Talk of the Town, page 11
I kiss my way down her cheek and neck, feeling her pulse race under my lips and I love how affected she is. By me. And knowing that Gemma might want me just as badly as I want her offers its own sort of headiness that is better than any drug I’ve ever encountered. I continue trailing my mouth down her chest and she arches her back as my kisses brush across the swell of her tit as I cup it. And if I thought they felt good in my hands, it’s nothing compared to how it feels when my tongue flicks over the nipple and Gem moans. I draw the hardened peak between my lips and suck and lick and nip until she’s panting, and the sound goes straight to my cock.
She tangles her hands in my hair and her grip is almost painful in the best way possible. “God, Brew, please. I need you to touch me.”
Hearing Gemma almost beg for me to put my hands on her body is enough to make me giddy. You know, if men were ever supposed to be giddy. Okay, fuck it. I’m totally giddy. But I’m also determined to take my time and thoroughly enjoy this. No fucking way am I rushing to finish line without thoroughly enjoying every single second.
I pull my lips from her breast, popping the nipple as the seal breaks, making her gasp. I grip the back of her neck and tilt her head back so I can speak close to her ear. “You don’t get to rush me, Gem. I want to know exactly what makes you so wet you can’t stand it. I want to know what your face looks like when you come on my fingers and my tongue and my dick. I want to know what sound you make when you take every inch of my fat cock. But what I don’t want is for you to think that you get to rush this.”
Gemma’s chest heaves against me. “When did you get to be so bossy?” Her words come out breathy and I love that even the things I say to her have an effect on her.
I lick a line up the side of her neck before nipping at the soft skin under her ear. “Oh, Pearl. You know me. You know me better than anyone, but you don’t know that side of me.”
She grips my face and looks into my eyes. Her cheeks are pink with a flush that travels all the way down her chest. “I want to know all of you; especially that side of you. You’re my husband, Brew. I know we didn’t plan this, but I’m glad it happened. And I don’t know what’s going to happen when we go home and real life picks back up, but right this second, I’m so happy we got married.”
It feels like my ribs might crack with the breath I’m holding to keep all the things I can’t say inside. But hearing Gemma say that she’s happy to be my wife makes warmth spread through me and my heart turns over, threatening to spill out all my feelings. But I can’t let myself do it; not when we both just got to the point where we’ve accepted the fact that we’re married and plan on acting like it. To where we feel comfortable enough—secure enough—in our friendship that we can allow ourselves to explore one another’s bodies and not worry it’s going to wreck us.
One thing at a time, right?
And because I can’t wait another moment to feel Gemma under me, to access every part of her body, I wrap my arms around her and roll us until I’m above her. She lets out an adorable squeak of surprise and an honest-to-God giggle with the swift movement that has me grinning like an idiot as I brace my hands on either side of her head. I’m between her thighs and it’s all I can do to not just rip off both of our remaining scraps of clothing and drive into her. But I don’t, because I want to savor every moment of this.
My hair falls over my shoulders and Gem reaches up to push it off my face and behind my ears. She runs her hand along my jaw and her thumb brushes across my bottom lip as her eyes search mine. “You’re so handsome, Brew.”
I almost want to laugh because although I don’t struggle with self-esteem issues and haven’t ever really cared what people think about my looks—I work in radio, after all—I’ve never considered myself a particularly good-looking guy. I’m not overly muscular, even if I am strong. I don’t really work out and I drink and eat a lot of beer and pizza. Even though I’m not a father, I am the epitome of the term dad bod. And “handsome” is not an adjective I’ve ever considered being used to describe my appearance.
I like to think that my sense of humor, skills in the bedroom, and, yeah, pretty great hair make up for what I might lack physically, but when Gemma looks at me the way she is, I nearly want to believe her. But I can’t forget about the other men she’s been in relationships with. Least of all, Kyle, who seemed to be carved from marble and had the trust fund to go with his blonde hair and thousand-dollar suits.
