So Much More (Made for Love #3) (36 page)

It hurts for just a second, my small opening working to accommodate all that he has to give. He eases his way in slowly and I can barely breathe as I feel him fill me up. He was right—he was right about sex not being just a
physical
act. It feels like he’s taking a piece of me. It’s something that I can never get back. At the same time, he’s giving me a piece of himself in return. Except—as I stare into his warm hazel eyes, I know, with all my heart, that he’s giving me
more
than he’s taking.

“Sarah?”

“Yes?” My mouth shapes the word but no sound comes out.

“Breathe, baby.” As he speaks, he pulls back out and then pushes himself back in. I inhale erratically, sliding my hands up his neck and into his hair. He lowers his face closer to mine as he rocks in and out of me, setting a steady rhythm. “My sweet girl—god, you feel incredible. I’m never going to let you go.”

“Me neither,” I sputter. “Me neither!”

He kisses me.

His tongue sweeps through my mouth and I’m overwhelmed by him—his hands, his lips, his tongue, his cock—I can’t get enough and yet it’s too much! I grow lightheaded from our ongoing kiss. I hang on for as long as I can and then I pull away, gulping down a mouthful of air. That’s when I feel it! He feels it, too—I can tell by the way he picks up speed and—

“Sarah.
Holy shit.
Sarah.”

I fucking love his orgasmic mantra.

He brings one of my legs up around his waist and then the other. I lock my ankles behind him and suddenly he’s going deeper than before. With every thrust, he forces a moan from my lips. As his pelvis grazes the sensitive flesh above my entrance, I’m afraid my building orgasm will be too much for me to handle.

“Brandon—I’m—I’m—
oh…my…god!
”

“Come with me, baby.”

He pumps into me harder. Faster. I barely hear it when he reaches his climax because mine is so intense, I can’t be silenced. For a second, I can’t even hear my own thoughts. When he collapses on top of me, I hold onto him, needing him to stay close.

I’m not ready for this moment to be over yet.

After a minute, he props himself up onto his elbows and brushes his lips against mine. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

“You’re kidding, right?” I reach up and cup my hands around his bearded cheeks. “I probably woke up your neighbors.”

He chuckles, kissing me once more. “I love how you never hold back.”

I smile at him, admiring the joy I find in his eyes. “Thank you.”

“For what, Sunshine?”

“For last night. For this morning. For this moment. For loving me like you do.”

He scowls as he shakes his head at me. “You don’t have to thank me for that. Not any of it. I’m
yours
.”

“I’m yours, too,” I whisper.

“Damn straight,” he says with a smirk and a quick kiss. He rolls off of me and removes the condom. I’m distracted as I watch him dispose of it—the evidence of our first time.

My very first time
.

It belongs to him. Just like I do.

“So, I have this idea,” he begins to say, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Okay. What is it?”

“I think we should stay in bed all day. And eat French toast.”

“
Just
French toast?”

“And each other, of course.”

I giggle, because that’s not what I meant and because the grin he’s wearing is the perfect mix of adorable and mischievous.

“What about Aunt Row?”

“I’ll call her. I’m not sharing you today.”

The second he steps out of bed, my entire body mourns the loss of him. I realize, as I watch him dig his phone out of his pant’s pocket, that I don’t want to share him today, either—so I say not another word about it.

A
FTER SARAH AND I
eat our plate of reheated French toast, we decide to take a shower. I cleanse her with my affection and we make love until the water grows cold. When we get back in bed, we both end up falling asleep. By the time we’re awake, we’re hungry again. As previously planned, we make more French toast. Sarah insists that she can’t cook naked—much to my disappointment—so we each don a pair of underwear and she slips into one of my t-shirts.

We eat our midday meal together on the couch. Only this time, Sarah has her own plate. She downs five pieces of toast, barely coming up for air between each one.

“I never really considered myself to be a man with a fetish—but watching you eat is so damn sexy,” I admit with a grin.

She laughs at me before stealing my last bite.

“Okay—now
that’s
not sexy. That’s just wrong. You’re going to pay for that,” I warn her as I move both of our plates to the coffee table.

I tackle her and she bursts into a fit of giggles.

I swear—she’s too fucking cute.

“You’re heavy, babe. You’re going to make my lunch come back up if you’re not careful. That would be such a shame—I really love French toast.”

I begin to roll away from her, knowing that I’ll end up on the floor when I do. I grab hold of her at the last second and take her with me. We both laugh at the loud
thud
we make at the bottom of our fall.

This,
right here—our smiles, our laughter, our joy, our love—I want it to last forever. I’m not naive. I know that everyday won’t be as phenomenal as this one is. Yet, I’m sure that every average day, even every hard day, they’ll all be worth the endurance it’ll take to bring us back to days like this one.

Besides, every moment spent with Sarah is far greater than every moment spent without her.

“Babe, I think your phone is ringing,” she says, looking up across the room where my mobile rests on top of the dresser.

“My girl’s right here. I already know I don’t want to speak to whoever’s on the other end of that call.”

She smiles at me and then kisses the tip of my nose. “Maybe you should just check it this once. What if it’s Aunt Row? We’ve already blown her off once—we shouldn’t do it again.”

I nod my agreement only because I’m in love with the fact that Sarah now refers to Row as
our
Aunt Row. When we get up, she plops back down on the couch and I go looking for my phone.

“Hey, will you grab mine too? I should probably text Aria and Millie and apologize for last night.”

