Sydney's Dogs Ch. 06

"I don't want anyone but you," he replied simply. She wanted to believe it was just his training that made him say that, but she could see the conviction in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders. Brenna had been right; he would willingly dive in front of a bullet for her. He was smitten.

Sydney threw her arms around him and buried her face between his throat and his collar bone. "Do you know how many women would kill to have a guy like you?"

"Then why don't you want me?" he wanted to know, as his own arms wrapped around her small waist and held her close.

"I DO want you—I want you too much and I shouldn't be allowed to have you," she tried to explain. His warm hands were stroking her back, leaving a burning wake on her cool skin.

"Don't deny yourself," he insisted, lowering his head to kiss her shoulder. "I live for your pleasure."

"You should live for yourself," she protested, kissing him back on the cheek, neck, anything she could reach. "You should be an individual." Her hormones had broken through the barrios she'd held up against them all day, and now were raging beyond all control. Talon knew where to touch her to make her crazy, where to plant kisses designed to drive her insane. He was feeding on her now, kissing and sucking her shoulder and throat, and she had no chance of backing off.

"I am nothing without you," he repeated, his voice muffled against her neck as he kissed his way to her earlobe.

She didn't try correcting him. Instead she wrapped one leg around his hips as she tried to pull herself closer. Her whole body was suddenly aching with need. A part of her mind knew it shouldn't be since they had had sex the previous night, but for some reason she couldn't get enough of the feel of his muscles or the taste of his skin.

His hands cupped her butt cheeks and held her against his erection. She shivered with the pleasure of knowing how much he wanted her. A man can't fake it, she told herself. They can be easy to please, but they can't fake it when they don't want it.

With that thought to comfort her, she leaned harder into him, sucking and biting his neck, knowing she would leave a hickey. She didn't care. His grunting and moaning encouraged her like nothing else. She wanted him to want her. She wanted to drive him as crazy as he drove her. She wanted to repay him in all the worst ways for all the trouble she'd been through since Brenna had started meddling in her affairs.

Talon's hands, still on her butt, lifted her off of the pool floor and she willingly wrapped both legs around his hips, hooking her ankles together behind him. His fingers squeezed and massaged, sending shivers of pleasure all the way up her body. One of Sydney's hands was buried in his long silky hair, holding his head in place while she crafted the hickey. The other hand absently fingered his throat, tracing his jugular, trachea, and Adam's apple with her fingernails.

"We need a flat surface," she whispered against his neck. He nodded slightly and waded back to the steps of the pool. She could feel his whole body tremble with the strain of holding her up while being so stimulated by her mouth and hands, by knowing how close he was to plunging deep into the sanctuary of her body only to be thwarted by some cheap souvenir clothing.

He made it to the sturdy sunbathing chair, crafted from rich wood with lush green pillows for padding. He gently laid her down before he half fell on top of her. He kissed her chest along the edges of her bikini. Then he grazed his teeth over her hard nipples through the cloth as his hands stroked her waist and hips. Sydney rained kisses on his head as both hands circled and caressed his neck. She was tempted to strangle him, but he might like that. As it was, his erection was liable to rip through his board shorts. She pressed her hips close to him, encouraging him with a gentle squeeze on the back of his neck.

He took her meaning; one hand shoved down his shorts and released his throbbing member. Then, he cupped her mound, rubbing her gently through the crotch of the bikini. She was so wet, and not only with pool water. He could smell her sweet juices calling to him. Because trying to remove her bikini bottom would require her to unwrap her legs from his waist, he simply pulled aside the fabric of her swimsuit and drove himself deep inside her.

Sydney gasped at his invasion, but welcomed it. She felt stretched and filled and somehow complete. Her heart raced and adrenalin flooded her system. He pulled back and surged forward again. His set a frantic pace, as if he was afraid to stop. Their breathing synchronized. She gasped and panted. He grunted. She pushed into him while he plunged into her. No words, no direction or explanation. They were just two people trying to get as close as possible.

She felt the orgasm approaching like a freight train. It rumbled through her entire body and she had to bite his shoulder to keep from screaming. As her teeth sank into his shoulder, he gave a hoarse shout and drove every last inch of his length deep inside her, where he finally came, filling her with even more heat. She shuddered helplessly against him as she luxuriated in his unquenchable desire for her and the pleasure he was able to give her.

