Getaway – a Brandon-Isabel short

It was the dress.

Brandon was not certain about the colour. It was a soft pink, but he knew it would have a more complicated name that he could not bother himself with. He was too occupied admiring the sleek silhouette flowing down the svelte form, enhancing every feminine contour. The neckline dipped just enough to broaden the shoulders and delineate the ample bosom and the sash highlighted the tiny waist curving into shapely hips and firm, full derriere. Long, raven hair with curled ends stood out against the pale, luminous skin, pink lips opening wide every time a smile washed over that breathtaking profile, and when a slender finger slipped under the neck of the dress to straighten it, he noticed the shift of the collarbone.

Taking a swig of his champagne, he stared from across the hall, unconcerned about who saw him gawking shamelessly at the unassuming bridesmaid. It was his oldest sister Yvonne’s wedding, and he had first caught sight of her while driving the bride to church, standing in line with his other sisters, hands closed around a bunch of roses. He had failed to look away since. It was not without reason that he thought she was the most beautiful girl in the entire county. She was different from Irish girls, exotic, alluring, mysterious. As small as she was, she had the uncanny ability to draw all attention when she walked by and it did not go down well with many people. Brandon had been around to witness the hurt the nasty comments at school caused her daily but she took it all in her stride. He hoped returning to London would make things easier for her.

Their eyes met and remained locked for a long minute. Brandon put away his drink and held her gaze, and it confirmed what he had been feeling all evening. He recognised that look. Like a wolf staring at a cute sheep.

It was too much to take anymore.

“Hi, girls.” Three women in identical dresses looked up at him when he walked over to the table. Denise and Mairead each held a glass of champagne. “Seeing as I don’t have much time here, I hope you won’t mind if I…” His hand found Isabel’s. “…steal this lovely lady for a dance.”

“It took you only the whole evening to catch up with her,” Denise chirped before giggling with her younger sister. Brandon smiled when Isabel’s cheeks flushed. 

“I’m trying to not upstage Yvonne,” he said, tugging at his girlfriend’s hand. He slid an arm around her waist when she stood. “But now it’s my moment.”

Without another word, he led her to the dance floor, her sweet, floral scent filling his nostrils. He held her close, his hands running down the long, lace sleeves of the dress until their fingers entwined. The tension in her body mimicked his.

“I missed you,” Isabel tried to speak over the music but her voice was still a murmur. One arm coiled around her midriff, the other holding up her hand. Their bodies pressed together, his breath on her face, their feet moving to the rhythm. Her dark circles were gone, she had a healthy glow, and even though she was still underweight, she had stopped looking waifish. He had seen her in dresses many times but that evening she was delicious. There was no other way to describe her. He wanted to eat her alive.

“If I said I missed you too, it would be an understatement.” His feet abruptly halted in the middle of the hall, his eyes blazing into hers. “You have no idea.”

Her eyes drooped and her pulse quickened. The distance was more painful since their consummation. They had made love only a few times, but it was enough to intensify their craving for each other. Every night when she went to bed and spoke at length with him on the phone, she longed to have him close, holding her, whispering into her ear, exploring her body. Now he was in front of her and she was in his arms, but time was short and he was flying back to the US later in the night. That thought was enough to dampen her ardour.

Brandon lifted her face, a silent plea in his eyes. Before she knew it, he was dragging her away from the hall and into the alcove. She bunched up her skirt to keep from tripping.

“Right.” He pressed her against the wall in a corner and searched her face. “You have to do something. I’m going insane here.”

“There are people everywhere.” She nervously looked around them. “We cannot…”

“Please.” He held her hands and swallowed hard. “I need you. Right now.”

“The press is here. You have minders,” she whispered, biting her lip. “I don’t want us to get caught.”

“We won’t.” After a quick glance upstairs, he started to lead her towards the stairway. All the action was on the main floor. The second level was unoccupied and they had no trouble finding an empty room at the end of the narrow hallway.

“This is risky,” she hissed as the door locked, shutting them from the prying eyes of the ton. “Brandy—”

The words were swallowed by a hard, insistent, ravenous kiss, She leaned back against the wall, holding onto his shoulders for support as she gave in to his ferocious hunger. When she instinctively hooked a thigh around his leg, he parted on a low groan.

