Exposed (VIP Book 4) Page 11

  She laughs. “Yes. Now fill my glass so I can glut.”

  God help me.

  I grit my teeth and toy with the label on my empty beer bottle. My entire body is humming. I’m like a tuning fork struck by lust. It’s so bad, I find myself twitching every few seconds. All because of her.

  I can’t look her way. If I catch sight of her, I’ll end up whimpering. Like I did in the kitchen. I actually whimpered. For the first time in my years of sexual experience, I understand true lust-induced pain. Touching her both inflames it and is the only thing that will make it better.

  I shouldn’t have followed her into the kitchen. Being alone with her is too great a temptation. It was a mistake putting my hands on her before everyone left. But I’d seen the hurt in her eyes, even though she’d tried to mask it with anger. I know better now. When I’m a shit, she gets hurt. Call me an idiot, but I never knew that. I’d taken her snark and anger at face value, thinking she hated me enough that nothing I did or said really mattered.

  The realization has my head spinning. Everything is upside down. The only thing that makes any sense is touching Brenna again.

  Her laugh cuts through my thoughts, and my abs clench so tight, they ache. My only recourse is to breathe slowly and steadily. But her scent is all over my hand. I’d forgotten to wash it, forgotten to taste her, which is a damn tragedy. I’m tempted to lift my fingers to my mouth and suck them. But if I did, I’d probably come on the spot, I’m so riled up.

  As it is, I don’t eat another bite of food. If it isn’t Brenna in my mouth, then I don’t want it. Thankfully, no one notices. That’s the strange thing about being the clown, if you’re not talking shit and acting like a fool, people tend to forget about you. I’m not sure if that’s comforting or insulting. At the moment, I don’t care.

  Finally—finally—the dinner is over. Somehow, I find myself down on the street, sucking in the crisp night air as my friends pair up and pile into their respective Ubers. I don’t remember if I said goodbye to Brenna. Or if she knows that, as soon as it’s humanly possible, I’m turning my ass right around and coming for her.

  “Did you want to get a beer?” Whip asks.

  We’re the only ones who haven’t arranged for a ride. Mainly because, while the rest of the guys go home to sleep with their women after these dinners, Whip and I usually go looking for hookups or sometimes play a round of pool. Anything to avoid returning to an empty apartment.

  “Nah.” I roll my tight shoulders and lie my ass off. “I ate too much. I think I’ll walk for a bit.”

  Weirdly, he seems relieved. “Yeah, I’m not feeling it tonight either. I’m going to catch a cab home.”

  Something about the way his gaze slides to the street and won’t meet mine has me paying closer attention. “You all right?”

  “Sure.” He does the chin lift thing—a tell that means he’s lying. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I don’t know,” I counter. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

  Around us, pedestrians flow, cabs honk, and a siren wails in the far distance. Whip and I stare at each other. The thing about Whip is that, out of all of us, he hides himself away the most. He does it so well, no one truly notices they’re not getting the real deal but a shadow. But I know him better than anyone. Something is up.

  Finally, he lets out a breath and shakes his head. “When you’re willing to tell me what’s going on with you, then maybe I’ll do the same.”

  A lump of regret fills my throat. We share everything. Always have. But I can’t share this, and he knows it.

  He makes a move to go, and I say the only thing I can. “It’s not my secret to tell.”

  “As long as you know what you’re doing.”

  I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.

  He knows that too because he full-on grins. “Have a good night, then.” He turns to go.

  “Whip.” He still hasn’t told me what’s up with him.

  Whip stops and glances over his shoulder. He’s not upset anymore, but the cagey bastard just gives me another enigmatic smile. “I’m not ready to tell either.”

  With that, he walks away.

  “Asshole,” I mutter with a chuckle before I realize I’m still standing outside. With another curse, I run back into Brenna’s building.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rye

  The elevator rises, and my thumb beats a bass line onto my thigh. It plays harmony with the insistent thud-thud-thud of my heart. I’m horny as fuck and nervous as a stray cat. I start humming “Stray Cat Strut” and get side-eye from an older guy stuck in the elevator with me. I’d forgotten he was there. With his tweed suit and thin, gray mustache, he reminds me of my English grandfather, and I have to fight the compulsion to stand straight, maybe check my shirt for wrinkles.

