Chapter 11
11
T ommy opened the door to the house on Edison Street wearing striped pajama pants, a white t-shirt, and a broad grin. “Hey Bess, Brynn. You had sex, didn’t you?”
Brynn, who had one hand on Tilly’s leash and held the little pink and white gift bag they’d picked up at Meijer in the other, tried not to blush. If the heat on her face was any indication, she failed spectacularly.
“Dammit, Jakes,” Jude groused and reached out to smack the side of his friend’s head. “Those are inside thoughts.”
Completely unfazed, Tommy just aimed his wide, wide grin at Brynn. “So? How was he?”
What the hell, Brynn thought. If you can’t beat ‘em… “He’s good. I came screaming twice. Though he doesn’t quite have the hang of the mustache yet.”
Tommy laughed so hard he bent double, and Jude turned his disgruntled expression on Brynn. “Really?”
“You kind of seemed to forget you had it,” she explained, keeping her expression guileless.
“So tell me, not him. You have any idea the shit I’m going to take over this?”
She would’ve felt bad, but the amusement in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t upset. “Sorry.”
“Oh, don’t be,” Tommy said, still laughing.
Jude just sighed. “Can we come in, or are you just going to stand there braying like a jackass all night?”
“Come on in. Hey, Tilly,” he crooned, reaching down to give her a scrubbing pat as she waddled past. “Kara’s in the living room with Izzy. Right through there.”
They walked through a glass-paned door on the other side of the tiled entry and into a spacious living room. Hardwood floors the color of dark honey gleamed, and a cozy seating area held a long green sofa flanked by deep armchairs in butterscotch leather. Curled up in a corner of the sofa with her feet propped up on a footstool shaped like a pig, Kara held a small pink and white bundle in her arms.
She beamed a smile at them. “You made it.”
Jude bent to kiss her cheek. “Hey, mama.”
“Hey, yourself,” Kara replied, then turned her smile on Brynn. “So, did you two have sex?”
“Is there a sign over our heads or something?” Jude demanded while Brynn blushed and Tommy laughed.
“We saw the game,” Kara said, sending Brynn a look of amused sympathy. Tilly waddled forward to sniff her bare legs, drawing her attention. “Oh, is this Tilly?”
“This is her,” Brynn said, grateful for the change in subject. “If she gets annoying, just say the word and I’ll put her out in the truck.”
“She’s fine.” Kara shifted the baby to lean forward, holding out a hand for Tilly to inspect, and a plaintive squeak came from the bundle. “Oops. I’ve disturbed her highness.”
“Here.” Tommy stepped forward. “I’ll take her.”
Brynn watched them make the exchange, fascinated by the way big, gruff Tommy Jakes turned into a cooing pile of mush the instant he held his baby daughter in his arms.
“There’s my girl,” he crooned, pushing back the blankets so the baby’s head came into view, with a shock of thick black hair sticking straight up.
“Wow,” Jude said. “She’s got your hair.”
“Yeah,” Tommy said, beaming with pride, and turned the baby to show her off. “But the rest of her is all Kara.
Brynn wasn’t that familiar with babies. She’d done her share of babysitting as a teenager, but that had been older kids, and none of her friend group had hit the baby-making stage of their lives yet. To her, babies always seemed to look like vaguely humanoid blobs, especially when they were this new. But she could see Kara in the little rosebud mouth and the shape of her eyes, still newborn blue and currently blinking at them as though wondering who the hell they were.
“She’s beautiful, man,” Jude said.
“She is,” Brynn agreed and leaned around Tommy to look at Kara. “Nice job.”
Petting Tilly with both hands, Kara smiled. “Thanks.”
“Hey, I did some of the work,” Tommy protested.
“You did a nice job, too,” Brynn assured him while Kara rolled her eyes.
“Thank you,” Tommy said with gracious dignity, then winced. “Uh, babe? I think we need a diaper change.”
“My hands are full,” Kara informed him smugly, still petting the dog.
Brynn folded her lips to keep from laughing at the discomfort on Tommy’s face. “Come on. You know I’m not good at this.”
“I have faith in you,” his wife informed him solemnly.
“Shit.” Scowling, Tommy headed for the adjoining room.
“Where’s he going?” Jude wanted to know.
“We’ve got a secondary nursery set up in the next room so we don’t have to go up and down the stairs all the time,” Kara explained.
“Smart,” Brynn put in and sat in one of the leather chairs. “So, how are you feeling?”
“Like I pushed an eight-pound human out of my vagina,” Kara said bluntly, and out of the corner of her eye, Brynn saw Jude go pale. “But I didn’t tear, so that’s something.”
