A feeling of peace washes over me, my head sinks into the pillow, my side digs into the bed and the knots in my shoulders disappear. The need to pee is strong but I don’t want to move from this position, I feel relaxed, content with my body in his arms.
Brandon’s arm is around my belly, my back is pressed against his chest and his face is tucked into the crook of my neck. His breath tickles my ear in the most delightful way and the heat from his body keeps us warm. I don’t even notice the AC that’s on full blast.
Afraid to ruin the sanctity of this priceless moment, I remain there for a while and sink my teeth into my lip when the lower part of my belly tightens. My eyes shut tight as if to relieve myself of the urge and I grit my teeth until I cannot hold it in anymore.
I pry his hand off me, tiptoe out, pee and tiptoe back in without him waking up or changing his position. Giggles spill from my lips; I didn’t take him to be a heavy sleeper but I like that he is. It is my only chance to admire him without any interruptions.
Brandon’s chest rises and falls with each breath he takes, the hairs scattered all over his forehead and his peaceful expression helps to take a few years off his age. He is boyishly handsome when he sleeps, a man I want to uncover his secrets, peel every layer of his thick skin. I don’t know how but I am sure we will make this work. I will try my best.
I push the locks off his face when his hand swipes at them like he’s having an internal battle with himself, then massage his scalp until the lines on his forehead disappear and he relaxes. Soon enough, his snores fill the room and my humming dies down.
A yawn escapes my lips, I snuggle under the sheets but instead of returning to my former position, I face him with my fingers running lines behind his ear. He jerks and I stop, only to continue when his breathing returns to normal. I giggle when he pouts and purrs like a cat that is happy with its master without opening his eyes. He is cute.
“Seen enough?” he murmurs and buries his head deeper into the pillows. I jerk, my hand hangs mid-air, afraid he has been awake but his snoring resume. My shoulders sag, I giggle and bop his nose but he still doesn’t rouse.
He must be sleep talking, I will tease him about it.
Without a single thought, I place a chaste kiss on his lips. I make to pull back but his arm wraps around my waist, keeping me in place and my eyes flicker to his face. He is wide awake. A cheeky, shy smile flitter to my lips and I look away. He caresses my cheeks, hooks a finger under my jaw, grunts and begins to pepper kisses all over my lips.
When he disengages from me, I palm his face and kiss him long enough for us to forget that we are both naked. Brandon chuckles when we break apart, his smile grows and his eyes twinkle, I love the sparkle in them. The way he’s staring at me causes a shiver to crawl up my spine and I thrum with joy when his fingers weave through my hair.
“Dear wife, if this is how you will wake me up every morning,” he whispers in a husky voice, his thumb trailing my lower lip, “then I want to sleep next to you every night.”
Butterflies dance in my belly at his solemn declaration and I look away, I want to sleep next to him too, every single day; morning and night. I place another kiss on his lips and he switches our position so I can straddle him. My breasts bounce, his erection presses against my backside and I have a hard time keeping my eyes on his handsome face.
Heat floods my cheek; our current position reminds me of last night. I want to hear him moan my name again but the bold Elna is gone. The sex was more than great, it was awesome and my nipples rise at the scenes that replay in my head. My husband has a high libido, his erection had woken me up so many times in the middle of the night, I couldn’t keep up with him. A small laugh slips from me, I was the one turning him down.
I wince when he rotates his hips and a mild pain shoots up my body, my thighs still ache from the aftereffect of our lovemaking. I don’t know if that’s the right word for it but it wasn’t just sex to me, it was more than plain fucks between two horny adults. It was an ethereal experience and the care with which he guided me to my orgasm showed how capable he was of loving me. Though Brandon is massive but gentle, I am sore all over.
Brandon flips us over again and murmurs against my belly button, “I’ll get some ice.”
His stray hairs brush my skin, I shiver and nod as he leaves the bed, swallowing the lump in my throat at the sight of his erection, how can he be hard again? We had sex so many times, I can barely stand upright, I just want to lie down and be taken care of.
“Thank you,” I whisper. It’s for more than the ice, it’s for this new life with him and the hope he has given me by his actions. Even if he does them subconsciously, I am hopeful.
On getting out of the bed, I wrap the duvet around my chest and hop to our shared wardrobe. I am not as comfortable as he is flaunting his naked body. Brandon leaves after putting on a pair of shorts and I change into a gown that flows to my feet.
Brandon returns when I’m smoothening the sheets and wraps his arms around me from behind. A yawn slips from my lips as I straighten up and his jaw comes to rest atop my head. Last night wore me out, I feel tired, weak. We went at it so many times, in the early hours of the morning too. I have barely had any sleep; I cannot go any more rounds but his manhood poking into my back shows that he doesn’t share my sentiments.
