Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Jocelyn
We never did get to the beach because the meeting with Mr. Frapp went so long.
That night, Brakkor told me to get dressed up, because he was taking me out for dinner. I was feeling celebratory, so I didn’t object…until I saw exactly how nice for a place The Golden Pearl was.
“This isn’t a sundress sort of establishment,” I hissed at him as the waiter approached the table with the wine Brakkor had ordered. “I should’ve worn that purple dress I brought for Kesha’s wedding.”
“You look fine.” He toasted me with the wineglass. “I promise you, no one here is objecting to how you look.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that fine isn’t exactly a compliment…but then I saw the hungry look in his eyes, which had that speck of green in the middle again, and I felt myself blushing.
Brakkor thought I looked better than fine, judging from how he watched my lips when I sipped the wine, and that realization made me feel warm all over.
“To you, Joss,” he murmured, clinking his glass against mine as he eyed me appreciatively. “You deserve to celebrate your dream job.”
Dream job.
I couldn’t deny that I’d been flabbergasted by how easily Mr. Frapp accepted my thoughts and opinions today.
He was such a fun person, and I would have been delighted to hang out with him again.
But when he agreed to give me two weeks to see if I could get the town council to agree—and he was willing to pay me?
Well, I still couldn’t believe that had happened.
And I owed it to Brakkor. He was the one who’d made it happen, and he’d backed me up when I’d been pitching to Mr. Frapp.
If he wanted sex, I figured he’d earned it. And just the thought of getting down on my knees and showing him exactly how much I appreciated his help made my pussy clench with need.
From the way his eyes darkened and his nostrils flared, Brakkor guessed. He put down his steak knife and the piece of meat he’d just stabbed. “We should go.”
Maybe it was the wine, but I chuckled. “We have time to eat. You’ll need your strength.”
Surprisingly at ease with my decision, I kicked off one of my sandals and slid my toe along his calf. He almost choked on the bite of steak, and I laughed again.
The rest of the meal was flirtatious and teasing, and we finished the bottle of wine.
By the time he lifted me into his truck, I was horny enough to pull him to me and claim his lips for a drawn-out kiss.
My knees fell open and when he stepped between them, I didn’t even care that I was PDA-ing like I was about to get detention, because damn.
He pulled away enough to slide his tusk gently along my jaw, and I gasped, then twisted my fingers in his hair and pulled him away. “Take me home, Brakkor,” I commanded, and he grinned cockily.
To my surprise, when we pulled into the parking garage, and he came around to open my door and help me down…he hoisted me over his shoulder.
“Brakkor!” I gasped, wriggling in his hold.
He smacked my ass lightly, but the shock turned to arousal when he slid his hand up underneath the sundress to caress my ass.
“I was promised the opportunity to see you in a swimsuit, and was denied that.” He went striding for the elevator.
“I just spent ninety minutes sitting across the table from you, smelling your sweet cunt. I’m not waiting any longer. ”
I bit down on my lip and allowed my moans to release as he carried me through the building. I don’t even know if anyone saw us, and I don’t think I cared. I was just interested in getting him naked and making him feel as good as he made me feel.
But to my surprise, he pinned me down and focused on my pleasure. “Brakkor,” I moaned, when his mouth was busy between my legs and my fingers were curled in his hair, “I wanted to do this to you.”
My only reply was a growl from him that I swear I felt throughout my entire body.
I never did get to suck his cock, but after the fourth time I came, I slumped, exhausted, against the pillows and reached for him. “Why don’t you let me—” I began, but he silenced me with a harsh kiss. I tasted myself on his lips, and his chest vibrated strangely.
“No sex,” he growled when he finally released me, then rolled over to settle me on his face again.
No sex? Was he mocking me, or holding to the rules I’d set the night before?
And did I care?
When I found myself clutching the headboard and screaming his name as I came yet again, I decided no, no, I did not.
But falling asleep in his arms, I second-guessed myself.
Brakkor had spent tonight worshipping me. Making me feel like I was someone special, someone worth worshipping. And there’d been a time when Chad had done that too.
But Brakkor wasn’t like Chad…was he? He’d changed his mind about me—about us—once already. I needed to keep that in mind, especially if I was going to stay here for the next two weeks.
