Chapter 14 Brenna
Chapter fourteen
Brenna
The heat radiating off Graham’s body burns hotter than the afternoon sun as a growl emerges from deep in his chest and he pulls me against him.
His mouth claims mine with an intensity that leaves me breathless.
The screened-in porch offers privacy, but the knowledge we’re out here in the open, surrounded by wilderness, sends electricity coursing through me.
The earthy scent of wet clay still clings to my skin, but the awareness fades as I lose myself in the scrape of Graham’s beard against my jaw.
He grips my hips, his thumbs finding the bare skin where my shirt rides up. The evidence of his desire presses against my leg, and my pulse kicks as I consider his threat to take me over his knee. Equal parts nervous and desperate, I’ve been craving that since I heard him utter the words yesterday.
Graham breaks away from the kiss, his breathing ragged as his storm-gray eyes search my face.
“You want a spanking, baby girl?” he murmurs, his tone that deep timbre that makes my knees weak.
I nod, not trusting myself my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Stand up.” The order invites no argument, and something deep in my belly tightens at the command. “Take off your jeans.”
My hands shake as I comply, kicking off my hiking boots and peeling my jeans down my legs. The cool mountain air hits my skin, and I shiver, not from cold but from anticipation. When I hesitate, standing there in just my panties and shirt, he raises an eyebrow.
“Panties, too,” he says, flexing his fingers as if warming them up. “All of it, sweetheart.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but I do as he says, stepping out of the lace and letting it fall to the rough wooden floor. He takes my seat on the pottery stool, his gaze dark and hungry as it travels over my bare legs.
“Come here.” He tugs me between his knees, and as I stand before him, his large hands cup my bottom with reverence. He presses a soft kiss to my belly, inhaling deeply before looking up at me. “You sure about this?”
The gentleness in his voice, even now, reassures me.
“Yes,” I whisper, threading my fingers through his thick dark hair.
“We can stop anytime.”
I nod, and he tugs me down, positioning me carefully across his lap, one strong arm laid out across my back, holding me in place. My ass is in the air, and I’m completely exposed. Vulnerable in a way that should terrify me but instead, makes me feel safe. Protected.
“Breathe, baby girl,” he murmurs, his palm smoothing over my skin.
The first smack takes me by surprise. A sharp sting that radiates through my flesh and makes me gasp. My fingers clutch at the denim of his jeans, but the pain quickly melts like warm honey, pooling between my legs as I squirm.
He pauses, his hand rubbing the spot he just struck. “Good?”
“Yes,” I breathe, surprised by how much I mean it.
The next few spanks come in a steady rhythm, alternating sides, each one sending molten heat spreading through my entire body. I’m growing moist, my desire building until soft whimpers escape my lips and my hips move restlessly against his thigh.
“That’s it,” he growls, his voice thick. “Let me hear you.”
A few more spanks and I’m crying out, not from pain but from the unexpected pleasure.
When his fingers finally slide between my legs, exploring my wetness, we both groan. “Christ, Brenna,” he breathes. “You’re soaked.”
His touch is gentle at first, fingers gliding through my folds before finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes me cry out. The combination of the lingering sting from his hand and the soft circles he draws has me panting, my head falling forward as the pleasure grows.
“Please,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m asking for.
But he knows. One finger slides into me, then two, stretching me carefully while his thumb continues its maddening circles. The dual sensation is overwhelming. Fullness and friction and the steady pump of his hand have me riding the edge of something explosive that curls my toes.
“That’s it, baby girl,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Ride my hand. Show me how much you want it.”
When, only seconds later, as he’s pumping, my climax hits, it’s with a force that surprises me. I cry out, my body convulsing around his fingers while waves of pleasure crash through me. He doesn’t stop, drawing out every tremor until I’m boneless and limp.
Only then does he withdraw his hand. When I glance up, over my shoulder, he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them. The sight sends fresh heat spiraling through me.
“Please, Graham,” I manage, scrambling to my knees in front of him as I reach for his belt. “I need you. All of you.”
Something shifts in his expression—surprise, maybe, but then he’s pushing me away. “The sight of you on your knees when I’m barely holding it together? Hell, Brenna, you’re killing me.”
Satisfaction like I’ve never experienced ripples through me, and I file away the thought for later as Graham strips off his shirt and jeans with efficient movements that speak of barely leashed control.
I enjoy the view, his generous cock jutting out, the tip dripping, until he sits back down and pulls me up onto his lap.
I straddle him, holding on to his shoulders, his rock-hard thickness sliding against me.
“Easy,” he whispers as I wiggle against him, his hands steady on my hips. “We need to go slow.”
But when he guides me down, filling me completely, slow is the last thing on my mind. The stretch is overwhelming, perfect, and I can’t help the soft cry that escapes my lips.
“Okay?” His voice is strained, every muscle in his body tense with the effort of holding still.
I nod, experimenting with small movements that make us both groan.
“Move,” I whisper against his neck. “Please.”
The rhythm we find is slow and deep, his hips rising to meet mine in a way that feels like we’ve been made for this. His hands roam my body, slipping under my shirt, memorizing every curve, while his mouth finds my throat, my collarbone, the sensitive spot behind my ear.
This isn’t just physical. It’s something deeper, more profound.
His fingers skim down my back as if I’m everything he never knew he needed.
He murmurs my name like a prayer. In his arms, surrounded by the scent of pine and the whisper of wind through leaves, I finally understand what home feels like.
When release claims us both, it’s with an intensity that leaves us clinging to each other, hearts racing. As we catch our breath, Graham’s arms tighten around me, and I know with absolute certainty this—he—is worth every risk I’ve taken to get here.
“Stay,” he whispers against my hair, so quietly I almost miss it.
“Forever,” I whisper back.