Suddenly his body went ridged almost protectively over her, and she glanced up at his face. He wasn't looking at her but glaring towards the house.

"Brandt! Get back inside," came Zaide's authoritative voice from somewhere beyond the French doors.

A boulder of dread materialized in Sydney's stomach to drag it down as she looked to where Talon was glaring and saw Brandt running towards the house.

"Oh no," she sighed. Guilt and humiliation rolled more rocks on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

Brandt sprinted away from the sight of Talon buried deep in Miss Sydney. He was embarrassed for "walking in" on them—it violated Miss Sydney's privacy—but he also felt sick as memories from his training flooded back. Images, sounds, sensations, all rose to torment him. He stumbled into his room and shut the door. He leaned against it as if he could hold the flashbacks at bay, but they overtook him and he crumpled to the floor, sobbing.

The memories were bad enough, but with them came the new fear that Miss Sydney would see his delinquency for what it was. He knew didn't deserve to be her property—not even as much as a footstool. It shouldn't hurt this much to see Miss Sydney and Talon being intimate. He knew she would be doing that with Talon and Zaide. She had even asked for his permission to do it and he had said it would be ok. Zaide had known what was going on—the fact that he had called Brandt back when he had frozen under Talon's glare was proof enough of that. But Zaide wasn't embarrassed about it. He was probably joining them right now, in the one event Brandt had no hope of competing in.

Would she hate him now, for interrupting her? He had seen her climax, watched the expressions of pure bliss fill up her face until she shone as bright as a star. He had even noticed Talon's ecstasy as he had exploded inside her. Together, they had been the perfect image of carnal pleasure and satisfaction. It had been as fascinating as it was mortifying. But somehow, with the growing affection for the woman who had saved his life over and over again, the thought that he would always be deficient made him sick to his stomach.

Talon and Zaide were right about him—he was broken. The PPA had known it, Zaide and Talon knew it: he was broken beyond repair. But Miss Sydney was his last hope—without her, he would be dead or worse. And now that he'd experienced kindness and compassion, he didn't want to die. What if Miss Sydney gave up on him? Well, that would truly be the end of his life.

But he had to prove himself worthy. He had to do something—SOMETHING! He had to make up for the broken part of him somehow. He just didn't know how. Talon and Zaide took care of her needs better than he ever could. With them in her life, he was redundant at best, a burden at worst. He wracked his brains trying to think of something, some way he could be better, to make up for this horrible mistake.

His miserable musings were interrupted by a knock at the door. He held his breath, waiting for the intruder to identify themselves.

"Brandt?" It was Miss Sydney. "Are you ok, hun?"

"I'm fine!" he called, his voice high pitched in an effort to keep it from cracking.

"Do you want to talk?" she pushed.

"Nothing to talk about," he squeaked.

"Brandt, please open the door," she half-asked, half-ordered.

For a split second he considered telling her no. He almost did. But maybe it was the training or his own heart, but he didn't want to deny her anything. So he stood up, scrubbed the tears off his face, and opened the door.

Sydney was still in her bikini, but wrapped in a towel as a token of modesty.

"Are you really alright?" she asked, noticing his red face and puffy eyes.

He nodded. He could tell she was worried about him, as if she really cared about him. It put a lump in his throat and he wasn't able to reply.

"I'm really sorry we weren't more discrete," she said, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.

"Don't apologize," Brandt protested hastily. "I invaded your privacy. I was going to take a swim, but I didn't realize the pool was occupied. I should have left sooner."

"Still. I kinda feel like it's leaving a bear trap out in the open. I mean, you can't not walk into it. Or something like that. I'm probably going off on a tangent, but I wanted to make sure you were ok," she said.

"I am," he assured her for the third time.

"You were crying," she pointed out gently.

He took a deep breath and looked away. "I'm broken," he said as stoically as possible. "So things leak out."

"You're not broken," she replied. "Not to me. I like you just the way you are. And I'm glad you're here. Truly."

"I'm not much use," he mumbled.

"If that's what you think, then I'll give you something to do," she offered. "For starters, you can pick out what we're ordering for dinner."

