Page 122 of Legally Yours
“Taste my…oh, God…taste my pussy!”
Brandon grinned devilishly. “Your wish is my command.”
“Brandon!” I yelped as his mouth finally found me.
The scratch of his unshaved cheek was deliciously rough against my inner thigh. He alternated between licking and sucking, his occasional deep growl vibrating over the sensitive flesh. His tongue was voracious, teasing and exploring as if he couldn’t get enough of me, couldn’ttasteenough of me. I moaned, thrusting hard against the insistent rhythm set by his fingers.
All of the energy in my body seemed to be gathering around his mouth and fingers. The hand that had been holding me down by the hip reached up to tweak one of my nipples, pulling on the hardened nub in time with the fingers inside me.
“Oh, FUCK!” I cried as his tongue twirled, complementing the pressure from inside and beneath it. “Oh, God, Brandon…fuck…I’m…ohmygodI’MGOINGTOCOME!”
My orgasm swept through me, pulsing through my tensed limbs in time with his fingers and mouth. Brandon hummed as he worked out the thrum of my heartbeat. I came, in wave after wave until every last bit of energy within me had been spent.
At last, when all of the tension was gone, and I lay against the lacquered wood like a shot animal, he gently removed his fingers and lifted his mouth. He leaned his head on my thigh, looked up, and smiled sweetly at me.
“I love making you do that,” he rumbled before standing up.
His hands ran up the sides of my body, gently slipping under my back and lifting me up. I was limp, like a rag doll.
“I love you,” I muttered into his shoulder. He chuckled and arranged my arms around his neck.
“I love you too, Red.” One arm slipped under my legs, the other around my back, and in a fluid motion, he picked me up off the piano.
“Where are we going?” I asked drowsily, content to play damsel in distress.He’ddistressed me, after all.
“Upstairs,” he said with a brief kiss on my cheek. He was moving quickly, with a lot more energy than I currently possessed. “First, we’re going to dothatagain, and then I’m going to finish the job properly.”
Just the thought had me perking up. I bit his shoulder lightly. “Sounds good to me.”
Thirty-Six
Nestled in the impossibly soft sheets of Brandon’s bed, I blinked my eyes open against the bright sunlight streaming through the tall bay windows. Reaching my hand out next to me, I realized that I was the only one in bed and sat up, my sex-rumpled hair falling down my back.
Scooting off the bed, I padded into the walk-in closet in search of something to wear—my clothes, as far as I knew, were still scattered around the piano. The piano he’d bought for me.
I love you, he’d said.Move in with me.The words still echoed, sweet and soft, as if they had just been uttered.
I glanced around the closet as if I hadn’t been in there several times. It was bigger than my entire bedroom. One wall was hung with evenly spaced designer suits, another full of shelves and drawers with immaculately folded basics. The third was stocked with shoes and other accessories, and an ottoman as big as a double bed sat in the middle of the plush carpet.
Where would my homely belongings go in here? Could I get used to living in this kind of splendor? Would I ever feel completely normal in it?
Despite the central heat, I shivered, and not just because I was naked. I tiptoed to one of the shelves and ran a hand over some of the soft cotton, all of it brand new. Brandon must have owned at least fifty plain white t-shirts. I didn’t even think I owned fifty shirts period.
At the bottom of one stack, a ratty blue material caught my eye, and I tugged it free to find a worn Red Sox t-shirt smeared with paint splotches here and there. I smiled and pulled it over my head. In the mirror, I caught a glance of myself practically swimming in the shirt. I could smell Brandon in the time-softened fabric, and the thought made me smile. I may not have felt—yet—like I belonged here, but I was happy.
I made my way downstairs, where I could hear the deep tones of Brandon’s voice in conversation with someone in the kitchen.
“So, if she shows up, I’m not home,” he instructed Ana, who was intently scribbling in a small notebook. “Otherwise, you’ve got the rest of the weekend off until Monday. We’ll want the place to ourselves.” He turned when he heard my footsteps. “Hey, there she is.” His eyes flickered over my outfit, and he grinned. “Did I convert you?”
I looked down at the Sox logo and back up. “Well, I’ll always be a Mets fan, but I’m starting to come around on Red Sox Nation.” I glanced at Ana and blushed. Shit, I was standing here in her boss’s clothes. And this t-shirtwasvery thin.
“I’ll be downstairs if you need me, Mr. Sterling,” she said with a warm smile my way.
She tucked the notebook into her back pocket, hefted a basket of rumpled clothes, including the ones I was wearing last night, and disappeared downstairs. Brandon poured me a cup of tea and set it on the counter next to a small pitcher of cream and a porcelain cup of honey. I shuffled over to fix my tea while he sat down on the chaise lounge, mug of coffee in hand.
“Not that you don’t look sexy as hell in my clothes, Red, but where did you find that shirt?” he asked.
I leaned against the counter, sipping my tea, one of his fancy Chinese blends. Damn, that was good. Okay, so maybe there were perks to living with someone as rich as Croesus.