“You didn’t bleed,” Brandon murmurs. The vibration of his voice causes goosebumps to cover my skin and my eyes wander to the bed, they are clean, no bloodstains. I smile.
Covering his palms with mine, I twist in his embrace to allow me better access to his face and he draws me closer so my breasts are pressed against his chest. His hands hover above my butt and I shake my head when he cups them. He grins with a wink and my hands go around his waist, I like how he’s eager to touch me now unlike our first night when he happily stayed away. It seems last night broke so many of his barriers.
I shrug and say, “Not all virgins bleed.”
He stares at me with a strange expression as if he is thinking about what I just told him, then nods in acceptance. When he replies, his words are laced with the same smile on his lips, “I didn’t know that.”
“You are welcome,” I mutter and stare into his amber eyes, unsure how to voice out the question hanging on the tip of my tongue.
Brandon must have noticed the hesitation on my face because he arches an eyebrow at me, my gaze trails to his ear, then to his nose and I wonder if it is naturally crooked or it was caused by an accident. Like his scar. Our former house -we parked out once the pharmacy started doing good- had a lot of high schoolers with his type of nose. Most times it was from gang fights and Brandon’s nose looks no less different from theirs.
It looks like he got into a lot of fistfights as a teenager which doesn’t make so much sense to me, neither does his callused palms or his knuckles or his claims about being a chef. The last meal I ate before our departure was made by him and it tasted better than my spaghetti has ever tasted. He’s almost better than me in the cooking department.
His-our mansion speaks volume of his wealth, his accent shows he’s of the elite class, that he comes from money. A man who is that rich should have someone who fights his battle for him, do the dirty jobs. There should be people running around our big house because it requires a lot of maintenance which I can’t handle alone but there is none, no single person but us. Maybe he gave them a break for us to have privacy but I doubt it.
Trailing an imaginary line on the bridge of his nose, I ask, “Has... has it always been this way?” He grabs my hand, bites down on my fingertips and a shiver runs down my spine.
“No, I was sucker-punched,” he replies. My jaw drops and he chuckles half-heartedly. “I deserved it. I gave everyone hell... even poor Eunice,” he says with his eyes taking on a faraway look. “She was our personal maid, helped to take care of us as kids until I was a teenager, she might have stayed longer but she was fired... because of me.”
His last statement piques my curiosity, this is the first time he’s talking about his family without me asking but that isn’t it, it’s the guilt laced in his words. He still blames himself for whatever happened with Eunice. I don’t know her but I don’t like that he’s beating himself up over it. We all do regrettable things as teenagers, I ran our only car into a ditch. Pa nearly had a heart attack and Ma, she refused to talk to me until he calmed down. It was my fault, I should never have done it because of a stupid dare.
I wait with my lip between my teeth for him to continue but he doesn’t and I sigh, I guess that’s all the childhood information I will be getting from him today. Or not.
“Why do you think she was fired because of you?” I ask in a gentle voice and his eyes come to rest on my face. “She might have gotten a better offer somewhere.” Brandon scoffs and I roll my eyes; all he needs is a bit of convincing. “Okay. Where’s she now?”
“In a better place.” My eyes grow the size of saucers and he says, “She died. She was the only one who tolerated my excesses and all I did was get her into more trouble. When my parents stumbled on me with a bleeding nose, that was the final straw for them.” He closes his eyes briefly. “They let her go that same day. So, yes, it’s my fault.”
Tension fills the air and a heavy silence descends on us. Different emotions swim in Brandon’s eyes, I can tell he blames himself for her death and his warped sense of judgment won’t let him see that he played no part in it. His response carried weight, guilt. I want to help him; I want to take away that pain written all over his face but I don’t know how.
“How old were you?” I ask and mentally facepalm, that’s a stupid question but it is the best I can do at the moment with all that he has told me. “Brandon, it is not your-“
He is quick to cut me off. “I was sixteen, El. Sixteen. I was old enough to know my left from my right, the good from the bad. But no, I was a selfish, rich, spoiled brat. Don’t exonerate me.” He shakes his head in slow motion as if in a trance and I sigh. “Please.”
The sorrow in his voice lashes out at me and I close my eyes to keep the tears at bay, to get a better grip on myself. My husband is hurting and I can’t do anything about it.
“It doesn’t mean it’s your fault,” I start to say with my hands wrapping around his wrists. I need him to listen to me. “We all do stupid things as teenagers. I did stupid things too. Maybe it was her time to go, these things happen and it has nothing to do with you. Don’t beat yourself up over something you can’t change. It’s not your fault.”
