“Mmm,” I murmured around his cock as I sucked, cupping his balls with one hand, the other around to grab his ass. It was wet, messy work, perfect for the shower, as I slurped and sucked, feeling my pussy throb as I got him closer and closer. He was such a huge, sexy beast of a man and it felt so right to be his woman.
Suddenly, he withdrew and pulled me up to standing, then pushed me against the smooth tile of the shower wall.
“Want to come in you,” he growled, thrusting up into my pussy with a long, strong stroke. I cried out in surprise and pleasure. He gripped my hair in his hand and held it as he fucked me, my breasts pushed up against the wall. I spread my palms out against the tile as he worked me, one of his hands sliding along to my front and down to my clit. He stroked me as he thrust, teasing me to the brink. I felt so possessed and dominated, yet so loved as he gripped my hair, holding me fast, forcing me against the wall and fucking me.
“Yes, yes,” I pleaded, feeling my orgasm build, build then crash over me as he thrust in and came, exploding in me deep.
He was so gentle afterward, washing every inch of me, kissing my glistening skin. He wrapped me in a soft towel and insisted on carrying me to the bed.
“I can walk.” I laughed as I wrapped my arms around his neck and very much enjoyed being held in his arms.
“I work you hard, baby,” he murmured, still holding me in his solid, muscular arms against his massive chest. “The least I can do is take care of you after.”
“Oh, you take care of me, all right.” I couldn’t help laugh again, giddy. Multiple orgasms did that to a girl.
At some point we drifted to sleep, and then at some point the next morning I drifted awake, my head still resting on his bare chest, listening to his heart beat strong and true. And I realized, all at once, I trusted this man. I trusted him completely. It didn’t matter what he had or hadn’t told me about his past. What mattered was him, who he really was inside, and that man I knew I could trust with my life.
“Morning,” he murmured, wrapping me in an embrace.
“Is it?” I asked. The shades were drawn tight over the windows.
“Late morning. But we’re not in a rush. We’ve got the room tonight, too, if we want it.”
I smiled. I liked this whole rockstar brother thing. “Heath,” I began, wanting to talk about his family, but still wary. I didn’t want to jeopardize this delicious intimacy, but we still did have a lot to talk about and sort out.
“I want you to know,” I started, “I trust you. And I respect that you didn’t tell me about your family. I don’t feel like you lied to me.”
“Good.” He pulled me even closer.
“But I am curious.” I lifted my head and looked at him. “I feel like I know you but I don’t know you. And I want to know you.”
“That’s a lot of know yous,” Heath teased.
Good, teasing meant he still felt relaxed. “So you’re really…” How did I say filthy rich without coming out and saying filthy rich?
“A Kavanaugh,” he confirmed. “My father was a billionaire and he left it to us, his children.”
I shook my head, believing but not believing at the same time. “So many guys would be bragging so hard about that. They wouldn’t shut up about it.” I’d sat through evenings with guys bragging endlessly about far less.
“What’s the point in that?” he asked. “Then you end up surrounded by the kinds of people who want to hear you brag nonstop.”
“Right.” He had a point. “I remember you saying you’re not close with your family.”
“I’m not,” he agreed. “None of us are close. Except the past couple weeks have been interesting.” And he started talking, exactly the way I’d hoped, telling me about seeing his mother and his older brothers. He had a younger sister, too.
“Wow, I can’t keep track of everyone.” I was so used to thinking of him on his own. It was strange adjusting to the thought of him as a constellation in a busy universe.
“Me, too,” he agreed. “I haven’t even mentioned my half-brother. The one who almost put my mother in a mental hospital when she found out about him. I just met him a year ago.”
I shook my head, marveling at the complexity. At times growing up, just my mom and me, I’d longed for a big family. But I’d pictured it like the Von Trapps, everyone wearing matching clothing and singing in harmony. What he described sounded much more messy.
“Oh, and about a year before my father died he re-married and she had a son, so I guess I technically had stepbrother. But I literally never met him.”
“How’s that possible?” That stretched even my imagination.
“Our parents eloped. And he’s always overseas in some kind of top secret military operation.”
“Ooh, like the kind where they’d tell you about it but then they’d have to kill you?” Talk about scandal. My reality TV instincts buzzed in delight.
“Something like that.” Heath looked at me, slightly wary.
“Sorry, this all just sounds like a movie,” I admitted. “It’s hard to wrap my head around it.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “It’s hard for me, too. I don’t exactly have a ‘casual conversation’ family. It’s part of why I don’t usually talk about them.”
I calmed myself down. He didn’t need me squealing over the craziness. He needed me to listen to the facts, but more importantly to his experience of it all.
Happily, he kept on talking, just the two of us lying together in bed. He told me about growing up in a whirlwind of nannies and private schools, about never seeing his parents and then getting shipped off to his grandmother in England when his parents split up. He told me about his attempts to navigate the cutthroat rich kid culture in boarding school and then in an Ivy League college, until he finally quit it all.
“Best decision of my life,” he told me, explaining how he’d walked away, right before graduation, choosing to go live on that plot of land in Watson.
I winced. It reminded me. I hadn’t meant to, but I’d ruined it, his solitary, off-the-grid life.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, sensing my tension.
“I’m just thinking how I’ve ruined everything,” I admitted.
“No, no you haven’t.” He pulled me up against him, kissing me gently. “These past few weeks, I’ve been thinking. When I first headed to Watson, I needed to pull away, set out on my own. But maybe its time to let my family back in a little.”
“Yeah?”
“Things are different now, without my father. I’m not glad he’s gone. But now it is easier, I guess.” He explained how much his father had disapproved of his choices, how forcibly he’d tried to push him into the same CEO corporate mold. “Now, I guess I don’t feel like I have to fight so hard to be my own man. I can just…be it.”
I smiled against his chest. “Funny, I was just thinking about how it’s time for me to stop fighting my way up whatever corporate ladder is put in front of me and instead figure out what I really want to do with my life. Who I really want to be.”
We snuggled some more as I told him about my lunch meeting the other day, the ideas I was having about what to do next. I’d been so excited about the show I’d wanted to do in Watson. I wondered if there might be an opportunity to do something like it, something real and creative and engaging instead of exploitative.