Sarah's Seduction

by Lora Leigh

  “Your skin is soft.” Suddenly, the hand was caressing rather than punishing. “So pretty and red now, Sarah.”

  His fingers, hard and calloused separated the full mounds, a finger running down the little valley that separated the flesh. His finger paused at her tight rear hole before continuing to the bubbling heat of her cunt.

  Her hands clenched in the comforter, her eyes tracking Brock’s hand as it smoothed down Marly’s heaving stomach to the saturated flesh between her thighs. Sarah whimpered, then cried out when Cade pushed his finger deep inside her.

  “I’m going to lubricate you, Sarah, then insert the plug up that tight little hole,” Cade’s voice was guttural. “I want you to stay still. Very still, Sarah.”

  She felt him reach for the tube of lubrication. She heard Marly cry out harshly, watched her body arch as Brock pushed two long fingers deep inside her vagina. The other woman’s legs were spread and Sarah couldn’t help but watch as Brock pulled back, then thrust forward again. The sight of his fingers disappearing into the other woman’s body sent varying warnings shattering through Sarah’s brain. She shouldn’t enjoy it.

  Her breath lodged in her throat as she felt the cool sensation of the lubrication, followed by the gentle insertion of a thick finger up her anus.

  “Are you watching them?” Cade asked her, stretching her, pulling out, then apply more of the slick gel as his finger thrust smoothly inside her once again.

  “No,” she gasped, watching Brock, his arm around Marly’s waist, lifting her against him as he slowly pulled his fingers from her, moved up to smooth over her clit, then back down to thrust quickly inside her once again.

  “Don’t lie to me, Sarah.” A hard hand came down on her buttock, the force firmer than before.

  Sarah cried out, jerked, felt her cunt pulse, spilling her essence along her thighs.

  “Are you watching them?” he asked her again.

  Sarah cried out at the biting pleasure as two fingers slid into her anus now, moving with smooth, stretching thrusts against the tight hole.

  “Yes,” she wanted to scream out at the pleasure, the sinful decadence washing over her.

  “Marly’s watching you too, Sarah,” he told her, his voice filled with approval. “Her eyes are all big and dark while she watches your flesh separate for me. Stretch for me.”

  Sarah’s cry echoed Marly’s. Unfortunately, neither of them sounded as though they were protesting. Over and over his fingers pulled back, applied more of the gel, pushed in again, stretching her, easing inside her until she wanted to scream out at the deliberate teasing being inflicted on her.

  “Are you ready yet, Sarah?” Cade’s voice was dark. Growling with sexuality.

  “Yes. Yes.” She tossed her head, almost, almost understanding the men now as she watched the pleasure washing over Marly.

  There was something so forbidden, so darkly erotic about watching the man she loved pleasuring another woman, as she was pleasured in turn, that broke through the normal barriers of sexuality. A sharing. She knew that she and Marly would both share this forever, and knowing the other woman knew her lover so intimately, wasn’t nearly as abhorrent as it should have been.

  Finally, she felt him move away again. She imagined him picking up the thick plug, moving back to her. Then she felt the tip of it lodge against her tight hole, causing her to tense instinctively.

  “Relax for him, Sarah.” Brock’s voice was filled with desperate yearning. “Please, baby, do this for me.”

  Her eyes locked with Brock’s. She allowed her muscles to relax, breathing harshly as she felt Cade begin to push the device firmly into her body. Brock’s eyes were nearly black now, his face heavily flushed, his expression absorbed, centered on Cade’s action.

  Seconds later she felt the thick base lodge inside her, stretching her, filling her. Then stinging force was applied to her rear once again. She jerked, cried out, tensing as Cade slapped her ass harder this time, his hand falling in rapid succession until the fire spread across her rear, making her squirm on his thighs, rubbing her inner flesh against his hard thigh, screaming out with the duality of the pain and the pleasure.

  The harsh slaps stopped just as fast as they began. Then Cade was moving, pulling Sarah to her feet, wrapping his arm around her as Brock took his place, Marly took hers.

