by Vi Keeland
“Probably because you don’t volunteer much information.”
The waitress stopped by our table. “Can I take these plates for you?”
Brody nodded. “That would be great.”
When she disappeared, he tried to change the subject. “So, journalism?”
I wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily. I sipped my wine and ignored his blatant attempt. “So you have had a relationship before?”
“Yes.”
“How long ago did it end?”
“I don’t know, Delilah. I haven’t kept a calendar. Four years ago, maybe.”
“So only casual dating since then?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
“Not really. Is it my turn to ask the questions yet?”
“By all means.” I waved my hand as if I were giving him the floor.
He scratched his chin for a moment. “If you knew you were going to be stranded on an island for a month and could only bring three things, what would you bring with you?”
I laughed. “You could have just brought up football or politics to change the subject.”
“I could have, but I really want to know if you’d pick a vibrator as one of your three items.”
“You think if I was going to be stranded on an island and I could only bring three things, I’d bring a vibrator?”
“Guess I’m kind of hoping you would.”
“Don’t think that would be on my short list.”
“What would be?”
“I don’t know. Off the top of my head? Matches, water and a fishing net.”
“Smart choices. I’m disappointed. But at least you won’t starve.”
“Your questions are bizarre, you know that, right?”
“Maybe. But your answer just told me a lot about you. Like I just learned you’re practical. You know you can get yourself off with your hand, so you won’t waste one of your three things on an unnecessary toy.” He tapped his finger to his temple and grinned. “Good thinking.”
“Let me ask you something. If we eventually have sex—”
Brody interrupted. “If?”
“When. When, you know…”
“I fuck you…”
“Yes, that. Will you stop talking about sex so much afterward?”
He leaned forward. “Not a fucking chance. I’m gonna bet that once I’m inside of you, it’s only going to get worse.”
“Okay then.” God, it’s warm in here. I needed to change the subject, or this date was going to end very soon. Taking a cue from Brody, I asked, “If you could have your pick of any Disney princess, which one would it be?”
Brody smiled. “Nice. Let me think about that one.”
He was quiet for a moment, then surprised me. He was taking my question seriously. “Definitely not Sleeping Beauty. She lies around sleeping all day, waiting for some shmuck wearing tights to come kiss her.”
“That’s not exactly how I would have summed her up. But, okay . . . continue.”
He rubbed his chin. “Snow White’s voice would annoy the shit out of me. Plus, I’m six-two, and she’s into short guys.” He paused. “I’m not sure I know any other princesses. Wait. No. That chick from Aladdin is hot. Or the Little Mermaid. But can a mermaid spread her legs? And is she even a princess?”
The rest of the evening continued the same way. We asked each other ridiculous questions, and the answers actually revealed a lot about each other. I started to think maybe I should throw one oddball question into my interviews from now on. After Brody had paid the bill, we waited outside for the valet to bring his car around. There was a crowd of people talking, and I noticed he steered us away from them and turned his back so as not to call attention to himself.
“Favorite position?” he asked.
Easy. “Quarterback, of course. I’m a daddy’s girl.”
He leaned in, whispering in my ear. “I meant favorite position naked.”
“Oh.” Oh!
He was actually waiting for a response. “I’m not sure. Never really gave it any thought.” I swallowed. “What about you?”
He took my hands in his and brought them together behind my back. Capturing both my wrists in one of his large hands, his other lifted to my face and brushed a lock of hair from my cheek. “On top. Doesn’t even matter how. I’ve just had an ache to be on top of you since the day we met. As much as I’d love to watch you ride me, I think on top is what I’ll like best with you. And probably missionary. Because for some reason, there’s nothing more I want to do than watch your face as I sink deep inside of you.”
It wasn’t the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me, yet I felt it everywhere, even in my chest. “Jesus, Brody.”
He brushed his lips against mine. “Our museum trip is going to be a quick one.”
