Tap

  “Yes.”

  He plunges a finger inside me, and then another, while sucking my clitoris. His fingers move in and out, methodically slow at first, but gradually increasing in speed and pressure. No one has ever done anything like this to me. It’s amazing.

  The motion stimulates my whole erogenous zone in a teasing way, pushing me to an erotic edge I’ve never experienced. Fuzzy, warm tingles in my toes. My body simultaneously tensed and relaxed. Incoherent babble begins as the tingly waves of sensation occur deep within my pelvis. I want to suppress them so I can prolong my orgasmic plateau but it’s like standing at the finishing line of a race and jogging in place. The combination thing Brou is doing with his mouth and fingers feels so good. He’s going to shove me across the finishing line without my permission. Soon.

  I put my fingers into his hair and fist the top while I squirm beneath him. A tsunami of moans, groans, and panted breath escapes my mouth when the rhythmic flutters in my pelvis begin.

  He sucks harder and slows the motion of his fingers. His movements are methodical. Deliberate. Brou has made this all about me. He wants to bring me pleasure.

  And he does.

  Rhythmic twitching inside me. Pulsation in my face. A warm flush on my chest. They’re the precursors for the euphoria coursing throughout me.

  I. Can’t. Move.

  Brou slithers up my body, stopping along the way to kiss my stomach and breasts. We’re face to face once he reaches his destination. I’m so bedazzled it takes several blinks before I’m able to focus on his face. That beard is a glorious tool for oral sex, and he knows exactly how to use it.

  I touch my finger to his bottom lip. That’s a talented mouth you have there, sir. You pack some major orgasmic power behind that beard.

  “I hope that was good for you.”

  “Sensational.”

  I rise and push against his chest, my cue for him to roll to his back so I can return the oral favor, but he doesn’t move. “It’s been a long month. I’m ready to be inside you if that’s okay.”

  “Yeah. I want that too.”

  He rises to his knees and leans over to fetch a condom from the nightstand. He pushes the front of his boxer briefs down and tears the square package with his teeth. One fluid motion and he’s sheathed in latex.

  I capture the waistband of his underwear with my toes and push them down as he crawls over me. Now we’re both naked.

  Lucas Broussard is all man. And all naked, lying on top of me with his chest pressed to mine. This isn’t me fantasizing about him between my legs while I use my vibrator to satisfy the ache. Not me rubbing my bullet over my clit while I imagine his hot tongue flicking against it. He is here and this is actually happening.

  I part my legs wide when Brou settles between them and reaches to position himself at my entrance. He slides his tip through the slickness and enters me slowly before plunging deeper. He closes his eyes tightly when he’s all the way inside me. “You feel so good.”

  He pulls back with deliberate leisure and then thrusts with total domination. His pace is slow at first, but every stroke is deliberate and fierce. “So tight and wet. Fuck.”

  He moves faster and thrusts as deeply as our bodies will allow. I tighten my inner muscles around him and circle his waist with my legs. We aren’t like that long before he grabs my thighs and pushes them back and apart. That is deep. And oh, so good.

  His baby blues lock with mine as he thrusts over me. Normally, I’d look away. Eye contact during sex is uncomfortable for me. But not with Brou. I can’t take my eyes off his.

  “Oh, fuck. This one is happening fast.” Brou bites his bottom lip as he thrusts deep one last time before sinking over me. His body is completely unmoving and relaxed between my legs.

  He’s still inside me when he kisses the side of my neck and traces his fingertips in circles over my shoulder and upper arm.

  What is he thinking? Was that as enjoyable for him as it was for me? ’Cause I thought it was damn good.

  “What is that fragrance you’re wearing?’

  “A mixture of essential oils. A potion for seduction.”

  “I don’t think the oil made me want you.” He sniffs the space behind my ear. “But you smell fucking delicious.”

  He pulls out of me slowly and turns to sit on the side of the bed. I hear the snap of latex and then he’s back by my side. “Come ’ere.”

