The purple clouds are already spreading up the sky; Brandon decides we should get back to the coast. John is waiting for us as promised, then he drives us to the villa. I can agree now on why Brandon needs him present all the time. The man is attentive and patient.
I go straight to the kitchen like a habit, expecting to find Lydia, but the house is empty, and I don’t see her housekeepers either. I am about to turn back, but Brandon abruptly catches me by my waist—gasping in surprise when he easily lifts me to the counter. He presses his body between my legs, spreading me wide. He stares fondly with a half-smile.
“Um.” I clear my throat. “Where is everybody?”
“Lydia is back at the dojo resting, so it’s just you and me tonight,” he says hoarsely, and the tension between us is suddenly thick.
Brandon draws his face, making my face inclined to the side, and he starts kissing my neck softly. My eyes flutter as the sensation alone begins to invade my whole body. I can’t help but let a moan escape. I feel his hands on my back as though his fingers are walking all over my skin. Every trail is delicate and careful.
There were things about him that I wasn’t aware of. From the first time I saw him, with or without a mask, the man doesn’t seem to be aware of how enthralling he is. A kind of man a woman would instantly worship just by seeing him. A gift.
And he’s mine.
His beautiful face, body, and soul.
He’s mine. All mineHe then touches my ear, my jawline, then my neck again with his skilled mouth. I feel a surge of explosive magma flow through me, then fireworks churn down to the very last of my nerve endings. He then touches my needy skin with his tongue. His breath is so light on my skin; it’s divine and, at the same time, filthy.
I wholly abandoned my rationality. Brandon’s mouth collides with mine. His hand slips into my shirt, then his grip on my waist tightens. His fingers are twisting and digging lightly on my skin as he draws me closer to him. Dizziness takes me away instantly. It’s the feeling that takes hold of me, and if I have to name everything in my head, it’s frenzy, pleasure, and desire mixed, which I only recognize with him. That’s how Brandon reminded me of everything we have.
He groans between our mouths as Brandon draws me against his body even more—bending me over the counter, his hips pressing into mine. His warmth is intoxicating, and his strong arms overwhelming.
His mouth feverishly takes mine, and my desire to explore further, even knowing that we’re in his kitchen—I never had sex on a kitchen counter before, which I think is sexy—and this delicious tension twirling in my stomach is urging me. And a small voice rises in my head, fleetingly supporting my vicious imagination.
What is it like to be fucked in the kitchen?It sure is dirty. The kitchen has always been my sanctuary, and I like my station clean.
But this isn’t my station!With my arms around him, Brandon must have felt my urge to pull him close. He devours my mouth with passion, almost with violence, then pauses, “I know what you’re trying to do,” he murmurs gruffly, but with a gleam in his eyes.
“Well…” My throat feels dry. “You started it.”
He chuckles sexily, and his hand slides back over my sides around my waist. Almost brutally, he yanks my shirt, letting the buttons crack apart, exposing my lace brassiere that barely covers my nipples. He pushes me back against the counter so hard that I forget how to even breathe or think. I am too dazed by his strength.
“Spread your legs,” he demands, so I do. I feel even dirtier.
I badly ache to touch his skin, his chest, or undress him, at least. I want to explore his features, so my hands reach up to touch his face, but he catches my wrists and takes them above my head. “Don’t. Not yet.” His voice is suddenly almost authoritative. “I promised not to hurt you, and I never will, but I’m sure you remember I fuck hard. But do you?”
“I…”
“Answer me.”
“I do,” I answer breathlessly.
“Good girl.”
He slides his free hand behind my back, unhooks my bra, and yanks it away. I feel my breasts bounce before his eyes. His groans get even deeper.
Just looking at his expression spreads waves through me. Brandon then leans forward to devour one of my crowns.
“Ahh…” I cry violently out of too much pleasure. Apparently, I’m already too sensitive.