The tenderness of his touch, combined with the rawness of his words, left me with a yearning I’d never experienced before. I leaned in, our mouths again lightly joining, and let my words vibrate against our lips. “Let’s skip the museum.”
***
When we pulled up to the hotel that was his football-season home, Brody waved off the valet and jogged around to the passenger side of the car. He extended his hand to help me out.
“In for the night, Mr. Easton?”
He laced our fingers together and pulled me toward the door, responding over his shoulder without stopping. “I may never come back out.”
My breath quickened as the elevator neared the top floor. We weren’t alone in the car, yet the only thing I could smell or hear was Brody. I watched his chest rise and fall in the reflection on the shiny silver doors, and my breaths began to match his. He was standing behind me, and I could feel his every breath. I didn’t try to fit my breathing into his pattern, my body just naturally joined in with his. It wasn’t going to be the only rhythm that came to us innately; there was no doubt of that. Raw sexual chemistry had been running like a current between us since the first day we met.
The sound of the lock closing behind me echoed through the hotel suite. I walked a few feet inside of the room but didn’t turn around. Brody was behind me. He wasn’t touching, yet I could feel him near. He tossed his keys onto a table; they rattled loudly. My body was so fired up, so filled with anticipation, that the sound actually made me gasp a little.
The suite was dark. It seemed to intensify what I heard, what I smelled, what I felt. Brody’s hand gripped my hip from behind as he moved in closer. He swept my hair to one side with his other hand. When his head dipped down, and he ran his nose along the pulse line of my throat, I let out a small moan, lifting my arms over my head and wrapping them around his neck. Thoughts of what was about to happen made me weak in the knees.
“There are so many things I want to do to you.” Brody’s voice was low and gritty, filled with all of the want and desire I was feeling myself.
“Like what?”
He kept his mouth at my ear while his hands caressed my body. Slowly, he ran his fingers down my side—from my hip over the curve of my waist, then around to my front, cupping both my breasts in his hands. He squeezed firmly. “I want to suck on your tits. Hard. Nibble on your nipples until you can’t take it anymore.”
“What else?” Any shyness I had was gone. The man made me desperate.
“Then I think I’ll eat you out. I want you to sit on my face while I do that. So you can control where you want me to suck, how hard you want to ride my tongue.”
“Oh God.”
“Then, when you’re good and wet . . . when you’re soaked for me and I can smell that you want me, I’m going to hold your hands over your head and fuck you. I won’t be able to go easy the first time. We’ll save that for the morning when the sunlight streams in on your naked body, and I can watch the way your face changes with every stroke, listen to the way your breath changes as I bury myself deep inside of you.”
Brody’s hands left my breasts and ran down the front of my body. He sucked on my earlobe and grip
ped my sides, pulling me against him. His erection was straining through his pants and pushing all the way up to my lower back.
“This ass. I’d like to have that, too. Maybe not tonight. But someday soon. I want to be inside every part of this body. Try everything with you. Own every piece of this body.”
I pushed back, rubbing my ass harder against him.
He groaned.
“That first day I met you in the locker room? I was hard the entire afternoon after you left. Not even a cold shower with a bunch of hairy football players nearby could calm me down. I came home and jerked myself off to a visual of your face on my eyelids.”
He spun me around, wisely holding onto me when he did. I was lightheaded from all the blood rushing to other parts of my body. Then he devoured my mouth, kissing me in a way I’d never been kissed before. Dominant, yet not forceful. Composed, yet needing. There was no question he was in control of my body. Our tongues tangled, lips meshed and bodies melted into each other. Separating for only as long as it took, he lifted my shirt off.
Lowering his head, he pushed down my bra cup with his thumb and drew a nipple into his hungry mouth. I closed my eyes as his tongue swirled and sucked. He alternated between breasts, licking and nibbling until I was panting.
