Chapter 4
Silas
I led Bryson into my living room, uncharacteristically nervous. This was the part I did well, but the soft, warm look in his eyes unnerved me.
Where had this man come from? If I didn’t know better, I’d think Iola and Lula were fairy godmothers with magical powers instead of busybodies who got it wrong most of the time.
Except tonight, that is. Because they’d gotten it very right with this gorgeous man.
My black cat, Morticia, slunk into the room, blending with the shadows until I flipped on the lamp by the end of the sofa. She immediately wound herself around Bryson’s ankles as if she, too, was irresistibly drawn to the man.
“Hey there,” Bryson said in a soft voice. “Aren’t you pretty?”
Magnolia, an orange butterball of a cat as ungainly as Morticia was graceful, perched on the back of a chair. Bryson’s eyes lit up when he saw her.
“You’ve got Halloween cats!”
I smiled. “Yep. But Morticia is making me jealous. Maybe I want to rub all over you.”
He grinned. “I do have that effect on some people.”
“Just some?” I feigned surprise. “I was thinking maybe you wore some sort of aphrodisiac that no man—or cat—could resist.”
He hooked an arm around my waist and tugged me close. “Someone doesn’t want to admit they like me,” he teased.
I slipped my arms around his neck, pressing close enough for our chests to graze. “I like you. I’d like you even more in my bedroom.”
“What? I don’t get a tour?”
I pulled out of his arms with a pout. “You, sir, are a tease.”
“Nah,” he said. “I just believe in anticipation.” He bent to murmur in my ear, “It’ll be so much better when we finally get there.”
Goosebumps broke out on my skin. Damn, but this man said all the right things. “Fine, a drink. What will it be?”
“Just water. Need to stay hydrated.” He winked.
“Now you’re talking.” I went to the kitchen to fill a glass with ice and water, then returned to find him settled onto my sofa with Morticia in his lap.
“You’re not a home-wrecker, are you?” I joked. “Because Morticia and I are about to have words.”
He laughed, eyes light. “Sorry, darlin’.” He nudged Morticia to the floor, and she glared up in indignation. “This lap is reserved for the man of my dreams.”
“You sweet-talker,” I said, but I took the invitation and lowered myself onto his lap, one knee on each side.
Bryson took the glass from my hand, drained half of it, throat moving as he swallowed, and set it aside. Then as I still gazed at his wet lips, captivated, he wrapped a hand around the nape of my neck and dragged me into a kiss.
His lips and tongue were chilled from the water, but he tasted sweet and earthy from dinner. I slid my fingers into his messy curls, tugging his head back to deepen the kiss.
He groaned into my mouth, and dear god, that was a sexy sound. My cock was reaching critical mass in my too-tight jeans. “Ready for the tour yet?” I asked breathlessly.
“Bedroom first,” he rasped.
Finally.
I clambered to my feet and grabbed his hand to lead him down the hall. The master bedroom was on the left. I dragged him inside, right over to my bed, and pushed him to sit on the edge.
I started to go to my knees, but Bryson caught my arm. “Wait. I want to undress you.”
I hesitated. That was…more intimate than I usually got with my hookups. Usually, we got down to business the fastest way possible. But Bryson was already different in every way. He was a romantic, had extracted a promise for a second date, and I’d agreed.
So I stepped forward, nerves making my pulse leap as he reached for the buttons of my shirt. One by one, he undid them, and then spread the fabric of my shirt open to expose my chest.
He leaned forward and nuzzled the space between my pecs while his hands slipped down to unfasten my belt. I shrugged the shirt off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. My jeans weren’t far behind. Bryson pushed them over my hips and town my thighs.
I toed off my shoes, stepped out of my pants, and took a minute to appreciate the stunned surprise on his face as he took in my crimson thong.
“Damn,” he muttered, gaze running up and down my body. “You cannot be real right now.”
I bit my bottom lip, giving him a coy look from under my lashes, and watched him shudder and reach down to palm his dick. Oh yeah, I still had it.
“My turn?” I suggested as I stepped between his spread legs and pushed his jean jacket over his shoulders.
Bryson let me tug his T-shirt up, revealing a nicely toned stomach and chest. He was no gym rat, but his genetics had been kind to him. Gold hair glimmered between his pecs, then narrowed into a darker strip leading down into his waistband.
My mouth watered at the thought of getting to that treasure.
I tossed his shirt aside and reached for his zipper. Bryson leaned back on his elbows, lifting his hips so that I could tug his jeans down his body. I ended up on my knees after all.
I removed the rest of his clothing. Unlike me, he wore utilitarian gray boxer briefs, but Bryson didn’t need flashy underwear to look sexy as hell.
I pushed his thighs apart, gazing at the very nice cock that jutted out from a thatch of brown hair. It was the perfect size for a good ride: medium thickness, seven inches, and cut.
I swayed forward and pressed a kiss to the damp cockhead.
