Page 47 of The Brazen One

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Bird-watching books, different types of scopes and fancy binoculars, Mom’s extra knitting stuff, some Christmas decorations stacked up in a corner, a book of coins, and other odds and ends.

Goldie doesn't say much about the room but tugs my hand a little, making me face her.

“My bag’s in the truck still. I don’t want to wake your parents by opening the front door, with the chain lock and everything,” she whispers, and I’m transfixed by her soft lips and how gently they move.

“I’ll get you a shirt and some pants of mine.”

Her brows pull together. “You have clothes here?”

I nod. “Dad had knee surgery two years back. I stayed here for six months to help. Never brought it all home.”

She nods, and then I let go of her hand and make my way to the dresser across from us, digging out a very large Wrench Kings shirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants. Then I find another pair of pants. Holding the two pairs out to her, she points at one, and I toss them, then the shirt.

“You know where the bathroom is,” I offer, starting to pull off my clothes right there. A body is a body, and I’m tired. I ain’t running off to another room just to change clothes. I’ve got my boxer briefs on, and she ain’t gonna look anyway.

“I don’t have to go. Can I just… change in here?”

My mouth feels all dry and sticks together a little when I croak, “yup.”

Grabbing my shirt at the back of my neck, I yank it off, exposing my bare chest. Goldie’s eyes roam over my ink like they did before, but I drop my focus to the pants in my hand, trying as hard as I can not to do what I really want to do right now. But the urge is winning.

Dropping my sweats to the ground, I step into the pants, tie them at the waist, grab my clothes off the floor, and stuff them into the chair next to the bed. Turnin’ down the covers and tossing off the extra pillows, I finally look over at her.

“What are you doing?” she asks as I make my way to the foot of the bed and take a seat. There’s just a couple of feet between us, and she’s clutching my t-shirt to her naked chest. Bare shoulders exposed, my heart races knowing everything is just a layer of thin cotton away from me. I grip the comforter and clench my jaw.

“I heard you Saturday morning.” The noises of her touching herself, making herself come, the ones I’ve been pushin’ out of my brain since that morning—come rushing back. For a second, she looks genuinely confused, and then her face seizes, and instinct has her covering her face with her hands. The t-shirt she’s gripping rises up, exposing her bare belly. Flat, smooth, and so fuckin’ grabbable, I let myself look but find her eyes when she lowers the shirt.

“Oh my god,” her voice rushes out quietly, full of embarrassment.

That warm feeling of comfort crashes into me hard. Then I get bold. The Brandy courses through my veins, and my chest swells as I inhale confidence.

“Do it again. Right now. Drop the shirt.”

We just stare at each other as my challenge hangs between us. My heart is fuckin’ pumping like I’m lifting weights after slamming coffee and a protein bar.

When my shirt pools around her feet and I don’t see nothin’ but pink toenails peeking out, I think my vision blurs for a second. Because I don’t look up at her right away. Instead, I take a breath, push my shoulders back, and grip the bed for dear fuckin’ life. If I don’t clutch this bed like I’m going down on the Titanic, who knows where my hands will end up? And this ain’t about me getting mine. This is about her showing off how goddamn beautiful she is. The crazy part is, she’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve laid eyes on, but I don’t think she knows. I really don’t.

When I finally look up, I ain’t surprised to discover her breasts are a perfect palmful. I clutch the bed even tighter. The peaks are hard, dark little tips that make my mouth fuckin’ water. I groan a little at the sight of them. Our eyes come together as she hooks her thumbs into her tiny panties. The look we exchange is dense with the sizzling energy between us. The same energy I’ve felt all weekend. Hell, every time I’ve ever been around Goldie, I’ve felt this pop in my veins, this spark in my chest, and this sizzle in my brain.

She bends and steps out of those tiny panties that I’m drooling to stuff in my goddamn mouth. Fully standing again, I take my time exploring her body, getting harder and harder with each tight, soft inch I explore. With one hand, she frees her hair from the bun and when her dark mane tumbles down past her shoulders, curtaining her tits like the main event, my cock severs ties with discretion and lifts against the thin fabric of my pajama pants.

Without acknowledging my very visible and quickly growing erection, she cups her breast in one hand and lets the other fall between her legs. Red fingernails disappear as she slides two digits past her swollen lips. I’m not surprised to see she’s waxed completely bare, and the sight of her naked cunt makes me groan.

“Show me how you like it,” I tell her, not afraid to look into her eyes as I bark my commands. She does as I tell her, and I think it’s the first time Goldie hasn’t argued with me over something, honestly.

“Youdolike to watch,” she moans as she says it, her index and middle finger still making quick strokes over her aching little bud. I can see her arousal glistening with each pass she makes. My cockhead weeps, and I know if I looked down, I’d probably see a quickly growing spot of precum on my pants.

I grunt my confirmation. “I do.”

She rubs her cunt a little faster, but I need to see more.

“Lie on the bed, on your back, and make yourself cum the same way you did Saturday morning.”

Without a word of argument, she climbs past me onto the bed, positions herself on her back in the center, and continues to touch herself.

The sounds of her fingers exploring her own eager pussy make me wild.

“I was holding my cock through my sweats that morning,” I admit, my voice gravelly and low. I ain’t tryin’ to be quiet; I just can’t find any volume as I stare into her hungry, wet cunt. At my admission, she works two fingers inside, her back arching as she does. Her thumb falls to her clit so easily; I have to think this is how Goldie always makes herself cum.


Tags: Daisy Jane Romance