Beauty (A Midsummer Suspense Tale) (11 page)

His hands moved up and down her back, trailing goose bumps along her spine, sliding under her shirt to touch her bare flesh. She wanted to feel him too, had to feel his hard body against her palms again, and worked his jacket off, then his T-shirt.

Everything about him was stunning, perhaps even more so in the light of the shop rather than the shadows of the woods from the other night. She could better explore him now, from the dusting of almost blond hair on his chest that pointed downward to his firm pecs to the cut muscle of the flat of his stomach. When her thumbs brushed over his nipples, he took in a sharp breath. She trailed her hand down, over the flat plane of his stomach, straight to his jeans and rubbed him through the denim.

“Goddamn,” he rasped and mouthed her throat, hands at her back pulling her more fully against him. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

She flushed hotly. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay.” He worked her shirt up and off her head, tossed it on the counter beside her, and swept his gaze over her breasts. And he really looked at her, not just like she was a quick piece of ass to be glanced at and forgotten but like he wanted to see her, to take in all of her and commit her body to memory. He loosened the straps of her bra from her shoulders, let it fall and take the cotton cups with them until her breasts were on full display, heavy and needy with want. His head dipped and he took one nipple into his mouth while he massaged the other.

Oh God, everything in her body felt like it was on fire—delicious, yearning fire that was ready to consume her completely. She rocked her pelvis, rubbing her pussy against his cock through his clothes, showing him precisely how wild he was driving her.

“I need you inside me this time,” she gasped.

His big hands moved to span her waist, squeeze her against him, and his mouth moved back to hers to kiss her hard. When she felt his fingers pop the top button of her slacks and ease the zipper down, her pussy clenched in want. Just like she remembered from the other night, he knew just how to touch her—the way he cupped her mound, slid his fingers into her damp heat, had her squirming and whimpering. She worked herself against his hand, her slippery folds taking his fingers easily.

“And with an incredible lack of forethought on my part, I didn’t bring anything,” he said with a frustrated sigh. Still he stroked her, worked his fingers in and out of her, until she was practically purring with need. “I can dart out to a corner store if one’s open...”

Bryar chuckled at the thought. “‘Sean Philip Sawyer buys condoms—details on page five.’”

“That would
at least
make page three,” he replied. He grasped the waistband of her jeans. “Lift.”

She braced her hands on the edge of the counter and lifted her hips at his command, waited there as he eased her slacks and panties off and let them drop to the floor.  He gripped her ankles, raised them so her feet balanced on the countertop’s edge near her hands. His hands glided up her legs smoothly, ankle to calf, past her knees to her thighs, and he whispered in a low, hot voice. “Spread for me.”

Bryar shivered and let her knees drop to the sides, baring herself to him.

Sawyer drew in a deep breath, his fingers pushing into her again. Her head snapped back in a gasp, hips working to thrust with him. She was close but she wanted more.

“I want all of you,” she said with a moan. “Filling me up, fucking me hard.”

“Does the corner store deliver?”

Her head lolled to the side as he kissed down her throat, her hands running up and down his chest, nails raking his skin as climax built faster and faster. Then realization hit her. “Wait, wait, my purse.” She blinked up at him, grinning widely. “There might be something in my purse. Hopefully not expired.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice, he was already twisting around and scanning the room. He saw her bag hanging near the door before she could point it out and immediately closed the distance to it in just a few long strides.

Bryar shifted on the counter, knees still spread and breasts exposed, panting. She should feel embarrassed or awkward, maybe, but her focus was on Sawyer—the corded muscle along his back and arms when he moved, the jeans sitting low on his hips that she desperately wanted to divest him of.

He unzipped her purse, rifled through it with a frown.

“Inside pocket,” she directed and silently prayed she was right. She hadn’t had sex in a while but kept a couple of condoms in there anyway, just like Band-Aids and tampons. At this point, she might duck out to the store herself if there were none in there—she wanted him too badly, was even willing to temporarily put her clothes back on to see it done.

He raised a long narrow plastic case and raised a brow in question.

