Brendon (9 page)

“You said you were gonna show me that you ain’t a boy. I’m waitin’. Camo.
Boy
.”

He laughed. Was she daring him to show her? Based on the flush of her cheeks, she was. And he knew damn good and well that wasn’t from the heat, because the afternoon had cooled off with a spring storm brewing in the distance.

When the back of her hand brushed against his cock, currently confined behind the zipper of his jeans, Brendon hissed.

Apparently, she must’ve taken that as encouragement because she brushed against him once again. And on the third pass, he reached for her wrists, spun them both around so that she was the one pressed up against the thick post as he held her arms high above her head. She tilted her head back and met his gaze.

“Do you know what you’re gettin’ yourself into?” he asked her, his voice low, his need apparent in the gravelly tone.

The look in her eyes was answer enough, but he waited patiently for her to respond.

“I’m waitin’ for you to show me,” Cheyenne said breathlessly, her eyes trailing down to his mouth.

Unable to resist the lure of her, Brendon leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, still holding her hands above her head with one hand wrapped around her thin wrists. When she squirmed against him, doing her best to get closer, he gave her what she wanted, sliding his knee between her thighs.

And when sweet Cheyenne Montgomery ground her pussy against his thigh, Brendon damn near came in his fucking jeans. He growled into her mouth, his tongue sliding against hers while she rode his thigh.

Her soft whimper had his balls aching and his dick throbbing. Pulling his mouth from hers, he watched her as he pressed more intimately against her. “Does that feel good?” he asked, his voice soft.

Another whimper.

“Holy shit, Cheyenne,” he muttered before claiming her mouth once again. The passion ignited, turning into a tumultuous storm of desire that engulfed them. The wind had picked up around them, but it didn’t do a damn thing to cool the heat that was generated between their bodies.

“Oh, fuck, Chey. That’s it.” He could tell she was close to orgasm, the way her eyes drifted closed, her lips parted as she continued to rub against his thigh. It was so fucking hot to watch and he couldn’t tear his eyes away long enough to do anything more than stand there and let her make herself come. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to her ear. “Come for me, baby.”

Cheyenne cried out as she came and it was a fucking wonder he didn’t come in his jeans like a horny teenager.

Brendon didn’t move away from her, simply releasing her wrists and wrapping his arms around her back. She was so damn tiny, but she seemed to fit perfectly against him.

“I’m not sure that was you showin’ me,” Cheyenne whispered after a minute or two had passed.

Brendon stood straight and glanced down at her. She was staring up at him from under the brim of her hat, her green eyes glittering. “Huh?”

“I believe you were the one who was gonna show me that you ain’t a boy. I’ve yet to see proof.”

His lips quirked as his disbelief consumed him. Was she propositioning him? Swallowing hard, he locked his eyes on hers. “Is this what you want? You need to be absolutely certain.”

Cheyenne nodded, not an ounce of hesitation in her reply.

“There’s no turnin’ back from here, Chey. Once we take this step, it’ll change things forever.” He didn’t say whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Truth was, he really didn’t know. The temptation of her was greater than his willpower, but he knew that he had to think this through. All that they’d been through, the brief ground that they’d gained in the last week . . . Brendon didn’t want to lose that. But he also didn’t want to waste any more time. He knew exactly what he wanted.

And she was it.

chapter
TEN

A
s far as Cheyenne was concerned, the only place this relationship she was forming with Brendon could go at this point was forward, and yes, this was a huge step, but not something that either of them hadn’t been expecting. Not that she was questioning her decision. She’d wanted Brendon since the day she met him. Her hormones hadn’t cared that she’d wanted him on her terms—without the sharing or the threesomes—she still wanted him. So for her, she’d waited long enough.

Add to that the fact that she hadn’t been with a man in three years . . . It was safe to say that she
definitely
wanted this. Like, right now.

“Show me,” she urged, using his own words against him.

Brendon’s eyes flashed hot and the next thing Cheyenne knew, he had her in his arms, one strong arm beneath her knees, the other under her back, and was making his way inside the house. He did his due diligence, ensuring Scrap followed them inside before closing and locking the door. Once that was done, he made a beeline for the stairs and Cheyenne held on for dear life. As they passed the kitchen, she thought about his comment about taking her on the counter. Then when she got a glimpse of the couch, she thought about his reference to bending her over and taking her there.

Her heart rate picked up.

Heavens.

She wanted him to do all those things to her.

And soon.

When he bypassed her bed and headed straight for the bathroom, she began to wonder what he was up to. Her question must’ve been written on her face because as he set her on her feet, he smiled. “Shower first.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice.

Knowing that getting the water temperature just right was a little tricky, Cheyenne turned to the faucets and twisted, setting them in the right position before turning back to Brendon.

