But I have a reason now.
“Will you stay with me tonight?” Hell, yes.
“I’d love to. Is it okay if we swing by my place first so I can pick up some things?” I wasn’t dolled up in pretty lingerie that night with Brou a month ago. Plain white bra. White cotton panties. Not sexy. But in my defense, I had no idea I might have sex while visiting my brother.
So here I am again with little notice prior to sex. At least this time, I can go by and pick up something decent so I can change before he sees me in white cotton a second time.
I don’t have a lot to choose from. I haven’t made a habit of needing sexy lingerie to wear for a man but I do have a pretty ivory lace bralette with matching cheeky knickers. Probably not the kind of lingerie Brou is used to seeing on a woman but the style fits me. And I happen to think he likes me the way I am, weirdo and all.
“Do you walk to work every day?”
“I usually ride my bike unless it’s raining. That was it in the back alley chained to the wall.”
“That old-timey one with the basket?”
I elbow him. “Don’t call Beatrice that. She’s vintage.”
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to hurt Beatrice’s feelings.”
“I won’t tell her what you said.”
I turn the deadlock and push the door open. “This is it. Home sweet home.”
Brou follows me in and takes a look around. “This fits you to a T.”
I love my silver sectional with purple and chartreuse throw pillows. I know. Very girly. “It’s not a brown couch with brown walls.”
“Are you talking smack about my brown couch and walls?”
“Not at all. Your house is masculine. Very you.” I point at the chaise end of the sectional. “Cop a squat and relax. I won’t be long.”
I fetch my overnight bag from the top of my bedroom closet and do a mental checklist of everything I need. I organize the pieces neatly on the bed before placing them in my bag. Except the lingerie. I tuck it away in my bag in case he pops into my bedroom. I want that to be a surprise.
Brou calls out something I don’t understand. “What was that?”
He appears in my bedroom doorway. No shock there. I figured he wouldn’t stay away. “I said no television?”
“I had one but all it did was collect dust so I gave it to my elderly neighbor to replace the huge console TV she had.” The thing was so big it took up half her living room.
“I can’t believe you encouraged someone to replace her vintage television with something modern.”
“Smart-ass.” But he sort of has me there.
“I’m kidding. That was a very nice thing to do.”
He crosses the room and grabs me from behind, kissing the side of my neck. I melt, as do my panties. “You’re taking too long.”
“You do realize you’re slowing me down?”
He cups me between my legs. “I know but I couldn’t keep my hands off you another minute. I want to fuck you so bad I can’t stand it.”
I was planning to freshen up and change into something pretty for him. To fuck with it. “Then do.”
He inches my skirt up my legs. “Do you have condoms?”
Fuck, no. But I would have if I’d known he was coming.
I shake my head. “You aren’t prepared like a good boy scout?”
He presses his head to the back of mine and groans. “Fuck, they’re in the hotel room. I thought I’d have enough damn restraint to wait.”
“That’s too bad.”
He grabs my ass and squeezes. “I have other goodies in the room too.” He puts his mouth against my neck and makes a buzzing sound that vibrates against my skin. Of course, my skin erupts with the physical proof of what he’s doing to me. “So you might want to get a move on.”
He releases me and I return to packing my bag. “I know we’ll use condoms but I still feel like I should tell you I’m not on any kind of birth control.” It only seems right since we’ll be solely dependent upon them.
“You don’t have to worry about a pregnancy. I’ve had a vasectomy.”
What?
I mean . . . what?
I turn around and look at him. Stupefied. I can’t even say anything because it feels like I just had a swift kick to the gut.
“What is it, Wren?”
I have to dig deep to find my voice. “Brou. Why would you do that?”
“I never want to go t
hrough losing another baby.”
I knew Brou went through hell when he lost Eli but I didn’t really understand how wounded he was until this moment. This man is carrying scars deeper than I dared to imagine.
“But you wouldn’t have the same outcome with a different woman.” Unless she had the gene for the kidney stuff. And what are the odds of that happening again?
“Who’s to say another child wouldn’t have some other kind of problem?”
“It’s a chance any parent takes when they conceive.”
