Breaking Brent Part 4

At that moment, Peyton realized that one of the s.e.xiest sounds in the world was his moan. It was deep and low, making his chest vibrate. s.e.xy was not the word for it, but it was close, and the only one that would come to her swimming mind.

She covered his c.o.c.k with her hand again and moved and worked the flesh back and forth. Curling her fingers in an attempt to close around him reminded Peyton of something he had said the last time they were together. Harder. Smiling slightly at his earlier request, she gripped him tighter and pumped her hand up and down. Brent placed his hands on either side of her head and let his weight rest against her body. The moans coming from his chest made her body purr.

Flattening one hand on the door, he pushed his weight back from her. With the other he placed a foil packet in her free hand.

28.

"Put it on."

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, released his flesh from her hold and tore a side from the packet. While her hands were busy, his took their place. Peyton watched transfixed as Brent wrapped his large hand around his d.i.c.k and stroked. Slowly and smoothly at first and then with more urgent and frantic movements. The sight of his d.i.c.k in his own hand stopped her motions for a minute.

"Peyton. Put. It. On."

She let her eyes roam the length of his body until she met his gaze. She couldn't ignore the need and frenzy behind it. With more clumsy than cultured fingers, she placed the condom at the tip of his c.o.c.k and then rolled it into place. She wanted the action to be s.e.xy and sensual-she must have succeeded.

With one impatient thrust, Brent impaled her. The scream that tore from her throat couldn't be helped.

They fit so well. The cream dripping from her slick lips bathed and washed over his c.o.c.k. The slickness of her juice allowed him to pump and thrust at his leisure, sometimes shallow and soft, others hard and deep.

Throwing her head back against the door, she let it move back and forth with Brent's strokes.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and took Brent's mouth just as he was taking her body. Her mouth and tongue copied every thrust and plunge.

"I want you. I want you." The words broke from her mouth each time he descended and retreated from her body.

"Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me." When she did, he seized her mouth and took the kiss.

He pulled away and locked his gaze on their grinding bodies. The sight of his cream-covered c.o.c.k straining and throbbing between her wide-spread thighs brought Peyton's o.r.g.a.s.m crashing down. The release came in waves. Her body gripped his, milked it and sucked it deeper into her. There was no beginning to it nor was there an end.

On the final waves of her ecstasy Brent's body moved faster and his thrusts became deeper and more shattering.

She tried to control her breathing and restore her erratic heartbeat-it took longer than she expected.

Brent's head rested in the curve of her neck and shoulder. She allowed herself a few more minutes of pleasure with him. She rubbed her cheek against the silky texture of his hair. He felt...he felt right. With lazy and hypnotic movements, he stroked her hip with a fingertip, causing her desire to mount again. But he pulled away.

Brent let her legs return to the ground and he righted the skirt held prisoner at her hips. She watched him for a minute, not knowing whether to stay or go. She finally went. Stepping around him, she took her place behind the desk and hid her shaking legs beneath it.

That was when she woke up. The dream stopped before the fall started. That night had been their last night together. The worst fight she had ever had with a person followed their last time together as a couple or as whatever they had been to each other.

29.

Peyton could remember each and every detail of the actions that followed her beautiful dream. Their words to each other had been hateful and hurtful. They had been their undoing.

"I have other things goin' on in my life, Peyton." The words and his tone echoed in her still sleep-weary head.

"If you want to play house so bad, find someone who wants to play house with you."

Play house? She still didn't know exactly what that had meant.

"s.e.x is great. It's better than great, but I'm not ready to give you what you're wantin'. If it's a ring you're looking for, you're looking in the wrong place."

She hadn't been looking for a ring. She had been looking for an explanation for his sudden absence in her life. Life with him without a ring on her finger was a life better than the one she had without him.

"It's like this. I want you. I want you in bed or wherever for that matter, but anything more is out of the question. Marriage ruins everything. Diamonds equal disaster and I don't plan on ending up like my fool of a brother. Not now. Not ever."

He didn't want to end up like Chase. He didn't want a woman to be his fall. He didn't want her-pure and simple.

