Willows, Jennifer - Lust for Life [The Moreland Brothers 2] (Siren Publishing Allure) (6 page)

* * * *

He decided to reward her for her grace in admitting defeat, a hard thing for the pixie Napoleon. He tugged her back onto his lap, sitting face to face. When they were eye to eye, he kissed her. Their lips meshed together, each aggressive, wanting dominion over the moment. Charli sucked his top lip in her mouth, and Deven had her lower lip in his. She nipped him with teeth, tasted him with her tongue. Deven just nibbled her lip until it was under his control. He used his hands, first touching her breasts through the thin silk. She arched back, begging for more of his hands.

Deven complied with the request her body gave, sliding his hands under the silk. For a woman her size, her breasts were deceptively large. His palms covered the full mounds, rocking over the nipples from soft flesh to small points. In the next moment, he undid the blue buttons fastening her shirt closed. Once she was freed from the garment, he groaned, the shirt pooling around her, concealing nothing from his gaze.

Deven let his eyes roam over her flat belly with small delineation showing muscled torso, the minute hollows at her collarbones, and the strong heartbeat revealed in the throbbing veins of her slim throat. She didn’t have much in the way of fat on her body, and each inch of skin was perfectly even in color. He just engrossed himself looking at the parts of her that he was able to see. The rest was for later. She clenched his growing hair into fists, open lips asking for his touch, his mouth on her. He knew he was being a plumb fool by not taking what she wordlessly offered. He just didn’t want her to be disgusted with herself and him, the way she was the first time.

But he couldn’t resist seeing the look of rapture play over her features. Charli was beautiful when pleased. Touching her now brought an onslaught of memories that he couldn’t shake even when he desperately wanted to. Deven remembered her the way she tossed her head back and the throaty moans she made when he stabbed her convulsing pussy their only night together. His brain refused to let him forget her. Somehow, the tiny terror had wormed her way into his conscious and she featured in every orgasm he’d had this past year.

There had been numerous self-induced peaks over the last months starring one Charlene Montana Anderson. At first, he refused to masturbate. That only lasted three long, hungry, hard days. After he gave in the first time to his nocturnal longings, it became a habit that he couldn’t deprive himself of. Deven found himself at all times of the day thinking about her. Innocent thoughts such as “What was she doing?” or rather, “Who is she doing?” would lead to him jerking off at the worst possible times, namely in his office. He and his brothers jointly owned a real properties company called MoreLand and Co. where he was CEO. His brother Charyn was a numbers guy and CFO, while Marq was the CIO and handled foreign negotiations as well. As bad as it might sound, he’d rubbed one out before many multimillion dollar deals, at the mere mention of going to Charyn’s house, even once on the side of a backcountry road half-way into a ride on his black Ducati Superbike.
 
The cycle held some serious memories of the way their single ride together ended, and he couldn’t sit astride it without growing hard.

Despite the fact her body was begging him to bring her to a massive peak her eyes were pleading him not to take what she plainly wanted to give.
 
Deven could see panic in Charli’s face, the fact that she didn’t want to do this again, not with him. He released her and congratulated himself for his achievement. He wished she didn’t find him repulsive, but it was for the best. If only he hadn’t become complacent, forgotten to keep his guard up and let his sub-conscious desires show, he may have been able to avoid the wave of disappointment that rolled through him at her standoffish behavior.

To change the subject, he decided to scare her, just a little bit. So she would go home but not be offended when she waltzed away. It was a delicate balance as she was a firebrand, and the hot cheeks they both wore right now proved it. He fastened the still-open shirt, burning with lust for her as he went. This was likely the only time he would see this vision again, he may as well enjoy it. Looking at her exposed chest one last time, he buttoned the last three buttons. He did linger just a few moments, seeing regret in her eyes. He didn’t know what it was for, but he could guess. Most likely she didn’t like the fact his hands were on her.

* * * *

Charli wished he would look at her again, his eyes devouring the skin she displayed before him. She regretted that Dev closed her from his view, and she hated that she was weak and wanting enough to feel the lack.

“Hey, Charli, little brother and I were supposed to go skydiving today. Guess I’m going alone.” Making a face, he laughed. “Wanna go?” His expression showed that he thought she was chicken and wouldn’t dare come with him. Within moments, his face crept upward into a smirk almost daring her and warning in the same tug of lips and eyes.

Was this guy for real? He must have bumped his head. No way did she want to die young, turned into a freaking pancake, crushed under atmosphere and earth at high velocity. But the fact that she wanted to goad him made her think a moment. No way was she going to let him run her away from anything. Charli, however, had momentarily forgotten the crucial fact that she loved airplanes, loved flying. The feeling was similar to riding on a roller coaster, but it was so long it drove her crazy. By the end of a flight she was always ready to explode and would masturbate for hours afterward. Her response surprised even herself.

“Sure, today seems like a great day to die.” Charli smiled, and stood.

“I won’t let you die, Charli.” Deven winked at her and smacked her ass. “Now can I have breakfast?”

Charli narrowed her eyes and sauntered off, a bit of pep in her step. Once she started the pancake batter, the water she drank earlier reminded her she still hadn’t made it to the bathroom. She needed to go, and now was better than in the middle of preparing breakfast. If she burned anything, Deven was going to have more ammo to needle her already sorely tested patience with. Quick-stepping to the hall bath, Charli snatched the door open as she tugged the drawstring on her pants loose.

