Most of it would get tossed. It had been pissed on, the smell more pungent than all the pickling juice spilled in the basement. She went upstairs, listening to the twins’ conversation.
“They’re long gone, but I doubt they’re far away,” Malcolm said. His entrance brought in a clean pine scent. She’d gotten used to the blood, but a fresh smell was welcome.
“They’re cowards,” Harrison replied.
“That, I agree with. But cowards can be the dirtiest fighters.”
“She won’t be able to sleep in here. They marked it like animals. I’d say we should go to a hotel tonight, but they’d probably just come back and burn it down.”
Neither of them had noticed her. “I’ve slept in worse.”
Both of their sharp gazes pinned her. How could they both look so rugged and handsome while she was a rumpled, smelly, tired female? Her silky hair was tied back with a scrap from a rag, and a half-billed bucket of murky brown water hung in one hand.
Harrison rose. “You don’t need to sleep in worse. Take my bedroom. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“The springs are exposed on the couch.” It’d be the base of a big bonfire in the morning.
“Then Malcolm and I will share downstairs. We never sleep at the same time anyway.”
“Sylva.” Malcolm frowned at the bucket in her hand. “I’m really sorry to heap more bad news on today, but…your gardens have been dug up.”
He might as well have shoved a knife hilt deep in her chest. The destruction of her canned goods was equal to hours of her life thrown away like they didn’t matter. But her gardens had been alive, thriving, growing.
And now they were gone.
Tears gathered in her eyes but she refused to let them spill. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Let’s call it for the night.” Malcolm pushed open the bathroom door. It was surprisingly untouched, but that made sense. There wasn’t enough fabric to destroy and it’d take too long and expend too much energy to damage ceramic and porcelain. “I’m gonna take a shower and grab a few hours.”
She was left facing Harrison as he stood in the middle of the wreckage of her room.
Pointing to the bed with a stain of blood across its white mattress, she said, “Tomorrow morning, we can start burning stuff.”
“Get some rest, Sylva. We’ll figure the rest out later.”
He’d be on duty the rest of the night, which was only a few hours before dawn. The bucket still needed to be dumped and she had to find clean clothing that was in good enough shape to cover her body. “I need to get some fresh air.” And see all of her hard work gone to waste.
She emptied and rinsed her bucket and rags. Harrison waited at the door for her.
Outside, she heaved a breath full of night air. The taint of blood, while still clinging to her porch, was less concentrated. Making the trek to her gardens took as much effort as wading through hip-deep mud.
It was like Malcolm had said. The soil looked like a pack of wild dogs with a digging addiction had swept through, leaving nothing but the stench of urine and straggly roots pointing toward the sky. She wouldn’t be able to save any produce. What hadn’t been outright ruined from digging had been pissed on. Had the brothers been saving their urine just for this?
Standing here, witnessing the destruction of her property, didn’t fill her with the despair that had pounded her inside the house. This was her home. She’d earned it. She’d worked for it. Her time and her money were sunk into this place, and a couple of overgrown bullies with a god complex were not scaring her off. “They’re not driving me from my home.”
“Good.”
Energy stirred inside of her. It’d been a week filled with nursing Nala back to health, now capped with trying to rescue her home. She strode up and down the length of her garden. “They aren’t going to make me feel weak again.”
He didn’t reply. She liked that about him. He didn’t feel the need to talk over her, or roll his eyes at her emotions, or destroy her stuff.
She spun and stomped back. “They don’t own me. They never did.” Reaching the edge of the garden, she pivoted again. “I’m not weak and I’m not owned.” Restlessness churned under her skin until she was afraid she’d burst. She couldn’t run the forest because of them.
And what happened if she could? She’d hide her body again? Shifters embraced their form, especially their nudity. They embraced their sexuality. And wouldn’t that be a good way to burn off her energy? To take back her life?
She veered off course to stop in front of Harrison. A little voice in her head was shouting in alarm, but she talked over that voice like Roman used to do to her.
“Have sex with me.”
Chapter 12
Those words did not go with the night he’d had. He’d watched her hold in tears. He’d been with her as they sifted through the ravaged remains of her home. And she wanted to have sex?
But there was more there. Her eyes were reflective, like a predator’s. Her pulse was racing, her breathing increased. She was vibrant. Filled with vitality. In her eyes was the determination to reclaim herself as she’d saved her possessions.
A tendril of disappointment curled inside him. She wanted him for sex, to use him to reclaim the wild creature she was never allowed to be.
A stronger male than him would say no. A male who was true to himself would back off until the female he was falling for wanted to be with him just because it was him.
But it wasn’t as if he hadn’t let females use him for orgasms for years. He was good at it, to the point of being mechanical.
Sylva’s need was different from the other females he’d been with. He could serve her as well in this as he had in protecting her the last couple of weeks. She trusted him with her safety, and he would prove she could trust him with this, too.
The fact that she’d be the first partner he hadn’t shared with his twin wasn’t lost on him. He wouldn’t explore that further, just like he wouldn’t explore the gnawing sense that it wasn’t enough, that thinking of himself as nothing but a stepping stone on her path to a better life hurt.
