Page 50 of Finding Silence
“Don’t tell me that. It’s bad enough I had to hear from Auden Maynard you two were getting it on in the parking lot by Bear Lake.”
Groaning, I drop my head down on the edge of the mattress, while Phil softly chuckles.
I knew that was going to come back to haunt me.
Chapter 17
Phil
* * *
“Let me do the work.”
He stretches my arms over my head and, with one hand circling my wrists, holds them in place. With his other hand he hooks me behind the knee, spreading me wide open. Then he begins to move again, more slowly than the pace I was trying to force in my rush toward the orgasm he’s been keeping me from.
This is a game he plays; working me into a blind frenzy to where I can barely take another breath, before slowing down the pace and leaving me aching. He plays it so well, I’m almost ready to throttle him, even though I already know the end result will have me seeing stars.
His heavy breath is in my hair, his strong body curved over me, and his thick cock filling me with every careful stroke.
“Please, Brant, harder. I’m so close.”
“I know,” he whispers, not moving any faster.
In my frustration, I sink my teeth into the tendon at the base of his neck. He groans deeply, the sound vibrating through my body, and then his control finally snaps. His hips piston as he powers inside me, grunting with the effort, and I find myself rushing to the apex.
When my body finally flies apart, every synapse in my body firing off signals like Fourth of July fireworks, my heart stops, and I momentarily forget how to breathe. All I can do is cling on for dear life, riding out the force that is Brant, until he too flies off the edge, before collapsing on top of me. When he lets go of my wrists, I fold my arms around him, holding him right where he is.
My mind drifts as we each try to catch our breath.
It’s been over a month since I was attacked in my own home, and this is the first time I’ve spent the night back in my room. I’ve been staying at Brant’s place, and he would’ve happily kept me there, but I’m not ready to give up the house I fell in love with to bad memories.
I’m determined to reclaim this place as my own.
I’m glad Brant stayed over, but I would’ve spent some time here either way. It’s not that I don’t want him in my space—he’s more than welcome here—but I want a home that feels like my own. Brant’s house is great, but there’s a lot of history there I’m not a part of. Here I feel confident of my place in the world.
Even if it means going back and forth between houses for now, I don’t mind. Why not? If that’s what works for us.
The bed is new, obviously, as is the window, and Brant went ahead and repainted the room in a soft sage I really love. The music room upstairs has been given a facelift as well, with a nice, new cork floor that is supposed to absorb sound, and freshly painted walls as well. I already bought a new keyboard, and plan to replace some of the other instruments that were lost.
Last night, before we went to bed, Brant took me up there to show me what he and Buck had been working on in his barn a few nights this past week. My two Grammys were on full display on a floating shelf he installed on my wall. The awards had been painstakingly soldered back together and seeing them restored brought tears to my eyes. The gold and platinum records they had pieced together as best they could, and those were attached to a live-edge plank of wood, which was hung underneath the floating shelf.
It makes for a great focal wall I can start rebuilding my music room around.
Brant knows nothing of music, other than what he enjoys listening to, but he’s showing me he understands its importance in my life, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that.
For him.
He grunts against my shoulder and presses a kiss to my skin.
“Shower?” he asks, as he untangles himself from me.
I’m sticky and sweaty, so my answer is immediate. “Definitely.”
Half an hour later, we are sitting out on the deck, stretched out on my awesome lounge chairs, having a coffee and a bagel, when the doorbell rings at the front of the house. Before I can even put my coffee down, Brant is already on his feet.
“I’ve got it.”
My eyes follow him, but with the sun reflecting off the glass door, I can’t track him inside. So I turn back to face the creek, rest my back against the chair, and enjoy the view until I hear the door open.