  I scoot closer, place my head on his chest, and toss my leg over his body. He wraps his arm around my upper back and arm so we’re intertwined like a vine.

  I kiss his chest and he returns the gesture on the top of my head. “I came for you.”

  He. Came. For. Me.

  Four words I longed to hear but hadn’t realized what they’d mean if he actually said them. He didn’t travel six hours to get laid.

  He came for me.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” And I’m happy we missed out on that night a month ago. It gave him time to obsess over me. And maybe I did a little obsessing over him as well. Possibly wracking my brain every day for a reasonable excuse to go back to Birmingham so I could see him.

  But he came to me instead. That makes me feel incredibly special. Wanted. And happy.

  I lie quietly until my phone alerts me to a new text. “Ugh. I do not feel like getting up for whoever that is.”

  He pulls away and scoots to the edge of the bed. “I’ll get it for you. Could be important.”

  I shamelessly ogle Brou as he crosses the room to get my bag from the table. What a delicious specimen of a man. And he’s mine for the weekend. Mmm.

  “Thank you.” I sit up and take my phone from my bag.

  Mom’s cooking breakfast in the morning. I brought Lucas to town with me and she wants him to come too. Can you go by the Bohemian Hotel and pick him up at 8?

  “Looks like you have an invitation to my parents’ house for breakfast in the morning.” I’m happy about the invitation but it means we don’t get to sleep in. I was under the impression we were going to have a most-of-the-night sexathon. Eight o’clock is going to roll around early. Will we go to my parents’ in sex comas or cut our night short and turn in early? He came for me, so I am not giving that up. Sex coma, it is.

  I feel like jacking around with Ollie.

  Lucas who?

  That should throw him off our tracks. Not that I think he has a clue I’m in his hotel room right now.

  My business partner. Lucas Broussard. Those damn oils and herbs are messing with your head.

  He loves to fuck with me about that stuff.

  Oh, right. You always call him Tap. Sure. I can pick him up. I work part-time as a driver with Uber so I can be your partner’s cabbie. I have nothing better to do.

  * * *

  Smart ass.

  * * *

  You say that like it’s a bad thing.

  * * *

  See you in the morning. Love you, smart ass.

  * * *

  K. Love you too, jackass.

  I place my phone on the nightstand and return to lying against Brou’s chest. “Well, that couldn’t have worked out better if we’d planned it ourselves.”

  Brou’s phone buzzes next. “Well, I guess we know who that is.”

  He reaches over and reads his message aloud. “You’re invited to breakfast at my parents’ in the morning. My sister Lawrence is coming to get you. Be in the lobby at five to eight.”

  I hear a swoosh after Brou thumbs a response. “Invitation accepted.”

  “Do you think it will be hard to be around each other in front of them and pretend we didn’t have sex and spend the night together? I’m not the best actress. I’ll probably look at you and break into a freshly fucked grin.”

  “If we’re going over there at eight then technically we’d need to have mornin’ sex for you to be considered freshly fucked.”

  “I’m up for mornin’ sex. The question will be if you are up for it?”

  “I’ll be sure to be up for it.”


  “Are you up for it again or is it too soon?”

  “You tell me if I’m ready for more.” I move my hand down and find the tip of his cock at his belly button. Hard as a rock, and no less impressive despite the short time since we had sex.

  An illusory bell sounds in my head. Round two.

  Lucas Broussard

  I wake to a beautiful naked woman lying close, her ass only a few inches from my cock. Instant morning wood.

  I scoot closer and thrust my dick between the split in her cheeks as I snake my arm around to squeeze her breast. She straightens her shoulders, arches her back, and rubs her ass against me. I think we agreed last night she’d need to be freshly fucked before breakfast.

  I turn and grab a condom from the nightstand. I sheath myself in latex and then open the top drawer and take out the goody I promised. A bullet.

  I adjust so I’m in prime position to take her from behind. But I want to make this good for her. Really good.

