Coming Undone (9 page)

“You can have some when I’m finished with you.”

She dropped her bag and took his hand. “Finished, hmm? You have plans for my body?”

“Oh yes, yes I do.”

“All right then. Do me.”

The last two times they’d been together it had been at her studio. Now he had his bed and an hour. More than an hour, since he really didn’t have to be at the shop until ten. There was a lot a man C O M I N G

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could do with a fresh box of condoms, an hour and a big bed with a beautiful woman lying on it.

“I like it.” She looked around the room as she unbuttoned the front of her dress and stepped out of it, naked but for tiny panties.

The morning light through the filmy curtains glowed off her skin.

“I like that.” He indicated the beauty of her body.

“Now you.” She tipped her chin at him and began to work on his belt and the button and zipper on his jeans.

Grinning, he pulled his shirt off and took over getting naked as he moved toward the bed. But she put a hand out to stop him.

“Wait, I want to really look at you.” He shivered at her touch as she traced over the firebird on his back, up the line of his spine where her lips pressed a kiss. “Who does this for you? Obviously you can’t do your own back tattoo.” She ducked around him and kissed his belly, sliding her palms up, exploring his body.

“I don’t do any of my own tats. I’m not that much of a control freak, no matter what Erin says. I have a friend in Portland. He and I trade services. I do his work, he does mine. Works out that he’s really good.”

She tiptoed up and licked over his nipple, the one with the ring.

“Not as good as you though?”

He liked the shape of her smile, liked that she was relaxed enough to tease.

“Well, not everyone can be as good as me.” He laughed. “But he’s good.”

“If I decide to get a tattoo, would you do it for me?”

He paused, touched. “I’d be honored to do it.”

He picked her up and she wrapped herself around him, bringing her nakedness up against his. Christ, that felt good. One-handed, she reached up to pull her hair free of the ponytail, and a shower of soft, pale hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders. He 68 L A U R E N

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hadn’t seen it down until that moment; it softened her, tousled her just enough that the need pulled at him even more.

He lay her back on the bed, crouched above her as he took her in. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He meant it. Her nipples pressed toward him and he dipped to lick across one, delighting in her soft sound of desire.

She arched up into his touch, her fingertips digging into the muscle of his biceps. He cruised over to the other breast, licking and nibbling there until she began to writhe in earnest. Her scent, rich and spicy, painted the air between them.

The muscles in her belly jumped as he licked his way down, past her ribs, past her belly button, past the scar marking the birth of her child. Everything about her outside was soft. Her skin was soft and sweet, her taste, everywhere but her cunt, was sweet as well.

Here, he thought as he slid his tongue through the slick furls of her pussy, here she was spice and tang. Here the muscles of her thighs might have trembled when he licked over her clit, but there was strength and resilience.

He could see, like the aftereffects of a camera flash, the ink on her skin. Starting at her hip bones and curling around her back, up her spine. Roses and ivy, strong and feminine, soft and thorny. He’d love to do her inkwork.

Right then, though, he wanted to make her come and then fuck her. And make her come again. Her taste was a lure, the feel of her against his tongue, filling him with sensation clearly all her. She was everything he felt just then.

Elise dragged in one breath after the other as she struggled not to drown in everything Brody Brown was. She liked sex, especially oral sex but Ken hadn’t been that crazy about doing it and as a result, wasn’t that good at it. But even a bad blow job was better than C O M I N G

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most things, so she’d been happy when he overcame his reluctance and did it.

But
this
man loved pussy. He loved his mouth there, doing all those deliciously wicked things, and it showed. She felt it straight to her toes. He owned his intensity in a quiet way. He was so . . . in charge and yummy.

Each time his tongue dragged down and speared up into her gate, she shattered just a little bit more. Slipped down toward climax inch by inch, and then he’d move back to her clit and make her work to get back there all over again.

Until he tried it again, and she grabbed two handfuls of his hair and hauled him back to her clit with an insistent sort of moan. He chuckled against her skin, sending shocks of pleasure through her, but kept at it. Thank God.