He smiled sheepishly. She wasn't going to listen to that sort of self-depreciation talk from him—he should have known better. She wouldn't indulge him in self-pity when she could include him in her life. He was falling for her and he didn't care who knew it.

"How about Chinese?" he suggested.

"Classic and tasty. I like it. Use the phone in the living room and order whatever you like—I only ask that you don't get shrimp or pork on everything," she replied with an encouraging grin. "I'm going to slip back in the pool. This time you're welcome to join me."

Brandt's smile widened and he nodded. "Thank you, Miss Sydney. For everything."

She left and he leaned against the doorway to catch his breath. He didn't know exactly what had just happened, but suddenly it didn't hurt so much in his heart.

Sydney was relieved Brandt hadn't been emotionally scarred. She was still a bit embarrassed, and couldn't really look at Talon, who had decided to rest on one of the reclining chairs by the pool—the exact reclining chair they had just made love on, actually. So instead of going directly to the pool, she made a sideline into the kitchen, where Zaide was taking inventory of the cooking utensils.

"Brandt's going to order Chinese for us," she told him. "So you don't need to worry about dinner."

"Do I need to worry about you?" he asked, his voice deep and husky.

Sydney closed her eyes and tried to remind herself that she had to resist him, but she couldn't think of the single reason to support that goal. "I'm sorry if I was unduly snappy or harsh or neglectful today," she apologized stiffly.

"As long as you are happy now, I am content," he replied smoothly.

She opened her eyes and glared. "Why are you so accommodating? You just go all 'Prince-Charming' on me and I just want to drag you into the bedroom because I don't know anything else to do with you."

Zaide took a step closer so that he could tower over her and look down into her rich hazel eyes. "You don't have to drag me anywhere," he reminded her with a suggestive arch of his eyebrow. "I'm quite happy to pleasure you here."

"After Brandt just walked in on me and Talon? No way!" she hissed, shoving his chest. He didn't move.

"I can close up all the shutters and there's a sliding door that will make the kitchen a private space," he informed her. "No one will interrupt us."

"And you just take it for granted that we're going to jump each other, right here, right now?" she demanded sarcastically.

"I take nothing for granted—least of all you. I am merely stating the possibilities," he explained, although his voice gave her an idea of the possibilities he was considering.

She sighed and turned away from him to look out the small window behind the sink. Her resolve had broken down with Talon, but did that mean she should give into Zaide too? He obviously wanted her—she could see that through his jeans easy enough. Would it be rude to claim she was tired? Would it be worse only to have sex with one and not the other? Would she be betraying her intentions to prove the non-marriage circumstances of their relationship if she consummated it once more? She didn't want to be married—not because she didn't like the idea—marriage to a loving and caring husband seemed like the ideal relationship—but she wasn't sure she wanted it with them and she was pretty sure that she couldn't be married to two men at once.

Zaide sensed her inner turmoil and came up behind her to encircle his arms around her middle. Suddenly, Sydney felt safe. It was silly, she told herself, because...well, because she owned him! She should be the one making him safe! But his strong arms radiated stability and security. She relaxed into his embrace. Where she would dominate Talon, Zaide encapsulated her. He was a pillar.

"Zaide, do you think I'm odd?" she asked, even as she leaned into his broad chest.

"Only in the most wonderful ways," he crooned into her ear.

"How could anyone be 'wonderfully odd'?" she wanted to know, trying not to let herself get sucked into his gentle seduction.

"Your oddities include unquestioning generosity, unbounded faith, and inspiring confidence," he replied. His hands started to stroke and massage her abdomen, sides, and hips.

"And my other oddities, like sleeping with two men at once and owning other human beings doesn't bother you at all?" she challenged, trying to keep her mind on her ethical debate and not on the way her skin prickled and her blood surged like lava through her veins.

"As long as you love me," he whispered. He wanted to say more, to utter words of complete devotion and adoration, but he was a little hurt that she had shunned him all day. Still, what he couldn't speak in words he could say in action.

