62. Like Every Fantasy I’ve Ever Had
LIKE EVERY FANTASY I’VE EVER HAD
brIGHTON
I sit on my sofa, all the lights off except for a lone lamp on the end table, a tumbler of vodka in one hand. The bottle sits on the coffee table. It was this or tequila, and, straight with no chaser, tequila is disgusting. Vodka isn’t much better, but my liquor cabinet is sorely lacking.
Lights flash on the path to my house, and Luna lifts her head. A low rumble vibrates through her throat. It must not be a car she knows. She whimpers when Brax or Pop drive up and dances at the door by the time they’ve put their trucks in park.
This car doesn’t have the rumble of their big diesel engines either. It’s too quiet, too small.
I slide my handgun from the foyer table, verify a round is in the chamber, and wait.
The knock a few seconds later isn’t met with Luna’s growl or bark. She rises from her laying position to sit, but isn’t on high alert.
“Who is it?”
“Elias.” There’s a pause. “It’s Eli.”
I pull the door open, and there against the still, black night, silhouetted only by the porch light is Elias Finchley.
He’s clean shaven, hair precisely cut, with fairer skin than mine.
His pale green eyes are my favorite color in the world.
He’s lean and cut, but not in the flashy way that Layton is or the bulky way Braxton is.
But in the Eli way. In the way of a man who runs and takes care of himself because he should.
Because it keeps his body healthy and his mind sharp, and he needs both in life and business.
His eyes take me in, drinking in the red splotches on my face, the clothes I threw on after getting home. He never makes it to my bare feet. His gaze snags on the pistol still in my palm.
“May I come in?”
I turn, set the gun on the entryway table, and push the door closed behind him, not moving from my place in the foyer.
“This is new.” My voice is small. I don’t have it in me to offer any more.
He looks at his shoes before boring holes through me with his gaze. “I— I’m sorry, Bright. About your mom.”
“Thanks.” I look away. “It’s…” What else is there to say about the worst day of my life?
My head drops. I can’t do this… I can’t have that look of pity every time someone looks at me. Especially Elias.
“She was… incredible. I know it’s a stupid question, but how’re you holding up?”
“I’m holding it together with sheer will and Ranger determination.”
A finger under my chin lifts my face, and I see the sorrow in my eyes reflected in his. There are creases in the corners, and shadows looming below them. He looks tired; worry lines his mouth.
I cross my arms and fight the raw emotion in his eyes. They roam my face, searching.
“So, it’s shit, and you’re hanging on by a thread but too stubborn to say anything or ask for help?”
I’d be pissed if I had anything left in me besides the hollow feeling left by significant loss, the void of life ripping my world apart irreparably. I try to nod, his thumb and forefinger make that a stilted, jolting motion.
“Whatever you say.” I drop my gaze, breaking the intensity of his stare. “It’s not like we didn’t know it was coming.”
“Are you letting anyone in? Letting anyone help you?”
I glare at him. I don’t need a lesson from Braxton’s best friend about how to handle this shit sandwich. His mother is still alive, and he got years more with her than I got with mine. He can kiss my ass.
“Always so stubborn.” It’s as if he’s saying it to himself. He scrubs a hand down his face, the sound of his palm against his whiskers fills the room.
He looks down at me as I snake an arm past his waist, not touching him, and reach around for the door knob.
I give up and drop my eyes to his shoulder.
The mental effort it takes to spar with Eli is more than I have the capacity for. Not to mention the emotional requirements of keeping my guard up aren’t there for me to draw from.
He sees through me and always has. I can’t be transparent right now. I’m too raw, too vulnerable, and it’s not safe.
He’s not safe.
That’s not entirely true. He’s utterly trustworthy, but I don’t trust myself when it comes to him. And with my emotions this raw, there’s no way I can keep my heart safe.
I hardly trust myself when it comes to him when my walls are fortified.
With one last look I offer, “Well, this was... weird.” I shut my eyes and nod at the door behind him. “Thanks for coming by.”
“Don’t shut me out, Bright. I get it. You’re hurting, but let me help.”
The sigh that escapes me might as well come from my toes. “And how do you think you’re going to help me? You going to bring my mom back?” I lift my chin defiantly.
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t.” I pause, too tired for this shit. “Look. I get what you’re trying to do. Thanks and all, but…” I turn my back on him and take a step back to my sofa and my waiting vodka.
He grabs my wrist. I look from it back to him just as his mouth smashes down on mine.
His arms wrap around me, one hand weaving into my long hair, tugging just enough that I open on a gasp.
His tongue invades, and I’m overcome with sensation.
His mouth is warm and tastes like mint and moves on mine with desperation.
He smells like soap and leather.
His jacket is cold against my skin and rustles against my sweatshirt.
It’s as if every sense I have has come to life
“Fuck, you taste good.” He plunders my mouth some more, pulling me into his tight embrace. I allow it. “Beautiful. Perfect.”
What the hell?
He kisses me again, leaning me backward over his arm, deepening the kiss. I’m warm all over, confused as fuck, and don’t know that I even care.
Overwhelming heartbreak meets a perfect distraction… just what I need.
His warm breath hits the shell of my ear as his hand gives my hair another tug. “You make me fucking crazy.”
I let it wash over me, and like a wave on the beach, I let it suck me back into the depths.
Taken.
Overcome.
Overwhelmed.
I reach an arm into his jacket, around his waist, pulling him closer. My other sneaks around his neck. When he stops the kiss to look down at me, I whisper, “Eli.” And that does it. He lifts me and tosses my legs around his hips. What greets my core is hot and hard.