  The other woman was clearly excited, already moaning, already prepared for the pleasure to come. Her eyes locked with Cade’s and Sarah was confused, surprised by the love glowing in them. Adoration, complete and heartfelt glittered in the dark blue depths. Pleasure, excitement, complete acceptance reflected in her expression.

  Sarah watched as Brock smoothed his hand over the other woman’s buttocks. Then he raised it, high. The resounding smack had Marly jerking, crying out, grinding her hips against Brock’s thighs jerkily. A total of eight sharp blows, until the flesh was bright red, and Marly was crying out in both pain and pleasure.

  Brock’s cock jerked along his abdomen. A pearly drop of fluid collecting on the tip as Marly moved against him. Sarah licked her lips. She wanted to go to her knees, run her tongue over the near to bursting flesh and take it into her mouth.

  She watched as Brock then separated Marly’s buttocks, preparing her. His eyes raised to hers and she barely contained her cry at the look there. Like Marly, complete love, complete devotion. Approval washed over her. There was no pain in his eyes now, no shadows of sadness. There was joy. It made Sarah willing to do anything, give anything to keep that look in his eyes. She now understood how Marly accepted.

  “Sarah,” he whispered her name as his finger sank between the cheeks of Marly’s rear.

  He prepared the other woman carefully, just as Cade had prepared her. Stretching her, using the lubricating gel in large amounts, then pushing the thick plug slowly into her.

  Marly was almost screaming, pleading. She begged for Cade to allow her ease. Perspiration covered the other woman’s skin, lust and love in equal measure filled her eyes.

  Then Brock was pulling her up, standing, looking at Cade. He picked up the dildo he had brought with him when he went for Marly. Cade picked up Sarah’s as she whimpered, feeling Cade pull her to the couch, stretching her out on the thick cushions as Brock moved Marly to the bed.

  “Don’t do this, Brock,” Sarah cried out as Cade settled himself between her thighs, holding her open, his eyes dark, intense. “Please, Brock. I need to be fucked. Now. Not like this.”

  Cade lodged the head of the dildo at her grasping, wet entrance.

  “If we gave you what you needed, where would be the punishment?” Cade asked her a second before the dildo plunged home.

  Sarah’s back arched. She no longer had the ability to watch Brock and Marly, or the sense to understand anything but the incredible fullness, the stretching, driving pleasure erupting between her thighs. Then, hot, destroying, his mouth latched on her clit, sucking it in time to the smooth strokes inside her clutching cunt as lust slammed through her system so hard, so fast, she wondered if she would lose her last grip on reality. She shuddered; cried out, her flesh tightening on the thrusting device as he rode her through such torturous pleasure she felt she was dying. Yet she couldn’t climax. She cried. She begged. She twisted on the driving device and still it only built higher.

  She heard Marly. Screaming. She was coming. The other woman was exploding, screaming Cade’s name, her climax throbbing in her voice. Sarah’s head tossed. She was dying. Dying to cum.

  “Brock,” Sarah gasped out his name as Marly’s cries began to subside. She jerked, her head tossed as she fought for release.

  Then he was there. His hand took the dildo as Cade strode to the bed. He drove it in hard, his head lowering, his lips latching onto her clit, hot and hard as he sucked it with a steady pressure. One thrust, a flick of his tongue. A second hard thrust, a firmer stroke, and she exploded. Over and over, her hips raised high, her orgasm tearing through her.

  As it eased, Brock pulled the device from her, then mov
ed to her head, his cock, huge, thrusting towards her mouth.

  Brock didn’t ask. He went to his knees, his eyes meeting Sarah’s, then he was pushing the head of his erection past her lips with an agonized groan. Sarah enclosed the thick head, her hand going to grip the base, turning to her side, taking him hungrily as he watched her, his eyes bright, filled with promise as she drew on his flesh, matching the hard, quick strokes into her mouth.

  He came with a shout. His body jerked, his semen exploding from the tip with hard, hot jets into her mouth. His hands clenched in her hair, his back arched and her name was a harsh, brutal shout of satisfaction.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Brock and Cade were sitting on the patio that evening when Sam returned from the hospital. He walked onto the sheltered concrete area, a fifth of whisky in his hand, his face haggard.

