"Time for me to go. This was, well"—she glanced at me—"you know what it was. No need to explain."
My dick was half hard and still wet, and there was no reason for anyone to leave this bed. "Nah, you're staying right there."
"In fact, I am not. I'm leaving." She said this, but she remained where I'd left her.
"Give me two or three minutes." I moved my hand to her thigh, dragged my fingers over her silky skin. God, she felt good. "Don't move. The blood flow will return in my extremities and then I'm licking your pussy."
She shifted to her side, which put my hand between her legs. No complaints from either of us. "That's a real nice offer, but I'm leaving."
"Do I have to teach you how to enjoy that too?" I slipped a finger inside her, grinned at the way her eyes popped wide in response. "I don't mind, Bam. I'll put in the hours. I'll do the work."
"Your opinion of yourself is not proportional to the quality of your dick," she replied. "It would be nice if the two had a stronger correlation."
I brought my hand between her breasts, pushed her back down as I shifted to my knees. "Let's see how my tongue rates."
I was still shattered from the orgasm she snapped out of me like a sea witch's curse, but I wasn't passing up an opportunity to win an argument. Not a fucking chance.
I settled between her legs, careful to scratch my beard up her inner thighs as I found a comfortable position. She made some quiet noises, little gasps and whines that suggested she liked these moves, but the best indicator was the way her belly jiggled. There wasn't much to her, not an inch to pinch, but the area around her belly button was barely soft enough to telegraph every clench and release.
"I know it's lovely down there and I do put some effort into keeping things tight and tidy," she said, "but I was under the impression you were doing more than rubbing your beard all over my leg and making eye contact with my clit."
I blinked up at her for a second. I thought about arguing with her, but quickly determined the best course of action required no words. I shoved both hands under her ass, dragged her center to my mouth, and got my first real taste of her. Her clit was the most perfect little pearl. I couldn't stop circling it and sucking it while her body shook in my hands. That clit tasted like I was meant to obey it and fuck me if I wasn't ready to kneel.
In no time at all, I had her belly quivering and her most delicate flesh throbbing under my tongue. And since I was here, I was getting that ass too.
"Jed," she cried, her hands fisting around my hair. "Jed, I'm—almost—what—oh my,fuck."
The spasms crested and I backed off when she pulled my hair harder. I knew she could take more, but I wasn't going to tell her how to own and operate her body tonight. I'd save that for tomorrow night.
My head resting on her thigh, I looped an arm around her waist and pressed tiny kisses on her mound. "How'd I do?"
"This isn't the Olympic ice dancing qualifier. Stop waiting for a score every time you put on a show." She said this, but she also brushed her hand through my hair with more plain, transparent affection than she'd ever offered.
I flopped down beside her on the pillow. "When should I expect you again?"
"Expect me?" She sat up, an arm banded over her breasts as if I couldn't identify them in a blind taste test. "Why the hell would youexpectme?"
"Because you'll be back." I dragged my gaze down the heart-shaped curve of her ass. "We both know you will be, so there's no sense in pretending otherwise. You're not a silly woman, Brooke. Don't play silly games with me."
"Is that because you believe I'm fond of your dick? Because I'd skip the victory lap if I was you. I can count the single guys in this dismal, hole-in-the-wall town on one hand and that includes old widower Lambertson, the Mulcaheys' grandson, who can't be more than twenty, and your little friend Nate, who is also too damn young for me." She climbed off the bed and stood in the middle of my bedroom, completely nude, and said without a hint of humor, "You're the least offensive option in the bunch."
I shouldn't have fallen for the obvious trap she laid, but I couldn't stop myself. Her words annoyed the shit out of me, so I laid a trap of my own. "Here's what I can't understand, Brooke. If you hate living here so much, why don't you leave? Go back to New York?"
She scooped a stray shirt off the floor, held it to her chest. She refused to meet my eyes. "I have my reasons."
"Such as? While you're at it, why don't you fill me in on why you came back here in the first place." I watched as she slipped my shirt over her head and took great pains to keep her gaze away from me. "I have some ideas, but I'd love to hear it from you, sweetheart."
"You don't get to call me that," she said, her voice barely audible. "And you don't know anything about me."
"You're not that difficult to understand, sweetheart."
"Uh, yeah, okay. Whatever. Believe what you want, but I don't have to sit here while you make all these accusations."
"I've accused you of nothing."
She snatched the only remaining pillow from the bed and winged it at my head while I pulled on my clothes. "It sounds like you're accusing me of something."
Tell me the truth. Tell me what's happening with your father and I'll help you."Nothing you're not guilty of."