It was surprisingly easy to settle into a routine with Brakkor. It seemed natural for me to unpack my stuff into the second bedroom, and just keep sleeping with him in the large bed; I didn’t even bother with pajamas after that first night.
We might be sleeping together, but it was all about me. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t complaining…but after a few nights of amazing orgasms, it began to feel a little strange that he wasn’t enjoying himself.
When I told him that, Brakkor reared up, his eyes gleaming green in the darkness. “You think I’m not enjoying the fuck out of this, Kitten?”
I felt myself blushing. “I just mean, you should be coming, too.”
With that, he yanked down his boxers, yanked out his cock, and rolled over onto his back to settle me on top of his face. When he came, his cum painted my back with the cinnamon-scented deliciousness, and that triggered my own climax.
From that point on, our nights got more adventurous…but still no sex.
I told myself it was for the best: once sex was back on the table—or the bed, or up against the shower wall—I’d become addicted to Brakkor, and it would hurt so much more when he changed his mind about me.
Even then, I suspected I was fooling myself about not already being addicted to him.
Our days also flowed into an easy routine.
The construction company Brakkor worked for moved on to another job while the lighthouse job was in limbo.
Each morning he’d drop me off at the Eastshore library, where I got to know Zoe the librarian, who was dating one of the younger orcs.
She was really helpful when it came to researching not just the history I needed, but also options for the city.
She was the one who connected me with Jess Miller, Eastshore Isle’s Community Development Coordinator. Since she worked directly with the city council, she was ridiculously helpful, and each day, I met more and more community members.
I was becoming as addicted to Eastshore Isle as Kesha had been, and I didn’t mind one bit. This place was amazing, and I’d never felt as welcomed or happy as I was here.
If I wasn’t careful, I would be looking to make a home here. But could I do that if I was living in this limbo with Brakkor?
No, better to leave after the two weeks are up. That way you won’t have to worry about him eventually changing his mind and dumping you.
Cairo fixed my car, which is how I discovered that Brakkor had paid for the part.
When I grouched that I should’ve been the one to pay, he just grinned and told me I could claim the bill the next time his truck needed work.
It was a bullshit response, but I really liked the fact that he hadn’t claimed it was payment for what we were doing in bed, or something like that.
My sedan ended up parked beneath the condo building, since Eastshore was small enough not to need it often.
Each evening we shared dinner—we’d taken to alternating who cooked—and he asked me questions about who I met or the progress I made that day. And I found myself eager to tell him, to get his opinions. Brakkor was blunt, but he never put me down or made me feel stupid for a choice.
Surely it couldn’t last forever.
It was like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, which is a stupid idiom because what do dropping shoes have to do with portending disaster?
When my two weeks were up, I was going to pack up my newly returned car and return to the mainland—my apartment—and try to rebuild my life. I needed a new job, because as wonderful as this project for Mr. Frapp was, it had a deadline.
You could stay here on Eastshore.
And the more I fell in love with the place—the more I found myself liking Brakkor—the more appealing that became. I could stay here on Eastshore, and date Brakkor, and maybe break my no sex policy, and be happy.
But for how long?
That night in the hotel, I’d been the one to sneak away first, because I couldn’t stand the thought of being hurt by him leaving. I still felt the same way, only now it was worse, because I could feel Brakkor working his way into my heart.
It would be very, very easy to fall in love with him.
And if that happened…
Falling in love with him—with Eastshore—gave Brakkor all the power. It was better to keep things casual, think of this as a hookup that would be over in two weeks.
After the town council meeting, I’d be driving away from Eastshore and Brakkor, and I needed to keep that in mind. No falling in love, no wishing for more.
I wasn’t going to let myself be hurt again.
But even the sense of this can’t last didn’t take away from the fun we were having. I loved teasing him, because he never got angry. I teased him over his bacon obsession, his hair getting too long, and the lack of furniture in his apartment.
“What’s wrong with my apartment?” he’d growled.
“Oh, nothing,” I breezed past him on the way to deposit a load of dinner dishes in the sink. “I’m just saying, if you had a nice couch in there, we could curl up on it and watch a movie after dinner.”