And it hit. Hard and without surcease. She came and came and then she came some more, until her muscles were fluid and warm and she just sort of twitched and sighed in its aftermath.

“Do the words ‘reverse cowgirl’ mean anything to you?” he asked, that deep-velvet voice pulling her back from that quiet, pleasurable place she’d been floating in.

She smiled and got to her knees, watching as he put a condom on, and she realized he could make anything look sexy. “I think I can figure it out. Are you an ass man, Brody?”

One of his brows winged up and he grinned. “I like the line of your back as well as your ass. But I like that I can lay here and watch you in that mirror over my dresser too.”

She looked up then, saw herself and blushed at how disheveled and sexed up she looked.

“Stop that. You look hot. Now, I’m here all alone. You wanna keep me company?”

She straddled his hips and angled him to meet her body as she slid down. His entry hit lots of lovely spots within her and she sighed, happily full.

“Open your eyes, Elise. Look at how beautiful you are as you fuck yourself onto me.”

She did, mainly because he told her to and his tone had tightened her nipples. But once she had, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of his cock disappearing into her body over and over.

His hands looked so large as they lay against her hip bones, his skin tone olive to her pale—the contrast striking.

Her hair had grown a lot over the past two years, and she felt the cool tickle of it against her lower back. She tipped her head back, arching, taking him deeper, knowing too that the tips of her hair brushed against his lower belly.

He made her feel like the sexiest woman in the universe, bold enough to look at herself in the mirror and hold her gaze there. She still liked her body; she looked good for her age, fit, even as parts of her were broken down.

But the way he looked at her made her feel like a movie star.

She straightened and inched forward, experimenting with her range of movement to keep him within her while she moved. His hands on her hips tightened, so she supposed he liked what she was doing with the small swivel of her hips as she slid back, her body taking his cock deep each time she moved all the way back.

“Touch my balls,” he groaned, and she did. Experimenting with holding them, still sticky and warm from her own juices as she’d been on top of him. To judge her progress, she listened to his breathing and the sounds he was making. “Yes, that’s nice.” He groaned when she ran the edge of her nails across the skin of his sac ever so gently.

She wanted to know more. Wanted to know what pleased him.

Wanted to know everything, and at the same time felt like such a novice for not knowing everything already.

“Touch yourself for me. Touch your clit. Make yourself come while I’m inside you.”

She burned, turned on and embarrassed all at once. It wasn’t like she’d never made herself come. Just never for another person, not while they were watching!

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

She’d be an idiot not to want to. She was naked, bent over him, fucking him for goodness’ sake! It wasn’t as if it would be inappropriate for the situation or anything.

Watching herself, she dipped her middle finger to slide around where they were joined, and dragged that lube up to her clit. They both hissed at the contact. Ripples of pleasure rolled through her body and she fell into that, shoving her embarrassment away.

“So hot. There’s nothing hotter in the world than watching you, with your fingers working your clit, your cunt sucking my cock inside, your tits jiggling just so. Damn, you’re sexy.”

Her gaze let go of her hand and moved to meet his eyes in the mirror. They remained that way, even as orgasm stole over her and took him just moments later. Something passed between them, addictive and sweet, sticky and heady, and like an addict, she wanted more.

“I like your hair down,” he said, handing her a cup of coffee.

“Thanks. It gets in the way, so I usually have it up. I should just cut it, but old habits die hard.” She smiled, settling into the chair across from his.

“Don’t. It’s beautiful. What do you mean about old habits?”

“Dancing. It’s easier to keep out of your face if it’s long enough to be up. I’ve had long hair for as long as I can remember. For a while it was shoulder-length.” Her gaze went hooded, wary, and he 

wondered what that was about. “This is the longest it’s been in years though. Rennie likes to brush it at night.” She shrugged. “It’s sweet mom/daughter time.”

“So how long have you been dancing then?” He sipped his coffee and watched the precise way she held her mug, drank, placed the cup down and ran the pad of her finger over the handle before letting go.

“My mother put me in this artsy type preschool program and I took to ballet right away. I was three.”

