The Wrong Right Man(53)
“You got it.” She seems all too happy about spending his money, but I don’t like the feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Please don’t,” I say softly, and she looks at me. “I just need a couple things to hold me over. I’ll get the rest this afternoon after I track down my purse.”
She looks between me and Braxton, and I don’t know her well enough to know what she’s thinking, but after a moment, she locks eyes with me and nods before turning on her heel and grabbing her bag. “Let’s go, old man.”
“We’ll be back.” Bret stands, grabbing his keys off the counter, not looking as happy as his wife is about a trip to the store.
Once they’re gone, I take a seat at the island with my tea, and Braxton goes to the door, locking it. When he comes back to me, he wraps his arms around me and nuzzles the side of my neck, and then he whispers in my ear, making me shiver. “Just a guess, but I don’t think my parents hate you.”
“Don’t be smug.” I tip my head to the side as he kisses down my throat then whimper as he cups one of my breasts and slides his hand down my stomach to cup me between my legs. “Braxton.”
“Open your legs for me, Dakota.”
Panting, I do as he asked, and he moves his hand under the waistband of his boxers and his fingers slip between my folds. The second he circles my clit, my head drops back and I moan.
“Do you know how soft you are here?” He thrusts two fingers inside me. “How tight and wet you are? How much I love the little sounds you make and the way your pussy flutters when you’re about to come?” His breath brushes my ear as my core starts to tighten around his fingers. “Let go.”
“Oh, God.” My legs start to shake, and stars start to dot my vision as my fingers clench the edge of the chair, but as the orgasm starts to build, he removes his hand. “Don’t stop.”
I hear him chuckle as he spins the stool around, and then the next thing I know, his boxers I’m wearing are gone, he’s on his knees, and his face is between my legs. I rest one foot on his shoulder and the other to the edge of the counter, and he groans as he devours me, his fingers delving into me as he licks and sucks my clit.
The orgasm that had been building comes back with gusto and my head falls back to my shoulders as I tumble over the edge. My heart pounding and my breath coming in short pants, I lift my head and run my fingers through his hair, focusing on his gorgeous face as he stands and looms over me. His gaze stays locked on mine, and I watch a million questions and emotions flash through his eyes.
“What?” I ask quietly, cupping his jaw.
“I’ll tell you when the time’s right.” He takes my arms and lifts them to wrap around his shoulders then grabs me by the back of my knees, lifting me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and hold him while he carries me to the couch, sitting down with me straddling his lap.
I lift my arms as he takes off my shirt, then my hips, and then I watch him pull himself free from his sweats. He slides his length back and forth through my folds as my nails dig into his shoulder. “Take me slow,” he orders as he holds himself steady, and I lower myself, biting my lip against the exquisite feel of him filling me. “Yes,” he hisses, grabbing my ass with one hand and the back of my neck with the other.
I rise and fall slowly, enjoying the connection, the look on his face, the feel of his skin against mine. He pulls me forward, and I open my mouth over his as he urges me to ride faster while he takes control of the kiss. I let him lead the way, knowing he’s never failed to take me somewhere beautiful.
He pulls his mouth from mine, and I rest my forehead against his as he grabs my ass with both hands and his hips start to rise and fall to meet mine, the two of us working in sync, in search of pleasure. When my inner walls begin to pulse, he groans then urges me to go faster, to ride him harder. I try, but my own orgasm makes my body give out, and then he flips me to my back and lifts my legs to his shoulders, fucking me hard. So hard there is a pinch of pain that only seems to intensify the pleasure that is coursing through my body.
His hips jerk then his strokes slow and he lowers my legs from where they are resting. He kisses me once more, this time gentle and sweet, like he’s reminding me that no matter how hard he takes me, he can still be soft and tender. When the kiss slows, he picks me up without breaking our connection and carries me into his room. He puts one knee then the other onto the bed then lowers me down, and I whimper at the loss of him.
“I’ll be right back.” He kisses my forehead, nose, and lips then leans back and tosses the sheet over me and goes into the bathroom. I hear the water turn on, and a few minutes later, he comes out with a washrag he uses to clean me up before kissing my stomach. When our eyes meet, he pulls the sheet back over me then takes the rag back into the bathroom.
When he comes back out, he’s dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. I sit up holding the sheet to my chest then lean back against the headboard and watch him approach me.
“Can you please go check your car for my bag?”
He puts a fist in the bed and looms over me as he answers with a quiet “No.”
“Braxton. I’m happy and relaxed. Don’t ruin that by being annoying.”
He smiles and ducks his head so his lips brush my ear as he speaks. “Your bag is sitting on the table near the front door. If you hadn’t been set on running, you would have noticed it earlier.”