MADMAN'S DEMISE

18

Brandon released his lips off my ear, and finally faced me again, this time allowing our mouths to strike into a desperate kiss. His tongue instantly slid over my burning lips, demanding entrance. I allowed the admission, let his tongue persuade mine into seductive dance. It was perfect, rhythmic, sensual, but one part of me felt disturbed by the aggravating curiosity that was slowly devouring me from the inside. So I interrupted the kiss, forced myself to part from Brandon's magnetic lips, grabbed his neck, and instead captured his gaze with my forehead leaning against his.

"We need to talk, Brandon." I whispered in between my heaving breaths. Brandon kissed me eagerly again, and I could not do else but respond. But then he breathed against my lips, yielding his will to talk to me.

"About what?" He moved from my lips to my ear again, playfully nibbling the lobe while waiting for my response.

"About Tandy."

He bit the skin of my ear, making my back arch and mouth open in sudden painful pleasure.

"What do you want to know?" He murmured.

I hesitated, not really knowing what to say or how to express the questions that burned inside me. I didn't want to seem jealous although I undoubtedly was. After all, she was Brandon's prior treating nurse claiming to have fallen in love with him just like myself. But truly what I needed to know was if the feelings were mutual, if Brandon shared something with Tandy the way he did with me. I was aware he never loved a woman before, but nonetheless, there could still be affectionate emotions involved before falling for someone.

Painfully pulling the plaster, I finally spread my lips to give Brandon an answer.

"Why did you never tell me about her?" I inquired in caution.

"Did you have a relationship?" Too ardent to wait for his response, I asked the next, maybe most important question. Brandon now grabbed my waist again, held me steadily to assure me I was the one standing here with him, and not Tandy Bellamy. He kissed my cheek before starting to speak against my skin.

"She never meant anything to me, that's why there was no reason to tell you. I nearly even forgot she existed, Beverly," He explained, his lips darting my skin between his words.

"But I did kiss her once. She was acting crazy and I needed to do something." He squeezed my waist, diminishing the discomfort of knowing he kissed her, and instead once more ensured me I was the one belonging to him.

"Like you did to me all those times I was nearly losing my mind of fright?" Now I grinned as I spoke, turning the conversation into an amusing matter. Brandon looked into my eyes, his hands roughly gripping my skin and his lips now slightly grazing mine. This was the most intriguing part, not knowing at all what to expect from him next.

"No, Beverly," He whiffed. His eyes gleaming in playfulness. His grinning lips twitching in amusement.

"Not like that."

"So you didn't..." I looked up at him. Big, innocent eyes of curiousness.

"Fuck her?" He added, the grin still pulling the corners of his mouth. I had to bite my lip in embarrassment. I loved him being so vulgar, but I couldn't yet confess it loudly. Still looking into his umber irises, I nodded to affirm he was right.

"It's not a habit of mine to fuck my nurses," He spoke again, blatant words leaving his plump, sinful lips. His rough language drove me mad. There was something so appealing hearing him spell that dirty, crude word.

"Oh well... there's one exception... and she... is standing right in front of me... in this very moment." Brandon kissed me, moved his hands from my waist down to my backside.

"She's a habit of yours?" I asked, carefully grabbing his bottom lip between my teeth. Brandon smirked, pleased about my play-along.

"My very favorite."

Suddenly Brandon sat down on the chair, his hands still placed on my behind, now pulling me closer to him. I followed his movement, carefully parted my legs, and straddled him sensually. Our lips instantly crashed, now acknowledging the acute hunger inside the both of us. We yearned after each other's flesh, to taste and scent and feel every succulent part of one another.

Brandon needed therapeutic relaxation, and I knew how to grant him that in the best possible way. I started to roll my hips against him, grinding on his lap to feel the growth underneath the fabric of his slacks. The hardness pressed against my groin, bringing me to sensational pleasure. I needed him thoroughly. I needed him to identify all the physical signs of my body. I wanted him to watch my skin bump in shivers. I wanted him to inspect my breasts hardening by his touch. I wanted him to observe the heavy rising and falling of my chest as my lungs laboured in arousal. I wanted him to enter the humid inside, grind himself against the wet walls of my core and acknowledge that every drip was his effectuation.

Finally, he pulled himself out of his trousers, allowed me a beat to witness his excitement before he reached for me under the skirt of my black dress. I whined as he entered, my gut aching from the deep, pleasuring strike. He did the same. Captivating, coarse groans escaping his humid lips.

As I moved my hips in rolling motions against him, his hands moved along, steady fingers digging into my naked skin underneath the dress. The moment was intriguing. The prohibition bringing us both to excitement. It was wonderful, feeling him so close even in a house where sinful actions, such as our own, were put to justice.