“EpiPen,” she explained. “I’m allergic to peanuts. So maybe don’t kiss me after eating peanut butter because the results aren’t sexy.”

“I will definitely remember that.” He tucked the pen back in and grinned suddenly, withdrawing a small foil package. The date must’ve been fine as he headed back to her immediately, drew her into his arms and kissed her hard like the brief moments apart seemed too long for him. She kept him close with her legs tangled about his hips and swiftly went for his jeans, jerking down the zipper and freeing him of his remaining clothing.

His cock rose between them, thick and marble hard. He hissed a breath between his teeth as she stroked his shaft.

Sawyer cracked open the condom packet. “Fuck, I need to be in you.”

“I’m very wet and ready for that.” She helped him slip it on and soon he was sheathed, poised at her opening. His hands gripped her hips, tilted her so she was at the perfect angle for him, and she leaned back and held onto the counter to watch.

The dome of his cock pushed through her folds, sliding smoothly and stretching her deliciously. They each let out a moan as she took him in, deeper and deeper until he was rooted entirely in her.

Bryar threw her head back, her curls dragging across her back. “Christ, you’re big. That feels so fucking good.”

He pulled out and thrust forward again. She squeezed the countertop as he rocked in and out of her. She could do nothing but yield to the onslaught, to take every firm stroke, and not let herself think about the fact that he was fucking her on the counter at work and she was a
terrible
employee.

His arm snaked around her back, pulled her close again so their chests were flush, and kissed her hard, tongue thrusting in time with his dick. She braced her feet, putting weight on them so she could lift her hips and fuck him back just as hard, causing him to groan and shudder with every stroke she met.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about doing this since Friday night,” he whispered in a low, rasping voice. His hands came up to grasp her breasts, the pressure of his fingers intense but pleasurable. He looked down between them and she followed his gaze, at his hands rubbing her nipples, her legs wantonly open and fucking him as his cock slid in and out of her pussy.

“Me too. It made me wet just thinking about it. Your cock feels so perfect inside me.”

“God, you keep talking like that, I’m gonna come.” He eased back, a small line of concentration forming between his brows like he was struggling to contain himself. His gaze narrowed, lowering between their bodies to see where they were connected, then lifted to meet hers again. “Rub your clit for me, baby. Get yourself off.”

She gasped at his words but didn’t hesitate, reaching down with her right hand to drive her finger over her slick, sensitive clit. His eyes locked onto her hand, watching her every movement as she flicked the sensitive bundle of nerves, swirled her fingertip around her own juices. She enjoyed his attention on her, loved knowing it made him hot as she pushed herself closer and closer to orgasm.

His hips punched harder at her, cock pistoning steadily down. She knew he was close and pushed herself toward the end as well, rubbing her middle finger in small tight circles around her clit. She was crying out now, unable to stop herself, hoping like hell no one walked by the building because she swore they’d hear her, even if part of her didn’t give a damn. The pleasure was wild, beyond anything she’d imagined, and she fucked both him and her own hand with total abandon. The pressure built and burst, sending rapture radiating in all directions from her lower body outward, through her limbs, up to her sweat-soaked breasts. Wave after wave of orgasm gripped her and she rode them until she slumped back.

Her elbows hit the counter and she panted hard, blinking to clear her vision.

Sawyer cursed, his own thrusts growing erratic and fingers biting into her hips. Moments later he joined her, throwing his head back and shouting his climax, and then he collapsed against her body.

She managed to get one arm around him, enjoying his damp, hot body against hers even after being sated. The counter was awkward to lie on and just as she shifted to get more comfortable, he scooped her up easily and slid to his knees, depositing both of them on the cool floor.

“That was...really fucking good,” she managed between panting breaths.

“I’m glad you brought your purse.”

“Me too. Best decision I’ve made in recent memory.”

He held her tight, trailed kisses up and down her bare arm, her shoulder, her neck. “Can I see you tomorrow?” The last word wavered, like maybe he hadn’t intended to ask her.

She wasn’t sure how to respond if that was the case—yes? No? If he didn’t mean it, he wouldn’t ask, would he?

