Fat (3 page)

“It’s one of my favorite things to do.”

“Do you know the constellations?”

“Some of them, but they mostly look like flecks of glitter on velvet. No particular shape, so I can’t really identify them by sight. Like, right there?” I pointed. “That’s the Little Dipper. And that’s all I’ve got.”

His hands started moving up and down my bare arms slowly, his callused fingers slightly rough. My body responded, I was hyperaware of everything. The hitch in my breath, the breeze on my skin in the wake of his caress, the hard ridge digging into my hip.

It had been so long since I’d been with someone, I’d forgotten how good this part was—the chase. The build-up where every touch primed you for more. His thumbs brushed the edges of my breasts as he stroked—made me wonder what would happen if I turned into his hand.

Of course, here on a boat in the middle of the river wasn’t exactly the right place to do that. This was the tease. I braced my hands on his thighs and they were solid as concrete. I repositioned myself, but really it was just an excuse to rub myself against him and offer the best view of my cleavage.

He grew bolder with his touch, dragging his fingers over my collar bone, down my arm, then back up again. It was a challenge not to arch my back, demand more. I wanted his hands all over me.

I’d already decided I was going to sleep with him, that was a given. This all felt much too good to deny myself.

“Your skin is so soft.” He continued in the same, unhurried manner—as if he’d be content to pet me like some kitten all night.

It was time to up the ante. I’d tell him what I wanted. It was easy for me to do that when I already knew a guy wanted me. I knew all the tricks, all the moves… I played the game of seduction well. As long as it was a guaranteed win.

I flexed my fingers around his jean-clad thighs, lightly kneading. “And you’re so hard.”

“Yeah, I am.” His breath was warm against my ear and his stroking stopped.

I made a small sound of protest, but one arm was around my waist while the other, the one that was between me and the back of the bench, moved so that his hand slid under my dress—hidden by my crinoline.

To any passerby, we just appeared to be a couple cuddling under the stars.

But my breath caught in my throat as his hand moved steadily up between my thighs.

“Do you want this, Claire?”

Who wouldn’t? “Yes.”

He was like some kind of magician, dipping his fingers past my panties and moving in a primal rhythm that lit me on fire.

“I’m going to make you come so hard and long you’ll beg me to stop.”

“Tell me how.”

“You like it dirty?” he asked in a low tone.

Apparently, I did tonight. It was like I was possessed, I wasn’t me. I wasn’t this wanton thing, this woman who let a guy do these things to her in a public place. Or on a first date.

But I didn’t want to be Claire anyway. I wanted to be the version of Claire I painted up like some goddess of womanhood and confidence. The version I always pretended to be.

“I like it dirty, I like it clean—I just like it.”

“You’re so wet and hot. I can’t wait to taste you.” He plunged deeper, his thumb brushing lightly over my clit.

Shivers of pleasure and anticipation ricocheted through me and I struggled not to buck my hips too obviously.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

The orgasm that hit me was unexpected and almost uncomfortable. There’d been no long, slow build. No ratcheting up of sensation, it just crashed into me like a wrecking ball. I just shuddered against his hand.

I knew what had done it, what had pushed me over the edge. His raw confession about how he thought I was beautiful.

I was so pathetic.

But Brant didn’t seem to think so. “I love how responsive you are. Just wait until I get you alone.” He nipped at my ear, and normally, I’d find that obnoxious, but somehow from Brant, I liked it.

“I don’t want to wait. There’s got to be a bathroom on this tub.” I turned my face into his neck and nipped him back.

His grip around my waist tightened. “There is, but I don’t have any latex.”

“Why not?” My voice was a little higher pitched than I meant it to be.

“Because I didn’t want to screw this up by trying to get in your pants.”

“You blew past that one orgasm ago.”

He laughed. “I guess I did. You were just too damn enticing and you smell like candy. What’s a man to do?”

“If I smell like candy, I guess that means you should lick me.” I teased.

“I guess I should.” He put his hand to his lips and sucked his finger into his mouth. “Yeah, just like candy.”

That might have been the most decadent thing I’d ever seen. I had to cross my legs as another tremor shot through me. I guess in the scheme of things, it wasn’t that big a deal, but no one had ever done that after touching me. No one had ever been that enamored of me.

This feeling Brant wrought in me was addictive. I wanted more of it. Not just the pleasure, but the other things. Feeling wanted. Feeling beautiful.

“You’re good with your mouth. Looks like you’ve had some practice.” I nodded at him.

He laughed. “Is that your fantasy when you come to the club? Do you think we’re all in the back oiling each other up and doing naughty things?”

“I know better. But it’s kind of a hot picture, if I think about it.”

“All the guys are convinced that when you have girls’ night, they all go back to your place and you have a dirty slumber party.”

“Oh really? Wouldn’t you just like to know?”