He peeled the towel away from her and draped it over the sink. Then he gathered her in his arms so that she could face him and rained kisses on her face, neck and chest. One hand untied the bikini strings behind her neck and the other pulled one side away from her soft, warm breast. He lapped at the nipple and then sucked it into his mouth. She moaned at the familiar but intense pleasure and involuntarily arched her chest towards him. He took the encouragement and filled his mouth with her sweet flesh while her hands massaged his neck and shoulders.

Then he pulled away and respectfully retied her bikini strings.

"What...what's wrong?" Sydney cried breathlessly.

"Nothing," he reassured her with a kiss. "Just that Brandt is outside the kitchen doing his best not to walk in on you again."

"Oh." Sydney blushed.

"Believe me, butterfly, I want nothing more than to worship and pleasure your body with mine. If you don't care about Brandt listening in, I'd be more than happy to—"

"No, that's ok. Thank you for being so thoughtful," she quickly interrupted him.

He smiled as he picked up the towel and gently wrapped her up again. He sighed as he tucked the last corner between her breasts, his fingers stroking the soft, warm flesh of her cleavage.

"What?" she asked, worried.

"I just don't know when I'll get my next taste of you," he replied softly. "I...miss you."

"We were together last night," she reminded him, a little embarrassed.

He shrugged. "I still miss you." And I want you all to myself, not shared with that masochistic moron, he almost added. There must have been some undercurrent in his tone, because she glanced at him with a knowing look in her eyes.

"I suppose I should see what Brandt is up to," Sydney changed the subject. She double checked her towel and then left the kitchen.

Brandt was fidgeting in the living room, stroking Lucy's back. He looked up as soon as she came out.

"I ordered dinner!" he reported. "Chow mien, fried rice, sweet-and-sour chicken, Kung-pao beef, General Zao's chicken, four orders of hot and sour soup, and veggie spring rolls. Do you think that will be enough?"

"Enough and then some!" Sydney replied with a smile. "Thank you very much. It takes a load off my mind."

Brandt smiled, relieved that he had done something right. "It'll be here in half an hour."

"That's just enough time for a quick swim," she said. "You still up for it?"

Brant nodded eagerly. Sydney led the way back to the pool. Talon was still relaxing on the deck chair they had just made love on. She dropped her damp towel on his face and cannon balled into the pool. When she came up, she noticed Brant nervously entering the water. She swam near to him and splashed him playfully.

"Come on. Race you to the other side," she said teasingly. Before he could respond, she dove under the water and kicked to the other side easily. When she popped up and looked behind her, she saw Brandt flailing in the water, trying keep his head up with a bizarre version of the dog paddle. She suddenly realized he couldn't swim!

She pushed off the wall and sped towards him. As his head slipped under the water, she hooked an arm under his shoulder and dragged him back to the shallow end of the pool.

"You ok, hun?" she asked once he could stand again. "You should have told me you couldn't swim."

"You just made it look so easy," he spluttered, his face coloring in embarrassment. He tried to hide it by wiping the water off his face repeatedly.

"It is easy, after twenty-five years of doing it," she replied teasingly with a comforting hand on his arm. "I was swimming before I could walk. But are you ok?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled.

"Come on, I'll teach you the basics. First, lie on your back."

"I'll sink!" he cried in alarm.

"You won't sink. I'll be right here helping to stay afloat," she replied comfortingly. "Come on, give it a shot. Just spread your arms and legs out wide, like you're a starfish."

Brandt hesitantly let Sydney support his shoulders as he rolled onto his back. He started to sink and his arms and legs flailed as he panicked. Sydney calmly placed her palm on the small of his back, forcing his abdomen into the air.

"Bellybutton up," she ordered, parroting her old swimming instructor. "Pretend there's a string running from your spine through your bellybutton to the sky. Keep your arms and legs out. Breathe. There, you're getting it now!"

Brandt relaxed at the firm touch of her hands and followed her instructions. To his surprise, he was floating! He felt safe and excited. He was doing something right.

Sydney smiled at the elated expression on his face.

"If you move your arms and legs a bit, you'll see that you can direct where you float," she told him. "I'm going to take my hands away for a minute—I'll be right here to catch you if you start to sink, don't worry. You'll be floating on your own in three...two...one...and..."

She gently pulled back her hands and let him float on his own. He went a little ridged and his butt started to drop.