Those words had stung. Her pride and feelings had been bruised and battered, and worse, her heart had been broken. Carter had helped putting the pieces of that broken heart back together.

Carter. After weeks of working herself to death, he had asked her to dinner-nothing more. A week later he had asked her to dinner and to come watch him ride in some little town she had never heard of.

He had made her laugh.

He had listened to her cry over Brent.

He had cared-when Brent hadn't.

Looking back, she'd never intended for her and him to be any more than that. Their dating had been casual to say the least. But when he had asked her to marry him, she'd done what she thought she was supposed to do-she'd accepted.

She'd been a fool to think that a ring could ever fill the void someone else had left behind when they walked away.

She rolled to her side and took one of her pillows with her. For longer than she would like to admit that pillow had been the only thing she'd had to wrap her arms around. That thought coupled with the dream and what had happened after caused pain to well inside of her. It wasn't the first time in her life that she had fallen asleep with tears over him in her eyes and she knew it wouldn't be the last either.

30.

Chapter Four.

Sat.u.r.day dawned bright and sunny with a touch of a breeze coming in from the west. It was the perfect day for a wedding. Brent groaned at the thought. Opening one eye slowly and the other one even slower, he came awake in stages. The light breaking through the large bay window in the dining room of the North Cabin made him curse beneath his breath and then out loud.

Rolling to his side, he dropped to his knees beside the sofa he'd called a bed for the evening and steadied himself before rising. The minute he stood at his full height, he regretted being so tall. d.a.m.n, his head hurt. His entire body hurt. Parts of his body he didn't know he had hurt.

He stretched his arms above his head and tried to conjure blood to run to his muscles. After doing so, he wished he could take it back. He cracked his eyes open once more and saw that his brothers were not in much better shape.

Jace lay sprawled face down across the other sofa in the living room. Nick was propped awkwardly in a chair with his mouth wide open and snoring loud enough to bring the roof down. The way his neck was contorted made Brent's own hurt even worse.

Brent scanned the room quickly, looking to see where Hayden had ended up for the night. There was no sign of him. Maybe he had been the lucky one and made it up the stairs to one of the beds. He was a lucky little b.a.s.t.a.r.d if he had.

On steadier feet than he deserved, Brent made his way to the kitchen in search of coffee-hot, strong and black-as-night coffee. It had to help. Lord knew it couldn't hurt. When he stepped across the threshold of the country-style kitchen he wasn't surprised to see a visitor sitting at the table calmly eating a bowl of cereal and reading the newspaper.

"Boy, you look like s.h.i.t." She smiled and offered him the box of cereal that sat at her arm.

"Morning, Jocelyn. Nice to see you too." He took the box she offered, opened it and grabbed a handful of cereal before returning it to the tabletop. Brent turned his back on his stepsister to make a quick pot of coffee and noticed that a full pot had already brewed. "You made the coffee?"

"Nope. That was all Willa. She said she figured you guys would need it. Oh, and by the way, she also wanted me to tell you, Hayden is curled up on the front porch sleeping with the dog if you get to looking for him." So the little b.a.s.t.a.r.d wasn't as lucky as Brent thought.

"How'd he get out there?" Bringing the rim of the cup to his lips, he breathed in the heady aroma that would hopefully ease the alcohol-induced headache he was developing.

"I don't think he ever made it in. Y'all must have had one wild night. Want to tell me some of the more graphic details?"

"Not in this lifetime." He smiled at her pouting face as he took a seat beside her at the table. "What's with the curlers?" When he mentioned the bright pink spools that littered her auburn hair Jocelyn's hands flew to them.

"I forgot all about them. s.h.i.t," she hissed and began untangling her tresses from the binds. "I tried to tell your mama that it was a wasted effort to even try to curl this mess. It's straight as a board and that ain't gonna change. She made me sleep in them all night."

One by one the pink sponges were pulled from her scalp and flung across the kitchen toward the trash can. She missed more than she made, but Brent realized Jocelyn honestly didn't give a s.h.i.t if she made the shot or not. True to her word, when all of the curlers were removed her auburn hair was as straight as it ever was.

"See, told you."

