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Good. I’m going to use a little pulsation to get her warmed up. And wet.
I start by kissing the back of her neck while circling the small vibrator around one of her nipples. I pay attention to her body language. Not a lot seems to be going on so I interpret that as less than stellar. Maybe it’s too powerful for an area so sensitive. Either way, time to move on. I only want to do what makes Wren feel great.
I cup my hand around the body of the bullet and move it lower. I don’t want to go straight for her hot spot so I take a detour to roam from one side of her groin to the other. And everything in between.
She initially jolts but then squirms and rolls her hips when I drag the pulsating orb across the top of her pelvis. Ahh, there’s a spot she likes.
I tease her mercilessly, exploring every inch of her groin and pelvis while careful to avoid the one place she must be craving it most. I’m going to make her want it so bad she’s dripping wet. And I could be getting close according to her body language.
I drop my hand between her legs and cup her mound, my fingers dipping into her slickness. So wet. Yeah, she’s ready for me.
She wiggles when I position my tip at her entrance. I push a little and retreat, repeating the motion several times until I’m fully inside her. This is where I want to be. Balls deep inside of Wren.
I move the bullet to the top of her slit, over her clit, and she cups her hand over mine. “I got this. You just concentrate on fucking me.”
I relinquish control of the vibrator so Wren can be in charge of her own orgasm. I admire a woman who doesn’t lie in place and take whatever is given to her. She isn’t afraid to take authority over her own climax.
“Fuck me hard, Broussard.” No man has ever hated hearing that.
I grasp her hips and grip tightly as I thrust into her from behind. The buzz from the bullet grows louder. She’s putting the little devil on high speed.
I grasp her leg and pull it back so she’s spread wide. I prop on one elbow and look over her shoulder so I can watch the show happening up front without me. Watching her get herself off is a fucking beautiful sight.
She arches her back and adjusts her hips. “You’re right there where I need you.”
I guess I’m hitting her hot headquarters in this position. Mental note made.
“Oh, Brou. I’m about to come.” There’s her name for me.
Her body tenses and she closes her legs. Normally I’d think that was a bad thing, maybe robbing me of the access I love. But fuck, her body is squeezing my cock even tighter in that position. Hell, yes.
The hold her body has on my cock increases and relaxes in a rhythmic pattern. Tighten. Release. Tighten. Release. If I weren’t wearing this condom, I bet her body would be sucking every drop of semen out of me.
I wish I were bare so I could come inside her. Weird. I haven’t had a thought like that in . . . ever.
Wren presses her face into a pillow. “Ohh . . . Brou.” There it is again.
I thrust hard one last time. My body involuntarily jerks as my hot stream is caught and contained by the latex.
I press my forehead on Wren’s back and slow my breathing. “That was so fucking good. We have to do it like that again.” I take the bullet from her hand. “And use this little guy.” He’s beneficial for her and me.
“You want to do that again now?”
I don’t think I could. I’m sucked bone dry. “No. Tonight.”
She twists and kisses me over her shoulder. “Okay. That’s doable.”
I consider myself a carnal connoisseur. I’ve fucked a lot of women in my life, and I’ve made most of them come, but never during penetration. It’s always required me rubbing her off or performing oral to achieve it. This is a first for me. No woman’s body has ever done this to me. I have been missing out. Maybe they have been too. It’s fucking amazing.
I. Want. More.
* * *
Stout meets us at the door and Wren whirls into his arms. “I’ve missed you, jerk face.”
He spins her around and kisses her cheek. “It’s only been a month.”
“Yeah, but I only saw you for a few hours then. Before that, it had been months.”
“Well, I’m here now, you damn hippie.”
Wren plants a big kiss on Stout’s cheek before he releases her. “I’m going to see if Mom needs help with breakfast.”
She flutters away, not giving me a second glance. Feels odd for the woman I just fucked three times in the last twelve hours to not be clingy. Of course, Wren can’t be because of the circumstances, but I don’t think she would even if the situation was different.
Stout punches me in the arm. “Hey, man. I hope it’s cool I sent my sister to get you.”
“No problem.”
“I know you must think she’s into some really weird stuff—and don’t get me wrong, she is—but my sister’s pretty awesome.” Wren is very awesome.
“Yeah. We spent some time together at the festival. Different is good.”
“Lucas Broussard, get yourself in here and see me.” I smile.
Stout shoves my shoulder. “Better get in there and see Mama Thorn ASAP. She sounds serious.”
Libby Thorn, amazingly warm and welcoming mother to Wren and Stout. Since the first day I met her, she’s been a second mother to me too. Knowing a little more about their past, I am incredibly impressed with the woman. And grateful she stepped into the role as their mother.
Mrs. Thorn wipes her floured hands on her apron before coming to me for a hug. “It’s wonderful to see you again. It’s been too long.”
“It’s good to be here. Thank you for the breakfast invitation.”
She releases me and turns to Stout. “How did you finally talk the Cajun into coming out for a visit?”
Stout shrugs. “All his idea.”
“Well, we are very happy to have you.”
“You have a beautiful home.”
“Thank you. Been here thirty years.” What a great place for Wren to grow up, at least after the age of ten. Which reminds me—I wonder what happened with her birth mother about the kidney transplant. I need to ask about that later.
“Breakfast is going on the table,” Mrs. Thorn calls out.
“Then I’m here just in time.” Quentin Thorn meets me halfway for a handshake. “Good to see you, Lucas.”
“And you, sir. Thank you for having me.”
Mrs. Thorn moves bowls of food from the counter to the table. “You should be staying here instead of that hotel.”
“I didn’t want to put you out.”
“You wouldn’t be putting anyone
out. In fact, you should check out and stay here the next two nights.” Oh, no. That’s not happening. Too many good things are going on in that hotel room.
Wren’s eyes catch mine. Her lips wrap around her teeth as she works to suppress the evidence of what she’s thinking. She wasn’t kidding about being a bad actress. Or am I simply aware? “Maybe next time since I'm all settled into my room.”
Mrs. Thorn points at me. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
The breakfast on the table looks like it could feed a dozen people. “Hope you're hungry. I cooked plenty.”
“I see that.”
Bowls begin circling to the right. “Well, I have one who won't eat meat and everything must be organic. Another who won’t touch sweets for breakfast. And then a third on a strict no-salt diet. It's hard to come up with one menu to fit all those needs.”
“I have no special dietary needs or preferences so don’t be surprised to see me have a little of everything.”
Mrs. Thorn holds out a plate of pastries covered in powdered sugar. “Beignets for our Louisiana boy.”
“These look so good. Thank you. I haven’t had one since my last trip to Louisiana.” I grew up with Cajun and French food all around me. I didn’t really know how good it was, or how much I would miss it, until I moved to Birmingham.
“Cafe au lait?”
“Yes, please.”
I bite into the beignet, and it’s almost like being home. “Not everyone can make a good beignet but these are delicious.”
Wren points to the corner of her lower lip. “You’ve got a little powdered sugar there.”
I flick my tongue out and taste the sweetness. “Good?”
She grins and looks down at her plate. “Yeah.”
“So, flower child. Mom says you have a new boyfriend.”
What.
The.
Fuck.
Wren’s head jerks in Stout’s direction. Her eyes widen as her jaw sets. “I do not.”
“So Mom’s lying?”