  The vine-draped iron and wood enclosure provided a measure of protection from anyone with a binocular or rifle scopes, but as Brock looked into his brother’s eyes, he realized there were other ways to kill a man.

  Sam sat down heavily in a padded chair, staring up at the vine-covered opening as though the pattern of greenery twisting about the thick wooden beams required concentration to decipher. He lowered his head long enough to bring the bottle to his mouth, drink deep and grimace, then go back to the perusal.

  “How’s she doing?” Cade’s voice was as haunted as Sam’s eyes.

  Sam shrugged. “Tara says she fine. She won’t see me. She won’t talk to me.”

  Brock took a deep breath. Rick returned earlier, rage glittering in his eyes when he reported her injuries. She had been tied and gagged, the clothes cut from her body. Then the knife had sliced small, hairline cuts into her thighs and the flesh of her genitals. As far as pain went, it was tolerable. The mental and psychological damage was great though. The bastard had recounted how Sam had been similarly cut and the abuses he had suffered through. She had been warned she would suffer the same if she came back to the ranch. She had been told that she was paying for the lust Sam felt for her.

  They hadn’t even known Sam was attracted to her. Had no idea their brother had been slowly courting her, seducing her. The woman was a damned wildcat. Or at least, she had been.

  Sam was alone. Isolated in silence and liquor, staring into the evening sky as though searching for answers. There was no laughter in him now, no wise-assed comments, no sense of joy. The very qualities Cade and Brock had sacrificed everything they were at one time, to preserve a part of, had been snatched away as though it had never existed.

  Sam took another long pull on the liquor. His body was tense, wired. He almost vibrated with the rage and pain swirling inside him.

  “Don’t get drunk, Sam,” Brock warned him quietly.

  “Why shouldn’t I?” Sam asked him, his tone unconcerned, cool.

  Brock glanced at Cade.

  “Sam—”

  “I want your woman, Brock.” Sam looked in his eyes and Brock almost winced at the shattered look there. “I need her.”

  Brock shook his head, he wouldn’t tolerate Sam touching her while he was like this. “You should have gone to her before now.”

  Sarah would accept him, Brock knew. She was slowly accustoming herself to Cade’s touch. Brock knew she would grow used to Sam’s as well. The idea of it. Once, she had warned him, only once. And only for him. But he saw the excitement in her eyes, the same excitement he felt at the thought of it.

  “I frighten her.” Sam lifted the bottle, his glance surprised as though he should have drank more, or hadn’t drank enough. Brock wasn’t certain which. “I don’t blame her for being frightened.”

  Brock frowned.

  “What do you need, Sam?” he asked him carefully.

  Sam swallowed tight, grimacing.

  “Fuck it,” he growled. “I need to leave her the fuck alone.”

  He tipped the bottle to his lips, the amber liquid draining further. He breathed in harshly when he lowered the bottle.

  “Have you ever wondered what we’re doing to them?” Sam finally asked quietly.

  “Don’t, Sam.” Cade’s voice was dark, rough. “We don’t hurt them. We love them.”

  Sam shook his head. He wiped his hand wearily over his face, leaning forward in the chair, staring at the floor now.

  “She likes the pain doesn’t she, Brock?” Sam didn’t look at his brother.

  They all knew Sarah liked the edge of pain. Cade had discovered that earlier, Brock had known it since the first. There was no disguising her screams, her pleas in the dead of night, the sound of his hand slapping her ass.

  “Sam, you don’t have to ask my permission.” Brock felt helpless, uncertain of what his brother needed.

  “You would,” Sam whispered.

  Surprise flared in Brock’s chest. Sam’s head raised, his gaze tortured, glittered with agony, haunted with the past.

  Brock shrugged. He glanced at Cade, feeling as uncertain as his other brother looked.

  “Sam—” Cade started to speak, his voice low, vibrating with concern.

  “Forget it.” Sam fell back in the chair and drank again.

  He was taking long, hard pulls of the liquor. Sam had never been much of a drinker, so it worried them both that he was hitting the bottle so hard now.

