Breaking Brent (27 page)

He repeated it again and again in whispered tones, and moved his hands so that they could dance across her breasts once more.

“No, not asleep. Just dreaming.” Her voice was lazy and smooth, full of sleep and tempting promises. Curiosity got the better of him.

“What are you dreaming about?” Casually, he let his fingers roam from her breast, down her flat stomach and to the spot that called his name. She was wet. Slippery with moisture and yearning. When his fingertip brushed her clit, her legs moved and allowed him access.

“You,” she moaned. “I was dreaming about you.”

Moving his hips slightly, Brent let his cock stroke the small of her back. Her touch was a necessity.

“Oh, yeah? What am I doing?” He slipped his fingers through the slick folds and found her opening and slid one finger deep inside of her with ease. She gasped and tried to turn in to his touch, but he held her still. “Tell me. Tell what I’m doing.” In and out, he drove her passion, sinking his finger as deep as it would go and then withdrawing just to enter again.

“You’re kissing me.”

Brent’s tongue found the beating pulse at her neck and he laved it before adding suction to his mouth’s caress.

“Where am I kissing you?” A second finger joined the first after his question was posed.

“Everywhere.” Her hips thrust down, imbedding him fully inside of her. Hot. So hot. She could burn a man alive.

“Everywhere, huh. That’s a little too general. Am I kissing your nipples?” His hand moved faster and with more force. Letting his thumb settle on her clit brought a breath of hissing air from her lungs.

“Yes.”

“Where else?” He demanded with his fingers. “Where else?” He was close to bursting but he held the beast at bay. Not yet. He wanted her closer. Wanted to drive her closer with his fingers, his touch and nothing more.

“My mouth. Down my body to my…to my…” The arm holding his neck and head prisoner pulled at his hair, bringing him closer. There was only one way Brent could get any closer to her. But not yet.

“To your what?”

She tried to turn in his arms but he stopped her. He anchored her legs with his and her body with his weight. “Say it, Peyton. Tell me where my mouth is?”

“On my pussy.”

Holy shit
, his body called.

“Your tongue is all over me, licking and sucking.”

Brent increased the speed of his fingers, wanting badly to replace them with his cock, but still he held back.

“Are you going to come, Peyton? Are you going to come all over my mouth and tongue?”

“Yes. Yes!” Her hips bucked against his plunging fingers and he added intensity and speed and brought her orgasm. He felt her clench and grip his fingers, felt the flood of cream coat his hand. That was the breaking point.

He removed his fingers from her convulsing muscles, rolled her to her stomach, pushed her knees beneath her body and gripped her hip with one of his hands. With the other he guided himself into her passage. For several seconds the head of his dick was treated to the most wonderful spasms she pushed out. When her body calmed, Brent pressed forward, parting her folds and feeling her stretch and move to accommodate his size. Then she screamed and moaned. Both noises were music to his ears.

With both of his hands holding her hips in place, Brent moved Peyton’s body back and forth across his flesh. He showed her what he wanted and what he liked and it didn’t take long for Peyton to copy his rhythm.

The harder the better.

The deeper the better.

Peyton caught on quickly.

Her hips took up the rhythm like it was second nature. Brent watched her fingers close and grasp the spindles of the headboard. The action opened her body so he could watch the shift and sway of her breasts as he pumped and glided in and out of her. The little pants from her throat made him jump and throb inside of her. He was almost there. Almost. Then he heard her voice.

“Brent?” The breathlessness to her voice was his undoing. His hips pistoned faster and harder, sending his cock deeper inside of her. “Brent.” The tone had changed but the desire was still there.

“Yeah?” The word was barely audible, but he did his best to release it from his mouth.

“Just like…saying…your…name.”

He liked it too. He felt a tingle rise from his tightened sac and he let his head fall back and his eyes close against the pleasure.

“Brent?”

“Yeah?” This time the word wasn’t audible at all. He was lucky his mind could even conjure enough sense to speak.

“I love you.”

He smiled into the dark over her words.