  It’s enough to make me laugh at myself under my breath.

  “Do yourself a favor,” he says with a slight smile. “Don’t sing that song to her when you get there.”

  I snap to attention. The hell? Is he a mind reader?

  He shakes his head at my apparent ignorance. “Wore that same expression the first night I slept with my now-wife. Knew it mattered, and that scared the bloody hell out of me.” The elevator doors open to his floor. He gives me a small salute. “Good luck.”

  The doors slide shut again, and I catch sight of myself in the bronze matte-metal panels. I look…hungry, impatient. Scared.

  I have to laugh at myself again. Because I am freaked. Brenna James has me by the balls, and I don’t want her to let go.

  The smile is gone by the time I get to the door and she opens it. For a second I just drink her in. She hasn’t changed out of the flowing knee-length skirt made of some gauzy violet fabric. I remember the cool kiss of it along the back of my hands as I slid them up her hot, silky thighs. She has on a white top that doesn’t hide the fact that she’s taken off her bra. The soft knit clings to the small mounds of her breasts, lovingly outlining the hard points of her nipples.

  My abs contract painfully as my dick rises. I haven’t yet seen her tits. It’s a travesty. I’ve spent countless hours fantasizing about what they look like, how they’d feel against my hands, in my mouth. Years of dreaming, wanting, waiting.

  God knows I want her. But it’s the look in her pretty hazel eyes, soft with desire yet wide with trepidation, that really gets to me. Elevator guy was right; it’s different when it matters. She matters. Of course, she matters. She’s been a part of me for so long, I wouldn’t know how to function if she were gone.

  Going after her shifted the foundations of our shared world. She’s right to worry. It is definitely a risk doing this. For the first time in my life, I won’t be able to keep emotion out of the equation. Maybe she can; I don’t know. But if this goes south, I’ll be wrecked.

  Maybe she reads the fear in my face because a wrinkle forms between the wings of her brows. “Rye…We don’t have to—”

  I step into the apartment, closing the door behind me, then cup her cheeks and kiss her slow and easy. She’s delicious. Perfect. My heart squeezes in the cage of my chest. It flips over when she sighs into my mouth. I kiss her again. Again.

  Soft. Light. Just feeling her lips. They’re a revelation.

  Letting her go was never an option.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I whisper into her sweet mouth.

  As if she’s been waiting to hear that, she yields, sagging against me. Her hands slide up my chest, spreading shivers of pleasure in their wake. With a grunt of approval, I lift her in my arms and head for the bedroom. Whatever comment she might have made over me carrying her is lost to my mouth because I can’t stop kissing her.

  When I get to Brenna’s room, I set her down by the bed. A single bedside light is the only illumination. I’m tempted to turn more on. I want to see everything in vivid color. But that might break the spell, so I stay where I am, my fingers trailing along the sides of her neck, touching the curve of her jaw.

  For all the assurances I mad
e, all my damn bragging about being good at this, now that I have her here, I don’t know what to do. I know how to fuck. I excel at fucking. This isn’t fucking. I’m not sure what to call it. But it’s definitely more.

  Brenna stares up at me. Out of her heels, she’s much shorter. I’m struck by the difference in our sizes. She’s tall for a woman, but I top her by at least a foot. Her slim frame is delicate and fragile compared to mine. My hands feel too big, my body clunky. Shit. I’m half afraid I’ll damage her with one wrong move.

  “Will you take your hair down?” I ask. She rarely lets it down, to the point that seeing Brenna without her standard ponytail feels like a gift.

  Silently holding my gaze, she reaches up and pulls the tie out. Her hair falls over her shoulders and nearly to her waist in a river of deep auburn. My fingers thread through the shining mass, and it slides like silk over my skin.

  She closes her eyes, a small sigh escaping. I step closer to massage her scalp, and she tilts her head back with a groan of relief. I kiss the pale arc of her neck. She’s wearing that perfume, the one that smells of sun-ripe peaches, dark honey, and rum. Pure sex on her. My tongue flicks the hollow near her shoulder.

