Willows, Jennifer - Lust for Life [The Moreland Brothers 2] (Siren Publishing Allure) (14 page)

Deven knew he was in for a fight, but he wanted Charli. In this matter she wasn’t going to have her way. True, he previously wasn’t looking for love either, but he was willing to see where this could go. His gut told him that letting her get away would be a mistake he’d kick himself over the rest of his natural life. It didn’t matter at this point, even if he had to drag her caveman-style, kicking and screaming she was coming with him into the unknown abyss of a relationship.

She faced the window and the ripples of early morning light played over her flesh through the blinds. Deven took the tranquil, quiet moments for what they were and stroked his fingertips across the moon-kissed curves of her waist and hip. When she waved away the tickling touches, he splayed his hand over her belly and inhaled the scent, so uniquely her, from her neck instead. She smelled amazing and he wanted nothing more than to wake her on his cock and make lazy love with her all day. But when he felt her stir, he laid still and pretended to sleep, not wanting her to know he watched her in repose.

* * * *

When Charli woke, the sky was dimly lit letting her know it was early in the morning. The sun was in the process of rising, and she needed to go to the bathroom. Disengaging her limbs from the clutch she apparently employed on Deven last night, she slid sideways until his arm fell away from her chest. She slid onto the floor and laughing softly at her predicament, padded to the bathroom. After using the toilet, she opted for a shower and shave.

Twenty minutes later, Charli felt fresh and ready to face the world. She tugged on a pair of leggings and a fresh wifebeater tank from her bag. Her hair was a mess, so she washed and wrapped her mane under a favored Gucci scarf. That part of the day behind her, she decided to make breakfast.

Looking through the fridge, she saw many items she loved to eat. There was a red pepper hummus from the Tidal Creek Food Co-op, a six-pack of Dogfish Head ale, bottle of C
íroc
, and a few other things. Eyes peeled for inspiration, she spotted some strawberries and on the fly made her decision. She pulled out some flour and a few other things needed to make crepes. Mixing together the few items needed, she buttered a sauté pan and started her first crepe.

When she finished six, she stopped and started a whipped cream incorporated with vanilla and a touch of cayenne pepper. After letting the cream set in the freezer, she quickly diced up a strawberry and mascarpone filling for the pastry. She pulled out a bottle of Simply Apple juice, and set it in the freezer alongside her whipped cream. The last thing needed to cook was bacon, and she cooked ten slices of the maple-smoked meat. As the bacon crisped on the stove top, she perked a pot of coffee. While she filled the crepes, she heard Deven walk through the house. She decided not to acknowledge him by pretending not to hear him and kept moving with the food.

“Morning.” His voice was harsh, gravel against her ears. The only thing softening his tone was the accompanying smile, which was sated and sexy.

“Ditto.” Charli smirked at him, his face sleepy and disheveled. He was nude, not bothering with the niceties of clothing after bathing. His hair was wet, the damp tresses slicked back from the hard planes of his face. She looked lower, wanting to see him, his dick. It was giving her a slight salute, semi hard and bobbing with each step he took in her direction.

“What’s that?”

“Crepes with mascarpone.”

“Mmmm… It smells good. I wish you could cook for me every day.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how that would work. But you should enjoy me while I’m here.”

She watched the crestfallen look play over his face and smirked. He was too old to try and get away with pouting. Although, he did make the expression, perfected by highly intelligent toddlers everywhere, seem adorable. Even on his overgrown behind.

Charli just shook her head, knowing if she let herself get carried away the crepes would be rubber before they were eaten. Turning her back to him, she macerated berries in sugar and wine, a sauce to enjoy over their breakfast. He walked over and attempted to help, but she smacked his fingers with her wooden spoon and laughed.

He sucked the transferred sweet juices from his reddened knuckles and chuckled huskily. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that you would treat me with such disdain when I try to help you? The last person to smack me with a wooden spoon was my grandmother and that was nearly thirty years ago.”

“Yeah? Well it seems like she shouldn’t have stopped because you are still in need of some major discipline.”

Deven sauntered closer to her, leaned toward her and nuzzled her ear.

“If I need chastisement, Charli, then you deserve a beating.” His tone notched the words to a sensual meaning and the play on words was riddled with innuendo. She shivered in response and clumsily dripped some of her homemade syrup in the floor. Deven promptly cleaned her messy mistake with a wet dish cloth laughing with each pass of the cloth over the tile.

* * * *

Deven felt more alive than he’d even been. He’d slept more these last few days than he had in months. When he heard her bustling in the kitchen, he knew she wasn’t coming back to bed, so he chose to rise and brush his teeth. But after he smelled himself when he lifted his arm, he decided it may be best to bathe also, as he smelled worse than a bear with halitosis. He found himself so impatient to see her that he washed in less than five minutes, hair and all.

Deven didn’t bother with shaving. That would be best left for later in the morning, when he wasn’t as apt to cut himself. He toweled himself dry as he padded across the house, wet footprints marking each step he took.
 
When he saw Charli, bustling with activity, he just watched her. He didn’t say anything or make any motions toward her, just viewed her in action. When he sensed she knew he was there, he began to converse with her. He even attempted to help out, but was thwarted by her quick spoon and even quicker tongue.

Charli carried the platters to the table along with a small pot of fresh coffee. Dev sat down, and when she walked past him, he snapped her up. He pulled her in his lap and proceeded to feed her. The only thing he took for himself was coffee, and he knew Charli wondered why. The question burning in her gaze was answered moments later, when he finished the crucial first cup and spoke.