“I know the bride is my sister,” he said on a breathless murmur, his hips pressing her to the wall. “But you are the most stunning girl at this party. I can’t explain what this dress has been doing to me all day.”

“The… dress?” She could not help glancing down at her outfit. It was a modest gown, barely exposing any more skin than what she normally did. “But… you’ve seen me in dresses… and without them too.”

“You’re different today.” His thumb brushed her bottom lip. The kiss had wiped away most of the lip colour, and Isabel was certain by the time they left that room, she would be without a trace of make-up. “I don’t know what it is… Maybe you’re just happy. Maybe you’re finally moving on.”

“Or maybe I just love having you here.” Arching into him, she sought his lips again while fumbling with his belt. Once the buckle came undone, she reached for the placket of his trousers, his arousal evident against her hands as she pulled down the zipper. Brandon let his own hands drift past her hips until he was grabbing fistfuls of her dress and bunching it up to get access to her legs. He broke the kiss and stared when his fingers met her slip.

“How are you breathing in that thing?” he wondered aloud, eyes wide in bewilderment. She chuckled weakly, struggling to get out of the tight shapewear.

“With difficulty.” Twisting her hips, she pulled the garment down, sighing in relief when she was able to breathe again. “I love my leggings so much better than fancy dresses, believe me.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you in fancy dresses once in a while.” He framed her with both arms, hot breath ghosting her face. “Every inch of you is sheer perfection.”

“I have no clue why you call me perfect,” she laughed, eyes closing when he captured her lips again. “I’m far from perfect.”

“We are not having that argument again.” He sealed them in a kiss, their hips grinding involuntarily. Isabel whimpered into his mouth, aching for him as heat pooled in her gut.

“Take off your shirt.” Tugging at his necktie, she loosened it. “You don’t want to get makeup on it.”

While he let his jacket and shirt fall to the floor, she reached for the zipper of her dress. He held her hand.

“Leave it on,” he said, his hand crawling under the skirt. “Let me shag you in it.”

When his fingers found her wetness, she closed her eyes, her face colouring.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he soothed, kissing her cheek. “I like how you’re always ready for me.” Taking her hand, he guided it to his heavy scrotum. Her breath hitched. “Do you feel how full I am? So ready for you…”

“There’s no bed here,” she noted.

“Doesn’t matter.” He stepped out of his pants and fished out his wallet from the pocket of his jacket. With a condom in hand, he sank onto the floor in the corner of the room. “Sit on me. Come on.”

Isabel’s gaze shifted between his outstretched hand and his sheathed erection. They did not have much time. She cautiously glanced at the door, praying they could be quiet.

“I love you, Izzi,” he breathed, watching her face as she hiked up her dress and straddled him. Reaching down, she gripped his erection with one hand, the other holding his shoulder for balance as she slowly impaled herself on him.

“I love you too.” With a soft grunt, she pushed down on his arousal, mouth falling open on a noiseless wail as the thick bell-end found its way in. Brandon hissed, her tightness squeezing him like a velvet fist. He held her hips to ease her through it, his breath catching with every inch that filled her up. His head dropped back, chest heaving with tenuous control.

“Are you okay?” he asked when her head bowed on a cry. She nodded, shaking the fallen hair out of her face.

“You’re so big and we haven’t done it in a while.” She gulped air, shifting her legs to be comfortable. “Oh god… I never want to forget how good you feel…”

“You’re never going to forget,” he promised, slowly thrusting upwards into her. “Not in this life. Ride me… please, ride me…”

Holding his shoulders, she raised herself carefully before sinking in a swift move. Brandon’s face flushed and sweat dotted his brow as she fell into a rhythm. With his mouth parted on heavy breaths, he stared at her ravishing face. Her eyes were closed, the stylish arrangement of her hair a mess, and the sight of that small woman taking control made him swell to a painful extent inside her. Pushing up her skirt, he caressed her thighs, his body hot and hard from her quickening pace, as though she could not get enough of him. His eyelids grew heavy, every muscle in his body taut with drugging ecstasy.