Yeah, he didn’t need to look into those feelings.
She was still looking at him for an answer. To give her one, he peeled his shirt off.
Her scent bloomed around him. Arousal. Her gaze brushed over his body, stopping at his chest, dipping down to his stomach, then farther to where his growing erection pushed against his pants.
Taking his time, he undid the clasp. Usually he undressed as Malcolm was getting busy. Having a partner’s attention solely on him was a foreign sensation.
Don’t read into it. She just wanted sex like the rest. She didn’t ask for cuddling or promises, and if circumstances were different, she probably wouldn’t even ask for a date. There was no kissing.
Rolling his jeans down freed his dick. Her delicate inhale drew his attention. Her appreciative gaze was on his jutting manhood. A trace of apprehension laced her scent.
How bad of a setback would it be for her if she stopped? Her mate had probably mounted her and left when he was done. Only she knew how much control she’d had in sex, but he guessed it wasn’t much.
“You’re in charge.” As he said it, he had an idea. Stepping out of his boots and clothing, he said, “I’m yours to explore tonight.”
Her startled gaze flew to his, then trailed down his body. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Whatever you want.” He’d prefer to be indoors and in a bed, but if he had to get a little dirt up his ass to give her privacy, so be it.
She took a step closer. “I want…” Another step. “To touch you.”
“Whatever you want.” Wasn’t that how he’d gotten into this position? It wasn’t about what he secretly wished for in his life. This was about helping her. Protecting her.
She came close enough to reach her hand out. Her fingers landed on his chest. “You’re beautiful.”
A part of him that he hadn’t known existed sparked to life. “Don’t tell Ma
lcolm you said that,” he rumbled.
She smiled and trailed her fingers down until they floated over his erection. His breath hitched. A decision crossed over her face a second before she closed her hand around him.
He bucked his hips and she loosened her grip. Catching her hand in his, he gritted through clenched teeth. “That wasn’t a sign to quit.”
“It feels good?”
So good it threatened to drive him to his knees. “Yes.”
Her soft chuckle gusted between them. “I’m not a virgin, but I feel so inept.”
“You’re not.” He wanted to enclose her in his arms. Start with a kiss and get hotter and heavier from there. But he held himself back. This scene was hers to direct.
She stroked him. Up and down, her soft grip rolling over his thick head, tightening, then hugging back down his length. His breathing shortened until he was close to panting. Then she cupped his balls and gave them a squeeze.
His groan resonated through the night. Hopefully, Malcolm was asleep, but if he wasn’t, that sound would let him know what was going on out here next to the ruined gardens.
When Sylva knelt, he blew out a hard breath and sucked a new one in. Was she going to— Would she— She knew she didn’t have to, right?
The anticipation of her mouth closing over his cock spread through him until he could hardly breathe. When she angled toward him and closed those pretty red lips around his tip, he squeezed his eyes shut. Seeing her go down on him would be the end.
He’d been sucked off, and it’d been just that. Getting off. Usually while the female got plowed from behind by his twin. He had Sylva all to himself. He had all of her attention. And her curiosity wasn’t clinical.
Her arousal clung to his nose, sending more blood to his impossibly hard dick. As she took him deeper, she sucked harder. Forcing his eyes open, he looked down.
The expression of bliss on her face was his undoing. Her wet mouth sucking him, her hands kneading and massaging his sac uncoiled all the tension inside of him. Rocking his hips with her rhythm, he allowed himself to imagine all the forbidden things he wanted to do to her.
When had he started to think of her sexually? Not when they’d first met. She’d been a vulnerable prisoner. Not even when she’d first come into her power. He’d been so fucking proud of her.
It was later. When she’d seemed so far above him that he could climb forever and never reach her. When she’d looked at him as if he was the most unworthy male on the face of the earth, which had only confirmed what he already felt. Then again when he’d been watching over her and he’d known that yes, he was unworthy of her.
And she chose to be on her knees, taking him in, demonstrating just how much she really was the one in control of this situation.
“Sylva.” He had to warn her, let her know that he was going to come, and she had to decide whether to let it happen and how.
She opened her eyes and gazed up at him. On her knees, her mouth stretched wide, and her hands around him. Better than any fantasy he could conjure. He was done.
“Syl—” His climax slammed into him and he went rigid, his hips jerking.
She didn’t let him go. Her strength surprised him once again. He tried to control himself but this orgasm shook him harder than any he’d ever had before. He wanted to twist his hands in her hair and thrust so hard that he choked her, but instead he managed to fist his hands at his sides and growl through the pleasure.
As his shudders faded, she released him with a pop, his cock bobbing in the night. But he looked at her again and was ready to go. She was fully clothed with blow-job-swollen lips and desire-filled eyes.
As he watched, her expression smoothed into the one she used in the Synod.
That was right. This was only for her, to let her use him for her needs. He’d been a fool to hope for more.
She rose in one fluid motion and tore her shirt off. “Lie down.”
Sylva peeled her pants off before she could lose her nerve. The taste of him filled her mouth and his scent covered her. His erection hadn’t faded. She could’ve sworn she’d done something wrong, but the power that had coursed through her as he came wasn’t from her.
