What She Needs (42 page)

She responded by removing her top over her head to reveal a lacy yellow bra underneath, then let her skirt fall to the grass, uncovering matching panties. Brent growled at the sight of her as she approached the bed.

Things could have gone fast then, yet they turned . . . painstakingly slow. Brent took his time, touching her face, kissing her lips, letting his hands glide over her body. Every caress skimmed across her skin like velvet.

She touched him, too, just as slowly, exploring his body more thoroughly than ever before. She slid her palms across his broad shoulders, the firm muscles of his arms. She curled her fingernails into the smattering of dark hair on his chest. She kissed him there—over and over—tasting the salt on his skin. They were no Adam and Eve, and this was far from being original sin—and yet, as they touched each other, it felt . . . new.

When Brent finally peeled away her bra and began to rain kisses onto her breasts, she basked in the soft pleasure. And as he kissed his way tenderly down her stomach, she ached for him in her very soul.

Watching Brent draw down her panties as violins played, Jenna tossed her head back in abandon, soaking up the island breeze, luxuriating in the moment. Then she met Brent’s dark gaze and parted her legs for him.

He kissed his way slowly up her inner thigh, and by the time he lowered his mouth gently to her clit, she thought she’d die from anticipation. She let out a moan, lifting, offering herself to him.

Brent met her gaze as he licked deeply into her, wanting to taste her, wanting to make her feel his tongue more intensely than ever. For him, this wasn’t fucking—it was making love. And maybe it had been that way for a while now with Jenna, but suddenly he understood.

He understood that she’d been right about why he’d been so committed to freeing her this past week. He’d wanted to save her from what he’d never been able to save Deena from: a mediocre appreciation of sex.

But he also understood that it had quickly become much more than that. As he delivered passionate, openmouthed kisses to her glistening pink folds, he felt the same profound connection he’d experienced with her soon after that first night in the gazebo. The more time he spent with Jenna, the more that connection grew.

He understood that she was honest and outspoken, smart and funny, entrenched in history and her work, and extremely practical and logical—and he loved it all. But he loved just as much how cute and playful she could be, how hot and sexy she became when aroused, and how she’d learned to open herself up to daring new sex with him.

While he might have compared her to Deena in the back of his mind upon first meeting her, she’d turned out to be very different—
and
, he now had to admit to himself, so much more compatible with him than Deena had ever been. He’d genuinely loved Deena, but that was long in the past—and now he wondered if perhaps that hadn’t been more of a . . . youthful love. He knew sometimes that lasted and sometimes it didn’t, but either way, he found himself drawn to Jenna from a more secure position of experience and maturity.

He made love to her with his mouth, soon suckling on her beautifully engorged clit, enraptured in her sounds of pleasure—until he heard her moans growing deeper, more desperate, and just when he knew she would come soon, she did. She exploded into orgasm, sobbing her joy so emphatically that it made his aching cock even harder.

Rising up, he was just about to slide it inside her—when she surprised him by lifting onto her knees as well and playfully shoving him to his back on the bed. “Remember when you told me I was a woman in control?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Well, I’m taking it—now.” And with that, she captured his stiff dick in her hand and went down on him, all in one swift move.

A startled, pleasured groan erupted from his throat as he watched her. Jesus God—she was shockingly good at sucking his cock. He let his eyes fall shut, lost in the hot delights her warm, wet mouth delivered. “So good, baby,” he breathed. “So damn good.”

And then she shocked him even more. Upon releasing him from her mouth, she ran the tip of his shaft over her prettily pointed nipples, wetting them that way, clearly lost in pleasures of her own, which thrilled him to the core. She used his cock to caress her ample breasts further, raking his length across the soft pillows of flesh, and then—mmm, yes—she let it rest in the valley between her tits, using her hands to wrap them around it.

“Jesus,” he growled—and then he couldn’t hold back; he fucked her tits.

And she responded by angling her mouth downward so that the head of his cock concluded each hot drive just within her lips.