“I usually wait about thirty minutes after I wake to eat. Otherwise, I end up sluggish.”

Deven tugged her close, hugging her while he fed her a bite of crepe. He slugged the remaining coffee down and proceeded to dig in after he’d fed Charli. The flavor was fantastic and he wished he could have had them straight from the stove, they were so delicious. Light, fluffy, and heavenly, they were the best he’d ever eaten. That was amazing, especially considering he’d had them in France on numerous occasions.

He was more than happy to devour the entire meal, and from the expression Charli made she was glad she had eaten first. Even as he finished, Deven wished for one more crepe, even though he was full to his ears. He’d eaten four crepes and eight slices of bacon. But he couldn’t afford to be lazy, especially as he’d eaten extremely well this weekend.

“You would make an incredible chef, Charlene.” Dev was serious, and schooled his face to make sure she knew he really meant what he said.

“Thanks, Dev, you’re pretty damn good yourself.”

“Wanna go to bed?” Deven spoke frankly, only a wiggle of eyebrows showing his playful intent.

“Sure do.” She concurred with a highly unusual giggle.

Charli leapt up, running at full mast for the bedroom. Deven followed, letting her get close to her goal. As she crossed the threshold of the room, Deven grabbed her up and wrestled her small frame to the bed. Both laughed at their childish antics, but kept at it until they were exhausted and giddy. The game abruptly ended when Charli opted to play dirty and kiss her opponent.

Deven responded to Charli’s innocent peck with a more meaningful kiss, a deeper savoring of tongue. A burning kiss filled with the passion he was ready to lavish on her. He made certain that Charli couldn’t help but submit to the onslaught. Once he felt her body give in to him, he grew satisfied and drew some of the intensity away from their merged mouths. The smoldering need to feel her soft skin tugged at him, and his hands began wandering. They stayed over her clothing at first just mingling with her curves, as if tasting a rarely indulged wrapped delicacy. When his hands met bare skin, the finger pads tingled, almost as if he were going to perspire. He could feel her rising into each caress, even though she never perceptibly moved. It was as if he was tugging on something invisible to the eye and only discernible via his touch. Her skin pebbled beneath his hands with tiny goose bumps and the hair rose along her arms, a fine dusting speckling her flesh.

Each breath she took was a benediction to sensation, shallow inhale followed by superficial exhale. She was a puppet making the motions, but the strings were tugged by a lord and master. Deven could do this all day, feel her, taste her, and caress her. He’d never felt so poleaxed, off-kilter. Before her, all women were practice, to learn how to please her senses and stir an inferno within her. He wanted to use every trick, tool, toy he knew. Some he wanted to create for her, just to see her scream and squirm.

* * * *

Charli was past writhing, her mind in overload. Too many sensations assaulted her, the cool temperature of the air taunting her flesh after he touched it. Inundated with the feeling of Deven’s hair brushing against her face as he kissed her and fingertips slightly slick with her sweat gliding over naked flesh. The places he touched her became all-important and unimportant all at once. She never had a man’s touch along her arm or ankle make her pussy contract, preparing her to take him. Any other man could fuck her and get less reaction than Dev could elicit with an innocently placed hand. She broke the kiss, unable to take it and his caresses at the same time.

Charli panted with starving lungs begging for breath. She was clutching him, greedy hands clasping his biceps, as Deven moved his hands beneath her shirt. One arm wrapped beneath her, the other hand weighing her breast in a calloused and cupped palm. The forearm bracing her spine propped her into the bend of a supplicant, his touch drawing the arc deeper, a bow aimed at him. Her need was the arrow she launched, snaring her lover. His touch grew firmer, more tangible. His hands no longer skimmed her, but claimed her.

“Charlene, do you want me?” Deven knew the answer, just wanted to hear her say the words.

“God, Deven... You know I do.” Charli no longer cared what she sounded like, whether she begged, cursed, or a combination of the two. Nothing mattered as long as she got what she wanted from him. She watched Deven sheath himself with a rubber pulled from his nightstand and knew she was going to get it.

Deven’s
 
behavior gave the impression he was impatient from her prolonged foreplay and he seemed to care less what happened next, as long as it happened once he got inside her. First, he fisted the spandex covering her from waist to calf, and tore the crotch apart at the seams. Charli’s mind told her one thing, and her body naturally cried out the opposite. Her mind told her to be pissed about the nice pants he’d ruined in his haste to have at her. Her body screamed a hallelujah chorus at the caveman action, and gloriously reveled in him unleashing himself on her.

Within moments of exposing her pussy, Deven was pressing his hard cock against the weeping gash of Charli’s sex. She twisted as he held back, giving her the head of his member only as he deadlocked her gaze with his own.

“Don’t know whether or not to be pissed off, huh? I don’t mind waiting for you to decide.” Deven chuckled as Charli gritted her teeth and cursed him.

“Fuck you, Deven. I don’t appreciate you tearing my clothes. Stuff costs good money, you know. Not that you’d get it, Richie Rich.”

“So that’s the argument you’re going with? Not really accurate, seeing as I’m in here right now and you love every inch of it.”

Deven thrust home, and the pair grunted as one. The case Charli posed him ended up exposed for the lie it was with her pussy slurping him as always, sloppy wet and silken with juices. Her muscles already started fluttering around the thick stalk of cock she was penetrated with, a prelude to her coming.

Charli wanted retribution for her clothes and fought him, shoving him as hard as she was able. She bit him, just over the nipple. She saw Deven’s eyes grow dark and narrowed. She wasn’t scared he would abuse her. He wasn’t that kind of man, but she might be in need of a wheelchair come dawn.