7 Months (Time for Love 8)

Brady ran his hand through my long hair, bunching it and moving his hand, so that the soft curly tendrils flowed through his fingers. He liked my hair. He didn’t have to tell me with words, I knew because he was always playing with it, pulling it, or simply running his fingers through it. I took extra care of my hair, because I knew how much he liked the feel of it, especially when it touched his bare skin. He was a tactile person and I’d really started to appreciate the feel of things since I’d been with him. I paid more attention, because I knew it was one of the senses that turned him on the most.

He ran the back of his fingers gently down my torso and stomach. I arched my back, trying to get closer, but when his fingers dipped beneath the crimson lace, I dropped back down, sinking into my pillow-top mattress.

Brady’s fingers worked their magic, playing me as instinctively as he did his drums. He knew the right spots to get the sounds and reactions he wanted, and before he’d even taken off a stitch of clothing, I was falling apart beneath his touch.

My lashes fluttered as I came back to the present, to see Brady ridding himself of his clothes, revealing his naturally tanned skin to me. He was so muscular, so fit, without an ounce of fat anywhere on his body. He worked out daily, and the fruits of his effort were on display just for me.

I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, eager to touch, but he grasped both of my hands in one of his, bringing me to stand before turning me around so his front was flush against my back.

“Bend over.” His voice was gruff against my ear, causing goose bumps to break out at not only his tone, but his words.

The clasp of my bra was undone and the straps fell gently down my arms until I reached up and pulled the scrap of lace off, throwing it without a care to where it landed.

I bent over, bracing myself on my forearms, as my ass tilted up, right where Brady wanted it.

I looked over my shoulder as he crouched down behind me and slid the panties down my legs. I stepped out of them, then stood firmly back on my cherry-red heels. I felt Brady’s hands on those heels, before they slid up my calves, urging me to widen my stance as he kept moving north.

Still sensitive from my orgasm, I cried out softly when he kissed the apex of my thighs softly, his tongue sweeping out to taste me before standing erect behind me.

I fisted my hands in the sheets as he gripped my hips, the head of his cock teasing my entrance. One hand slid up my back and I heard his anticipatory sigh as it disappeared into my hair and gripped it roughly, as the length of him filled me in one swift move.

There was a moment’s pause as we both reveled in the feel of our joining, and then he began to move. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled my loft as Brady pounded me from behind; that, coupled with the erotic sound of his moans and the feel of him filling me so completely, had me pinching my nipple roughly, before moving my hand lower and feeling where we were joined.

At the touch of my fingers, Brady reared up, pulling me by the hair until I was standing, his hips thrusting even faster. In this new position he was able to get deeper, and I arched my back slightly so that he was able to keep his pulses rapid, without slipping completely out.

The sensation of his cock hitting my g-spot had my fingers moving to my clit as the need for release started to drive me to the brink of insanity. I came with a low moan, my walls clenching around him as shocks rocked through me. I felt one hand tighten in hair, while the fingers of his other dug into my hip, then his breath was hot on my neck as he found his release.

We took a moment to catch our breath, then I felt him slip out and take a step back, giving me space to move from the bed and go to the bathroom to clean up.

By the time I was finished and re-entered the loft, Brady was once again fully clothed.

He held out my nightgown and I slipped it over my head, taking a deep breath before bringing my eyes to his.

I was never sure if he’d sleep over or not, it usually depended on work, or whatever, but I secretly always hoped that he would.

It was obvious that this was not one of those nights.

I thought about his birthday, and the whole not wanting to be a stepping stone thing, and I thought what the fuck, I might as well just go for it.

“Brady,” I began softly, then cleared my throat nervously when he looked up from buttoning his jeans.

This shouldn’t be so hard, should it? We’ve been seeing each other for seven months now. Sure, it was just in the night like a tawdry affair, but still, why am I so nervous?

“Um, I was wondering … About the New Year’s party at Brock’s … would you want to go with me? Together?”

I sounded like a freaking college freshman, rather than the

woman in her mid-thirties that I was, and when a look of guilt crossed his devilishly handsome features, I felt my heart dip in my chest.

“I don’t know, Ming,” Brady said, running a hand over his short hair like he did when he was uncomfortable. “I think we’d give everyone the wrong idea. You know how Victoria and Bronagh can be…”

I felt my eyes well up with tears, but choked them back, refusing to let him see how his response hurt me.

I was a strong woman. I dug deep for that strength and made sure my voice was like steel when I answered, “Sure, I understand. Let me see you out.”

Brady opened his mouth like he wanted to respond, but I walked past him, through my loft, to the front door, opening it as I stood off to the side.

He stopped before walking out, his movements unsure, then bent to kiss me softly on the cheek.