“How much have you had?” His gaze hits the bottle on my coffee table as he walks through my living room, toward the mouth of the hall and my bedroom.
“Vodka? Enough to taste it. Not enough for it to work.”
He turns on a lamp next to my bed, fumbling and knocking something to the floor. I don’t know what and, frankly, I don’t care.
He lays me down and looms over me, propped on arms near my shoulders, and takes my mouth. When he drags his mouth away, he kisses his way to my ear, nipping at my ear lobe. “I’m going to eat you.”
Nip.
“Then I’m going to fuck you.”
Nip.
“Then I’m going to do it again.”
Nip.
“I’m going to touch every part of your body.”
Nip.
The shiver that runs down my spine isn’t fear. It’s desire. “Bring it on, Elias. I dare you.”
That’s fuel on the fire, because he lifts off me abruptly, strips his jacket down his arms, and throws it to the chair.
He pulls my sweatshirt off, followed by my yoga pants.
There’s nothing underneath. I hate the confines of bras, and there was no point in panties after my shower.
Besides, I was alone and minding my own business.
I lie here, holding his stare, until he breaks and lets his gaze wander my body. His eyes flare.
He sinks to his knees and pulls me to the edge of the bed, throwing one leg over his shoulder, and falls on my pussy.
He feasts like a starving man, sucking and flicking, devouring me, building in me a hunger that is a perfect distraction.
His fingers enter me while his tongue flits across and tortures my swollen clit.
He plays my body like an instrument, building to a crescendo that I can’t sustain until I crash like a wave breaking on rock.
He kisses the inside of my thigh. “You taste like every fantasy I’ve ever had about you.”
He climbs my body, kissing my belly button, and laving my breasts.
When he has kissed his way back to my mouth, he pushes his jeans-covered crotch to my core. “Bright, I want to be with you. I want to make you feel good. Let me.”
Elias
She wraps her legs around my waist, pulls my dick toward her pussy, and lifts her hips. Her hair fans around her in a halo. “Eli, I want you to fuck me. Frankly, I’m getting tired of you teasing me.”
I wrangle free, tear my jeans down my legs, and rip open a condom. Rolling it on, I prowl back over her, putting myself where I’ve always wanted to be.
Holding her eyes, I thrust once inside her until I’m fully seated.
She’s tight, wet, and so hot that I struggle not to come undone. I clench my jaw watching her espresso-colored eyes roll back into her head and hearing her mewl as her body squeezes around my cock. It’s fucking amazing.
It’s almost too much.
It feels like I’ve come home. Finally. And that’s what does it.
“Baby?” I call. She opens her eyes and holds mine. “I dreamed of this, of you.” I pull out and thrust back in. “Fucking heaven. You’re every fantasy I’ve ever had come to life.”
I withdraw, feeling the suction of her pussy grip around me.
“This is better than I ever imagined,” I say, watching her gorgeous face in the throes of ecstasy.
Her eyes soften, but her face changes. Vulnerable Brighton is gone. Feisty Brighton is back.
“Fuck me harder, Eli. I want to feel you tomorrow when you’re gone.”
“I’m not going anywhere, baby. Not after I’ve had a taste of you. A taste of this.” I stroke deep, pumping. She meets me stroke for stroke as if it’s a race, and she’s hellbent on winning. “I’m finally here, baby.”
Plunge.
“I’m.”
Plunge.
“Not.”
Plunge.
“Going.”
Plunge.
“Anywhere.” The last comes out on a growl.
She reaches between her legs, looks defiantly at me, and strokes her clit.
She says nothing more until her body coils for orgasm. I feel her tighten and watch her face as it overtakes her. “I’m going to— Eli,” she shouts.
And I’m done. She fondles my balls, while her pussy milks my cock—sucking me into her body—and calls my name. No man could withstand this.
Brighton Ranger is a force to be reckoned with. She’s as much a livewire in bed as she is out of it. She’s a wet dream come to life.
I call out her name as I come, fighting to watch her and drink in every moment of her below me. I catch myself before I crush her with my weight and plunder her mouth.
I pull back and reach up to smooth the apple of her cheek with my thumb.
“You’re so fucking beautiful. And that was— well, I don’t have the vocabulary to describe that.” Burrowed deep inside her, I pull back and rock a time or two. “I— You were worth the wait, Brighton.”
With one last look at her, I withdraw from her body, already desperate to be cradled in her arms and buried in her pussy again. “Be right back.”
I get up to dispose of the condom only to hear, “No need. You can see yourself out.”
I turn around and square my shoulders. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me, Elias. Don’t make this more than it was—just a casual fuck. It was a good one, don’t get me wrong. But still… Thanks.”
I stalk to the bathroom. I handle the condom and walk back into the room to find her under the covers, curled in a ball, facing away from me.
“Did you just dismiss me?”
“This isn’t a thing.” She sighs deep as if it was pulled from her bones. “Don’t make it one, okay?”
“Let me get this straight. I can either be the man who says ‘fuck it’ to your feelings and overstays my welcome, or I’m the man who fucks you and walks out the door.
So, I’m either pathetic or disgusting? That’s a fine position you’ve put me in, Brighton.
Either way, I’m the asshole and, either way, you commit nothing. ”
“Yep.”
“Fuck you, Bright.” I hold back the rest of my thoughts, grab my jeans, and stalk from her bedroom. I give Luna a quick pet before opening and slamming the front door.
With me on the inside.