Brant Page 9

  “Ready Freddy?” I ask.

  “As I’ll ever be. Listen, if he isn’t there, we can go back to the hotel. I have a key to his suite, since I’m staying there and all,” Justin informs me.

  “It’s…okay. Ace is pissed off at me, and he has every reason to be. I get it—my laughing hurt him. He’ll see me on Friday, and anyway, I know he still has deliveries set for tomorrow.” Yes, it hurts me, but I know with all my heart he’ll show up at my place on Friday night like we planned.

  Him needing some time to cool down is okay with me. I’ve been there. If his cooling off has to be without me, I’m gravy. Fantastic. Peachy. He sent me a three-month supply of chocolate-covered cherries as one of my gifts today; who cares about his note that read, These are mine. We’ll enjoy them together…later.

  Semantics.

  I’m going to go home, strip down to my nightgown, get comfy in my favorite chair, Netflix me some vampire love, and eat the hell out of these cherries.

  “On second thought, I’m going to drop you off at the restaurant if we see his truck. Otherwise I’ll take you to the hotel. I’m gonna call it a night myself, undress, watch some vampires wreak havoc, and eat some sweets.”

  It’s a solid reason for not wanting to bother Brant until Friday. Besides, it’s Wednesday night now, and the weekend will be here before we know it, and…I do have some fluffy black and white friends I should visit. Goa Goa hasn’t been faring well, and I’d like to see him as much as possible until he gets over this hump and makes it out the other side.

  Justin sighs so hard it’s visible to me on my side of the car. Did I mention it’s semi-dark out and I’m normally blind without my glasses? I call them my ‘readers’, which makes me feel like an older grandmotherly type of lady.

  “Okay, I’ll settle for just a few minutes of Tessa time tonight, but I’m warning you, don’t come crying to me when I leave early next week and you’ve spent no time with me. You had the choice to be a big girl tonight and face grumpy Gus, but nooo, Tessa wants to go home to her fictional boyfriends. How many times do I need to tell you Damon loves Elena? Especially if you’re as far as I think you are in the show.”

  “Pfft, spoilsport. Quit trying to ruin the fantasy I have of Damon-slash-Ian doing naughty things to me. It’s his eyes—wowza.” I fan myself and nearly hit the car next to us as I’m pulling up to a red light.

  Horns are blown from both sides. Seriously? The dude couldn’t honk once and move on? Nope, he had to follow me to the next light, honking throughout the whole time it was red. In turn, I look up in my rearview mirror and stick out my tongue—so grown-up of me—only to see he’s flipping me off.

  “You see 5-1-5-0, I’m about to flip my shit and call the po-po. Oh, wait…I already have a massively strong FBI agent in my car. If the dude doesn’t stop, stat, there’s going to be bloodshed. Chocolate-covered cherries will be thrown,” I warn him. Hmm, I wonder if the 5-1-5-0 reference flew over his head?

  Trust me, I would never toss out perfectly fine chocolate, although this guy is…insane.

  He’s still behind me, and we’re at traffic light number four.

  I’m reaching back for the gooey chocolate goodness when Justin steps out of the car.

  His badge is visible and words are thrown back and forth, words like arrest, take you in to county lock-up, and I don’t give a flying fuck who you work for.

  As he’s out dealing with the douchecanoe, I toss in a random CD. Just because it happens to have the song “5-1-5-0” on it doesn’t mean I chose it intentionally. Turning up the volume a tiny bit louder, I proceed to open a box of chocolate cherry sweetness. Mm, I could eat this whole box.

  He gets back into the car and motions for me to go. He’s silent for the next few minutes, which is fine by me. He can stew in his anger while I drive, listen to this amazing song on repeat, and eat my sweets. It’s a solid ten minutes before he says anything.

  “I’m pissed off, Tessa. I’m going to apologize to you now for my attitude, but that asshole threatened me, an FBI agent, with his boss. Two guesses at who his boss is.”

  “Hm, let me take a stab at it…Martinelli?” I ask.

  “Bingo. B-I-N-G-O, Tessa. He used his employment with a known mobster to threaten me. If I locked him up, his boss would rain hell down upon my head. Blah, blah, bullshitty blah.”

  Wow, he is in a mood all right.

