Her cunt squeezed him like a silken vise, embracing him in sweet warmth.
“Harder,” Cheyenne pleaded and Brendon slammed into her, his hips driving against her ass as he held her securely in place. She was holding herself up by her hands on the sofa cushion and he could see the impact was forcing her forward, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“I want you to scream my name when you come for me, Chey. Tell me who owns you,” he growled, the thought of owning her making his head spin.
“You do,” she told him. “Oh, God, you own me, Bren!”
The room was silent aside from their labored breaths and their combined grunts and groans as he continued to fuck her into oblivion. He wanted her pussy to clamp on his dick, and then he wanted to fill her full.
“Brendon! Oh, fuck, I’m … Oh! I’m coming!”
Her body followed through with her declaration, her muscles locking on his cock, enveloping him in her heat as she came. Not wanting to hold off any longer, Brendon followed her over.
And as he did, he was working out when and where he was going to take her next.
BY NIGHTFALL, BRENDON had effectively worn her out in the best possible way. Never had she been taken quite as completely as she had been that day. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, but the last thing she’d thought about doing was complaining.
Although now, as they sat on the back porch with Scrap sniffing around, her muscles ached and she felt boneless. After they’d made dinner and cleaned up, Brendon had taken her upstairs to the guest rooms so they could look at the furniture. She learned as soon as they were up there that the last thing he wanted to do was check out anything other than her.
Again, no complaints.
“Kaleb and Zoey wanna stop by tomorrow, see your house,” Brendon informed her as she leaned against him on the love seat they’d relocated to the back porch. She knew it couldn’t remain out there, but for now, it worked nicely to give them a place to sit. Until she had the deck redone, she wasn’t going to buy furniture, but once that was taken care of, all bets were off. She found herself looking forward to furnishing her own home with things that meant something to her. However, that was a close second to actually christening the furniture that she purchased. That was definitely more intriguing.
“Okay,” she told him. “I don’t want you to freak out, but I really need to go see Grams soon.”
Brendon didn’t respond and she felt his muscles tense beneath her head.
“I know you’d rather wait until they catch this guy, but I don’t know when that will be, so …” Cheyenne didn’t need to finish her statement, he knew what she was getting at.
There was no news on the stalker and based on what she’d gathered, the guy had fallen completely off the face of the earth. She knew she wasn’t that lucky, that he would show up at some point, whether closer to home or at her next concert, but Cheyenne held out hope that things would go down quietly if and when they located him.
“I know this is hard on you, Chey,” Brendon said softly. “But I hope you understand my priority is to protect you.”
“I know,” she replied. And she did know. Brendon had been her saving grace these last couple of weeks. She’d gotten so accustomed to having him around, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do when things went back to normal.
Part of her didn’t want things to change, never wanted Brendon to leave. She feared if he did, they’d resort back to the way things were before, arguing and being standoffish toward one another. As much as she’d come to care about him, Cheyenne had a feeling she was being selfish. She’d spent a significant amount of time thinking about going back on tour, about getting back up on that stage, and she found she truly missed it. She was ready to go back even though she still had a few months off and there was no way she’d reach out to Preston until they’d found the stalker.
Brendon’s life was rooted in Coyote Ridge and she could tell he loved it there. She did too, but her life was on the road. She wasn’t sure how Cooper and Dalton were managing to do it—starting families and putting down roots in their small town. She’d considered talking to one of them, or both, to find out how they were making it work, but she also knew their careers were significantly more advanced than hers. They were in their thirties, had been doing this for a lot longer than she had. Cheyenne wasn’t sure it was time for her to slow down, or more importantly, to settle down.
Unfortunately, she didn’t know how to share that with Brendon, didn’t want to ruin the moment they had now. Until the time came that she was going to go back out on the road, she figured it was better left unsaid.