God, she was astounding. He knew that already, but she kept proving it over and over. “So fucking hot, honey,” he rasped. “Such beautiful tits. Such a soft, wet mouth. Such a perfect lover.”

They moved together that way, Brent floating in a heavenly obscene bliss, until finally she released his shaft—but wasted no time straddling him, then impaling herself on it.

“Oh God,” Jenna groaned, taking him deeply up into her pussy. Like this, it always felt as if his majestic cock stretched through her whole body. “So big,” she purred. And then she began to ride him. She wasn’t sure what had come over her—but somehow Brent’s willingness to give her what she’d asked for today was inspiring her, making her wilder than ever.

They writhed together in a hot, grinding rhythm that made Jenna feel like the naughty girl Brent had taught her she could be. She didn’t hesitate to caress her own breasts when the urge struck, meeting his gaze to see the fire there. And she didn’t hesitate, moments later, to bend over him in the bed, dangling her tits in his face to say, “Suck them—hard.”

The moment he obeyed her breathy command, the pleasure blasted from her breasts straight to her cunt and she rocked against him, grinding harder, deeper—until, oh God, another bright, flashing climax overtook her. She cried out as the mind-numbing pulses radiated from her clit out through her arms and legs, fingers and toes.

“Mmm,” she moaned when it was done, letting herself rest on his chest, his erection inside her.

“Was it good, baby?” he asked low in her ear.

“
So
good,” she whispered—then she rested there for a long, idyllic moment, listening to the birds and the waterfall, and the violins. “Where are they?” she asked then. “The violins?”

“The quartet from the masquerade is on the other side of those bushes,” Brent said softly, pointing in the distance. And she smiled into his chest, thinking he truly was a man who knew how to make fantasies come true.

Once she got her strength back, she lifted her head from his chest and continued being this most aggressive version of herself—and loving the freedom Brent had given her to do so. “Now I want something you’ve taught me to appreciate far more than I ever did before.”

“Name it, sunshine.”

“Please fuck me hard, Brent,” she said. “Make me scream.”

As the words left her, she felt unashamed, simply joyful, cherishing the pleasure this man brought her. And then—wow—a more profound truth struck. Before Brent, feeling so free and unashamed
had
been something she could only fantasize about, or maybe wish for in a dark, hidden part of her mind. But Brent had made it real.

In response to her request, Brent turned her away from him, on her knees, instructing her to hold on to the curving brass headrails. When his hands molded to her hips, she braced herself, and then—
yes
—the hot, hard entry made her cry out. Mmm, God, he always felt especially big in this position, too, and as he began to fuck her, indeed making her sob with every pummeling stroke, she could barely stand the shocking joy of it.

Both of them moaned as he drove into her slickness, again, again, leaving Jenna replete with pleasure—full with it, as full as she could be—until Brent began to rub one fingertip over the fissure of her ass and she realized she was wrong; there was still more pleasure to be had.

Her face flushed and her whole body perspired as Brent slid his finger into her ass.
Oh God, yes.
She heard herself yowling, felt herself begin to tremble.

“I love to fuck you, baby,” Brent was murmuring, his voice deep and raspy. “I love to fuck this sweet little pussy. And I love to fuck this tight little ass.”

“
Yes! Yes!
” she was screaming. It was all too much. Too much sensation to bear. Every cell of her body throbbed, and she needed to come like she needed to breathe. “Rub me,” she begged. “Please, Brent, rub me!”

“Aw, baby,” he growled at the request, and the next thing she knew, the fingers of his free hand pressed between her legs.

“Oh! Oh God!” That was all it took to send her into an explosive orgasm that utterly consumed her. After that, there was only screaming and thrashing and pulsations that stretched outward through every limb, the climax rivaling the one when Brent had found her G-spot. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe—her whole world in that moment was about coming.

It was as Jenna’s wild climax finally faded that Brent’s low groan met her ear. “Oh, fuck, honey—me, too.” Then he nearly nailed her to the brass rails with the ferocious drives of his cock, moaning and growling with each powerful thrust.