  The last time I saw him this angry, he was on the hunt for Smith. Martinelli must indeed get his goat. I get it though. I’d like nothing more than to see the man either in prison or dead. Whichever happens will be fine by me. When I heard he had his own son, Vinny, killed on suspicion of being a rat, I knew this monster needed to go. Now knowing Brant is also his son? My vote is toppling over onto the killing him side of things.

  Brant is in danger.

  There’s no doubt in my mind. I feel it in the marrow of my bones.

  Something dangerous is about to happen.

  I don’t know when, what, or why, but it’s going to happen before long.

  “Can you promise me something, Justin?”

  “I’ll try my hardest to keep it. What is it, doll?” he asks.

  “Promise me Brant will remain safe in whatever is about to happen. Promise me he’ll be under your guard. It’s the only thing I ask. Keep him safe,” I plead.

  “You can count on it. If I have to lay down my own life to save his…I will.”

  Chapter Seven

  Brant

  Friday morning, I wake to the sun at its fullest.

  The smell of coffee assaults my senses. Justin must’ve brewed some before he left for work this morning. He’s working closely with the bureau here in Southern California to put Martinelli away for life.

  I, blessedly, have the day off, not to mention my plans with Tessa tonight. She pissed me off by laughing a few nights ago when Justin blurted out that we kissed, though it wasn’t truly her pissing me off; it was more my embarrassment than anything.

  Knowing I shouldn’t be embarrassed, I drove to the restaurant to hopefully still meet them for dinner. I assumed she’d drive over with Justin. What did she do next? She dropped the asshole off and left. She sent a message with him, informing me of her passing on dinner and going home for the evening for her date with Netflix. Oddly enough, it’s what we have planned for tonight, though I hope it stands for making out and pizza.

  I’m to bring the pizza; she’ll supply the kisses.

  Justin and I didn’t end up meeting the dipshits out at the Busty Bunny. Why? Because, apparently, Tessa nearly hit a man at a traffic light because he decided to follow her for a few blocks, harassing her, and Justin climbed out and threatened to arrest him. He countered back with namedropping his boss, Martinelli, and we couldn’t risk it possibly being one of the guys going out. His cover as a friend visiting me would have been blown since the dude saw his badge, his name.

  I’ve arranged for Justin to use the employee elevators in the hotel so he doesn’t run into any of Martinelli’s goons. It’s worked for now, but it won’t work forever. If he doesn’t move to another hotel, our cover will be blown.

  I’ll be swimming with the fishes.

  Justin, well, he’ll probably eat a bullet.

  Not a pleasant thing to think about, all around.

  As I’m walking into the kitchen-slash-dining area of the suite, I see the full pot of coffee along with a note.

  Fresh brewed for you, at roughly 11 a.m.

  See you tomorrow?

  Give Tessa a hug from yours truly.

  P.S. The cherries I stole from Tessa the other night. Enjoy!

  - J

  What in the hell? He stole a box of my cherries from Cherry? How did he pull it off? She must have given them to him. Then again, I did send enough for approximately three months of indulging…if she ate two boxes a week.

  Hell, I don’t even know if she likes the chocolatey spheres of goodness.

  Honestly? I sent them to her for myself.

 
; For us.

  To enjoy later.

  To put it bluntly, I’d love to eat gooey chocolate cherries off of my sweet Cherry.

  That is, if we ever get to the more intimate part of our relationship. Maybe tonight she’ll let me kiss on her all I want. Maybe I’m moving fast, but I’m firmly in boyfriend mode, and I need to have her, protect her, show her my love, even if I’m unable to verbally say it yet.

  Glancing down at my watch, I see it’s nearing noon. Time to drink a huge mug of coffee and officially get my day started. There are places I need to go before seeing my tart Cherry in a few hours.

  The day flies by and before I know it, I find myself standing on her front porch, knocking on her door. She answers within seconds.

  “Wow. I’m speechless.” She’s a sight to behold.

  Shrugging, she reaches for my shoulders, hauls me into her place, and kisses me. As I’m about to slip her the tongue, she breaks away.

  “Nope, not yet, Ace. All you get for the moment is a kiss. We’ll work up to more.” She frickin’ winks at me. “Now, bring the cheesy, meaty, melt-in-your-mouth deliciousness into the kitchen.” Turning to glance back at me, her sapphire eyes sparkling in the soft glow of candlelight, she adds, “Please.”