“Okay—ten minutes,” I insist as I grab both of our devices and rejoin her on the couch. “Then no more phones. Deal?”

“Deal.” She kisses me as she takes her mobile from my hand. “Holy shit,” she mutters as soon as she looks down at her screen. “Apparently, it’s
text-Sarah-day.
” She holds it up and I’m impressed with the amount of notifications I see. “Millie, Aria, Harper.” She chuckles. “Even Sage. I might need more than ten minutes.”

“Fine. Eleven,” I concede with a grin and a wink.

She leans into me, nudging her shoulder against mine; only, she doesn’t pull away.

God, I’m so in love with this girl.

I’m surprised when I see that the person who was trying to reach me was my mother. It’s not often that she calls and I immediately wonder if something’s wrong. I don’t even listen to her voice message before I call her back.

“Hello?” she answers.

“Hey, mom.” Sarah’s head snaps up at my greeting. I smile, sliding my hand around her thigh and giving her a gentle squeeze. “I didn’t listen to your voicemail. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I was just wondering if you were planning on making it to brunch next week? I thought I’d see you today.”

“Oh?” I ask. I lift my eyebrows at Sarah, who is still watching me intently, showcasing my amazement.

“Yes. I’ve been told there’s someone that I need to meet. A girl you’re quite serious about?”

“Yeah.” I trace a finger down Sarah’s cheek. “Her name is Sarah.”

“Alright. I’ll clear my schedule for next Sunday if I know you’ll be joining Row and me.”

“We’ll be there, mom.”

“Sounds fine. I’ll see you then.”

“Bye.”

“That was your mom?”

“Mmhmm,” I hum, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. I press a kiss into her hair before I mumble, “She wants to meet you. Next Sunday.”

“Wow,” she sighs, shifting to hook both of her legs over one of mine. “I just got nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” I chuckle. I reach for her chin and tilt her head up. “She’s not scary.” She nods her understanding and blows out a calming breath. “Get to texting, sweet girl. Your eleven minutes are ticking away.”

“Dammit. I need my time restarted,” she declares, returning her attention back to her phone.

As she opens and reads her first few texts, she’s silent and quick to respond. Then she starts laughing. When she presses her phone against her chest and buries her face in mine, tickled as I’ve ever seen her, my curiosity gets the best of me.

“What’s so funny?”

“Aria. Ohmygosh—she’s
so
embarrassing!”

“Let me see,” I say, holding out my hand.

“No way!” she insists, shaking her head at me.

“Why not? Is it about me?” I tease, wiggling my eyebrows at her. The grin that spreads across her face says it all. Now I
have
to see. “C’mon—show me the goods.” She bites her lip as she contemplates my request. When I reach to ease her lip free, she gives in and holds up her phone so we can read the string of texts together.

Aria:
Fuck—you’re the hottest virgin I know!

Aria:
You two hot tamales blazed out of here so fast—you better be getting laid, girl!!!!

Aria:
Btw—Josh says thanks. Or he will later. My loins are on fire!!!! My lady parts thank you too!!! xoxo <3

Aria:
I was going to wait. But I can’t! Did he deflower you? I’m DYING over here.

Aria:
Was it amazing? Did he make your pussy sing? Did you do it more than once? Are you doing it NOW?!?

Aria:
Seriously?! Y’all wake up at the ass crack of dawn everyday. I know you’re up. YOU know I need updates. Are you alive?!

Aria:
Shit—maybe I shouldn’t have been so flip about my curiosity killing me…

Aria:
Sarah Hailey Prescott. 1993-2016. Loving daughter, amazing friend. Death by cherry-popping. Died after experiencing too many orgasms in one night.

After reading all of the texts, I'm both amused and conflicted. I'm not sure whether or not I should feel flattered that Aria assumes I'm that good in bed, or worried by the fact that I've only made my girl come three times this morning.

I'm going to have to work on that, starting in approximately four minutes.

I pluck the phone from out of Sarah's grasp and begin typing a reply. She tries to steal it back, but her attempts are both halfhearted and futile.

Sarah:
She’s mine now. I’m not sharing today. Don’t worry. I’ll keep her pussy singing.

I hit send and then give it back. She reads my message and then pulls her bottom lip between her teeth in an attempt to hide her smile. Before she can think of anything to say, she gets an alert that announces a response. She reads it and laughs before showing me.

Aria:
‘atta boy!!! Keep UP the good work!!!

“Where did you find that one?” I ask, hiding my grin in her neck. My girl smells amazing and I’m tempted to steal a taste. I deliver an opened-mouth kiss before I finish my thought. “She’s a riot,” I murmur, kissing her again.

“Mmhmm,” she hums. “Brandon?”

“Yes?”

I slide my hand up the length of her leg. Suddenly, four minutes worth of
text-time
seems completely unreasonable.

“I can’t think when you’re doing that.”

“So stop trying.”

“Wait, wait—wait!” she insists, gently pushing me away. “Just one more text. I promise. It’s Harp. I’ll be quick and then I’ll be yours.”

“Fine,” I grumble. “One more text.”

She smiles at me before she takes a fistful of my hair and pulls me towards her. I’m graced with a kiss before she pulls away and opens her last message.

“Oh,” she coos. “This one requires group participation.”

“What?”

“She says that I’ve fallen off the face of the planet again. I told her I wouldn’t do that anymore. I
also
told her that I’d let her know if you and I ever graduated from
maybe
status.”