“Tear?” Jude echoed, going paler.
“But breastfeeding is a bitch,” Kara continued, and the twinkle in her eye had Brynn biting her lip. “My nipples are raw, and one of my milk ducts keeps trying to block, so I have to hand express. You know—” She lifted both hands to cup one breast and mimed milking herself.
“Um, I’m just going to go see if Tommy needs any help,” Jude said faintly and made his escape.
Brynn snickered at a grinning Kara. “You’re terrible.”
“I should be ashamed,” she agreed, looking anything but.
“Can I do anything for you while I’m here?” Brynn asked. “Do some laundry, load the dishwasher?”
“No, but thanks. I’ve got plenty of help.” Kara pulled her legs up onto the sofa to sit cross-legged. “My mom and sister are staying in the guest house, and Angela was here until an hour ago.”
“That’s nice.”
“What I need is a conversation that doesn’t revolve around nipple cream, diaper rash, or how sore my vag still is,” Kara continued.
“I’ll do what I can,” Brynn promised with a laugh.
“Good, because I’m dying to ask about you and Jude.”
“Oh.” Nerves jumping, Brynn rubbed her hands on her pants. “Okay.”
“Tommy said this is a new thing.”
Brynn nodded.
“Is it serious?”
“I think so?”
Kara pursed her lips. “You don’t sound very confident.”
“Because I’m not,” Brynn confessed and sighed. “Jude says it is, and I want it to be, but…”
“The whole boss/assistant thing,” Kara guessed.
Brynn nodded. “His agent summoned him to a meeting tomorrow.”
“I take it he’s not happy.”
“That’s probably an understatement.”
“Are you?” Kara asked. “Happy, I mean?”
“When it’s just Jude and me, yeah. I am. But it’s not just us.”
Kara’s gaze was sympathetic. “Do you love him?”
Brynn bit her lip and glanced at the doorway where Jude had disappeared. “I think so.”
“Does he love you?”
“I don’t know. He said he wants to be with me and that Grant—that’s his agent—and everyone else will just have to deal. But if it comes down to me or his career, how can I ask him to choose?”
Jude watched Tommy change the baby’s diaper from what he considered a safe distance of approximately five feet.
“You can come closer, you know,” Tommy said. He had the baby on the changing table, dirty diaper off and stashed in something called a Diaper Genie, and was mopping up the mess that, as far as Jude could see, went all the way to the kid’s knees. “She doesn’t bite.”
“I’m good, thanks. Wouldn’t it be easier to just put her in the tub?”
“You’d think,” Tommy muttered, grabbing another wipe. “This shit is so sticky.”
“I didn’t need to know that,” Jude muttered, averting his eyes. Desperate to change the subject, he blurted out, “My agent saw the kiss-cam thing. He’s flying in tonight.”
Tommy let out a low whistle. “Because you kissed a girl at a ballgame?”
“Because I kissed my assistant at a ballgame, and it got broadcast on national TV,” Jude clarified. “I haven’t looked at social media yet to see if it’s hit there, but?—”
“Oh, it’s hit,” Tommy interjected, lifting the baby’s newly cleaned butt to slide a clean diaper under it. “The girlies are all twirly on Instagram.”
Jude sighed. “Shit.”
“It’s mostly just chatter about how sexy and dreamy you are,” Tommy went on, deftly fastening the new diaper and tucking the baby’s legs back into her footie pajamas. “And they’re obsessed with your thighs.”
Confused, Jude looked down at his legs. “My thighs?”
“They’re using the hashtag ‘thick thighs save lives’.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I don’t get it either. My thighs are way thicker than yours.” Tommy snapped the baby into the pajamas, then scooped her up. “Here, take her for a second.”
Jude shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know how to hold a baby.”
“Bend your elbow and stick it out like you’re gonna do the chicken dance, and turn your palm up.”
“Like this?”
“Yep. Now, just don’t drop her,” Tommy said and plopped the baby onto Jude’s bent arm.
Surprised at how slight she felt, Jude stared at Izzy’s round, pink face. She blinked back at him owlishly, her eyes wide and her little mouth pursed.
“What’d your agent say?”
“That we needed to talk,” Jude said absently and lifted his free hand to skim a finger down the baby’s cheek. It was soft as down. “We’re having lunch tomorrow.”
Tommy started shoving the dirty wipes into the Diaper Genie. “You think he’s going to tell you to dump Brynn?”
“I know he is. He’ll tell me to fire her, too.”
Tommy reached for the bottle of hand sanitizer next to the stack of clean diapers. “What are you going to tell him?”
“To mind his own damn business.”