  Goosebumps rise on her skin. I brush my lips over them. I need to do this right, take my time to give her the proper attention.

  But she takes a step back, her fingers curling around my wrists. “I don’t want slow. Or gentle.”

  It’s clear by her tone and the way she’s drawing into herself that she needs a certain amount of distance here. Disappointment kicks me in the chest.

  “Okay.” Thankfully, my voice is steady. “What do you want?”

  She exhales in a rush before biting the inside of her cheek. “I want to see you.”

  God, the anticipatory gleam in her eyes. She wants me naked. A bolt of heat spears my gut. “I can do that.”

  Ordinarily, I’d reach behind my head and haul my shirt off. But I know she wants a show. Toeing off my boots and socks, I straighten and slowly tug my shirt up by the hem, flexing every damn muscle I’ve got. I’m suddenly thankful for the hours I put in the gym, the years I’ve spent dancing, sweating, and strumming on countless hot stages.

  Her lips part, and she licks them as I toss the shirt aside. Millions of fans have seen me without a shirt. Yet I’ve never felt more seen than at this moment.

  She focuses on my lower abs. I’m not going to object. Not when her nostrils flare as I pop the button of my jeans and slowly draw down the zip. I push my jeans and underwear off in one go, and my hard cock bobs free.

  “God,” she whispers.

  “You’re making me feel like one.” My body thrums with need. I palm my dick once to alleviate the ache, but she distracts me, stepping forward and tracing the skull flanked by black angel wings inked across my upper chest.

  “I’ve always wanted to touch you here,” she murmurs.

  My throat closes. I swallow hard but can’t seem to say a damn word.

  Her fingertips drift down to my nipple and the silver barbell piercing it. She twists the barbell a little, and I swear I nearly whimper again. As it is, my dick twitches, trying its damnedest to get her attention. But she’s fascinated by my piercings.

  It’s sexy as fuck, the way she plays with me, tweaking and pulling just enough to make me crazed.

  “Brenna…” I’m begging. But, holy hell, she’s killing me.

  She presses her palms into my chest, just holding them there, and no doubt feeling the wild beat of my heart. “I know I said I wanted you to take control. But tonight…”

  Without another word, I understand her. She’s too nervous. Our first time. It’s still a little unreal that we’re actually here. “I’ll give you whatever you want, Berry.”

  Amber eyes gleam as they meet mine. “Get on the bed.”

  Oh, hell.

  I do as she commands, reclining on my elbows to watch her. She reaches under her skirt and pulls off her panties. My breath catches, my fingers digging into the comforter. But she doesn’t take anything else off and, instead, starts walking toward the bed.

  I don’t know what to make of it. She isn’t getting naked.

  “You’re just going to use me for a ride, then?” I ask, as she crawls onto the bed and hovers over me. My chest suddenly feels like lead. I’d told her I’d give her anything she needs, but ironically, I never realized I’d need things too.

  She pauses, her face inches from mine. I see her hesitation but also her joy. She’s happy. “Just this first time.” She hesitates again before forging on. “It’s a fantasy.”

  Oh. Well, then. A smile spreads over my lips. “To fuck me while I’m naked and you’re fully clothed?”

  God, she’s cute when she blushes. “Yes. And to do other things.”

  I don’t get to ask what those other things are. She shows me, dipping down to kiss the center of my chest. My breath leaves in a rush.

  “God, you’re gorgeous.” She says it with such breathless appreciation that I’m at a loss for words. I can only smile at her like a dazed fool. I want to touch her, kiss her. But she wants to play with me, and I’m more than willing to let her.

  Brenna’s lips find my nipple, now stiff from her previous torture. When she draws it into her wet mouth, I make a noise. Not a whimper. Oh, fuck, it is, because she’s licking and sucking, and I’m going to fucking lose it.

  My head falls back, tremors running down my chest and thighs.

  “Bren…”

  She smiles against my chest, confident now that she has me where she wants. I can only lie there and take it as she trails kisses down the center of my abs. The silk of her hair skims over my dick, and I hiss. Soft lips brush the swollen head. A light kiss I feel in my toes. It’s the only warning I get before she sucks me in deep. A groan tears out of me, and I arch my back.