He couldn't help laughing at the face she made. Jocelyn, for all her h.e.l.l-raising ways, was a good kid.

A kid who was rapidly becoming a women. Or already was one. Brent guessed her father realized that fact himself and that was the main cause of the crackdown that had been happening lately.

"So you still grounded?" Grounded wasn't the word for Jocelyn's predicament. House arrest was more like it. Taking a sip of coffee warmed his insides and the caffeine helped keep the beating in his head at bay.

"I'm not grounded. I'm just doing and going where Daddy says I can without causing you guys and him any more trouble. It's not fair. I mean, I'm twenty-two years old and he is h.e.l.l bent on still treating me like a child. Do I look like a child to you?" Jocelyn spread her arms out to the sides, making Brent understand why his stepfather had put his foot down. Jocelyn was gorgeous. She was a long-legged, willowy carbon copy of her father. She had the same auburn hair and green eyes, minus the beard Harrison sported and plus a set of b.r.e.a.s.t.s. A father's walking nightmare was what she was. A daughter that every male for miles drooled over and wanted to drool on.

"No, you don't look like a kid. You're not a kid, but you are your daddy's little girl. That may have a lot to do with his decisions. That and the fact that you tend to wreak havoc wherever you go."

"If you're referring to that incident at Peyton's a little while back, that was not my fault. Those good ole boys should have minded their own business. And Jason should have just stayed out of it. I had it under control." Huffing and running her fingers through her hair did not help calm her temper. Brent could tell.

He could see her fire boiling under the surface. Jason didn't help ease her temper either, by any means.

Brent thought at times he actually helped it along.

32.

"What did you have under control?" On cue Jason, strolled through the kitchen door, scratching his bare chest and yawning along the way. Brent watched Jocelyn slant her eyes in his direction and return to her cereal, which was surely a soggy mess by now.

"You still pleading innocent? Or have you just decided to plead the fifth and not incriminate yourself."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Brent watched the show unfolding before his eyes and thought a time or two about stepping in and stopping the argument that was sure to follow, then decided against it. It was too early for that.

"The h.e.l.l you don't."

"It. Was. Not. My. Fault," Jocelyn growled in Jason's general direction.

"The h.e.l.l it wasn't. You can't go out dressed like you do and dancing like you do and not expect a man to look in your direction. And you sure as h.e.l.l can't expect to ignore that man once you've got the attention you wanted. And you did want it. They have a name for girls like that, Joss." Jason took a sip of the coffee he'd poured and winced as it burned his tongue on contact.

"And just what would that be?"

Brent cleared his throat, hoping that Jason would take the hint and leave it be. But in his brother's usual form, he didn't let it go. Instead, he sat directly across from Jocelyn at the table and stared her down.

"Well, since you asked I'll tell you, but I'll clean it up a bit for your young ears. Most girls who act like that are called a tease, pure and simple. You figure out the word that goes in front of that, little girl, and you'll know exactly what you were acting like." Brent inwardly winced and then covered his eyes, peeking like a kid between his fingers, and waited. He heard the chair Jocelyn was sitting in sc.r.a.pe the tiled floor and then heard it smack against it as it turned over.

"I am not a c.o.c.k tease! You take that back."

"Not goin' to happen, doll. You act like one, you should be ready to be called one." Brent saw Jason take another sip of his coffee before placing it back on the tabletop, scratch his chest once more, lean his chair back so it balanced on two legs and then smile Jocelyn's way.

Silence filled the room.

The only noise Brent could hear were the long, deep breaths Jocelyn brought in and out of her body.

The seconds ticked by and Brent waited for the ticking time bomb to explode.

Brent watched as she rolled her shoulders, took a deep breath and smiled sweetly in Jason's direction.

She bent at the waist, returned her chair to its original position, grabbed her bowl and spoon and walked with the dirty dishes to the sink located directly behind Jason's chair.

She brushed invisible crumbs off her hands as she moved slowly and with purpose toward Jason. She placed her hands on the back of the reclined seat and leaned in close to his ear and then retaliated, loud enough for Brent to hear as well as Jason.

33.