“I guess like a date,” he continued. “It just...sounds weird to me, to suggest a date like it’s a normal thing. It wouldn’t end up being normal, Bryar.”

“I listen to records. Normal is overrated. But I have another afternoon shift. Maybe in the evening?”

“Sure. It’ll seem less like I’m a serial killer trying to lure you now that you know the truth, so maybe somewhere private instead of in town?”

“I can bring dinner. Picnic on the beach?”

“Even better, we can take a boat. Explore the lake.”

She grinned. “Sounds good.”

Sawyer held her tight in his arms. “Then it’s a date. A bound-to-be-abnormal date. Drive you home tonight?”

“Yeah...” Her gaze moved up and trailed over the counter they’d just been against. “Just as soon as we clean up.”

Chapter Seven

Bryar had Sawyer park down the road from her place to let her out—there was no sense having the aunts get all panicked. Not that she hadn’t had guys drop her off before, but she was already gone for hours with the job and the last thing she wanted was for them to catch a glimpse at Sawyer. They’d have questions, and she wouldn’t want to answer, and then they’d fight, and she was still feeling tingly and good after their encounter in the kitchen. No sense in ruining the post-coital bliss.

So she walked down the dark road swiftly before the chill could get her, resisting the urge to look back as his taillights cut over the gravel and the sound of the engine faded.

Jesus, was all of this really happening?

She wasn’t star-struck. Far from it—she frequently had to remind herself that he was famous and stuff. She just liked
him
. Really, really liked him—found him warm and sweet and sexy as hell. Of course, he had a troubled past. She hadn’t asked him about that girl, the one from the articles. The scandal he was supposedly hiding from. He’d been in the business since he was a young teen—he likely knew how to lie, how to put on another persona. Which he could very well be doing with her.

But
why
? Why bother? That was what stopped her from doubting him too much—it just made no sense.

She shoved thoughts of it from her mind and turned onto the long stone path that wove through the now-dead front garden to the cottage. The porch light was on. She’d missed dinner, hadn’t called. She’d be in for a lecture but she couldn’t fight the grin on her face. No way was she letting anything darken her mood.

Surprisingly her aunts said nothing about her being late, just kept supper warm and waiting for her, and managed to talk about nothing important until they retired for bed.

****

The picnic beach/boat date the following day was exactly what Bryar needed and never expected.

It was...
normal
.

He might as well have just been a regular guy. A regular guy she couldn’t stop staring at, couldn’t stop picturing without his clothes on, and couldn’t stop kissing the moment she got her lips on him. But a regular guy nonetheless. They talked music—not so much the industry but the music he loved growing up, his desire to eventually write his own songs. They discussed Midsummer and Bryar’s wild youth, the trouble she used to get into and the stories she had from Catholic school As dusk fell, they stopped the motorboat on a small island across the lake and ate bread and cookies leftover from the bakery that day with ham and cheese Bryar had picked up from the corner store and wine Sawyer napped from the beach house.

She could almost forget he was famous, at least until she went to work the next day.

By staying out by the beach, they managed to miss the nosy people in town. Of course, they were waiting for Bryar at the shop the next day and she lost track of how many times she said “no comment”. Even the driver delivering wholesale baking supplies seemed to recognize her and asked her to pose for a selfie with him, which she grudgingly obliged. The day moved fast with so much to do and she was exhausted by the end of it, her feet and back both aching. Brennen offered to drive her but she was looking forward to the time to herself to clear her head, and left the shop through the backdoor after cleaning up at the end of her shift, eager to get home so she could soak in a hot bath and relax.

She made it to the cottage without anyone bothering her—a few cars slowed but no one stopped. Maybe they snapped a few photos. Maybe they didn’t. Either way, she was glad for the peace and quiet. The cottage glowed with light and she walked through the dead front garden for the door.

Three feet from the front step, the door flew open and there was Aunt Donna standing sternly, angrily, her lips set in a straight line and her eyes severe. The look she gave her was enough to stop Bryar in her tracks.