He’d felt pleasure—and a lot of it. Because of her.
Fuck you, Roman, and all your lies.
The night air felt cooler than it was. Heat poured through her and it needed an outlet.
Harrison stretched out across the lush grass. Her destroyed gardens were at her back and she’d take the metaphor and use it. Her past was behind her, and if the Raymore brothers thought they could come here and fuck with her life, then they could see for themselves just how well she’d moved on.
With a real male. A guy who didn’t feel strong by making those around him cower. A shifter who was willing to put his ego aside and let her fumble through this.
And what a male he was. The extra shadows the night cast over him only added to his appeal. He was like her. Others assumed they knew him but they hadn’t even scratched the surface.
She was naked and had all his attention. He propped himself on his arms with his legs stretched before him. And that erection. Hard, straining, and all hers to explore.
Something about him seemed unsettled, but he probably didn’t let many females have free rein. He had a good sense of what others needed and he likely wielded that in bed, whereas she was driven by want and need and curiosity.
This level of autonomy in sex scared her as much as it fueled her. She got to do what felt good for her and she’d given him head. She’d chosen to—before they’d even started. Blow jobs used to be last on her list of preferred erotic experiences.
Being with Harrison cemented the realization that it wasn’t the act that made someone feel good about themselves, it was the connection, the trust, and the mutual pleasure. She’d never grow a few inches until she was as willowy as she was curvy. But the way Harrison looked at her made her feel like the sexiest creature that had ever roamed the earth.
She knelt next to him once again and bent to land a kiss, stiffening when she remembered that she probably tasted like his release.
He brushed a finger down her cheek and looked deep into her eyes. “Do whatever you want with me, Sylva. I mean it.”
“I taste like— I have your—”
“I know, and it’s making me harder than I’ve ever been,” he rasped.
She smashed her lips on his and the way he responded to her every lick and nibble relaxed her enough to stretch out over him. His erection pressed into her. Adjusting her legs until she straddled him, she rode his length.
It took only a few strokes to coat him in her wetness. Her body burned for more. Tactile stimulation wasn’t the same as penetration and she wanted him inside of her, moving and stroking and filling.
She lifted her torso, pressing her fingers into his chest. “I’m ready.”
He was holding his arms away like he was afraid he’d grab her and take over. “Do it.” He twitched under her.
Rising, she grasped him and centered herself over his broad tip. This was it. She just had to press down.
But her body betrayed her. She couldn’t move. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. Harrison stayed still but concern was filling his gaze.
“I want to, but I can’t.” Tears threatened to fill her eyes. “I want to.”
“Can I touch you?”
She paused, his question unexpected enough to jolt her brain out of the loop it was stuck in. “What?”
“I’ll get you ready.”
She wasn’t ignorant, but what the hell did he mean? She was wet and naked and practically sitting on his cock. How could she not be ready? But between the two of them, he had more experience. “You can get me there?”
He slipped one hand between them and snaked the other around the back of her neck. Pulling her toward him, he waited until their lips touched and their tongues licked against each other before he slid a finger through her and circled her clit.
A ra
gged moan left her chest. Wasn’t that just proof she was ready?
Maybe, but the more he rubbed, the more desperate she became. She’d had orgasms before and while they had felt good physically, they’d always been emotionally lacking. But the hot and sweet way he kissed her, combined with his sinful touch, connected all the missing dots.
She was swiveling her hips and grinding into him until she took him inside. The sensation of being filled only enhanced the wicked things his finger was doing.
Another groan and she sank down farther. Energy coiled inside of her with steamy promises of what was to come. Just a little shift down and a rock back and ohhh…
She had to break the kiss to rise up and ride him. Her hands were anchored on his chest as she worked his length and she kept her focus on them, concentrating on squeezing out every ounce of pleasure.
Pleasure turned to ecstasy the more he stroked in and out of her. He used just enough pressure on her clit to keep her from spiraling into her climax. It was all up to her.
She lifted her gaze to his. The concentration on his face, the way he held back to let her take the lead, and the awe—the awe got to her. In his eyes, she saw herself as the sensual shifter that she’d thought had been taken from her.
The explosion of ecstasy rocked her. She flung her head back and slammed into him as her inner walls squeezed and convulsed around him. Gasps and whimpers echoed into the night and she finished with a shout.
Sinking onto his chest, her orgasm subsided as she soaked in the heat of him.
As awareness came back to her, she noted one thing. He was still hard inside of her.
She lifted her head. “You didn’t finish.”
“I did earlier.”
“But you need to again.” Conflict warred across his face. “I know you wanted this to be my thing, but I don’t want you to suffer.”
“It’s all right.”
No, it wasn’t. She didn’t feel like a sexy shifter ready to take on the world of sex if she left her partner unsatisfied. “Harrison, I want you to come inside of me.”
Resolve filled his eyes as he gripped her hips and took charge. She braced herself against him as he lifted and slammed her down.
A Shifter's Bodyguard (Pale Moonlight Book 5) Page 12