“I need to come,” she murmured, bringing her legs closer to push herself onto her haunches. When she resumed the punishing rhythm, he bit his lip to prevent a startled groan. He was not going to last if she kept up that pace.

“So close… Oh, Brandy…” Her moan made his sac tighten, the burn in his pelvis indicating how close he himself was. He kneaded her buttocks, gritting his teeth as panicked urgency spread across her face.

“Yes,” he coaxed impatiently, watching her on the brink of release. “That’s it, that’s it… Let it go…”

Burying her face in his shoulder to muffle a scream, Isabel reached the extremity of her passion, writhing and twisting in his arms. Brandon gently laid them down while her muscles continued to clench around him, grabbing her hips to thrust mercilessly. 

“Right on the edge…” he growled, his head tipping back. “There it goes… Oh, god…”

The first, burning spurts were violent and his fingers unconsciously clutched at her dress, not caring if he tore the delicate fabric. With a hoarse oath, he continued moving his hips, his thighs shuddering as his heated seed filled the sheath. Beneath him, Isabel sobbed, her legs shaking, stomach quivering.

“I’m still hard…” he gasped, pulling out of her. “God… I’m still so hard… Izzi, turn over.”

“What?” she asked on a shaky breath.

“Lie on your stomach. I want to take you from behind.”

“But we’ve never—”

“I know, I know.” He swallowed hard, licking his lips. “Do as I say. Please. We don’t have time to waste.”

Isabel scrambled to do his bidding, getting on all fours and presenting her derriere to him. He guided himself into her again, and she yelped when he filled her impossibly deep.

“Oh, my god…” Her eyelids drooped when he started to thrust again, the tension gathering inside her once more. With his fingers digging into her hips, Brandon moved viciously, giddy from the mounting pleasure. 

“That’s it…” he slurred. “Here I come again… Baby…”

With a primal groan, he spilled again, thick ropes of semen squirting out of him in an almost painful release. Isabel slumped onto the floor, legs thrashing about for purchase as his climax triggered her own. Brandon’s heaving body collapsed on top of her, and they remained locked in the throbbing heat, shuddering together for minutes they had no track of.

“That was…” She tried to speak and catch her breath at the same time. “That was incredible. I now understand why this is such a popular position.”

“We’re just getting started, love,” Brandon chuckled behind her. “We have all life to try different things.”

“Did anyone hear us?”

“I hope not. Here, let me…” He held her hips again with trembling fingers, slowly withdrawing from her soaked womanhood. “I came so much.”

She turned her head to look at him. “You saved it all for me. Just as you promised.”

Leaning in, he kissed her forehead. “I’m a man of my word. Come here.”

He helped her roll onto her back and then pulled her against him. She languorously fell into his arms, his perfume blending with his damp skin to cook up a heady cocktail inside her head. Their hearts danced together in a frantic beat as they clung to each other, replete and drunk on the intoxicating satiety. 

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Love you too.” His embrace strengthened. “Love you so much. Are you alright?”

“Yes. We should get out of here.”

“I don’t want to.” When he looked at her, his face was sad. “I’m not sure when I will see you again. I wish you could come with me. You haven’t stepped out of Sligo since you moved here.”

“I don’t need to, do I?” She kissed his cheek, and squirmed when he nuzzled into her neck. “You know about my mental issues. I’m not fit for company.”

“You say that after stealing an entire wedding party’s attention?” 

“I do nothing to make people notice that I’m pretty,” she shrugged. “That’s the last thing I care about but always the first thing everyone else sees about me.”

Crawling out of his lap, she reached for her slip and rose to her feet. “My beauty did nothing to prevent the years of hell that I endured,” she said. “On the contrary, it was a sore point.”

“Isabel, please.” Brandon rose behind her and pulled on his underwear and trousers. “Stop looking at things in hindsight. I hate it when you make it all your fault.” He turned her around and tilted her chin. “You’re blessed with both beauty and brains. It isn’t your fault if someone else failed to appreciate that.”

“I don’t seek appreciation for anything anymore,” she admitted. “I’m only glad that you love me for who I am.”

“Once you’re in London…” he said. “Will you travel with me when you don’t have classes?”

