WARNING: At points, this story contains some S&M-like dialogue. Just a heads-up.
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My back was up against the wall to the bedroom. Brandon had one arm leaning against the wall behind me, blocking me from moving. He was trying to seduce me and damn it if it wasn't working.
"I know you want to," he continued. "I can see it in your eyes. You're just battling your values with your instincts."
"My instincts tell me to stay away from dangerous men," I smirked. I love it when I get a clear opening to be a smartass.
"Ouch," he said, actually wincing. "Those aretr brutal words, Emma. I think I deserve something after that."
"How do you figure that?" I asked earnestly.
"Oh, I don't know," he said. He paused before running his strong right hand up my tank top. He ran it lightly over my stomach, then moved up to my bra. "I guess its just wishful thinking," he breathed into my ear.
I was having trouble concentrating. So I did the worst thing I could do: I gave in.
"Well, maybe we could work something out," I said, looking up and into his big brown eyes. He grinned, a smile of triumph.
"No better time than the present," he stated, grabbing my hand and pulling me into his bedroom.
He gave me a few seconds to look around at the earthy colors before he came up behind me. He put his hands on my hips, his lips on the sensitive area behind my ear.
"So what kind of deal do we have going on here, Emma?" he muttered.
"Well..." I trailed off. My arousal was making it hard to think logically.
"How about I sing a song for you? I wrote one just for you. I've been saving it for a special occasion." He smiled at the joke in his words.
He let go of me and walked over to the corner, where a guitar sat. It looked to be at least fifteen years old. He held the guitar by the neck in one hand and grabbed my hand with the other before pulling me over to sit on the bed.
"Sit," he said softly. I did as I was told.
"Did you really write a song for me or is this going to be some recycled one you wrote for another girl?" I asked, smiling to keep the energy light.
"I swear, I wrote this for you," Brandon said seriously. I nodded in approval.
He strummed the guitar a few times, then began playing a simple tune... yet it was also complicated in many other ways. He sang to me:
Is everything a baited hook? And are there locks on our doors? If you're looking for an open book look no further, I am yours.
We'll behave like animals swing from tree to tree We can do anything that turns you up and sets you free.
You're an exception to the rule You're an unthought rarity. You're all I ever wanted Southern girl, could you want me?
"That was just the beginning," he told me, sounding a little self-conscious. He sounded like he was regretting telling me that he'd written a song for me.
"That..." I started, then realized I was at a loss for words. "That was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard and the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."
Brandon smiled wide, his anxiety all gone.
"Now, what were we saying about a deal?" he asked smoothly.
"I think we could work something out," I replied.
Brandon set the old guitar on the antique chair in the corner. He made his way over to me, pulling me up off the bed when he reached me.
He placed his hands on my hips again and began to play with the hem of my shirt. He pulled it over my head, leaving my large, natural boobs in a tight-fitting push-up bra, which made them look a whole cup size bigger. He unhooked my bra and pulled it off gently.
"You have possibly the best rack of any girl I've ever been with," he admitted with a slight sigh. The look on his face as he looked at my body bordered on admiration.
I tried to say something in reply, but in my arousal I was all but frozen. I felt myself thaw when he reached a hand down into my jeans, inside my panties and then, when he felt I was ready, inside me.
"Oh God," I whispered. "You're so warm, Emma." He paused. "Shit, I'm so hard right now."
I looked down and was surprised to see that at some point Brandon had taken off some of his clothes. I couldn't even remember when that had happened, I was in such a lust-fueled haze. He was left in just his boxers; his muscular yet lean body was begging to be touched.
I looked up and into his eyes. He looked back expectantly. I took the bait and reached down to his boxers. I put my fingers around the waistband before pulling them down.
You could've knocked me over with a feather. His cock was amazing. Nine inches long and very thick, I instantly felt the need to voice a concern that occurred to me.