He shakes his head. “Not me. I will never bring another child into this world.” I don’t know what to say to that but I guess I understand a little better now why he clings to Bridgette’s children. He’ll never have any of his own.
“Is this a problem for you?”
There isn’t a reason in the world it should be. Yet it bothers me, which is really stupid. We’re having sex. Pregnancy-free sex. That’s it. “No problem.”
“Everything still works the same except I shoot blanks.” Blanks. I guess I should be happy I don’t have to worry about an unplanned pregnancy.
“I know. You coming in my hand was proof of that. And the big wet spot on your pants.” I giggle at the memory of Brou standing there covering his crotch so my brother didn’t see it.
“There’s that smile I love so much.” I love that he loves my smile. He certainly has the power to provoke it.
“I’m ready if you are.”
He comes to me and drags the back of his hand down my cheek. “I have been for a month, you silly girl.”
* * *
I’m plenty experienced in the sex department but I can’t say I’ve had a lot of great sex. Most men are selfish lovers. Takers. Not givers. It wasn’t until a few years ago that realization clicked for me. So I stepped back and made a decision. I would no longer give my body to takers who didn’t give pleasure in return. I’m not a walking vagina for their satisfaction as so many of them believe.
“This room is beautiful, Brou.” And perfect for hotel sex. “I may spend the next three days right here and never leave the room.”
“I was kinda hoping for that.”
“Maybe if Ollie weren’t visiting.”
“Then I think I should take him to Birmingham and come back without him.”
Depending how the next three days go, I might be up for a return visit. But I’m not bringing it up yet. I don’t want Brou to freak out because he thinks I’m pushing for anything beyond hot sex.
“You told me you brought goodies. I did, too, but I need a minute to get ready.”
Brou takes my bag into the bathroom. “All yours. You know where to find me when you’re ready.”
I start by taking off my clothes and changing into my lingerie. That’s a loose term for what I’ll be wearing. Releasing my hair from the knot on top of my head, it falls softly to my mid back in a wave. Its softness against my near-naked body feels exquisite. Remembering Brou’s words when he first touched my hair has my heart rate increasing. You’re so beautiful. I’ll forego brushing it and shake it out a little so I retain the curl. I love how he wraps his hands in my hair and pulls me back toward him with it. He’s a giver and I want all he’s going to give.
I love how you smell. Let’s see how much my seductive oil mixture, with its exotic, sweet, and floral scent gets him going. It’s said to increase sexual attraction between partners. Not really necessary.
When was the last time I went to this much effort for a man? Imagining his hands touching me, worshipping my body, has my skin tingling. I need him. Now.
One last look in the mirror, and a little push of my boobs higher in the lacy bralette, and I’m ready. With Brou, I feel attractive. Wanted. Desired. I’m wet already. Go get him.
The sound of slow, seductive music made just for lovers welcomes me when I open the door. A tool for the sense of hearing to speak to the most important sex organ: our brain.
The music makes me happy; it means he’s trying. That’s why I said yes to this.
Brou is sitting on the edge of the bed wearing only his boxer briefs. “I knew you weren’t coming out in clothes so I saw no need in going through the take this and that off so we can throw it here and there.” Handsome and practical. I like it.
“I hope you weren’t expecting black and naughty with net stockings.”
He holds his arms out for me. “Come ’ere.”
He places his arms on my hips when I reach him. He slowly glides them downward and around to hold my bare cheeks. A roguish grin spreads beneath his beard. His mouth hovers against my skin, his warm breath teasing me. “You don’t need black lace and net stockings when you wear your skin like silk.”
“That’s a lovely thing to say.”
His hands cup my ass and lift me so I’m straddling him. Those strong hands then hold each side of my face, and he gazes into my eyes. “It’s the truth, Wren. You’re sexy without the smut.”
What I see there confirms my hope. This man wants me just as I am—the natural me with full hips and plump thighs. No thigh gap between a pair of skinny legs going on here.
I snake my arms over his shoulders and pull him against me. I love feeling this close.