When he ran his hand under my skirt, he groaned at finding I wasn’t wearing any underwear. “Fuck. You took them off.” He slid one finger inside me. I was already wet and ready. He groaned and added a second finger. “I really wanted to take my time with you the first time. But I need to be inside you right now. I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.”
He wasn’t kidding. A minute later, I heard the tear of a condom wrapper, and I was up against the wall. “Tell me this is okay. I want to take you against the wall. Hard.”
“It’s more than okay.”
“Thank fuck.” He bunched my skirt up and lifted me into the air. “Wrap your legs around me.”
I did, and he walked us to the wall and pinned my back up against it. He positioned himself and then lifted me up slightly, bringing me down onto his cock. I gripped his shoulders, a moan billowing from my lips as he sunk inside of me. Then he stilled. “You okay?”
“Very.”
He reclaimed my mouth and began to ease in and out of me. My body wrapped around him like a fist and each gentle stroke massaged up and down, zapping more and more nerves to life. I didn’t remember anything feeling that good before, especially not the first time.
After he sufficiently unraveled my tight body, he began to move faster. Harder. Longer, deeper, stronger strokes. One hand gripped my ass tightly. His rhythm ramped to a pounding, and we both groaned as he seated himself deep and began to gyrate his hips around, grinding the base of his cock against my clit.
Letting go, my muscles began to spasm around him. “Brody.”
He amped up his pace even more. “Fuucck.” As he drove into me relentlessly, my body finally gave in, pulsing in orgasm all around him. When my body went limp, he sped up his pace for a few thrusts, then rooted himself deep within me, allowing his own release.
Many hours and more orgasms later, my head lay on Brody’s chest as I listened to his heartbeat. Filled with new hope, I fell asleep feeling oddly calm. Maybe it was euphoria from the best sex of my life, maybe it was the way I felt safe and protected as Brody wrapped me tightly in his arms. Whatever it was, the feeling wouldn’t last long.
Chapter 13
Brody
It was late by the time I finally got to Marlene’s place. It took me nearly two hours to drag my ass out of bed once Delilah left for work. And I’d made her late, too—but I couldn’t resist one more go around when I saw her in that little black skirt she was wearing. She was dressed so prim and proper, with her high-heeled pumps and her hair pinned up on top of her head. My hard-on was raging to bend the librarian over the bedframe. She left with her clothes slightly disheveled, her hair hanging loose and a just-fucked smile on her flush face. It was a good look for her. A really good look.
I’d be paying for a night of pretty strenuous cardio later. Midweek practices were always the hardest. It was going to be a killer after last night and barely any sleep. But I didn’t give a shit. I hadn’t felt this good in a damn long time. Four years, to be exact.
Grouper was cleaning the floor in the dining room when I passed by on the way to see Marlene. Without a ball to float his way, some improvisation was needed. The lunch service was done for the afternoon, but the staff was still putting away the leftovers, so I grabbed three small milks from a crate that one of Grouper’s maintenance guys was lifting and yelled, “Go long. Or you’re going to be cleaning up a puddle of cow piss.”
Grouper grumbled something but took off running toward the other end of the food hall. I sailed the first two mini milk cartons into his hands. Just as he was about to catch the third one, Shannon yelled to me and distracted Grouper. The third milk went through his open hands and hit him in the shoulder, right before falling to the ground and exploding all over the place.
“You can’t throw for shit.”
“Super Bowl MVP, old man. Super Bowl MVP.”
Shannon’s face warned me my afternoon was not going to be as uplifting as my morning.
“What’s up, Shannon?”
“She’s having a bad day, Brody.” Her voice cracked as she reached out and touched my forearm. The nurses at Marlene’s home were incredible. They’d seen so much heartbreak with these old people; it took a lot for them to get choked up.
“Physically or mentally?”
“Mentally. She remembers some things about Willow. Things she hasn’t remembered in a long time.”
