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Equally desperate, I rolled it on just in time for him to grab my thighs and force himself in from below.
“Oh…fuck!” I cried out, swinging crazily at the sheer depth of his impact.
Brandon drilled upward, his fingers clawing my skin so hard that I was sure I would have bruises in the morning. I couldn’t have cared less. Anticipation combined with sudden friction caused my reserve to topple almost immediately. With only a few harsh thrusts, a sudden orgasm ripped through my entire body with the force of a tidal wave.
“SKYLAR!” Brandon cried out, joining me as we crested the wave together. I collapsed over his chest, our bodies shaking roughly as he continued to move slowly, slower, and then finally shuddered to a stop.
“Holyshit,” Brandon breathed a few minutes later. His chest rose and fell deeply underneath my cheek.
“I know,” I murmured into the soft smattering of curls.
“That was…Christ. Woman, where did you learn to do that?”
Somehow, I found the energy to lift myself long enough to look down at his handsome face. “Do you really want to know?”
Brandon furrowed his brow, reconsidering the question. “No,” he said definitely. “I do not.”
“Didn’t think so.”
I flopped back onto his chest. His fingers resumed their gentle grazing over my back, and I succumbed to their rhythm, feeling myself being lulled closer and closer to sleep.
“Red?” His voice, small and quiet, interrupted me from drifting off to sleep.
“Yeah?” I whispered hazily.
“You won’t go anywhere, will you?”
I rubbed my nose into the warm hollow in his chest and breathed a sigh of pure contentment. “Where would I go?”
“Nowhere,” Brandon said, and kissed me on the top of my head.
Just as gently, he got rid of the condom and grabbed a blanket from the couch above us. I burrowed into his side and sighed deeply as the soft knit covered our bodies. The last things I saw before falling asleep was the reflection of the firelight on the base of the sofa and the glint of Brandon’s eyelashes shining bright gold.
Twenty-Eight
Sometime in the middle of the night, I was carried up the stairs to Brandon’s bedroom, where I enjoyed a round of drowsy sex before surrendering to sleep again. In the morning, after taking a quick shower together that resulted in yet another round of brain-melting orgasms, Brandon lent me a pair of boxers and an undershirt that fell almost to my knees. We ended up in the kitchen sometime after ten, eating a breakfast that Ana had prepared.
“I want to do something you want to do today,” I said after I swallowed a bite of my brioche toast with homemade raspberry jam. “What do you want to do?”
Brandon cocked his head to the right, a fork full of eggs suspended mid-air en route to his mouth. “Um, I’m pretty happy at the moment,” he said. “I’d like to finish my breakfast. Spend some time with my girl. That’s…about it. I’m not that hard to please.”
“Come on, all we’ve done is stuff I like to do,” I protested despite my grin at his words. “The symphony—”
“I’m pretty sure I picked that one, Red,” Brandon interrupted as he slathered another piece of toast with jam.
“Don’t be coy, you goon. You have about the same knowledge of classical music that I do of astrophysics,” I said. “And you took me for pizza becauseIexplicitly wanted something not-fancy. And, of course, there was New York.”
Brandon grinned. “I liked New York. I found out a lot about you there.”
“Exactly!” I cried with exasperation, flinging a piece of egg across the counter.
Brandon watched its progress, then turned back to me with an amused expression. “Your point?”
I set my fork on my plate with unnecessary force. “You’re impossible, you know that? What do you do for fun? Like, in your spare time?”
“You mean besides you?”
He laughed when I pretended I was going to stab him with my fork. Then he took a bite of his toast and chewed contemplatively. He swallowed, opened his mouth as if to speak, and then took another bite.
