I’m about finished.” Mike’s hold on Jessie’s head tightened as he rammed his c**k into her mouth.
“Almost there. That’s good, baby. Get ready to swallow.”
Jessie vehemently shook her head no.
Mike’s braying donkey laughter grated. “No swallowing on the first date, huh? I’ll come on your tits.
But you hafta do the work.”
She pushed back, dislodging his c**k from her mouth with a soft pop. Her arm moved up and started moving fast as she jacked him off.
Mike shut his eyes, not watching as Jessie finished him.
Brandt should’ve been turned off. He should’ve walked off.
So why was he having the exact opposite reaction? Why had his dick leapt to attention as if it were next in line?
“That was fantastic.” Mike pulled up his trunks as Jessie got to her feet.
“Can I get a drink?” Jessie asked, wiping off her chest with a beach towel.
“I’ve got something right here.” Mike handed her a nearly empty bottle of Southern Comfort.
Jessie grabbed it, chugging until Mike snatched it out of her hand, warning, “Hey, leave some for me.”
“I thought you wanted me drunk so we could get our freak on.”
Another donkey like laugh erupted. “You need to be drunk to do that?”
“Probably.”
He swatted her ass. “Hop up on the bed. I’ll be right back.”
Jessie face-planted in the center of the mattress.
Before Brandt moved, Mike blocked him and whispered, “Don’t do nothin’ to her until I get back.”
“Where are you goin’?”
“Ah. I left a joint in my truck. I’d offer to share, but there’s really only like half left, so…”
Man, Jessie really knew how to pick ’em. This f**ker had no problem sharing her with another guy or two, but he had an issue sharing his pot?
Unbelievable.
Mike pointed at Brandt’s swimming trunks. “Might as well strip them off so we can get right to it when I get back.”
Brandt shook his head. “I’ll be leavin’ them on.”
A slimy smile distorted Mike’s face. “You sly motherfucker. You like to watch, eh?”
I’d like to watch my fist connect with your face. But Brandt merely shrugged.
“Suit yourself.” The camper door slammed behind Mike.
Brandt paused by Jessie’s side, unsure what to do. He swept her silky hair from her face, which caused her to emit a disgruntled sound and turn her head away from him.
Awesome.
Brandt sat on the edge of the bed. “Jessie?”
Her body went rigid, but she didn’t move.
He tried again. “Jessie? It’s me.”
“Luke?”
Holy hell that hurt. Like a hoof to the solar plexus that knocked the breath from his lungs kind of pain.
“No, it’s not—”
“Go away, Luke, you’re not real.”
Was she slurring her words? “Are you drunk?”
“Sorta, but I won’t let you make me feel guilty after all the times you were drunk. After all you did to me, you bastard.”
Her voice cracked, creating another chink in Brandt’s armor.
A beat of silence passed. And another. Finally Brandt spoke. “Jessie. Listen—”
“No. I’m done listening to my dead husband’s phantom voice. So go away, get outta my head.”
“Goddammit, Jessie, look at me.”
Miracle of miracles, she rolled over, angrily pushed her tangled hair from her face and squinted at him.
Brandt didn’t let his gaze fall below her chin.
Jessie had that glassy-eyed look from too much alcohol, and her reaction time was slower, but she didn’t react like he’d expected. No embarrassment. No trying to cover her naked body. Hell, she didn’t even shriek with surprise. She just stared at him.
He stared back.
“I forgot how much you and Luke sound alike.”
“I wasn’t tryin’ to pretend to be him,” Brandt said softly.
That comment brought her sad smile. “I know. There’s no comparison.”
There was that kicked-in-the-heart sensation again.
“Why did you stick around? I wasn’t very nice to you.”
His thoughts skipped back to Jessie’s bored appraisal of him and her insulting parting shot. “I intended to take off. B-but…” Goddammit. Why was he such a stammering freakin’ idiot around her?
“But you didn’t because you were worried about me.” She held his gaze. “Why? Luke would have left me.”
“I’m not Luke.” Like he needed to remind her of that fact, after she’d already done such a bang up job of reminding him.
“I know that too, Brandt.”
Do you? Do you really?
She frowned, almost as if she’d heard his internal thoughts.
“Come on. Get dressed and I’ll take you home.”
Jessie shook her head. “I’m staying here with Mike.”
“Why in the hell would you do that?” he demanded.
“Because he treats me like I’m sexy.”
“Christ, Jessie. He almost treated you to a gang bang.”
“Maybe that’s what I want.”
“Huh-uh. I know you and that’s not you talkin’.” Brandt pointed to the bottle of Southern Comfort.
“That’s the booze talkin’.”
The camper door slammed.
She tossed her head. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do, McKay.”
The emphasis on McKay, as if it were some sort of disease, had Brandt seeing red.
The instant Mike swayed into the doorway, Jessie scooted to the end of the bed, cooing, “What took you so long?”
“Why? Didja miss me?”
“Yep. Let’s get this party started.”
Enough. Brandt pushed to his feet. “I’m outta here.”
Mike shot Brandt a stoned look. “I thought you were gonna watch us f**k? You know. Like live p**n .”
When phrased that way? Jesus. It made him sound like a loser who couldn’t score his own woman. He looked at Jessie—just as she started to slide off the bed.
Brandt dove for her, snaking his arm around her waist, bringing her naked back against his chest as he anchored himself.
“Dude.” Mike blinked at him. “Talk about Superman reflexes.”
“That’s Brandt. A superhero in the flesh. A boy scout. A real trooper. The ultimate gentleman cowboy, always willing to lend a hand.”