I worked him with both hands, pulling and twisting in rhythm with my sucking. His moans only encouraged me. He began to tense as he urged me to go faster.
I stopped.
Disbelief flooded his face.
In a moment, I had my panties off and straddled him. I settled my entrance over him.
He held my hips up. “Condom.”
I leaned over. “I’m on the pill, and I’m clean.”
“Me too,” he said, releasing his hold on me.
I started down on him slowly. Then as I moved back up, I tensed around him. He’d said my being tight was the ultimate turn-on.
The look in his eyes told me I’d been successful.
Tonight I was in charge. He was at my mercy. I determined the pace.
It was empowering to manage his pleasure, giving it to him little by little. I moved down, taking him in all the way to the root. I let his hands guide me for a moment as I leaned forward to kiss him. I sped up the pace until he tensed again, then slowed to prolong it for him.
When I’d started this, I’d been convinced I could hold off and give him his release before I got mine, but I was losing the ability to manage myself.
As I rode him, the sensations grew, and my pleasure couldn’t be ignored. Desire took over, and I rode him faster and harder. Could I get him to come before I lost myself?
I rode him harder and pushed down more fully. He tensed beneath me and pulled me down hard against him as he arched upward. He screamed out my name as he lifted into me.
I had won, but just barely. As he relaxed into the bed, I ground forward against my clit and came undone myself. I got lost in the waves of pleasure that engulfed me as my core clamped down on his still-pulsing cock. Finally I collapsed on his chest.
For several minutes, neither of us moved.
His fingers stroked my hair. “That was something else. You can drive any time you want, Red.”
I rolled over beside him.
A few minutes later, he got up and brought back a washcloth.
After cleaning up, I nestled into his shoulder. Without the latex between us, the sensations had been even better than before. Now I just had to make sure I didn’t have to sleep on the wet spot.
Chapter 36
Luke
When the damned bird woke me up the next morning, I pried my eyes open to find Debbie had beaten me out of bed once more, and she’d done so without waking me. If good hearing was my superpower, this was hers.
Somehow I had to break her of that, but my groggy brain couldn’t see a way, short of putting a collar with a bell on her.
The clock said it was time to get up, and I had a customer due in a while, so I got dressed. I needed another dose of Debbie this morning. Hell, I needed a dose of Debbie all the time.
“About time,” Debbie said as I dragged myself into the kitchen. “You said you had a guy coming by at eight. Breakfast is staying warm.” She pointed at the oven.
Instead of going to the oven, I set my sights on my woman, spun her around, and lifted her up onto the counter. My hands found her breasts through her T-shirt. The feel of her braless warmth in my palms was wondrous.
She tapped a finger on my nose. “We don’t have time for this,” she noted. “Your breakfast is in the oven.”
“I’d rather eat something else.”
She pushed at my shoulders. “What kind of girlfriend would I be if I let you neglect your business? You have a customer. What’s his name, Brandon?”
“Braydon,” I corrected as I continued circling her nipple with my thumb.
Braydon needed his bike fixed after an accident. He’d been too slow on the brakes and T-boned a pickup that pulled out in front of him from a side street. The driver of the truck had, by definition, been in the wrong, but if I knew Braydon, half of it was his fault for not paying attention. One of these days, he’d end up road kill, and then it wouldn’t matter whose fault it was.
The sound of the front door unlocking and opening pulled my attention away from Debbie.
“Luke?” my sister called from the front hall.
“Shit. It’s Brooklyn,” I told Debbie.
She launched off the counter and scampered away like a cat with her tail on fire.
Debbie
I made it to the bedroom without being seen, or at least I thought so.
What was the protocol for meeting a man’s sister for the first time—a man whose bones you were jumping?
It certainly wasn’t being caught on the kitchen counter in a skimpy T-shirt too short to cover your ass without a stitch underneath—especially not perched on the counter with his hands all over me, almost panting to have him take me right there like the primal animal I knew hid beneath his tattoos.
I could hear muffled conversation through the door as I quickly shed the thin tee and dressed for the occasion: jeans, a top with a respectable neckline, and a proper bra. Checking myself in the mirror, I decided on a touch of mascara. I hadn’t used any in two weeks, and in my haste, I managed to bungle it and had to clean it off and redo my left eye.
“He’s not that bad.” Brooklyn’s voice carried from the other room as I rounded the counter.
“Hi,” I announced as I entered.
Brooklyn turned. She was striking, with the same eyes as Luke. “I knew he would keep you hidden away, and I wouldn’t get to meet you unless I came over.”
Luke’s sheepish grin told me she’d nailed it. “We just got back,” he said by way of apology.
I nodded. “He’s right.” I moved closer to stroke little Racer. “I see you brought your fur baby.”
“She wanted to come along,” Brooklyn said. She shifted Racer to the other arm to give me a quick hug. “I’m so grateful you kept her safe after the break-in.”
I moved to put an arm around Luke. “It was a joint effort.” It had been mostly Luke, since I’d escaped to Texas on my misadventure for most of the time the cat was here.
Brooklyn shook her head. “I know my brother better than that.” She stroked the cat. “He hates you, doesn’t he?” she cooed to her furry pet.
“That’s not fair,” Luke complained. “It’s the one attacking me.”
“She wouldn’t do that, would you, dear?” she asked the pussy as she petted her head.
“Don’t let it loose in here,” Luke said. “I don’t want to step on any cat barf.”
The whole time Racer had been here, I’d assumed the cat was a he. Oops. “I’m so glad you made the effort to come over.” I pulled her by the elbow toward the kitchen. “I’ve got so many questions about Luke that he won’t answer.”
I really had one burning question.
Luke attempted to change the subject. “Hey, Brook, tell me—was anything missing? What did they take?”
I opened the fridge and surveyed the contents. “Would you like some juice? We’ve got orange and grapefruit.”
She shifted Racer to the other arm. “Grapefruit would be a good change.”
I pulled it out and started to pour a glass for each of us.
“I know who it was,” Brooklyn announced.
Luke perked up. “Who?”
Brooklyn stroked Racer. “Harry.”