But the room was occupied by Deven, who just looked at her, unashamedly stroking himself like a pro. His back was to the wall, leaning against his shoulders, cock throbbing hard. Her mouth dried up to desert proportions. She had felt him before, but didn’t get to see much of him. His dick was huge, long enough to make her look way too long, almost thicker than her hand could fully span at the base. She watched him come, juices running down his grasping fingers to drip on his thighs. He just ogled her, Charli knew he saw her nervously gnaw her lower lip, and her mouth watered to taste him. The track her thoughts took forced her to back away as her eyes went wide, and his nostrils flared. She closed the door on her way out, breath heavy. Charli wasn’t disgusted by him, far from it, and with her helpless response to him, he had to know it too.

Charli found the single half bath, also downstairs just off the garage. She walked in the calming, minty-green-walled space, and sat on the toilet. The accidental show starring Deven had her nerves bad, and she needed to get herself together. Just sitting for a moment, she took deep breaths until she was calm. When she finally slowed her heart rate, she used the bathroom as originally intended. She wandered back toward the kitchen, not sure how to react. She had made him do that, take his pleasure alone. He wanted her, and she knew it as well as she knew her own name.

When she got in the kitchen, Deven had started without her. Her flapjack batter was cooking and already he used half the batter. She jumped in, starting fried apple compote. She covertly watched him work in her peripheral vision. Eventually, the two of them started competing. If she made an omelet, he’d make eggs Benedict. If she chopped a tomato salsa, he would make a mango one instead. By the time they were done cooking, a huge buffet was spread throughout the kitchen. She couldn’t help showing off her skills, trying to outdo him.

“Hope you washed those hands, surfer guy,” Charli scoffed, disgusted at how well he cooked.

Deven smirked, “Would it matter? You’re about to eat it now. But for your information, they are squeaky. See?”

He showed her both hands, nails clean and short, fingers long and thick rooted to heavy palms. Charli looked at the masculine fingers and remembered each digit on her flesh. The way those fingers touched her, grabbed her, and pushed her to take more than she was built for. She loved it, never had felt enveloped by rapture with another man. Shaking her head, she filled a plate, and carried it to the patio to eat. Deven followed her outside, only saying, “Don’t think I’m going to let you ditch me to eat alone.” The words were accompanied by a grin, and Charli watched him pull a chair out for her which she took gratefully.

They ate in silence, enjoying a well-prepared meal. The eggs Benedict were delightful, particularly with the mango salsa. Her apple compote and yeast flapjacks were mouthwatering, and Deven found room for one more after he ate the first stack. Charli’s plate was much smaller, and she thought she was going to pop. There wasn’t one more bite she could fit in her mouth, not even a sip of water. Sitting at the patio, the weak sun warming her face and hands, Charli leaned back in her lounger. Within minutes, she was fast asleep.

* * * *

Deven was finishing his meal and watched Charli nap. She snored, just a small snort every few minutes. Her short hair was tucked behind the shell of her ears. The pajamas were adorable, making her look at least ten years younger than she was. He enjoyed the view, her skin glowing with sun, eyelashes the only shadows on her face. He took a last drink of iced tea and carried the used dishes inside putting them in the sink. They were both clean-as-they-go cooks, making the task of cleaning the kitchen easy. The food that was left, he placed on plates and breakfast tray, so his brother could get it later. With nothing left to do, he walked back out, gazing at the surf. He needed an adventure, and the easiest one around here would be the dive today. The water was starting to grow too cool to surf without a wetsuit. He hated to wear them, usually opting for shorts only.

He leaned over the lounger and its occupant, the sleeping pixie. Scooping her small frame, he was amazed at just how small she really was. Awake, Charli was a wildcat. But asleep she was a kitten. She even stretched and purred in his arms like one. He felt protective, but he’d better keep that to himself. Carrying her to the purple bedroom, he laid her on the bed. He climbed in next to her, toeing his sandals in the floor. Due to the size of the bed, she ended up clinging to him, and his feet were over the edge of the tiny twin. But the two of them slept, more content than he would fully remember later.

Deven woke first, stirring slowly, not understanding why he felt so good. He hadn’t slept well in a long time. Usually, he found things to do, busying himself until he passed out. Dev was normally up by six a.m. and would crash about three the next morning. So needless to say, he usually wasn’t the brightest bulb after waking. He opened his eyes and felt the slight weight just as he saw her. Charli. She felt so good in his arms. He never thought it would be comfortable to sleep with another person. Her hair was flying in all directions, the strands every which way. The next thing he heard was rustling and food being eaten. The happy couple must be in the kitchen, or so Dev assumed based on the sounds he heard. He sat up, needing a quick shower, and he could get ready to head to the plane. When he got out of bed, it seemed as if Charli started looking for him. Her hands and arms roved the sheets, restlessly, and she clutched a pillow. It satisfied her enough that the movements stopped, but then she began speaking. It was kind of freaky, listening to her talk to herself. The words were nonsense at first, just her muttering. Then she started to say his name, over and over, clutching her pillow.

Deven was transfixed, couldn’t move as if he grew roots to the spot he stood on. She was dreaming about him? How long had she been doing that? Most of all, was it good? It must be, he thought, as she was rolling her hips slightly to the rhythm she chanted his name. The pillow fell away from her, and she pleaded with him not to leave. Charli was too independent to want to need someone. No wonder she treated him the way she did. It made him see her differently. The vulnerable side of her, showing through her tough armor, unnerved him. Did any other man know her secret? Had she let anyone close enough to her to sleep with him, just to rest? He still watched her long moments later as she stirred, eyes blinking twice focused on him.

“Good afternoon,” Dev told her, in that moment deciding to keep their nap together to himself.

“Ditto.” Charli stretched, her top riding up to her waist, the sexy dip of belly button showing. The view was snatched from him as soon as she finished and sat upright. She combed her hair down with her fingers, but a stubborn cowlick stuck up in back. She looked like Alfalfa, but Dev smiled and kept the thought to himself before he started another argument.