  Trailing behind her into her kitchen, I watch her ass sway the whole time. Gah, what I wouldn’t do to touch that ass.

  “You can sit it over there, if you like,” she suggests while pointing to a space at her island.

  “I have a better suggestion: you on the island, me kissing you senseless, pizza stowed in the oven for later…after I say I’m sorry about my reaction the other night. I was embarrassed and lashed out at you, the closest person to me in the world, besides Rhys.”

  “Firstable, maybe. Secondable, it’s okay, Ace. What you don’t understand is, I get you. You’re like me. We’ve always been similar, I think it’s why we’re so…spirited when we’re together, now and in the past. Whether we’re kissing or tossing out insults, we sync,” she informs me.

  I’ve never looked at it from her point of view before. Maybe we are like she claims. It makes sense.

  “Firstable?” I ponder.

  “It’s totes a word. Av and I use it, along with secondable, like you heard, and thirdable, fourthable, fifthable. We’re idiots, but we’re our own special brand of idiot.”

  “No, I was asking about the first option, because I really want to hold you, kiss you, grab your ass, eat chocolate-covered cherries off of you—you know, the basics.”

  “The basics?” she asks while laughing. “Seriously? Eating sweets off of me is considered a basic thing sex-wise? Oh, Brant, you’re funny.”

  As she’s bending to place the pizza inside the oven, I do as I’ve been wanting to do for years. My hands reach for her and are grabbing her ass before she can stand back up. Mm, she feels incredible. Giving her a firm squeeze, I let out a loud moan. I’m in my own little world where everything is coming up roses—until it isn’t.

  “Brant Ashley!” she exclaims, promptly bursting my happiness bubble.

  “What are you doing? No one gave you permission to round the bases. We haven’t discussed anything beyond kissing. You can’t do things like grabbing my ass. It scares me, especially when my back is turned to you. In the future, warn me first before playing grabby hands. You know how fragile my trust in men is.”

  Well, shit.

  Fuck, shit, fucking shit. I’ve messed up big time. She’s probably going to throw me out of her house tonight, and I wouldn’t blame her one bit. I was following my instincts, forgetting about her fears entirely.

  “Cherry, I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m beyond sorry. You’re correct. You’re one hundred percent correct. I didn’t think—I reacted. I’ve wanted to fill my palms with your ass since the night we met. Watching you dance during the concert was torture for me, and keeping my hands to myself these last couple of years has been agony.”

  “I get it, I do. You’re forgiven, but for messing up, we actually are watching Netflix and eating pizza. Kissing may happen after a few episodes—maybe, if I’m feeling generous.”

  Letting out the breath I was holding in a large exhale, I nod my confirmation. Her forgiveness is more than I deserve.

  Two episodes later, I’m staring at her watching her favorite show. I’ll admit this show is decent; I’d probably give it a chance from the beginning. I wonder if she’s noticed how similar my eyes are to this Damon dude’s.

  “Cherry?”

  “Shh. Damon’s about to be left on the other side with Bonnie. I can’t talk now—don’t you see my tears?” she asks.

  Looking at her more closely, I do indeed see the tracks of tears streaming down her face. There’s only candlelight illuminating the room, besides the soft glow of the TV, so it’s hard to see her tears, but they do glisten in the faint golden radiance.

  “You’re beautiful, sweetheart,” I whisper, letting her continue watching the rest of the episode. I’ll admit it was a sad one. The lovers were left on opposite sides of some veil. One’s here, one’s in a death-like state? I don’t know. I’ll catch on eventually.

  “Okay, I’m calling for a break. I can’t take another episode like that one,” she says while turning her body around to face me. Her legs reach out toward me on the couch, her back resting against the arm.

  “Hm, what do you suggest we do?”

  “Turn and put your legs up on the couch, Ace.”

  Interesting.

  She seems to be doing what she warned me she’d do: taking the reins as far as intimacy goes. I’m game.

  Following her instructions, I turn and mimic her pose. “Okay, now what?” I ponder.

  “You’ll see.”