  I grasp the inside of her thigh and bend it at the knee. That’s right. Put it on top of mine. Legs spread wide. “Roll toward me just a little.”

  She’s tilted so my cock can still access her from the back and my hand can reach her front. “Is it okay if I use this?”

  She looks at the bullet and smiles. She knows what this is. I bet she has one and uses it often.

  “You certainly may.”

  Good. I’m going to use a little pulsation to get her warmed up. And wet.

  I start by kissing the back of her neck while circling the small vibrator around one of her nipples. I pay attention to her body language. Not a lot seems to be going on so I interpret that as less than stellar. Maybe it’s too powerful for an area so sensitive. Either way, time to move on. I only want to do what makes Wren feel great.

  I cup my hand around the body of the bullet and move it lower. I don’t want to go straight for her hot spot so I take a detour to roam from one side of her groin to the other. And everything in between.

  She initially jolts but then squirms and rolls her hips when I drag the pulsating orb across the top of her pelvis. Ahh, there’s a spot she likes.

  I tease her mercilessly, exploring every inch of her groin and pelvis while careful to avoid the one place she must be craving it most. I’m going to make her want it so bad she’s dripping wet. And I could be getting close according to her body language.

  I drop my hand between her legs and cup her mound, my fingers dipping into her slickness. So wet. Yeah, she’s ready for me.

  She wiggles when I position my tip at her entrance. I push a little and retreat, repeating the motion several times until I’m fully inside her. This is where I want to be. Balls deep inside of Wren.

  I move the bullet to the top of her slit, over her clit, and she cups her hand over mine. “I got this. You just concentrate on fucking me.”

  I relinquish control of the vibrator so Wren can be in charge of her own orgasm. I admire a woman who doesn’t lie in place and take whatever is given to her. She isn’t afraid to take authority over her own climax.

  “Fuck me hard, Broussard.” No man has ever hated hearing that.

  I grasp her hips and grip tightly as I thrust into her from behind. The buzz from the bullet grows louder. She’s putting the little devil on high speed.

  I grasp her leg and pull it back so she’s spread wide. I prop on one elbow and look over her shoulder so I can watch the show happening up front without me. Watching her get herself off is a fucking beautiful sight.

  She arches her back and adjusts her hips. “You’re right there where I need you.”

  I guess I’m hitting her hot headquarters in this position. Mental note made.

  “Oh, Brou. I’m about to come.” There’s her name for me.

  Her body tenses and she closes her legs. Normally I’d think that was a bad thing, maybe robbing me of the access I love. But fuck, her body is squeezing my cock even tighter in that position. Hell, yes.

  The hold her body has on my cock increases and relaxes in a rhythmic pattern. Tighten. Release. Tighten. Release. If I weren’t wearing this condom, I bet her body would be sucking every drop of semen out of me.

  I wish I were bare so I could come inside her. Weird. I haven’t had a thought like that in . . . ever.

  Wren presses her face into a pillow. “Ohh . . . Brou.” There it is again.

  I thrust hard one last time. My body involuntarily jerks as my hot stream is caught and contained by the latex.

  I press my forehead on Wren’s back and slow my breathing. “That was so fucking good. We have to do it like that again.” I take the bullet from her hand. “And use this little guy.” He’s beneficial for her and me.

  “You want to do that again now?”

  I don’t think I could. I’m sucked bone dry. “No. Tonight.”

  She twists and kisses me over her shoulder. “Okay. That’s doable.”

  I consider myself a carnal connoisseur. I’ve fucked a lot of women in my life, and I’ve made most of them come, but never during penetration. It’s always required me rubbing her off or performing oral to achieve it. This is a first for me. No woman’s body has ever done this to me. I have been missing out. Maybe they have been too. It’s fucking amazing.

  I. Want. More.

  * * *

  Stout meets us at the door and Wren whirls into his arms. “I’ve missed you, jerk face.”

  He spins her around and kisses her cheek. “It’s only been a month.”