And then, there’s Gemma herself, who is like some kind of fucking Roman goddess with her big hazel eyes and olive skin, her full lips and perfect body. She’s way out of my league; always has been. I know she wants me, but I don’t know that I’ll ever feel like I’m good enough for her; to be seen with her.
“Brew?” Gemma’s voice brings me out of my thoughts. “Where’d you go?”
I give her a soft smile. “Sorry, Pearl. Just trying not to let you calling me handsome give me a big head.”
Her expression turns serious. “You are handsome. Why shouldn’t I tell you that? And why shouldn’t you believe it? You have the richest blue eyes I’ve ever seen before and that smile.” She levels me with her gaze. “Your real one—not the one you just gave me, because that one was fake—is my favorite smile on the planet.” Her hands trail down the backs of my arms. “And these arms are strong. You carried my not insignificant ass to our room the last night in Vegas. I might not remember what I said, but I remember that.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, that smile. That’s the one I love.” Her fingers drag down my chest. “And do you know that I really enjoy waking up on your chest? It’s strong and solid and perfect. And you always smell the same. Like soap and something woodsy. I could pick your smell out of a lineup.”
She bites her bottom lip and her cheeks color. “That morning we woke up in Vegas and I started crying and you pulled me in for a hug? Your smell is what triggered my flashbacks. The first one was of me pulling your shirt off, getting ready to suck your cock. Too bad I don’t remember the actual act, but I know that’s what I was about to do.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GEMMA
I’ve never thought of Brew as someone who lacks confidence or self-esteem and he’s the least vain person I’ve ever met. He doesn’t care about trends in fashion or what’s expected of him, he just wears what’s comfortable and him. But when I told him he was handsome, something flickered in his eyes as though he didn’t believe it and something in my heart cracked. And while Brew is not some chiseled cover model, he is absolutely perfect, and I intend for him to know it.
His face registers shock when I mention my flashback and his brain seems to glitch. I can’t help but laugh and give him a sly smile. “I’m pretty sure that was the first thing I wanted to do when we got to the room. Turns out, black out drunk me might be a bit of a nympho.”
He closes his eyes as if in pain and his voice comes out strained. “Fuck, Gem, don’t tell me stuff like that. I’ve got an agenda here and you’re going to kill me.” The thought of whatever agenda he has planned makes my pulse tic up, but I need him to hear me more than I want him to make love to me.
“Well, when I’m satisfied you believe me, I’ll let you get back to it. When I first woke up that morning and rolled over and knew it was you—.” I huff a laugh. “Well, at first, with all the hair, I honestly thought it might be a woman, but then I saw the beard, so I knew it was a man.”
“A woman?” He asks with a grin.
I shrug. “Who knows what drunk me gets up to? Anyway, as soon as I saw your tattoo, I knew it was you and I knew I was naked and just out of curiosity, I had to find out if you were, too. So, I peeked.” I run my hands around his waist and down his back to grip his butt. “And you know the first thing I noticed?” He shrugs and I continue. “This fine ass. I thought to myself, ‘Shit, he’s got a nice ass. How did I not know that?’”
I lift my head to brush kisses down his neck, and I listen to the way his breathing changes tempo and his hips grind into me just the slightest bit, but I keep going with what I want to say. “And then, when you rolled over onto your back? Yeah, I totally peeked then too and thought, ‘no wonder I’m so sore, Brew’s cock is huge.’” Brew's cheeks color and I press a kiss to his lips. When he tries to deepen it, I pull away.
“But none of that is what truly makes you incredibly handsome and sexy to me. Granted, they’re very, very nice perks.” I bring my hand up and place it over his heart. “None of that matters if this part of you is ugly. But your heart? Your heart is the most gorgeous part of you. It’s big and beautiful and open. Don’t get it wrong, though, you are damn sexy and I want your body.”
Brew leans down to press a light kiss on each of my cheeks. “So, what I’m supposed to take from all that is that you’ve possibly slept with women before and you think I have a big dick and you want it?”