“You don’t get it, El,” he replies and jerks from my grip. He runs his fingers through his hair, pulls painfully at them from the root and I wince on his behalf. “She was sick and when she got fired, the money for her treatment stopped coming in.” In a defeated voice, he mutters, “She was always so tired and I thought she was being lazy. I didn’t know.”
Taking a deep breath, I say, “That’s why it’s not your fault, Brandon. “ I sigh again. “You didn’t know she was sick. You were just acting your age, you wanted her to do her job well and maybe you went about it the wrong way but what else could you have done?”
“I could have been a better boy, a better son, a better brother, a better human,” he fires back. “Eunice was a good guardian, a good woman, she didn’t deserve to go that way.”
Cupping his cheeks, I whisper, “Look at me, Brandon.” His eyes flitter to mine and the amount of hurt in them tugs violently at my heartstring. How long has he carried this guilt? I nod to myself, good thing I am here now and if he will let me, then I will share in his pain, I want to help him. He shouldn’t blame himself for his younger self behaviours.
“You are not a bad person,” he shakes his head but it doesn’t stop me from going on, “you made bad choices as a kid but it doesn’t define who you are as an adult. If you were bad, you wouldn’t think of her, good people feel remorse, bad people don’t.”
“El,” Brandon starts in a steely voice, his eyes take on a cold, calculating look and I can imagine him putting on his invisible cloak of indifference. I sigh as he removes my hands from his face. “I have done so many terrible things. I’m a monster and I won’t blame you for leaving when you realise how much evil I have committed. I am far from good.”
We are standing a few feet away from each other. It’s too much distance for me but I don’t want to freak him out by encroaching on his space after he took deliberate steps away from me. I want to know what he has done; what crime his teenage self has committed that he thinks it can’t be forgiven. No sinner is too bad to be cast away.
“I’m not going anywhere, Brandon and you are not a monster. I should never have called you that and I am sorry,” I say and stretch my hand to him. “You are only human and what we are good at is making mistakes which we learn from. Will you repeat the mistakes of your sixteen-year-old self?” He shakes his head. “Exactly. I made you a promise, Brandon, for better for worse and I have told you, I always keep my promises.”
He heaves a defeated sigh and I take that as my cue to close the distance between us. “I can’t be that husband you want, the perfect man. I’m fucked up, El. I can’t love you.”
“But I can love you, Brandon Stark. I can and I will, just don’t fight it.” I stand in front of him, my hands at my sides with my eyes trying to convey all that my mouth cannot say. “I’m fucked up too, we can be a fucked up pair together, please,” I beg. “Don’t close your heart to me. Don’t push me away. I want to love you, let me.”
On my toes now, I place a kiss on his lips and my fingers ruffle his hair, I like how it was before he messed it up. Lines appear on his forehead, his mouth parts open and I place an index finger against it, afraid he will throw my offer in my face. He seems determined to suffer for what his teenage self did. I know it will take time to ease his guilt but I can help him forget, for now.
Brandon sweeps me off my feet and my back connects to the bed in seconds. Our lips lock, his tongue thrusts into my mouth, biting on the sensitive flesh as he explores every corner with savageness. I moan as his fingers find their way down there and mine play with his nipples, slowly moving inside his shorts to cup his pulsing manhood.
He pauses his movement to pull off his shorts and bunch my gown at my waist. The urgency with each touch increases, there is no patience in his action or gentleness when he cups one of my breasts through the thin material of my gown. My walls clench around his fingers slipping in and out of my wetness without a care as to if I’m enjoying it.
The semblance of peace that returns to his face stops me from crying out loud when his fingers go too deep. I blink back tears and try to match his energy by stroking his dick and switching between his nipples but he grabs my hands to hold it above my head, then separates my legs with his knee.
A hiss escapes me at his first thrust, I arch my back and my teeth sink into my lip as electricity shoots up my whole body. Each thrust is deeper than the previous one, each time it elicits a moan from me and sends my mind into a total state of forgetfulness, a blank canvas. My senses have come alive, they are on overdrive from the pain and pleasure he’s bringing me. I am only aware of him, his touch, his uneven breathing and the not so painful communion of our bodies.
“Eyes on me, El,” he commands.
My eyelids flutter open and my breathing becomes shallow as I stare into his eyes, doing my best to hold our gaze as his thrusts become rapid. His pupils dilate and his fingers leave my wrists to grab my hair in a vice-like grip. I wince, my hands wrap around his wrist and after one last thrust that has me feeling like he shifted my womb, he collapses on the bed with a sigh.
YOU ARE READING
Mr Reluctant Billionaire || BWWM
Romance"I cannot love you, Elna." Grinding my waist against his groin, I cup his face and say, "Then fuck me." * * * When Elna's father first suggests an arranged marriage between her and Brandon Stark--the hot British billionaire--she is reluctant to go...