  “Yeah, but I only saw you for a few hours then. Before that, it had been months.”

  “Well, I’m here now, you damn hippie.”

  Wren plants a big kiss on Stout’s cheek before he releases her. “I’m going to see if Mom needs help with breakfast.”

  She flutters away, not giving me a second glance. Feels odd for the woman I just fucked three times in the last twelve hours to not be clingy. Of course, Wren can’t be because of the circumstances, but I don’t think she would even if the situation was different.

  Stout punches me in the arm. “Hey, man. I hope it’s cool I sent my sister to get you.”

  “No problem.”

  “I know you must think she’s into some really weird stuff—and don’t get me wrong, she is—but my sister’s pretty awesome.” Wren is very awesome.

  “Yeah. We spent some time together at the festival. Different is good.”

  “Lucas Broussard, get yourself in here and see me.” I smile.

  Stout shoves my shoulder. “Better get in there and see Mama Thorn ASAP. She sounds serious.”

  Libby Thorn, amazingly warm and welcoming mother to Wren and Stout. Since the first day I met her, she’s been a second mother to me too. Knowing a little more about their past, I am incredibly impressed with the woman. And grateful she stepped into the role as their mother.

  Mrs. Thorn wipes her floured hands on her apron before coming to me for a hug. “It’s wonderful to see you again. It’s been too long.”

  “It’s good to be here. Thank you for the breakfast invitation.”

  She releases me and turns to Stout. “How did you finally talk the Cajun into coming out for a visit?”

  Stout shrugs. “All his idea.”

  “Well, we are very happy to have you.”

  “You have a beautiful home.”

  “Thank you. Been here thirty years.” What a great place for Wren to grow up, at least after the age of ten. Which reminds me—I wonder what happened with her birth mother about the kidney transplant. I need to ask about that later.

  “Breakfast is going on the table,” Mrs. Thorn calls out.

  “Then I’m here just in time.” Quentin Thorn meets me halfway for a handshake. “Good to see you, Lucas.”

  “And you, sir. Thank you for having me.”

  Mrs. Thorn moves bowls of food from the counter to the table. “You should be staying here instead of that hotel.”

  “I didn’t want to put you out.”

  “You wouldn’t be putting anyone
out. In fact, you should check out and stay here the next two nights.” Oh, no. That’s not happening. Too many good things are going on in that hotel room.

  Wren’s eyes catch mine. Her lips wrap around her teeth as she works to suppress the evidence of what she’s thinking. She wasn’t kidding about being a bad actress. Or am I simply aware? “Maybe next time since I'm all settled into my room.”

  Mrs. Thorn points at me. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  The breakfast on the table looks like it could feed a dozen people. “Hope you're hungry. I cooked plenty.”

  “I see that.”

  Bowls begin circling to the right. “Well, I have one who won't eat meat and everything must be organic. Another who won’t touch sweets for breakfast. And then a third on a strict no-salt diet. It's hard to come up with one menu to fit all those needs.”

  “I have no special dietary needs or preferences so don’t be surprised to see me have a little of everything.”

  Mrs. Thorn holds out a plate of pastries covered in powdered sugar. “Beignets for our Louisiana boy.”

  “These look so good. Thank you. I haven’t had one since my last trip to Louisiana.” I grew up with Cajun and French food all around me. I didn’t really know how good it was, or how much I would miss it, until I moved to Birmingham.

  “Cafe au lait?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I bite into the beignet, and it’s almost like being home. “Not everyone can make a good beignet but these are delicious.”

  Wren points to the corner of her lower lip. “You’ve got a little powdered sugar there.”

  I flick my tongue out and taste the sweetness. “Good?”

  She grins and looks down at her plate. “Yeah.”

  “So, flower child. Mom says you have a new boyfriend.”

  What.

  The.

  Fuck.

  Wren’s head jerks in Stout’s direction. Her eyes widen as her jaw sets. “I do not.”

  “So Mom’s lying?”