“I would. You should tell me all about it.”

Both his arms were around me and I inhaled the scent of him. From here on out, I’d associate Blue with orgasms. “I will. When you take me home.”

“I didn’t plan for this to happen. I really do want to get to know you, Claire.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to go home with me?”

“I’m saying I don’t want to leave in the morning and never see you again.”

“I never invite anyone to spend the night. I invited you.” It was the closest I could come to any kind of promise.

“I’ll make that concession. If you let me follow through on our breakfast plans.”

It was a small thing, but I really liked that he used the word “concession.” A good vocabulary always turned me on.

“Only because you used the word concession.”

“I know.”

Maybe he did get me after all.

CHAPTER THREE

When we got back to the house, I could hear April barking like a caffeinated purse dog all the way outside.

“Well, this isn’t awkward at all.” I said, standing in my living room.

Brant shrugged. “She’s just having a good time.”

“I’m not sure that I ever needed to know that about her though.”

He grinned. “We could give them a run for their money.”

“Oh yeah?”

"Yeah, baby." He moaned.

The howling stopped and the house was suddenly much too quiet. I dragged him into my room and shut the door, giggling. "What are you doing?"

"That thing you like." He made sure to project his voice so there could be no mistaking what he'd said through the walls.

It took me all of a nanosecond to decide to play along, Kieran had it coming. I couldn't count how many nights, mornings, or even afternoons I'd spent wearing my earphones trying to block out screams, moans, and a general carnal ruckus. Turnabout was finally fair play.

I moaned experimentally and the yipper dog was silent. I did it again and Brant banged into the wall with a snicker.

"Yeah, just like that," he growled.

"I didn't know I could bend that far. Harder."

He started banging a steady rhythm on the wall and I provided the soundtrack to accompany the show.

Only the next sound I made, he focused on me with a particular intensity. "You're really good at faking it. Makes me wonder what you sound like when you mean it," Brant whispered.

"You heard me on the boat."

"No, you were holding back because there were people around."

"There are people around now." My mouth was dry and I licked my lips. My feet carried me closer to him of their own accord.

"No one that actually cares what we're doing. This will be another story at the club just like the time Kieran banged that reporter in the dressing room. Instead, it'll be your turn to talk about how you and I rocked Kieran and his flavor of the day out of bed."

I didn't like how that sounded. I didn't want April to be the flavor of the day, even if that's what she signed up for. I didn't want the guys at the club to know I'd slept with Brant. But I did want Kieran to know for some screwed up reason. Maybe to highlight the fact I wasn't just his roommate, I wasn't actually one of the guys. I was a woman with needs.

And there was a man who wanted me, a man who thought I was hot, not in spite of being fat.

I didn't know how kissing was going to work, I could never picture it with a guy who was so much shorter than me. I always thought that I'd have to be the aggressor. But it was like dumping a bottle of mercury on a pane of glass--the molecules were drawn back toward each other. Our mouths were the same, the press of lips inevitable.

His hands were in my hair, on the nape of my neck, sliding down my arms, around my waist--it was as if he touched me everywhere at once.

Maybe he wasn't Mr. Right, but he could be Mr. Right Now.

I drew him to the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. It was nothing I hadn't seen before, but this was more intimate, this was real. What he did on stage was an act, there was no connection to anyone but himself.

He was working the zipper on the back of my dress and I froze. I didn't want him to see me naked.

"What's wrong?" His voice was low and ragged.

I didn't want to tell him because that would be even worse than being naked in front of him because I would be bare. Not just my skin, but me. Everything I wanted to keep hidden, even from myself.

"Change your mind? We can wait."

I was being stupid. It's not like my clothes hid that I was fat. It wasn't like he'd suddenly get me naked and it would be a surprise. He knew what he was getting into. Except part of me didn't believe that. Part of me still believed he'd be disgusted by me. Even though he'd chased me, even though he'd had his fingers between my thighs on the boat, and even though he was hard and had been all night.

"No, I didn't change my mind." I tilted my face up to kiss him again.

This time, he was tender, his kiss gentle. "I mean it, Claire. We can take our time."

I was such a fucking spaz. I wished I could be that confident, sexy woman I pretended to be. That everyone believed I was. I hated that I wasn't. To punish myself, I decided to confess. "I had a moment of self-doubt, but I'm over it."

He propped himself up on his elbows and searched my face. "About this? It's fine."

"No, about me. About..." I looked away from him. Yeah, this was why confession was a punishment. "About you wanting me after we took our clothes off."

Brant dipped his head and kissed my neck, sending shivers through me. "For being such a smart woman, that's a stupid thing for you to think. Can't you feel how much I want you?"

The self-doubt monkeys that were clawing their way up my back said that because he was a man, he'd fuck anything. He'd stick his dick anywhere because it was available, not because he wanted me. But that was stupid.