His hands squeeze my hips when I rotate them in a circular motion against his hard cock pressing into my crotch. His eyes lock with mine and I will him to see the thoughts behind them. I like you, Lucas Broussard. A lot.
He slides his hand beneath my bralette and circles my nipple with his thumb. It’s instantly hard. His other hand mimics the same motion before pushing the lace garment up to free my breasts. “I love these so much.”
Then he should have full access. Bra tossed and gone. Only panties left.
He cups my breasts from the bottom and pushes them together. He lightly pinches my nipples, sending a chain reaction of rapture to my groin. “These are beautiful.”
I want my hands on him now.
I try to slip my hand into his boxer briefs but he flips us over so I’m on my back. “It’s been a while; I need to pace myself. I’m afraid I’ll blow if you touch me.” I wonder what constitutes a while for him. And does that mean he hasn’t been with a woman since we parted?
I hope he hasn’t been with another woman.
I hope my face is the only one he’s seen while his hand stroked his cock.
I hope he’s spent every day and every night thinking only of me.
His lips claim the side of my neck while his hand navigates its way down my body. His fingers splay over the front triangle of my cheeky knickers and rub my mound through the fabric. His touch is simultaneously arousing while tortuous; it isn’t enough. I want more of it.
I part my legs wide, giving him full access to my body. It’s my cue, giving him permission to touch me any way he likes.
My shallow breath is moving in and out of my chest quickly as I anticipate what’s coming next. Fantasize about it. Make me come, Brou. I need it so much.
He pulls back on the elastic band of my panties and glides his hand down the front. Yes. That’s what I want.
He pushes a finger down through my slick center and back up once in a slow, torturous stroke. My clit is barely grazed. Sweet agony. That’s the only way to describe it. I’m desperate, and inpatient, so I move against his fingers, riding them, in hopes of cueing him to my need. More.
“You can tell me what you want. Anything. I’ll give it to you.” Oh. He likes words.
“What you’re doing right now . . . more of it, please.”
He moves the tips of his two, maybe three, fingers faster. Every upward stroke hits my clit. I jolt from the surprise of its sensitivity. “Does that feel good?”
“Mmm hmm.”
He changes his technique and rubs me in a circular motion. My back bows from the bed and my legs fall even farther apart. “And this?”
“Yesss.” He’s hitting everything in my feel-good zone. It’s magnificent.
A soft whine slips from my mouth when Brou stops and moves t
o his knees. Why’d he stop? It was getting so good.
He grasps the sides of my panties and drags them down my legs. “I’ve been dying to get my mouth on you since I had that small sample.” Oh, shit. He’s going down.
He presses his lips to my inner thigh and places a kiss against my scalding skin. I’m trembling, and so on edge, I nearly jolt out of my skin from the erotic contact. “Nervous?”
“That’s a hot spot for me. Super sensitive.” It hasn’t been touched in a long time.
He trails kisses up my inner thighs, and I can’t control squirming beneath him. “I have three nights in Savannah. I hope to use all of them becoming personally acquainted with each of your hot spots.”
He moves upward and nibbles the skin of my groin that makes me involuntarily convulse. He’s found a second one.
Brou isn’t stripping off my panties and jumping straight into this. He’s warming me up for what’s to come. I like that a lot.
When he’s finished at my groin, he goes to the center of my mound, and drags his bearded face south to kiss me there. His tongue sneaks out of his mouth and skims the skin above the top of my slit. I know he’s pacing this but I want to lift my hips and force his mouth down so bad.
He pushes my legs apart and flutters of kisses line the bends of my legs. Every nerve ending in my pelvis is revved.
“Please . . .”
“Please, what, Wren?”
I can’t form a complete sentence. My brain is mush.
“Tell me what you want.”
There are a lot of things swirling in my head but I can’t bring myself to say any of them. “Put your mouth on me. Please.”
“Always so sweet and polite, so how could I not give you what you want?”
He places his tongue flat against my center and swipes upward like I’m a fast-melting ice cream cone. Until he changes maneuvers and uses the tip of his tongue in a circular movement around my clitoris.
I lace my fingers through his hair and tilt my pelvis upward. “Need more?”