Tommy grinned. “Atta boy.”
Jude shifted carefully, trying not to jostle the baby. “Do me a favor? Keep this to yourself until I figure out how to handle it.”
Tommy’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to keep it a secret?”
“Not a secret,” Jude insisted. Izzy let out a squeak, and he instinctively began to sway. “Just not…out there.”
“I got news for you, son—it’s already out there. I’m not the only one who watched the game today, and social media has a life of its own.”
Jude winced. “I know. Dammit.”
“You worried about the optics?”
“A little, sure. But mostly that Brynn will get spooked and decide I’m not worth the hassle.”
“I told you you were in love with her,” Tommy said smugly.
“Bite me,” Jude said, but there was no heat behind it.
“Now you just need to learn to use your mustache during sex,” Tommy went on with an evil glint in his eye and pulled out his phone. “Let’s see what the internet has to say.”
“I hate you,” Jude said, but he was smiling. “Thanks, Jakes.”
“I’ve got your back, pal,” Tommy said seriously. Then he held up his phone, the glint back in his eye. “Now, back to your mustache problem. This article is titled ‘Expert Advice on Oral Sex from Guys with Mustaches and the Women Who Love Them’. Want me to read it to you?”
“You’re an ass,” Jude said, laughing, then paused. “Bring it over here.”
Brynn woke the next morning, roused by Tilly’s frantic whines, and started to climb out of bed to walk and feed her. But something had her pinned to the mattress.
It took her ten bleary seconds to recognize Jude’s sleeping form beside her, one arm draped across her middle and his body curled around hers from behind. He was so warm and felt so good, she gave serious thought to just cuddling in and going back to sleep.
But Tilly’s whines were becoming increasingly urgent, and Brynn knew from experience that if she didn’t want to mop up a puddle, she’d better get moving. So she pried Jude’s arm off her waist and slid out of bed with a yawn, and grabbing her clothes off the foot of the bed, followed a prancing Tilly out of the bedroom.
Tilly peed the second she hit a patch of grass, but Brynn forced herself to walk another two blocks to make sure the dog was completely empty. She was planning to crawl back into bed when she got back upstairs and had no intention of leaving it for another canine call of nature.
Back upstairs, she fed and watered the dog. She thought about starting a pot of coffee, then decided it could wait. She was awake, but she didn’t have any desire for coffee.
She crept on silent feet back to the bedroom, not wanting to wake Jude. But he was sitting up in bed with the sheet pooled around his waist when she walked in.
“Did I wake you?” she asked, drinking him in. He looked so damn sexy, all soft and tousled and naked under the sheet. No, she didn’t want coffee.
He smiled at her lazily. “The dog did. What time is it?”
“Almost seven.” She peeled off the shorts she’d put on for the trip outside, her blood quickening with the lazy look in his eye went sharp.
“Early,” he commented, his eyes tracking her movements as she pulled her shirt off over her head. “Especially for a Sunday.”
“I know.” She slipped her fingers in the waistband of the panties she’d worn to bed. They hadn’t had sex last night, and that was fine. But this morning…
She pushed the panties down and off, then straightened to stand naked in the morning light. “I was going to come back to bed.”
He let out a low rumble, like a motorcycle revving, and his legs shifted under the sheet. His eyes raked her naked form, and goosebumps popped out on her skin. “Tired?”
“No.”
“Good,” he said and tossed the sheet back.
She blinked. “Wow. You are awake .”
He wrapped a hand around his penis, already hard. “And you’re too far away.”
She thought about trying to slink over, all sexy and sultry, but she was in too much of a hurry, so she just leaped on the bed, landing beside him with a bounce and a grin. “Hi.”
“I love it when you play hard to get.” He grabbed her hair and yanked her close.
“My glasses,” she began, reaching up to take them off.
“Leave ‘em,” he said and kissed her.
She started to sink into him, then broke away, gasping. “Wait. I haven’t brushed my teeth.”
“I don’t care,” he said and kissed her again.
She fretted about it for a second, then realized she didn’t care either, not with his teeth nipping at her lower lip and his tongue taking possession of her mouth. His hand dropped from her head to her butt, urging her closer, and she crawled on top of him, humming in delight when his penis slipped between her thighs. She was happily grinding away when his hands clamped onto her ass and forced her to stop.
She broke the kiss, panting, and stared at him through fogged-up lenses. “What?”
“Not yet,” he panted back and dragged her up a few inches so her pussy met air instead of dick.
She tried to wiggle back down. “Why?”
“Because I want to do this,” he said, and ignoring her squirming, dragged her up another few inches and popped a breast into his mouth.