  “I want to forget,” Sam whispered, staring at the leafy ceiling once again.

  His voice was agonized. It seared their brains, their souls with the memories. Brock shook his head, his fists clenching, unable to look at his twin. He could feel his rage, Sam’s rage, beating at his heart. The bond they had shared when they were younger had been nearly destroyed in those nightmare months. Now, Brock only knew it again during sex, or during the overwhelming grief that often gripped Sam.

  “That’s enough.” Cade came to his feet, his voice hard, final. “We can’t change it and we can’t forget. And there’s no sense in allowing the bastard to win. We survived, Sam, it’s better than many would have done.”

  Cade turned his back on them. He propped his shoulder against the patio support, his head lowered. Brock took a deep, hard breath.

  “Where’s your woman, Brock?” Sam asked him, his voice easing into a low, slow, drawl after drinking heavily from the bottle once again.

  “You don’t touch my woman drunk, Sam. You know we don’t do that. Sarah can’t ease this demon and I won’t make her try.”

  The demon, rage. Rage so all-consuming, so bitter and soul-worn that Brock knew Sam would never find the softness within himself to touch Sarah with any tender emotion. He wouldn’t allow his brother’s demons to destroy the fragile balance they were building within their home. The pleasure Sarah received from their touch could be tainted for all time if Sam took her in anger.

  “I wasn’t going to fuck her.” Sam rose slowly to his feet now, his shoulders slumped, his voice broken. “Just wanted to make sure I stayed out of her way. I know I’m not fit for a whore, let alone a good woman.”

  Brock had a feeling Sam wasn’t talking about just while he was drunk.

  “Sam.” He came to his feet as his brother stumbled to the study doors.

  “I’m heading to bed, Brock.” Sam waved his hand back. “Maybe I can sleep it off.”

  There was a better chance of the nightmare leaving him screaming in broken rage. Brock glanced at Cade, who was now watching the weaving twin as he entered the study. Absolute worry creased his face, pain wearied it.

  “She meant something to him. More than just a friend.” Cade sighed deeply. “Fuck. He should have told us. We would have tried to protect her.”

  Brock thought of the redhead wildcat sister of Tara Glaston. She wouldn’t have accepted protection. She was too busy trying to give it. He sighed wearily, shaking his head at the pain and grief that surrounded Sam now. It would ease, when the three of them came together with Sarah. It always did. It didn’t make sense and hell, a psychiatrist would have a field day with them. But it worked for them. They had survived and they were still a
part of each other. That was all that mattered. They had won. The Monster had lost. Or had he?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The house was quiet, the television set at low sound in consideration for Sarah who sat at the far side of the family room, engrossed in a book. Television had never been her thing.

  The men were in their normal loungewear, sweatpants and bare chests and feet. Marly was dressed in one of Cade’s long shirts and dozed comfortably. Sarah wore one of the nightshirts she preferred. It went past her knees and was loose enough to allow for the lack of a bra. Not that wearing one did any good in this household. The men here thought they were made to hide. Every one she owned had disappeared.

  She didn’t know how long she had sat there, and paid no attention when Sam walked into the room. She definitely took notice when he went to his knees before her though.

  Sarah looked up, blinking, her heart pounding at the sheer, undiluted agony in his eyes.

  “I need—” He swallowed tightly, regret and remorse thick in his voice.

  Sarah’s eyes went to Brock. He was watching his brother closely. When his eyes met hers, there was in a plea in them. Her breath stuttered in her chest. Sam needed. He needed her. His only connection to his twin. Just as Marly was his only connection to Cade.

  He lifted the book from her hand, carefully marking her page then laying it on the table beside her. Sarah trembled. She had never seen lust in a man’s eyes like she saw in Sam’s. No love, no affection, only lust, tortured and desperate. Brock was sitting on the couch now and she saw his thick erection tenting his sweat pants. There was the love she needed. Love and approval shining bright and pure in his eyes.

  She looked at Sam, watching as his hands went to her legs, curled in the chair, tucked beneath the nightshirt. He gripped her knees, pulling them from their bent position until her feet were flat on the floor, one leg on each side of him.