“I love you too.” He brushed his lips across her so that she could feel his smile if she couldn’t see it clearly.

“I want…”

“What? What do you want?” He pumped harder. He pumped faster.

“I want…”

“I know you do.”

“I want you.” Her words stopped his movements.

“You’ve got me, darlin’. You don’t have to beg.” His smart-ass remark was rewarded by tight-lipped hard stare from her, which he returned with a deep, hard thrust of his own. She moaned and he joined in. This was perfect. She was perfect. They were perfect—and come hell or high water, he was going to do everything to ensure that it stayed that way. No more memories. No more fantasies. Just this. Him and her—forever.

Epilogue

Jason Kiel pulled into the driveway of his home a little before midnight. It was an early night for him to say the least, but thanks to Cada McCready and her knee, his balls stung—and his pride did as well.

He was fed up with women and their need to make men jealous by using another man. He had been more than happy to play along with Cada’s ruse to get Travis Boyd to look her way. It wasn’t his fault that she hadn’t explained the parameters better. So he had kissed her and kissed her good. What was the big deal? The big deal was that Cada McCready had damned good blind aim—and a hard knee. A knee that had imprinted itself on his balls for the better part of a week, give or take a few days.

Jason was tired of the whole jealousy game. If you wanted something or someone you had to put yourself out there or get over it. Those were the few simple rules he followed as far as the female population went. If a woman didn’t return your attraction or attention there were plenty more waiting who would.

He opened the door to the main house and took the stairs two at a time. For the last month or so he had gotten into the habit of sleeping in the North Cabin, but tonight he wanted his bed—not the substitute that the cabin offered. When he reached the landing he heard the light sound of music coming from the room that used to be Brent’s. It wasn’t anymore. Now Jocelyn was making it her own—for the time being. That would end soon enough. She would return home to her daddy’s house when she got tired of being the spoiled brat she was.
Save me from spoiled brats and jealousy-seeking women
, he thought.

He turned the knob on his bedroom door and went to the bed to grab his pillow. If Jocelyn was staying in the house he would have to make do with one of the beds in the cabin, but the pillow was going with him.

He grabbed the pillow from the bed and turned to leave. That was when he saw the adjoining bathroom door cracked. That was when he saw the reflection in the mirror above the sinks. That was when he saw Jocelyn standing at one of the sinks naked as the day she was born. He stopped dead in his tracks.

Her auburn hair was piled on top of her head and several tendrils had worked themselves free. Her skin was a light pink color, probably from the heat of the bath or shower she had recently taken because her skin still held a light sheen of moisture. He felt his mouth go dry. What was she doing? Standing there that way. Looking at herself in the mirror. Looking at her naked self there in the mirror.

Jason started to retreat. He had seen enough, but he couldn’t move farther than a couple of steps. She didn’t know he was there—and that he was watching.

She lifted her arms above her head and pulled the pins that held her mass of hair. The tresses cascaded free and fell to her breasts. Her breasts. Holy shit and then some. Her breasts were perfect. Full, high and round, topped off with the pinkest nipples. Pink. Hard. Nipples. Those breasts could have been any man’s downfall.

Shit
, he cursed himself silently. That kick to his cock Cada had delivered must have fucked with his brain. This was Jocelyn. The spoiled brat who gave him fits and tested his patience. Jocelyn who was a pain in the ass—but what an ass. Round and firm and perfect for a man’s hands. His hands.

Before his body overtook his mind, Jason retreated the rest of the way from his bedroom. He took the steps faster going down than he had going up, but with little to no noise at all. As he made his way across the yard, his pillow under his arm, his heart beating a million miles a second and his dick pressing against the zipper of his jeans, he repeated to himself over and over again.

“Wrong cookie jar. Wrong cookie jar. Wrong fucking cookie jar.” It didn’t matter how many times he repeated and tried to implant it into his brain. All Jason Kiel could think about was Jocelyn and how those nipples of hers would taste in his mouth. He was so screwed—him and his dick.