“Can’t we do both?” she moaned. Her breast was in heaven with his mouth sucking, his tongue swirling. He’d even pull back to brush the straining tip with his mustache, a faintly abrasive delight. But her pussy was achingly lonely. She spread her legs wider, trying to get some friction, but though his abdomen was hard it was also flat, and she just couldn’t get the contact she needed.
“Are you humping my stomach?” he mumbled around her nipple.
“You took your dick away,” she whined. She canted her hips, trying to get some friction on her clit, but the angle was all wrong. “Bring it back.”
He bit her nipple, then flicked it with his tongue. “In a minute.”
“Tease,” she accused.
His laugh vibrated her sternum. “You don’t like it?”
“I hate it. Do it some more.”
He laughed again and switched to her other breast, stroking the underside with the flat of his tongue. His mustache brushed her nipple, and it was like a sharp jolt of electricity zipped through the sensitive peak.
“Mustache,” she croaked out.
He lifted his head. “What?”
“Mustache,” she repeated and grabbed his head to drag it back where it was. “More.”
“This?” he asked, rubbing his upper lip in a gentle circle around her areola.
She thought her toes might be curling, but she was too lightheaded to look. “Harder.”
The pressure increased, turning the tickling rasp into an abrading scrape, and this time everything curled. She let out a long, keening moan, clutched his head to her breast, and tried to remain conscious.
He nipped and licked, tongued and scraped, working her entire breast with his mouth and his mustache until it was so sensitized she couldn’t stand it anymore. She pushed back, freeing herself, and stared down at him. Her glasses were askew, but she didn’t bother to straighten them. She’d have had to let go, and she didn’t think she could. “Can I have your dick back now?”
Breathing heavily, his cheeks ruddy, he shook his head. “No.”
“Meanie,” she whined and ground herself against him. She was so wet his belly had turned into an X-rated Slip-N-Slide, and she would’ve laughed if it hadn’t been so damn frustrating.
“Soon,” he promised, using his grip on her waist to drag her up his body again.
“Wrong direction,” she complained, then squeaked when his mustache brushed her belly. He was scooting down at the same time he was moving her up, and in a matter of seconds she was kneeling on the pillows, his head between her thighs.
She looked down, curling forward to see past her belly. He stared back at her, his eyes like blue fire. “Oh.”
She couldn’t see his mouth, but the way his eyes crinkled told her he was grinning. “Yeah. Oh.”
She licked her lips. “I hate to seem ungrateful, but I wanted penetration.”
“You’ll get it,” he promised, and digging his hands into her ass, dragged her down.
The firm, direct contact on her pussy brought instant relief. Giddy with it, she circled her hips, searching for the right pressure, the right spot. His hands tightened on her ass, holding her in place, and she opened her mouth to complain when he stabbed his tongue into her. Thick and agile, it stroked the sensitive, nerve-rich flesh of her vaginal opening, penetrating her over and over again in deep, rapid thrusts while his mustache brushed against her clit.
“Holy shit,” she breathed and would’ve fallen off his face if he hadn’t been holding her. She scrabbled for the headboard, knocking his phone, a copy of The Hobbit, and a box of tissues off the shelf before she managed to grab the ledge and hold on. She rocked forward, searching for more pressure on her clit, and the short bristles of his mustache scraped and rasped against the sensitive ball of nerves so deliciously that she let out a squeal. But leaning forward broke contact with his tongue, leaving her feeling empty and greedy, so she rocked back again, grinding down so his tongue could get even deeper, and eased the pressure on her clit.
Back and forth, back and forth she rocked, tongue to mustache and back again, the pressure and the tension building in her pelvis, in her belly. Sweat beaded on her skin, dripped between her breasts and down her thighs as her orgasm built. She moaned and squealed, babbled and chirped, the sounds mingling with his grunts and groans, his muffled urgings to go faster, take what she needed, use him.
“Can you…breathe?” she managed to ask, trying to look down at him without breaking contact. Her glasses had slid down and were clinging to the tip of her nose, fogged and streaked with moisture, so she couldn’t see him very well. But the determination in his eyes was clear as day.
He mumbled something that sounded like, “If I die, I die.”
“What?” she said, sure she’d heard him wrong, but he was shoving a hand between her thighs from behind and pushing his thumb into her pussy along with his tongue, and the extra penetration sent her flying over the edge.
Her glasses fell, hitting him in the head, but she barely noticed. She was too busy screaming and shaking and rattling the headboard, her pussy pulsing and her heart pounding so hard she thought it would fly right out of her chest, and when she finally let go of the headboard she just fell over onto her side to collapse in a wrung out heap on the mattress beside him.