“Artsy family. Your parents and you. Your brother too?”

She took a deep breath. “He sang. Opera. Had a voice—my god, his voice was something else. My parents were convinced he would be a superstar one day.”

“What happened?”

She paused, licking her lips. “He could have been a superstar.

He was that amazing. So much talent. He had so much inside.

You’d cry to hear him sing because his emotion rang so clearly, or laugh—whatever, he was evocative because he felt everything so much. Which was his problem as well as his gift. He liked drugs.

He liked women. He liked fast cars and living on the edge. Being with him was exhausting sometimes. He just sucked everything he could from life, but it made him”—she licked her lips, taking a sip of her coffee, and he pretended not to see the tears she blinked back—“it made him unstable. He had problems and he attracted other people with problems. Went to rehab more than once, began to ruin his voice; you can’t smoke heroin and cigarettes and not hurt yourself.” She shook her head and sat up. “He overdosed and died alone because he’d estranged himself from everyone. We didn’t know for a week. Finally, his landlord called me. I was in the middle of a storm of my own. I didn’t see it had gotten that bad. Or maybe I didn’t want to see. Coulda, shoulda, woulda.”

“I know what it’s like to see someone you love fall away from you like that. I know that helplessness.” He took her hand. “I’m sorry. How long ago was it?”

“Five years.”

“I’m sorry. When we lost Adele—that was my niece’s name—

when we lost her and nearly lost Erin, Adrian and I at least had each other to rely on while we did our best to keep Erin from sink-ing.”

“My parents are good people. They didn’t deserve what we brought to them. They deserve peace.”

Oh man, there was a story there. “You wanna tell me about it?”

She exhaled sharply and drained her mug. “I’ve got to get going, so I’ll spare you my sob story. I’ve got a class this morning.

These girls are advanced, so they keep me on my toes.”

He let it go and hoped she’d unburden herself sometime. Whatever they did in bed, he was still her friend. Or he wanted to be. He liked the widow Sorenson a great deal.

“Let me walk you out then.” He took her hand and they walked across the street. She tossed her gear into her backseat and climbed into the front seat. How oddly normal the moment was.

“See you later, Brody. Thanks for this morning. My muscles are nice and warmed up.”

“Would that every day started off this good.” He kissed her quickly and stepped back to watch her drive away.

8

Elise looked through her front windows to catch sight of a bunch of cars out in front of Brody’s place. Crap. She didn’t want to be out there with Rennie and have him think she was watching him or something suitably creepy or stalkery.

“Let’s go, Momma!” Rennie balanced on her inline skates. The day was gorgeous; it was now mid-fall, so there was a chill in the air but the sun was out. Perfect for skating.

She tightened Rennie’s helmet and made sure her kneepads were on tight enough. There would be no avoiding it, and if they moved quickly, they could head to the park and he wouldn’t even see them.

“Let’s go to the park. It looks like there’s a lot of traffic out here today.”

Rennie squealed her approval of that idea, and they headed out carefully as Elise locked up the house and they descended the steps.

“Hey there! Elise and Rennie, how are you?”

Damn and double damn
.

“Hi there, Adrian!” Rennie called out, looking both ways and then skating across the street where Brody’s brother stood at the edge of the lawn.

“Good afternoon, Adrian. It’s a pretty day, Rennie and I are headed to the park.”
Let’s go before Brody comes out.

“Wait a sec. Before you two go, I know Erin wanted to meet you.” He turned and bellowed his sister’s name, and Elise managed to get her helmet off, hoping she didn’t look too bad.

“Yeah, no one would ever know you can belt it out to the back rows with that yell,” a woman shouted as she came through the back gate toward them.

“Wow, your hair looks like cotton candy. That is wicked awesome.” Rennie’s voice was tinged with awe.

“You must be Rennie and her mom, Elise.” The pink-haired woman had to be Erin. Elise recognized her features from the CD

covers she’d been on. She also saw the pain, chased by tenderness, in the woman’s eyes when she’d looked at Rennie. “I’m Erin. I’m glad to finally meet you two so I could thank you for helping Brody.”