Bryson swore quietly, but to my surprise, he tugged me up again. “Come into the bed with me,” he murmured. “I want to kiss you more.”
I let myself be positioned on my back, Bryson kissing me and then proceeding to kiss every inch of my body, too. How had this happened? I usually took charge in my hookups, but he had this way of subverting my plans.
Bryson’s eyes flicked up, meeting mine, hot and possessive as he nipped my inner thigh. His beard tickled my skin, just as delicious as I’d expected.
I moaned, cock twitching. “Please, Bryson.”
“Yes, darlin’? You want something?”
“I’d like to come sometime this century,” I said dryly. “How about you?”
He smirked. “Just enjoying the scenic route, Silas. You should try it sometime.”
I grabbed his hair and dragged him down over my cock. He opened his mouth and let me thrust into hot, wet heaven.
“Fuck,” I gasped as he put his tongue to use, sliding it along my shaft, dancing it under my frenulum, then swirling it over my cockhead, all while sucking me with delicious, slow bobs of his head.
He slid his middle finger into his mouth, getting it shiny with spit, then cast me a questioning look.
“Yes.” I widened my thighs and Bryson slid his finger inside me, ratcheting up my pleasure. “Want you to fuck me.”
I twisted to grab the lube from my nightstand and tossed it to him. Bryson pushed two slick fingers into me. I moaned at the sweet stretch and lifted my hips to silently beg for more. He added a third finger and rubbed my prostate, pushing me to the brink of coming.
“Bryson!” I said, voice tight with warning.
He smirked and eased up, retreating to roll on a condom and coat it with lube.
“Ready?” he asked, voice more serious now as he gazed into my eyes.
“Dying for it,” I murmured, surprising myself.
I usually kept my emotions tucked away, hidden, but Bryson’s sincerity made it easy to admit how much I wanted him. He nudged his cock into place and slowly pushed inside.
My body let him in as I blew out a breath, relaxing my muscles. His entry was the sweetest of burns, bringing with it that hint of pleasure around the corner.
He kept going until he was buried to the hilt, then strained to dip down and graze my cheek with a kiss. “Okay?”
“Never better,” I said, hitching my legs up against his ribs.
I rolled my hips up and he slid in even deeper, both of us moaning. Then he withdrew in a slow, pleasurable drag that tugged at my inner muscles, all the way out until his cockhead caught on my rim, making my nerves spark.
I gasped. “Don’t stop.”
He drove back inside, a slow, deeply angled stroke that hit all the right spots.
“Oh god,” I muttered. “How do you feel so good?”
He rocked into me while gazing into my eyes, and damn, it was too much to handle. I let my eyelids drop closed, absorbing the sensual slide of his cock inside me, distantly acknowledging in the back of my mind that this was love-making more than fucking.
It was an alarming thought. I barely knew this man.
“Open your eyes,” he murmured. “I want to see you.”
I opened them, unable to look away from his intense gaze as he reached for my cock and began stroking me. The tension was becoming unbearable, and he sped up as if he, too, was riding a wire’s edge between pleasure and pain.
I clutched at his back, tipping my ass up, meeting each thrust. “Harder!”
He obliged, giving up the sweet love-making to slam into me forcefully, grunts tearing from his throat as he pounded me. My body lit up, electrified, and then I was screaming my pleasure as my cock spilled in his fist.
“Shit,” he cursed, losing his rhythm, hips jerking spasmodically as he came, too. He pushed in deep, grinding inside me, groaning my name into my ear.
We lay tangled together, sweaty and leaking cum, while our breathing evened out.
“That was really good,” I murmured, bemused.
I’d known that my hookup with Paxton was bad, but I’d thought all the other sex I was having was pretty decent. But one night with Bryson had changed everything.
He was filet mignon, and all those hookups were cheap freezer meals.
He pressed soft kisses to my neck and shoulder. “Why do you sound so surprised? Didn’t have high hopes for me?”
His voice was light, teasing.
I laughed quietly. “No, the opposite. I knew it’d be great, but I didn’t know…”
He raised his head and smiled at me. “I’m the best you’ve ever had, huh?”
I smacked his arm. “Okay, time for you to go.”
“Go?” he said, sounding baffled. “Sweetheart, I’m just getting started.”
My eyes widened, and he kissed my nose. “Come on, let’s shower. Then we can have round two.”
It would be smarter to send him on his way while we were ahead. The sex had been great, and Bryson had earned his second date, but nothing this good ever lasted.
But when he rolled out of the bed and held out his hand, I let him take mine without a word of protest. He led me to the bathroom and started the shower.
I stood, dazed and confused, but certainly admiring the view as he bent to adjust the water temperature.
“Come here,” he murmured, tugging me close and kissing me once more.
I should push him away, but I didn’t.
Couldn’t.
He looked at me like I was precious, and in his arms, it almost felt true.
It was too fast to be real. But for just a little while, it was nice to pretend.