About the Author

Niki Green knew at the tender age of four, when she created her first tall, dark and handsome hero (in the form of an imaginary husband named James) that the make-believe world was just too hard to ignore.

Now every day is an adventure for her and the heroes and heroines she creates. On any given day she can be found relaxing under the hot southern sun with a book in one hand and her laptop nearby. When she is not reading or writing, which is hardly ever, she loves to spend time with her husband (a great sport—even though he does blush quite often) and her darling daughter (whose creativity knows no bounds).

Niki Green can be contacted at
[email protected]
or at her blog
http://nikigreen.wordpress.com

Look for these titles by Niki Green

Now Available:

The Real Deal

He held the reins to her heart once—and this time he won’t let go.

The Real Deal

© 2009 Niki Green

A
Wild Ride
Story

Willa Tate left Millbrook, Texas, years ago—along with her future, her fiancé and her heart. Now, as one of the headlining acts at a hot burlesque club, she looks into the crowd, sees a familiar face staring up at her—and her past comes crashing back.

Chase Kiel has some hard questions for the former love of his life. He spent forever looking for her, and now he wants answers—even if he has to throw her over his shoulder and drag her back to Millbrook to get them.

He’d find it a hell of a lot easier if the chemistry weren’t still there. If they didn’t still fit together like keg of dynamite and fuse. If he didn’t want not only his answers…but her heart.

Chase is still certain he and Willa belong together—and convincing Willa of it will be his pleasure.

Warning: This title contains explicit, powder-keg-hot sex, language that ain’t fit for your mama’s ears, and a hot cowboy with a Texas-sized heart.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
The Real Deal:

The music began roaring its way through the speakers filling the club. Nick recognized the song. It was popular and played on nearly every radio station numerous times a day. He couldn’t remember most of the words but he knew the overall theme, someone had kissed a girl and she had seemed to like it, or so he thought. He couldn’t remember. All he could think about was the pressure his zipper was putting on his increasing erection. Never in his life was he so grateful for a table cloth.

Hayden on the other hand didn’t seem to care if his arousal was evident to the rest of the patrons or not. There he sat an elbow’s length away laid back in the opposite chair, beer bottle lifted halfway to his mouth, eyes roving over the eye candy moving before the crowd. Nick shook his head at his captivated brother and returned his undivided attention to the stage and to the ones who occupied it.

After the first few beats introduced the song a throaty, ultra feminine voice rang out the lyrics that propelled the dancers along. Each movement from the two was synchronized. What one did, the other mimicked.

They moved with the beat of the music, at first only watching each other through the faux mirror in front of them. Black fishnet gloves traced an eyebrow and moved seductively to the sets of cherry-red lips. Material ran gracefully and without pause over the glistening pair. Their fingertips stroked the top first, then bottom and then back to the top before blowing a kiss to one another via the mirror.

Without faltering, breaking their timing or rhythm, the pair removed the gloves slowly and let them fly into the crowd. With bare hands placed on the vanity top, the dancers rose and inched closer to each other, inspecting the reflection that should have been there. Closer and closer the pair drew to each other until only a breath separated them from each other.

When the crescendo proclaimed that the chorus had arrived the two stepped away from the prop and twirled and stomped their way around the stage. Each and every step they took was determined and full of intent—the intent being to arouse and seduce every man at their feet.

Little black pleated skirts barely reached the top of the thigh. Nick swallowed numerous times as he watched them both move closer and closer. Black garters ran the length of each leg, connecting the striped, sheer stockings under the skirt. Connected them to what, Nick wondered and then realized he didn’t care.

His knowledge of lingerie ran as far as the occasional Victoria Secret catalog placed in their mailbox by mistake. Those were good months.

Stiletto boots sheathed the long, trim legs that descended the stairs in time with the music. Those black patent encasements laced all the way to the knee looked both sexy and dangerous at the same time. An image of the dancer in nothing but the boots flashed before Nick’s eyes and he felt his cock jump beneath his zipper. If this was any clue as to how the rest of the night was going to continue, he was in for a few hours of heaven and hell, either one welcome.