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"Stop analyzing it. And making me talk with my mouth full."
I laughed, but decided to try just that. The strokes of his tongue against my clit were just as languid and unhurried as his kisses had been. That was sexy, that he wasn't just shooting for the end goal, that he enjoyed the journey rather than just the destination.
That helped me relax and enjoy what he was doing, rather than focusing only on the orgasm—just getting it done. I knew sex wasn't supposed to be like that, but I'd never forgotten my first boyfriend who ever went down on me telling me that it took too long. Or other guys who'd only paid it lip service—pun intended.
"What did I say? You're thinking too much. Feel it, Claire. I want you to get off, but enjoy the ride. Now, if I catch you thinking instead of feeling, I might have to spank you."
"Spank me? I'm no Anastasia."
But if he really wanted to spank me, I might try it. So far, this had all been about me. That was new and it made me wonder what else I'd been missing. I'd never felt so wanted—so desirable.
He didn't answer me, only moved his tongue faster and my brain finally shut down. At least the part that kept thinking about all the reasons why he didn't really want to be doing what he was doing.
Tendrils of pleasure wrapped themselves around me like vines, cradled me and threaded deep into my veins. It was as if our contact was deeper than skin, something secret and vital.
This time the build was slower, but more intense. I lost all sense of time and self, the only thing that mattered was sensation.
I thought I heard some guttural cries of bliss, but it wasn't April. It was me.
Only then did he rise above me, only then did he push himself inside. I clung to him, my nails digging into his back, my thighs locked around his hips, and the taste of my own pleasure in our kiss.
When he'd finished, he didn't roll off me and fall asleep like most of my other partners had. Brant was still inside me when he pushed my hair out of my face, stroked his fingers down my cheek and looked into my eyes for a long moment before kissing me softly. It wasn't passionless, but it wasn't lusty either. It was a different kind of kiss—one that spoke of intimacy and a connection.
It terrified me.
He gathered me against him and long after his breathing was deep and even, I lay awake staring into the darkness wondering what the hell I'd just done.
Besides having two orgasms for the first time.
4
Brant wasn't in the bed next to me when I awoke, but his pillow was still warm and his shirt was still on the floor. He hadn't gone far and I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I wasn't sure how I felt about any of this.
I heard voices coming from the kitchen.
Wasn't that just going to be a bucket of awkward? We were all friends, or had been before last night. Kieran, April, Brant and I.
I really hoped April wasn't going to be one of the ones that I had to tell to go home. I'd been kidding last night, but Kieran didn't usually have morning coffee with the girls he brought home.
Unless April was something different for him.
That thought caused a pang of discomfort in my chest—and made me feel like the world's biggest asshole. My thighs were still sticky from sex with one guy and I was angsting over another. Why did I do this shit to myself?
I thought about hiding in my room until everyone went home, but Kieran was already home. I'd have to face him sooner or later. But later was good...
No, it actually wasn't. I needed to own my shit. Facing them later wouldn't change what anyone had to say about anything. Further, I was a grown-up capable of making my own choices, up to and including who I decided to sleep with. Kieran had been pushing me toward Brant for a while. What did he expect would happen?
I got up and pulled on a pair of jeans and a Day of the Dead t-shirt, stuffed my hair up into a reasonable facsimile of a ponytail and padded out to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
Brant smiled and handed me a cup. One packet of Stevia and cream, just the way I liked it.
"Thanks." I accepted the cup gratefully. I watched him over the rim of the cup, and his smile was infectious. Not only because he really was handsome, but it reminded me of all the wonderful things he could do with his mouth.
"You're much too fucking chipper this morning, boy-o." Kieran mumbled as he guzzled his black coffee.
Brant turned to Kieran to reply and that's when April and I both saw the angry, red scratches down his back. He looked like he'd been wrestling bears or something. I almost choked on my coffee when I realized I'd done that to him.
April squealed and flashed me a look. I wasn't sure if it was supposed to be props or censure.
Brant, on the other hand, didn't care which. He flashed a grin over his shoulder. "Oh, that. Yeah. Battle scars." He winked at me. "They're a good look, don't you think?"