Still keeping my wrists locked with a firm hand, his other hand drifts over another breast that needs attention. Suddenly, he’s so cruel as his tongue swirls on my nipple with a hunger that I can’t even begin to fathom. He’s suddenly moving fast, stirring an uncontrollable desire throughout my body. When he’s finished with one crown, he then turns to explore the next.
“Brandon, this is… I can’t….”
“You can,” he whispers.
A groan escapes me when he releases my wrists and starts peeling me off my jeans and lingerie in one luscious pull. I lay flat on the cool marble stone, completely exposing my buttocks. Brandon slides a finger on my already wet, slippery cleft. My womb is already demanding to be filled in—to be filled in by him.
Brandon revels on my breasts alternately while immodestly finger fucking me.
“Just take me,” I say.
His finger is going fast.
“Please, Brandon, just take me,” I plead as he keeps the rhythm, but suddenly he stops with a slight regret on my end. I want him to continue.
But he smiles. “That’s it, darling. You’re getting it. You only need to ask.”
Brandon’s irises dilate when he unzips his trousers. He stands there dressed—which I don’t mind—but he pulls out his strong erection, begging to be released from its prison. His cock springs up, badly in need of attention.
I grab onto his arm to pull him close.
“Easy,” he whispers as he positions himself between my legs. He first points the head on my slit, and I’m already gasping. He slides his cock up and down my wet fold, then sinks into me in one ruthless thrust.
“Oh, gosh!” I scream in absolute delight, and my eyes flutter. Brandon fills me to the brim with his shaft as my pussy squeezes him from the inside.
He begins to move. Hard. It’s maddening.
Brandon holds my waist to steady my body. I am practically moving forward on the marble tile with his every brutal thrust, and he is groaning and panting heavily each time he fucks me.
In the kitchen!“You, Miss Hart, officially made me so obsessed.” His voice is deep and scorching but enunciates command and authority. My body is suddenly burning, making me want to yield beneath him. The feeling is too damned familiar, but it’s different. I feel safe. Loved. Complete.
I’m on the verge of tearing off his clothes, clinging on to his arms with each merciless stroke of his cock. He drives me crazy.
“Do you understand what you do to me?” he utters heavily again.
“I…” I bite my lip. “I do. You love me.”
“Yes. Very much.”
“And you will do anything… Everything.”
“Mm.” He agrees, still ramming hard in and out of me. I feel so heavenly that it’s almost bizarre to speak.
For the next couple of moments, we stay like that. His stamina is never-ending. He doesn’t stop or change the pace either. My opening already feels hot and sore with the harsh friction of our genitals. My pussy already feels swollen. But my womb is exploding with a billion bolts of sensation.
Even if I want him to continue, my legs start to shudder. I am losing strength and beginning to give out. The sensation is apparently too much for my body.
“W-Wait…” I rake my hands on his hair, tangling my fingers as I do. “I’m coming.”
“Then come.” It still sounds like a command, but then he kisses my lips softly then his thumb circles over my clit. “Come.”
I shut my eyes and relax my body underneath him, and finally reach orgasm. It’s a feeling of triumph. Brandon’s rhythm suddenly quickens, thrusting much deeper and faster inside of me, working toward his own release. He then raises up and looks down at my face when his pace slows down. His cock throbs inside me, then slowly he pulls out of me.
Brandon zips back his still-hard shaft in his pants, then reaches out a napkin and gently wipes his cum on my thighs.
“You’re right,” he speaks again. “I will do everything.” He walks to the trash bin and tosses the napkin, then picks up my clothes from the floor.
I sit up, and he dresses me with it, then finishes his sentence as does, “Even if that means destroying hisI gape at him and let him clothe me with my jeans.
He means Drake, of course. I wonder what’s playing in his mind now. But that doesn’t mean I revolted. Usually, I would, but this time, I didn’t. Surprisingly.
Is it progress?Suddenly, he cups my face and whispers softly, “I’m sorry, Alayna.”