Dazed, still vibrating with pleasure, she was trying to breathe without wheezing when hard hands flipped her onto her stomach.
“Oof.” Staggered, she pushed herself up on her elbows and looked over her shoulder. Without her glasses he was a Jude-shaped blur, but the sound of tearing foil clued her in. “Oh, thank God.”
“I was going to ask if this was okay, but I guess that’s a yes.”
She managed to get her knees under her, pushing her butt up into the air, and spread her legs. “Hurry.”
“Okay,” he said agreeably, then he was inside her, thick and hot and hard, and the sweet stretch almost made her come again on the spot.
“Christ, you feel good,” he said and began to move.
She wanted to say he felt good, too. Amazing. Heavenly, even. But he was driving hard and fast, racing for completion, and she didn’t have the breath. So she concentrated on moving her hips back to meet him stroke for stroke, on the renewed tension creeping into her belly. She thought she might come again, but judging by the jerkiness of his movements he wasn’t going to last very much longer, so she dipped a hand between her thighs to help things long, and when he stiffened behind her with a hoarse shout, she was right there with him.
She collapsed with a grunt, then the bed bounced when he fell beside her to sprawl on his back. She eyed him blearily, grateful he was close enough to make out some details—like the way his face shone like it had been painted with a layer of varnish. Pussy varnish.
The thought made her giggle, and he turned his head to look at her. “What?”
“Nothing,” she said, still giggling. The shine went all the way to his hairline.
“I could’ve died, and she laughs,” he muttered, but his eyes were warm.
“I asked if you could breathe,” she reminded him and worked up the energy to prop herself up on one elbow. “Did you say “if I die, I die’?”
He yawned. “It’s a figure of speech.”
“Right.” Giving in to the urge to cuddle, she scooted over to lay on top of him. Wiggling to get comfortable, she folded her hands on his sternum and propped her chin on them. “Nice mustache work, by the way.”
His smile was smugly satisfied. “Yeah?”
“Hmm. I may need something to soothe the whisker burn, but it was worth it.”
“Good to know.” He lifted his arms to loop them around her. “What are you going to do today?”
“No plans.” She rubbed her nose against his sternum, breathing him in. Sex and sweat and Jude. “Other than a shower and maybe a nap.”
“God, that sounds good.” His hand began a lazy stroke up and down her back. “What time is it?”
She yawned, then rested her cheek on his chest. His heart beat slow and steady under her ear. “Dunno.”
He picked up his head to frown at the headboard. “Where’s my phone?”
“I knocked it off,” she told him, not moving. “I think it’s on the floor.”
“Oh. That reminds me, I put your glasses on the nightstand.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
They lay there in silence for a moment, his hand gliding up and down her back, and she was nearly asleep when he said, “I wish I didn’t have to get up.”
“Why do you have to get up?” she asked sleepily, then she remembered. There goes the afterglow. “What time are you meeting Grant?”
“Eleven-thirty.” His hand paused its stroking. “You okay?”
“Fine,” she said and tried to relax again.
“You just went stiff as a board,” he pointed out.
She shrugged, hoping he’d drop it.
No such luck.
“You’re worried about what he might say.”
“Oh, I know what he’s going to say,” she countered. “He’s going to tell you that dating your assistant could hurt your career, and you should fire me and never see me again.”
“He probably will,” Jude agreed.
Worry settled in her belly like lead. “He could be right. About your career.”
He snorted. “I’ve done things that would be way more harmful to my career than dating you.”
Curious, she lifted her head. “Really? Like what?”
To her surprise, his cheeks went pink. “Nothing illegal.”
“Just immoral?” she joked and blinked in surprise when his blush deepened.
He cleared his throat and looked away. “Not immoral. Just…not usual.”
She stared at his expression—abashed and uncomfortable—and thought about letting him off the hook. For about five seconds. “What is it?”
His gaze flicked back to hers, and for the first time since she’d known him, he looked self-conscious.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she assured him and prepared for disappointment.
“No, I’ll tell you,” he said, though he looked like he’d rather chew glass. “I was just hoping for a little more time together before I did. It’s…delicate.”
“Oh.” She was racking her brain, but she couldn’t imagine what he could be talking about. “Is this about butt stuff? Do you like being pegged or something?”
He choked out a laugh. “No. Or at least, I don’t think so.”
“Because I’m willing to give it a try,” she assured him.
Amusement warmed his eyes, chasing away some of the embarrassment. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
She waited, trying to be patient, but he was quiet for so long that she finally blurted out, “Oh my God, you’re killing me . ”
“Swinging.”