“That’s still a long time away.” She held his arms and looked at the door. “Can we go now? It’s close to dinner.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, picking up his shirt from the floor. They dressed quickly, doing their best to tidy up and be presentable in order to avoid arousing suspicion. Isabel smoothed out her tresses and reached a hand out to wipe a lipstick stain from the corner of his lips. Undaunted, Brandon dipped his head for a kiss, laughing in amusement when she pushed him away. He put the ruined condom inside his coat and unlocked the door.

“Thank you,” he smiled at her. “You’re a sweetheart.”

Opening the door, he peered through the crack and was relieved to find the coast clear. He took her hand and led her surreptitiously through the hallway and down the stairs, the music growing louder as they approached the party. They froze when they ran into Emily in the alcove, right past the restroom. Her pale brown eyes settled on the young couple, holding them under intense scrutiny. 

Isabel shrank on the spot as realisation washed over her aunt’s countenance. She was a therapist. It would take her two minutes to fathom what they had been up to.

“Your dad’s looking for you,” she said to Brandon without breaking the hard gaze. “Dinner’s in ten minutes. Go on.”

He let go of her hand, nodding politely. Isabel silently urged him to leave, despite the worry on his face. Emily looked over her shoulder, waiting until he was gone. She then stepped forward, measuring her niece’s attire.

“Where’s your sash?” she asked, her voice calm as usual. It took Isabel a moment to realise what she was talking about. When her hands fell on her waist, she was mortified to have forgotten the sash in the room upstairs. Emily held her elbow and pulled her to the side.

“Since when?” she frowned. Isabel gulped hard and closed her eyes, her body stiffening.

“Aunt Emily—”

“You know you cannot lie to me.” She crossed her arms. “Since when?”

She swallowed again. “Two months.”

“Are you protected?”

When she nodded, Emily breathed a sigh and tugged her into an embrace. Isabel relaxed to find that abrupt shift in her demeanour.

“You know I’m not just your aunt, right?” she soothed, stroking her head. “I’m a mother. And being the mother of a young daughter is always fraught with worries.”

“Are we doing anything wrong?” Isabel squeaked against her shoulder.

“No.” Emily pulled away and smiled at her. “There’s nothing wrong with being in love or giving in to your passion. But…” She cupped her cheek. “Be careful, alright? You wouldn’t want accidents.”

“We are careful.” Her eyes lowered, embarrassment flooding her veins. “I’m sorry. We didn’t see each other in a while and he’s leaving tonight and we—”

“Couldn’t keep your hands off each other?” Emily held her upper arms and gave a small laugh. “What are you sorry about? We have never stopped you from being together. Rather, we always encouraged it because he’s so good to you. Even when you were pushing him away, we were trying to change your mind.” She squeezed her hands. “As long as you are safe, it’s fine.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Mad at you? Izzi, you’re a woman now. You’ve come of age. That isn’t something to be upset about.” Glancing up the stairs, she shook her head. “That wasn’t the wisest move, though. Your appearance is a dead giveaway.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated meekly. Emily rolled her eyes and started to lead her away from the alcove.

“Just avoid the reporters and you will be fine.” She laughed at her own words. “Let’s go to dinner now. The Irish and their weddings. Everyone is already getting drunk.”

“I need the restroom.” She gestured to her right. “I won’t be late.”

Emily nodded, patted her cheek, and returned to the hall. Five minutes later, as Isabel was walking back to the party, she was grabbed by strong hands and pulled into a corner.

“Shh. It’s fine.” Two fingers pressed against her lips. “I was in the restroom, waiting for Emily to leave. What happened?”

“She knows.” 

“Oh.” Brandon looked around to make sure they were alone. “Is she upset?”

“No. Not really.” She sagged in his arms. “I was asked to be careful.”

“Are you annoyed that I made us do it here?”

“Are you serious? We hadn’t seen each other in weeks. This is all the time we had.” Looking up at his face, she gave him a smile. “Relax. We’re safe.”

“I don’t want to make things harder than they already are for you,” he said. Isabel held his hands.

“You’re the only reason my life is bearable.” She stood on tiptoe to reach his lips. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

“We still have to finish that dance,” he chuckled, tugging at her hand. “Come on. Let’s steal the show.”

Isabel laughed, falling in step with him.

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