I jab him playfully in the ribs and laugh. “No, I’ve never slept with a woman before. But I’ve also never been blackout drunk before, either, so who knows what I would have gotten up to? And, yes, I want your huge dick.”
“That’s all you had to say, Pearl.” He brushes a kiss across my lips. “The rest was really nice, too, though, not gonna lie.” My skin prickles under his gaze as his eyes scan down my body and he rakes his top teeth as he contemplates exactly what he wants to do to me.
I grip his face and kiss him and hope he can feel every bit of desire I have for him. I hope he can sense how much I want him. I hope he knows that despite my fears, I am happy to be his wife. It’s surreal to know that a few days ago I was terrified of what we’d done and now, I can’t imagine things being any different than they are. And I can only hope that Brew and I will still be us by the time we get through all the shit Curtis is expecting of us.
But I feel like, if we always choose our friendship over everything else, we’ll be okay. I honestly never would’ve imagined it would be like this to kiss Brew and feel his hands on my body, but I never want to feel anyone else’s hands ever again.
And maybe it’s because he’s my best friend. I feel safe and cherished and, dare I say, loved? I know that I’m dangerously close to falling for him. It’s not a shock to me; we’ve always been so close and have such a deep connection. I’m just shocked I’ve never entertained the thought of us together before now. Because I can’t imagine anything with anyone else feeling this right.
My hands are still in Brew’s hair as his mouth travels down my neck. His breath is warm and his mouth is wet. His teeth graze my collarbone and I gasp with the sensation.
“I love your noises, Gem. I can’t wait to hear all of them.”
Overcome with the need to touch him, to feel him under my hands and drive him as wild as he’s making me, I drag my hands from his hair and down his neck and chest, splaying my fingers across his stomach as I reach the waistband of his boxers. I dip my hand inside and to wrap around his hard length and nearly want to moan.
Even though I know he’s large—I’ve seen him, felt the aftermath of him—feeling my fingers wrapped around him and barely being able to get my hand all the way around his shaft is enough to make my breath catch. I stroke him in long, easy movements and Brew seems to falter as he kisses his way down my chest. Knowing that my touch affects him sends a thrill up my spine and makes me want to never stop making him feel good. It’s enough to make heat shoot straight to my core and wetness pool between my thighs.
I’m not inexperienced in the least. I’ve had several serious boyfriends in just the time I’ve known Brew alone. But for some reason, I’ve never worried about wanting to make sure things are good for my partners like I want to with Brew. That probably makes me a selfish lover, but I have a feeling it’s just making me see how much more important Brew is than any of the other men I’ve been with. Not that I didn’t already know that from a platonic standpoint, but now I’m seeing that from a romantic one as well.
I continue to move my hand up and down his length and Brew groans and shifts his hips out of my reach. When I scoff and attempt to reach for him again, Brew grabs my wrist, even as his mouth clamps down on my nipple. “Not fair.” But my words come out on a moan as his teeth scrape over the stiff peak.
He raises a couple of inches off my breast. “It’s too good, Gem. I let you keep that up, and I’ll be done for and I want in your pussy, so you’ll live.” He blows cool air over my nipple and I huff out a ragged breath as it puckers from the sensation. “Look at these tits, Pearl. Fuck, they’re gorgeous.” He moves to the other breast and swirls his tongue over the nipple before tugging it between his teeth. I let out a sharp hiss and pull his hair hard enough to sting.
Brew raises up to look at me. “So that’s why my scalp was so sore that morning. Jeez, Gem, easy.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “You, too. I don’t want to be covered in bruises again.” I quirk a brow. “At least, not visible ones.”
He presses light kisses over my breasts and down my stomach. “I can be gentle, Pearl. Is that what you want?” His eyes hold mine even as his mouth moves farther south and his hands trail up my thighs.
“Not particularly. I want you, however you want to give yourself to me, Brew.”
He gives me a wicked grin. “I like the sound of that.” The mischievous glint in his eye makes my heart stutter, but not with anything close to fear, only anticipation. His fingers hook in the waistband of my panties, but he pauses for a moment.