I smile a bit. “For what?”
“That you had to get through all that.” Brandon hooks my bra at my back and hands me my shirt.
I smirk as I put on the last piece. “Really? Are we talking about this after we had sex?”
His eyes soften. “Of course not.” He finally tenses up then brings me to his arms, pulling me into a heartfelt embrace. “It’s because I’m mad.”
“Why?”
“That I wasn’t there with you.”
My heart explodes. “You didn’t know me yet by then.”
“I know.”
Silence.
We let ourselves be lost at the moment—with my head against his chest, listening to his peaceful heartbeat.
“How about we make dinner?” I say, breaking the brief stillness.
Brandon smiles so charmingly. I just had sex with the most handsome man alive, and I still can’t get enough. “Already?”
“I’m starving, Brandon.”
He laughs. “All right. I’ll just look at my email. The Albany police might have sent the information about my uncle already.” He bruises my mouth with his lips again and lets me step down the counter. “But hurry.”
“Yes, Master.” I giggle and make my way to the kitchen.
I cooked one of my bestsellers from my restaurant, a braised beef ragu with pappardelle and pudding for dessert. Brandon then returns to the kitchen, now leaning on the counter, waiting for the food to be served. I prepare two servings for us, then dig into our dinner.
“How was the food?” I grin, biting my bottom lip.
“Delicious as always.” He swallows. “But I didn’t remember eating this before,” he says, then eats another portion.
“I didn’t?”
“You should make this more often. Or maybe because the spiciness of that Asian food lingered on my tongue.”
I laugh. He’s enjoying the food, so I take it as the right time to ask about his uncle. “Hey, what happened? Did you get the information you’re waiting for?”
His brows knit together. “I did.”
Brandon grimaces. “He knows something. He also doesn’t have a choice but to tell me.”
“Brandon, what did you do?”
“Cary and Stan had some work done.” He sighs. “This doesn’t sound like something I would do, but I allowed it when the twins suggested it. Listen… We hired a task force to squeeze the truth out of him.”
“You mean you had him tortured?”
“No, but it’s something like that. Didn’t he deserve all that after everything he’s done? Or did you already forget?”
My lips part in shock. “I didn’t, but…”
He brushes his thumb on my cheek. “His son knows. He probably made up his mind about his father’s true color.”
“Fine, but what happened then?”
“I didn’t find William. Like I said, I found my uncle instead. Uncle Basil.”
“And Marcus told you where you can find your uncle?”
“Not directly. Marcus mentioned it when I watched the recording sent to me by his interrogators. Unfortunately, I also found out that my uncle is in jail. He finally told me in the video the Albany cops sent to me. My uncle said he and William, my dad, worked in a small merchandise business for a few years in Albany. It was where he hid, but Marcus found him there and had him murdered because of his short affair with Annette.”
I clasp a hand to my mouth. “Oh God. So, he’s… He’s already dead? But…” My scowl deepens. “Marcus forgave Annette? It was only four years ago when I saw them together in Venice.”
Brandon grimaces again in spite. “I don’t know and I don’t care.”
“I’m sorry.” I swallow dryly. “But are you going to believe your uncle? Why is he in jail anyway?”
“Because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time when William died. He is serving a sentence for a murder he didn’t commit. Marcus already confessed to it anyway. Their statements matched. So now, my uncle asked me to help him. He doesn’t deserve it. This needs another trial.”
Silence. I look at Brandon’s somber expression.
“After all this searching, I can’t really say this is a good turn of events,” I comment. “Not fully, I mean.”
“It’s not,” he whispers.
“Because he’d rather see him alive. Your dad. But at least you have your answer now, right? Your never-ending search. It can finally be over.”
“Not yet, no. I have to get my uncle out of jail.” Brandon then forces a smile, cups the back of my neck and lightly, but sweetly kisses my mouth. “But then I guess, you really do know me better than anyone…” he says, but sadness is marked in his eyes.