He was leaning against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, the position making his biceps bulge. His heated gaze slowly caressed her from the top of her head down to her bare feet. A chill raced down her spine and it had nothing to do with the temperature in the room and everything to do with the way he practically undressed her with his gaze.

Proving to him that she wanted this, Cheyenne reached for the buttons on her shirt. Once she’d discarded the tattered denim, she pulled her tank top from the waistband of her shorts and lifted it over her head, sending it to the floor with the other shirt.

She noticed the way Brendon’s chest heaved and she wondered whether that was from the exertion—he’d carried her up the stairs after all—or if it were merely anticipation. Not that it mattered. He was still standing there, still watching her intently, which spurred her on.

Unhooking the button on her shorts, Cheyenne worked them over her hips and let them drop to the floor. When she was clad in only her bra and panties—a cute black set that she really liked and had purposely donned that morning in the very hopes that she might end up here, because yes, she’d been anticipating this moment for a long damn time—her nerves started to get the best of her.

“Damn,” Brendon said roughly, pushing off the wall and moving the two steps it took to reach her.

When his hands stroked her bare skin, the gentle rasp of his fingers as they grazed over her sensitive flesh had her drawing in a breath and goose bumps breaking out along her arms.

He pulled the hat from her head and set it on the sink before reaching behind her and removing the elastic holder from her hair. Cheyenne continued to watch his face, noticing the way he hesitated briefly.

Fearing he might retreat, based on the cautious glitter in his eyes, Cheyenne took over, pulling his shirt from his jeans and lifting it, wanting to get him naked so she could see every glorious inch of what was hidden beneath those clothes. She’d seen him once before—wearing nothing but a towel and a confused expression—when she’d shown up on his doorstep after his accident, and truth was, she’d fantastized about touching him, licking him, tasting every inch of his rock-hard body.

She wasn’t sure why he was holding back, but Cheyenne was both intrigued by it and a little worried he was having second thoughts.

Once his shirt was removed, Brendon seemed to get with the program, toeing off his boots and then maneuvering out of his jeans. When they were both standing in the steamy bathroom, clad only in their underwear, Cheyenne’s hands began to shake. Not out of fear. No, this was need. She wanted to touch him.

Everywhere.

The way Brendon’s eyes implored her had Cheyenne wanting to reassure him that she did want this. She’d dreamed about this many times, although nothing even came remotely close to feeling as intense as this. Brendon Walker was the notorious bad boy, one that people claimed couldn’t be tamed, and despite the fear in her heart of being broken and shattered, Cheyenne was unable to find a reason not to want him.

And then she was in his arms and all thoughts ceased because she was overwhelmed by the warmth of his skin against hers, the bristle of the stubble along his jaw against her cheek, the scent of man and sweat, the uneven sound of his breaths that matched the rhythmic pounding of her own heart.

Before she knew it, they were both in the shower, and yes, still clad in their underwear. But his lips felt too good on hers, his tongue too demanding to care that she was still partially dressed, his skin too firm beneath her fingers for her to care about anything other than getting as close to him as she could.

The kiss lingered for long minutes. Brendon wasn’t rushing her, merely savoring, exploring, and Cheyenne managed to relax somewhat. This man excited her, intrigued her, made her want things she never knew she could possibly want. And she wanted them all with him, wanted to give life to the numerous dirty thoughts she’d had over the last two years about all the ways she’d find pleasure in his arms.

Brendon’s deft fingers released the clasp on her bra and Cheyenne quickly dropped it to the shower floor, wanting to feel his hands on her oversensitive skin. She wasn’t disappointed when he pulled back from her mouth, his eyes heating her skin as his gaze raked over her, his big hands cupping her breasts, his finger and thumb teasing her nipples into hard points.

The way he watched her, it was unlike anything she’d ever known. Missionary with the lights off were the only things she had in her collection of limited experience, the few less-than-stellar memories already paling in comparison to this. Granted, it’d always been her choice. She had always been overly picky about the men she was with, never knowing what they truly wanted from her—whether they’d want too little or want too much. It had been easier to just forgo relationships altogether.

They were in the shower, the buttery glow from the bathroom light combined with the sun still shining in through the narrow window high on the wall making it impossible not to see what was going on. And Brendon was undoubtedly watching every move he made as he played her body like a finely tuned instrument.

An involuntary moan escaped her when he tweaked her nipples, a sliver of pain-laced pleasure making her toes curl.

“I want to suck your nipples, Cheyenne. Tease them with my teeth.”

Heavens.

She wanted that, too. She wanted everything he was willing to give her.

However, due to their height differences, there wasn’t going to be a lot of foreplay in the shower. It just wasn’t feasible in the old, slippery porcelain tub. And she figured that was the reason Brendon turned her away from him, pulling her back to his stomach. Then he was washing her hair, his short nails like heaven against her scalp. She reached behind her, planting her palms flat on his thighs just so she could touch him. It was relatively innocent, as far as showering with the opposite sex was concerned, but still Cheyenne’s body temperature escalated to dangerous levels.