  “Oh, fuck. Jesus. Fuck.”

  I thrust once into her mouth before I get a hold of myself. But it’s too good. She’s a damn pro. A dick-sucking goddess. I slump back onto the bed, throwing my forearm over my eyes. I’m gonna come. I can’t come, because then she’ll stop.

  “Brenna.”

  She hums, her tongue flicking over the sensitive tip, fingers gripping my shaft. White-hot heat licks up my balls. I groan again, biting my lip. She sucks me like I’m candy, like I’m the best thing she’s ever tasted. Sweat breaks out over my skin.

  “Bren. Have mercy.”

  Through the curtain of her hair, she looks up at me. The sight of her pink lips stretched wide around the hard shaft of my cock nearly does me in. My abs clench tight.

  “Please.” Yes, I’m begging.

  She releases my dick with a devious, prolonged pop. Then licks her lips.

  This woman. She’s going to kill me.

  I think I fall a little in love when she pulls a condom from the waistband of her skirt. My dick definitely does when she deftly rolls the condom down its throbbing length, finishing with a nice squeeze as if to say, I’m gonna take care of you now.

  I’m so hot for her, my head is spinning, while my body practically burns with need. My voice is guttural when I find the ability to speak. “Fuck me, Bren.”

  She grins wide. I love that. Love her confidence. Despite the fact that I’m on edge and panting, I find myself grinning back as she climbs onto the bed and begins to straddle me.

  “Lift your skirt,” I rasp.

  Brenna pauses and meets my eyes.

  “I need to see that much. Let me…” I lick my trembling lips. “Let me see that pretty pussy taking my cock.”

  Knees on either side of my hips, she hovers, and then her fingers gather up the loose folds of her silky skirt. Oh, so slowly, she reveals slim, milk-white thighs, and then… I groan.

  She’s wet, glistening and plump. Rosy lips peek out, begging for a kiss. Beautiful.

  “Is this what you want?” she whispers.

  “Yes.” A tremor breaks my voice. “I want it so bad.”

  Her breath catches, and she gives
me a sly look from under her lashes. “I’m holding my skirt up. You’re going to have to put that big dick in me, buttercup.”

  We’re laughing softly, but I’m hot as a furnace. I’ve never done this, played with someone in bed. Never laughed and felt both light as air and yet strung tight as a wire. It’s her. She makes it different.

  Our laughter dies, though, when I take hold of myself and slide the swollen tip over her sex.

  Hands shaking, I rub my dick in her wetness. “Ride me, Bren.”

  She sinks down but doesn’t get far because I’m too fucking hard and big to go in easily. The crown of my cock notches into the tight, hot heat of her, and all my practiced finesse dies with a harsh, strangled moan. “Oh, fuck. Look at you stretching to take me. Look at how pretty you are.”

  With a whimper and a wiggle, she pushes harder, and a little more of my dick slips inside heaven.

  “Fuck,” I rasp. “Fuck. Bren…” My hand flies to her hip, holding her steady, stopping her. Which is crazy because all I want to do is fuck her until I can’t move. But I’m too close, already teetering at the edge. My head feels light and hot, as though it might float away.

  Panting, she stares down at me, a question clouding her eyes.

  “I can’t…” I swallow thickly. “I might not make it for long this time. It’s been too many years of wanting you.”

  A small, purely feminine smile curls her lips. “You can take it.” Then she takes my hand and sets it on her thigh. Her fingers twine with mine. I clutch them like a lifeline.

  Brenna’s eyes flutter as she circles her hips on a moan. Teasing me. By the light of the lamp, she’s shadows and curves and gleaming skin. God, the way she rocks just a bit, working herself onto me. I count to ten, take deep breaths, and shiver like it’s my first time.

  Halfway in, her eyes snap open, and her gaze meets mine. Emotion grabs me by the throat, and all I can do is stare up at her, this woman who has tormented me for a decade. This woman who is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  The urge to thrust up and fuck into her until I can’t see straight rides me so high, I have to breathe through it, my fist winding into the sheets to keep steady. She’s looking at me like she’s lost. I see myself mirrored in those dark, amber eyes.