And cruel, both to me and to him. It painted him with an asshole brush that he'd never done anything to deserve.

"You're beautiful, Claire. You're sexy. You're smart. You're kind. You're everything."

His words felt good, but his hands felt even better. They were reverent and worshipful as they moved down my curves—a physical proof that what he said was true. I allowed him to peel my dress off and even in the dark, it was hard for me to look at him.

But he never stopped praising me as he undressed me. When I was naked, the look on his face was like he'd unwrapped some sort of treasure. It was like a drug and I was already addicted. I wanted to feel this way all the time. I never wanted that to stop.

I realized I was being selfish. I'd made this all about me and he seemed content to let me do that. I didn't deserve him. Not because of my body, but because I was here with him when I really wanted to be with Kieran.

It would serve me right if he'd really rather be there with April.

This was why I didn't date, this was why I didn't hook up. I could never just let go and enjoy the experience. I always had to pick everything to death and then pick at it some more.

I reached between us to unbutton his jeans.

"Condoms? We didn't stop and buy any."

"Nightstand."

He reached over me and grabbed one of the foil packets from the drawer. But he didn't rush, he kept kissing me as if we had all night, and I supposed we did. We had all the time in the world.

He had nowhere to go except here with me.

I ran my hands over his back, enjoying the texture of his skin. Smooth and warm, the hard planes of muscle rippling under my touch. I arched up against him, wanting to feel more of him. I couldn't get close enough. With the scent of Blue in my nose, I remembered the way he'd touched me on the boat. How I surrendered to that pleasure, to him.

He filled his hands with my breasts, his caress still unhurried and languid. It turned me on that he'd been so aroused, but still had iron control—that he wasn't rushing.

Another sound from Kieran's room shattered the web of desire he'd woven around me and I giggled again.

Brant didn't laugh this time. His eyes narrowed. "I take this as a personal challenge. In about five minutes, you're not going to care if the world ends, let alone what's going on in the next room."

I wondered what else he could possibly do to me because he'd already brought me off once.

His intentions became clear when he slid down between my thighs.

"I...that's not going to work."

"What do you mean, it's not going to work?"

I blushed, which was stupid. We couldn't get much more intimate, but it embarrassed me to talk about my orgasms, or lack thereof. "I'm not one of those multi-orgasmic women. I got one, so I'm going to be done until tomorrow."

"Whoever you've been with either didn't know what he was doing, or he was a selfish bastard completely unworthy of getting anywhere near this delicious body."

I swallowed hard. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Back at you." He gave me a nod that made me tremble. He was so confident, so sure of his own skill set that I couldn't help but believe him.

The first touch of his tongue was bliss, but I didn't think it would lead anywhere. It would be a bunch of build up for no payoff.

"Stop analyzing it. And making me talk with my mouth full."

I laughed, but decided to try just that. The strokes of his tongue against my clit were just as languid and unhurried as his kisses had been. That was sexy, that he wasn't just shooting for the end goal, that he enjoyed the journey rather than just the destination.

That helped me relax and enjoy what he was doing, rather than focusing only on the orgasm—just getting it done. I knew sex wasn't supposed to be like that, but I'd never forgotten my first boyfriend who ever went down on me telling me that it took too long. Or other guys who'd only paid it lip service—pun intended.

"What did I say? You're thinking too much. Feel it, Claire. I want you to get off, but enjoy the ride. Now, if I catch you thinking instead of feeling, I might have to spank you."

"Spank me? I'm no Anastasia."

But if he really wanted to spank me, I might try it. So far, this had all been about me. That was new and it made me wonder what else I'd been missing. I'd never felt so wanted—so desirable.

He didn't answer me, only moved his tongue faster and my brain finally shut down. At least the part that kept thinking about all the reasons why he didn't really want to be doing what he was doing.

Tendrils of pleasure wrapped themselves around me like vines, cradled me and threaded deep into my veins. It was as if our contact was deeper than skin, something secret and vital.

This time the build was slower, but more intense. I lost all sense of time and self, the only thing that mattered was sensation.

I thought I heard some guttural cries of bliss, but it wasn't April. It was me.

Only then did he rise above me, only then did he push himself inside. I clung to him, my nails digging into his back, my thighs locked around his hips, and the taste of my own pleasure in our kiss.

When he'd finished, he didn't roll off me and fall asleep like most of my other partners had. Brant was still inside me when he pushed my hair out of my face, stroked his fingers down my cheek and looked into my eyes for a long moment before kissing me softly. It wasn't passionless, but it wasn't lusty either. It was a different kind of kiss—one that spoke of intimacy and a connection.

It terrified me.

He gathered me against him and long after his breathing was deep and even, I lay awake staring into the darkness wondering what the hell I'd just done.

Besides having two orgasms for the first time.