By the time he was washing her body, she was pretty damn sure she’d end up a puddle in the bottom of the tub. Somehow she managed to remain upright. He removed her panties, taking his time to soap up every inch of her skin, making her cry out in pleasure when his fingers brushed against her engorged clit. To her dismay, he didn’t linger. Once she was rinsed, Cheyenne returned the favor, soaping him up after helping him out of his boxers. She wasn’t as kind to him when she slowly stroked his thick, beautiful erection from root to tip, keeping her eyes locked with his, watching as the pleasure coursed over his angular, masculine features.

“Chey.”

It was a warning; she could hear the desperation in his tone. She decided to heed it for the time being, but only because she was anxious to see where this would lead.

BY THE TIME
Brendon had them both dried off and moving toward her bed, the head of his dick felt like it was going to explode. Her soft fingers had been his undoing. Had Cheyenne opted to push him, he would’ve come in her hand without so much as a request. Luckily for him, she’d retreated when he said her name. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he wasn’t ready for this to end, he would’ve told her to do her worst.

However . . . in his defense, Brendon hadn’t been with a woman in a full year. At first, celibacy certainly hadn’t been his intention. Despite the fact that his world had shifted, everything as he knew it changing when Braydon fell in love with Jessie, Brendon hadn’t planned it. Initially, he simply hadn’t given a shit about women or sex at all. Then, as the days passed, his abstinence became a means of self-punishment, a way to atone for the things he’d done to his twin, to Jessie.

The only woman he’d been with was Cheyenne, and those were mere fantasies. His hand was the solitary source of pleasure he’d received for far too long, so seeing Cheyenne standing there naked, he was desperate to get his mouth, his hands, his cock on and in her as soon as fucking possible.

But he didn’t want to rush. He wanted to savor.

Unfortunately, that was probably going to have to be on the agenda for round two if she kept looking at him like that. Which was the main reason he’d retrieved the lone condom in his wallet and opened the foil wrapper with his teeth.

“Sit on the bed,” he instructed, needing to take control. That or he was going to lose it before she ever found her pleasure.

The back of Cheyenne’s thighs hit the mattress—she was
that
short—and she instantly maneuvered back a foot so that her calves were dangling over the edge.

Brendon crowded her, forcing Cheyenne farther onto the bed until he was hovering over her, her soft, warm body beneath his. As he stared down at the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, he caressed her cheek with his thumb and peered into her eyes, searching. He wanted assurance that she understood what this was between them.

For him, it was unlike any moment before, and probably any moment after. Taking Cheyenne, making love to her, was going to break him if things went south between them. As it was, he felt as broken as they came these days. He might have problems talking to this woman, but he damn sure didn’t have a problem knowing what he felt. Admitting it, yes. This was unlike anything he’d ever known, in fact. And that was the biggest problem he’d had to overcome the past year. This was what he wanted from Cheyenne. To be with her. Just the two of them. With her looking at him as though he was the only thing she craved.

“Chey.” Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers and then growled when her arms went around him as she pulled him practically on top of her.

Fear of crushing her had him dropping to the bed at her side, and Cheyenne took over, pushing him to his back before straddling his hips. Another growl escaped when the sweet, warm heat between her thighs caressed his dick.

“Baby, you keep that up and I won’t have a chance to prove a damn thing to you,” he mumbled against her mouth.

Dropping the condom on the bed beside him, Brendon cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples, remembering that he wanted to put his mouth on them. Due to their position, that was impossible, but somehow he found the strength—not to mention the control—to flip them once again. This time when he was above her, he didn’t hesitate, trailing kisses down her chest until he reached the peak of one luscious breast. He licked her, teasing her nipple to a hardened point before sucking it into his mouth.

“Brendon.”

Heaven help him.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails scoring into his skin, and blinding pleasure had him grunting to keep from slamming into her, to resist the urge to take her like an animal, to own her the way he’d dreamed.

Somehow, Brendon managed to rein himself in and settled on tormenting her with his tongue and his teeth. He explored her nipples, sucking, licking, nipping until she was writhing beneath him. Only then did he move lower, his feet sliding to the floor until he was standing once again, bending over her. He used his fingers to separate the delicate folds of her pretty pink pussy while he watched her face. Her eyes were on him, and knowing she was watching ratcheted up his anxiety tenfold.

Leaning in, he licked her slowly, gliding through the moisture that slicked her pussy. The scent of her was intoxicating, driving him closer and closer to the edge. He forced himself to focus, to make her cry out his name as he ate her pussy until she was pulling his hair, shards of pleasure/pain shooting from his scalp to the base of his spine.