I run my hand through his hair and down his jaw and he looks up at me. “I just needed to brace myself, Gem. You’ve already been so much more beautiful than I ever imagined, and I’m in awe of you. So, I needed a minute to collect myself to take in every bit of you. Because I want to remember it forever.”
His words make my chest ache with their earnestness and the implication that this is not a small thing we’re doing. There’s no way, even if this is the only time we have sex, that it could ever be considered anything remotely resembling casual. Not that I thought it was, but still, Brew and his big heart make me feel as though I’m precious and cherished.
And just like that, I’m gone for him.
I want to put my hands on top of his and push my panties down, but he wants to take his time and I can’t bring myself to take that from him; regardless how much I want him. So I nod and give him a soft smile and tell him, “I’m all yours, Brew, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, so we can take as long as you want.”
He presses soft kisses along my stomach and slowly—nearly agonizingly so—drags my panties down my hips and off my legs. When his eyes travel up my legs and settle between my thighs, he truly seems as though he’s in awe and I only hear a soft fucking hell under his breath that makes me blush. I’m not a prude and never have been, but I’m not accustomed to being visibly devoured. But with Brew, I enjoy seeing the way he looks at me. I also definitely enjoy seeing the sizable bulge in his boxers grow even larger.
I let my knees fall open a bit more and give him a slow smile as I drag a finger up my thigh. “Well, husband, what do you plan on doing to me now that you’ve got me where you want me?”
Again, his teeth rake over his bottom lip and his breathing grows a bit more shallow. “Gemma. Damn. You calling me ‘husband’ is going to end me. Shit.” He sets the backs of my knees on his shoulders and kisses and bites his way up my inner thighs and I try to simply focus on the sensations of Brew’s—my husband’s — lips and hair and beard brushing up the inside of my leg.
His thumbs part my folds and I gasp as his tongue drags up my pussy. He flicks over my clit before he draws it between his lips to suck and swirl and tease. I sink my fingers into his hair as he continues his glorious torture and I can’t stop my hips from writhing of their own volition, even as my breathing grows ragged. But then Brew wraps his arms around my thighs and I’m unable to move.
“That’s dirty. And mean.” My words come out stilted and when he chuckles, I can’t bite back a moan from the vibration and I let my head fall back on the mattress and I close my eyes.
Brew raises his head, and it’s as though cold water’s been dumped on me. I look down at him to find out why he stopped. “No, Gem, you watch your husband eat you like the feast you are. You taste so fucking good. I want your eyes on me when you come on my tongue.”
His words make me grow even wetter; especially as he continues to suck and lick and fuck, the nibbling. All the while, his eyes don’t leave mine. And it just makes things so much more intense. I’m never going to be able to sit across from him at work again and look him in the eye without having to change my panties from now on. Not gonna happen.
My pleasure builds and builds and still his eyes don’t leave mine and my abs start to cramp with the tension. “Fuck, Brew. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” His eyes drill into mine, and as if with some sort of unspoken command, my toes curl against his back as I let go with a shudder and deep rasp. Brew doesn’t even let my orgasm subside before his fingers enter my pussy and I gasp and my hips buck with the sensation. I watch as he drags the back of his free hand over his beard, shiny with my release. He rises above me and braces his free hand beside my head while his fingers curl as he slides them in and out.
“Do you know how beautiful you are when you come, Pearl? I could watch it for the rest of my life. You feel so good and I can’t fucking wait to be inside you.”
I grip his face and pull his mouth to mine as my second orgasm takes me so unexpectedly, I cry out into our kiss as I clench around him. He continues to fuck me with his fingers, even after the climax abates and I press my forehead to his. “Please, Brew. I need you. Fuck.”
Even as he pulls his hand away, my body mourns its loss as I try to catch my breath. I watch as Brew tugs his boxers off and my heart lurches at the sight of him, a bead of pre-cum at the head of his thick length. “Looks like I should’ve braced myself, too. Sweet fucking hell, indeed.”