Marlene was distraught and crying when I entered her room. I sat down on the side of her bed and took her hand. “What’s going on, Marlene?” I couldn’t judge what her memory was haunting her with, and I didn’t want to make it any worse than it needed to be.
“It’s Willow.”
Over the past four years I had learned to talk about Willow. It hadn’t been easy at first, but time had dulled the pain that hearing her name had made me feel in the beginning.
“What about Willow?”
“She called me last night. Said she was going to come see me next week for my birthday. Then the police came this morning.”
I looked to Shannon, who shook her head. “Someone did call her phone last night.” She lifted Marlene’s chart and flipped the pages. “The night nurse wrote it down. We suspect it was a telemarketer. Maybe the person happened to have had the name Willow?”
Marlene began to sob.
Shannon whispered, “She’s been doing that off and on for hours. Keeps rambling on about the police and a body in the river.”
Blocking Willow from my daily life was one thing, but the memories were still buried inside of me. Our memories. The good ones outnumbered the bad, even if the bad ones overshadowed the good.
“It’s okay, Marlene. It’s going to be okay.”
I was reassuring her the same way I had four years ago in the hospital waiting room. The same internal battle haunted me. Only now, Marlene’s dementia wasn’t early-onset. The days when she remembered the details of her granddaughter’s life were few and far between. There was less reason to tell her the whole truth now than there had been back then.
“Blue. She was so blue, Brody.”
The vision that had taken me almost a year to stop seeing every time I closed my eyes came barreling back. Willow being wheeled into the emergency room. By the time the river incident happened, she was already frail. My Willow was long gone, replaced by a three-bag-a-day heroin junkie who would disappear for weeks at a time. Her occasional visits were usually to steal what we were no longer willing to give her.
Marlene’s cry broke into a sob. I wrapped my arms around her. The night they pulled Willow from the East River wasn’t a night I ever wanted to reenact. Unfortunately, this was our second go around on the highlight reel of Marlene’s life. If only the memories people lost were just th
e bad ones.
“They don’t think she’s going to make it, Brody.”
“I know. It’s okay, Marlene. It’s okay.”
Bits and pieces of that night continued to flush out for the next hour. “Eighty degrees. They said her body temperature was eighty degrees.”
“They’re trying to warm her up. They’re doing everything they can, Marlene.”
I went along for the ride. There was no reason to make things worse. Like last time, I comforted her until the episode passed. There was no reason to break her heart all over again, to catch her up on all the bad things just so she could live through hell again . . . and likely not remember it the next day.
The sedative the nurse gave Marlene finally kicked in and she calmed down, eventually falling asleep.
“You got one of those injections for me?” I joked when Shannon came in to check on us.
“You have practice today?”
“I do.”
She smiled ruefully. “Then no. But if you’d like to speak to Dr. Pallen, she’s making rounds. I can page her to come in and talk to you.”
“Thanks, Shannon. But I’m good. How long will that thing knock her out for?”
“She’ll probably be out for most of the day.” She put her hand on my shoulder as I sat watching Marlene sleep. “Don’t worry, Brody. We’ll keep a good eye on her. We’ll call you if anything happens or if she wakes up upset again.”
“I’ll stop back after practice tonight.”
“I’ll make sure the night nurses know she can have a visitor after hours.”
“Thanks.”
***
To say I got my ass kicked during practice would be putting it too mildly. Between the physical toll of staying up all night and my head being a fucking mess from the shit that had gone down with Marlene, it was no surprise that I found myself tossed around like a sack of hay. At one point, the practice squad actually started to go easy on me. Which just pissed off Coach even more than my slacking.
After practice, my knee was blown up like a balloon from all the twisting it did every time I got my ass knocked down. The team physical therapist ordered me a fifteen-minute soak in the ice bathtub. As if the morning’s stroll down memory lane hadn’t fucked with me enough, a soak in freezing water was just what I needed to remind me all over again of Willow’s ice-cold body being pulled from the Hudson.