  The next thing I know, my lap is filled with her. She has one leg draped on one side, caught between my leg and the back of the couch. The other? It’s dangling over my other leg, pointing toward the floor, and oh…my…fuuuuuck. Her legging-covered sweet spot is pressing against my erection, right where I wanted her to be.

  She starts rocking her hips in a circular motion, and I’m about to lose my damn mind.

  “I have no complaints, none, but if you keep doing what you’re doing, I’m going to open my fly, drag your leggings down, and thrust up into you.”

  She doesn’t answer, only continues to move her hips.

  She’s driving me absolutely insane.

  Reaching for her, I grasp her chin and pull her in close for a kiss.

  Our teeth clang as I press my mouth firmly to hers. My tongue doesn’t ask for access, it demands it, and she opens her mouth on a moan. Our kiss turns rough, hot, burning. While I continue to fuck her mouth, I thrust my jean-clad boner up to meet her gyrating hips. The moan she lets out is swallowed by my mouth. We’re literally giving each other air.

  I tear my mouth from hers, breaking away for a moment.

  “Cherry?”

  “Hm?” is her reply.

  “I’m going to sink myself into you now unless you want to stop. This is your last warning.”

  “Condoms, side table, hurry.”

  Her lips seek mine again while she attempts to undo my zipper. I’m blindly reaching into said side table for a condom. If I came up empty-handed, I wouldn’t give a shit. She has my fly undone, her hand seeking out my cock while she presses my boxer briefs aside.

  Fuck.

  Add another fuck because I can’t find said condom.

  “Sweetness?”

  “Hm?”

  “I hope you’re on the pill because I’m coming up empty on the condom front. I can’t take it another second—I must be inside you, now.”

  “I have an implant, we’re golden,” she informs me.

  With those words, I shift my jeans and briefs down a tad more, roughly tear her leggings down, and thrust up into bliss.

  Holy. Shit.

  She feels like heaven. Her slick canal feels perfect, like it was made for only me.

  This is more than I imagined.

  It’s everything.


  Our moans are the lone sounds we make, our bodies finding a rhythm known only to us. Pressing a thumb to her clit, I massage it as her moans steadily get louder. I’m a handful of pumps away from blowing my load, but she has to let go before I do.

  “Let it all go, Cherry. Concentrate on your pleasure and let go.”

  My thumb presses harder, back and forth, rubbing her with more and more pressure. As she begins to crest, I can feel my orgasm in my toes. Thrusting up into her once more, I’m coming before I can give it a second thought. Her moans are as loud as my growl, letting me know she found her own bliss as I found mine.

  She lays her head upon my shoulder, and we stay entwined in silence. We’re both trying to catch our breath.

  “Mind…blowing,” she mumbles into my shoulder.

  “Ditto, babe,” I reply.

  Laughing, she lifts her head from my shoulder and looks down into my eyes, her gaze catching mine.

  “Did you say, ‘ditto’?”

  “Yep. Sure did. My brain is fried at the moment. Did you expect poetry and shit?”

  “Well, now that you mention it…”

  A laugh bursts from my chest, and I feel the rumble go through her body and exit out her back. “Next time, I’ll come better prepared.” I place a soft kiss upon her cheek and stare into her cerulean depths.

  “Huh, I’ve never noticed it before, but your eyes are a bit like Damon’s. Did you notice?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I resemble your vampire boyfriend in the eye department—steely, icy, with spots of indigo.” His may be lighter in color, but mine shine with the love I feel for her.

  “You do remind me of Damon, at least the dangerous parts of him. You’ve yet to see what he’s truly like. The Damon before Elena was a bit of an asshole, like you before me. The bad boy part of him is all you. Come to think of it, it’s why I pushed you away all the time—the danger I could feel radiating off you in waves. Now, I know why it’s there. It scares me but intrigues me at the same time.”

  Wow. I’ve never viewed my so-called job through her eyes. It is dangerous, I’ve always known that; it’s why I pushed her away. It’s why I did all the stupid dickhead things I’ve ever done, not only to her, but to Rhys, Averill, my parents, whoever. Deep down I know I’m not a monster, but lately I’ve been feeling more and more like one. It scares the fuck out of me. I don’t want to become my father. It’s my biggest fear—other than Tessa getting hurt for her association with me.