37

                                    

                                          

BRAN 
The door slammed shut behind him as he stepped out of the room, leaving Maria behind. 
Christ, she was just so infuriating. And so fucking fearless. Bran had never met a woman like her in his entire life. The women he knew were soft and submissive, retreating at the slightest sight of his anger and hurrying to do his bidding whenever he demanded it. They did everything in their power to make sure that they didn't anger him—Maria did everything in her power to make sure that she pissed him off. 
And she succeeded every time, damn her. 
But, Christ, he found it so sexy. Down in the bar, he'd just been about to maul her when Elizabeth had cleared her throat, pulling him back to the present. Had she not detracted him, he would have kissed her right there, damn it. Seeing the flush on her cheeks and neck from anger had the blood rushing to his cock so fast, it made him dizzy. 
He needed to do something about his perpetual boner for her. He hadn't gotten laid in a long time because of his search for his sister and perhaps it was affecting him. The lust was addling his brain and making him unable to think about anything else, but her. 
She was a bombshell, he knew that, but he'd also seen a great number of beautiful women and none of them had affected him the way she did. He needed to get laid. He was certain that he would be able to think well after. 
Elizabeth was the best option. An added bonus was the fact that she'd been able over him, staring at him with a heated gaze—although he'd hardly met a female that wasn't into him. The fact was that she was dying for sex, and he was more than willing to give it. 
When he went down to the bar, he saw that she was waiting for him on one of the barstools. She sat up straighter when she saw him coming, arching her back and pushing her breasts out. 
Elizabeth was a beautiful woman and her submissive nature had always been what Bran liked most about her. So why did he suddenly feel like turning around and going back upstairs? 
He shook the feeling off and walked towards her, taking note of the way her eyes roved over him, lingering on his crotch. It wasn't his fault that his crotch was a tad bit more obvious than it usually was—the jeans were smaller than him.
He dropped down on the empty stool beside her, planting his legs wide on the legs of the stool. He waved the Elijah—the bartender—over and was just about to ask him to bring him a glass of whiskey when he remembered that he had not drank in days and consuming alcohol would only worsen his hunger. 
"Don't worry about it." He told Elijah, before facing Elizabeth, who was practically purring on her stool like a cat. "Elizabeth, you look lovely."
Taking his compliment as an invitation, she slid off her stool and stood between his spread legs. If she could curl up on his lap, he was certain that she would. 
"I've missed you so much." She whispered to him, running her chest along his. "You haven't been here in a long time. Nor have you sent for me."
"I've been very busy, like I said." He didn't even know why he was explaining, but this was the second time she'd brought this up and he wanted to tell her why just so that she wouldn't bring it up anymore. "Assuming my father's roles turned out to be a lot harder than I'd thought it would be. It took me quite a while to master things."
She stopped rubbing up against me immediately, pity filling her eyes. "I can imagine." No, you can't. "I heard what happened to your father and mother. I am very sorry. It must be so hard for you—"
Bran got up from the stool before she could finish. He didn't know if it was the pity in her eyes that grated at him more or the fact that she'd brought up his parents death—it was probably both—but he suddenly wasn't in the mood to talk anymore. Not that he'd been in the mood to talk before, but right now, all he wanted to top was fuck.