Jenna’s body went limp and she found herself in a tangled heap with Brent among the slick satin sheets. When she recovered enough to open her eyes, she found his head on the pillow next to hers, his dark gaze pinning her in place. “I love you, sunshine,” he said.

And Jenna’s heart nearly stopped. She’d adored what had just happened between them, but she’d had no idea it was leading to
this
.

“What?” she breathed.

“I love you,” he repeated, sounding amazingly sure, “and I’m an idiot because I tried to fight it.”

Jenna lay staring at him, aware that at some point her jaw had dropped. “I love you, too,” she said, still shaken.

“I know,” he said, reaching up to touch her face. Then he closed his eyes, tight, and Jenna realized he was—oh God—fighting back tears. He opened them again to say, “I know, and . . . I forgot how nice that feels. To be loved.”

“Oh, Brent,” she said, touching his face now, too.

“I don’t like admitting this,” he went on, “but . . . I
have
been hiding here. It was easy, simple. And I never expected anyone to come along and call me on it, or make me suddenly start wanting something more,
needing
something more.” His eyes filled with more emotion than she’d ever seen in them. “I need you in my life, Jenna.”

“So now,” she said, stopping to draw his hand away from her cheek and kiss it, “it’s not about what
I
need—it’s about what
you
need.”

He nodded, completely contrite. “That’s right, sunshine. With you, I have needs.”

“I’ll meet them,” she promised.

He blinked. “Just like that? It’s that easy? I mean, you know I’ve lived a very different sort of life than you, so . . . I’d understand if you want to take some time to figure this out.”

Yet Jenna simply shook her head. “We’ll figure it out
together
, but I already know—I want to give you whatever you need, Brent. Because
you
gave that to
me
when I didn’t even know I needed it.”

He hadn’t given her the freedom to have casual sex with strangers, like she might have been seeking in the beginning. No, he’d given her something much more important—the freedom to have wild, uninhibited sex with the man she loved. And now he’d given her that love in return, too. What more could a girl need?

 

 

“S
o, what would I have to do to get the keys to the ship?” Kevin asked Jenna.

She simply rolled her eyes at him from her lounge chair next to the main pool. “It’s a
ship
. It doesn’t have keys. So I’m thinking you’d need to learn to sail before Brent would trust you with it.”

“So he knows how to
sail
, too?” Kevin asked, sounding a little jealous.

Jenna just shrugged. “What can I tell you? He’s a man of many talents.”

“Well, if I can’t have the ship, how am I gonna give Shannon her pirate fantasy?” He motioned to where Shannon floated on a raft in the pool in a lime green bikini.

“Let me talk to Brent,” Jenna said, taking mercy on him, “and we’ll see what we can work out.”

He grinned. “Thanks, Jenna.”

“I suppose it’s the least I can do,” she admitted. “Without your know-it-all interference, I wouldn’t be the happiest woman alive right now.”

“Damn straight,” he agreed, now that she’d reminded him.

And Jenna wasn’t exaggerating—she could barely believe all she had to be happy about.

Brent had decided to give up working at the Hotel Erotique, but he still retained partial ownership, including his beach bungalow. And that had allowed him to reunite with his family. It turned out his mother had been missing him deeply, and she and Jenna got along great. And it was clear to Jenna how much it meant to Brent to have his niece and nephew back in his life.

Brent had just started teaching a few psychology courses at a small Miami university, where he was also furthering his own education, pursuing other areas in the field. His hope was to earn a full professorial gig in a few years. Not only had he discovered he really enjoyed teaching, but his schedule left time to work on restoring the 1965 Mustang his dad had given him for college graduation—and it left summers free for island getaways. Although the Hotel Erotique was close enough to the mainland that even weekend trips were easy, like the one they were on now.

Fortunately, Jenna could write her historical biographies anywhere. Her current project focused on figures with notorious sexual pasts, such as the Marquis de Sade, Lady Godiva, and Caligula—and Brent was helping her with the psychological issues likely involved with each. She’d found it especially fulfilling to discover they
worked
together just as well as they
played
together.