Vengeance: The Program Book 4

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Vengeance: The Program Book 4 Page 18

by N. M. Catalano


  That’s the four of them, it’s got to be their motto, their pledge to each other. Words scripted on their flesh of what’s burned into their souls.

  Bull goes through my drawers until he finds what he needs. Watching him sift through my panties and things gives me a thrill, it’s an intimacy on a different level of what we share. It’s comfortable and private and familiar. I don’t bother to ask what he’s doing. I don’t care. I’m his to do whatever he wants.

  He turns back to me with something clutched in his fist.

  “What did I tell you about dressing like that?” he stalks back toward me. His voice is low and predatory. It’s sends all kinds of thrills through me.

  “That I’d wear them for sex.” I say, it’s shaky and full of want.

  It’s not the exact words he used. He didn’t use any real explanation at all, he showed me instead when he sucked me through them. It was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.

  His mouth curls into a wicked grin. “That’s right.”

  My gaze flicks from what he’s holding back to his face trying to figure out what he’s going to do because I’m already naked.

  Lowering himself back on the bed, crawling over my body, he rasps, “On your stomach, darlin’, I’m going to tie you up.”

  Holy shit!

  My eyes go wide, my nipples tighten, and my sex does a standing ovation.

  “What?”

  His smirk is now a wide, wicked grin. “You heard me. Over. Put that pretty little ass in the air. I’m going to play with it.”

  Have mercy, he’s going to kill me with orgasms.

  I swear to God, my mouth is watering as a fresh wave of desire starts to pool between my thighs.

  “How?” I croak.

  He shifts back, spreads me open with his two large palms on my inner thighs, and lowers his face to me. The man takes, he doesn’t ask, he doesn’t hesitate, he just takes. Right now he’s taking me with long swipes of his tongue.

  JESUS CHRIST!

  He’s so damn much!

  He rests his chin on my mound as he peers up at me from between my legs. “I’m going to use those flimsy little things you wear. The ones where I can see your beautiful tits.” With each word, his jaw rubs against my sensitive nub.

  I can’t move. It’s all so damn good.

  “I’m going to tie your arms to your legs,” he lowers his mouth and spears me with his tongue. My eyeballs roll back in my head. “Your sweet pussy and your tight little asshole will be mine for the taking.” He covers my mound, lips, and clit with his mouth and sucks hard.

  “Aaaahhhhh,” I moan.

  Then he’s off me and has me turned to my stomach. My hands curl and fist the blanket. My mind is a daze of want. I pull my knees beneath me and get my bottom in the air like a dog in heat. That’s what I feel like, that’s what he makes me. I need him, I need him so bad it hurts.

  He lays a palm between my shoulders blades. I love how it feels, safe and protected. “Turn your face to the side.” His thick voice is soft and reverent. I do. He pushes the hair away from my face and our eyes lock. His expression makes my heart stop, then pound wildly. “I could look at you all damn day, Gwen,” he murmurs.

  I love you.

  The words explode in my brain and take my breath away.

  I love him. I’ve always loved him. From the minute I first saw him, the mountain he is called me to claim him.

  He wraps a hand around one of my wrists as he places a kiss at the corner of my mouth. A soft breath slips past my lips. He brings my arm to run alongside my leg, then feeds the camisole around my calf and ties my arm to it. When he does the same to the other arm and leg, it seems like every nerve ending in my body has come to life.

  I close my eyes and get ready to let go.

  “I just need to feel you, Gwen,” his words are like a prayer.

  Like the good Catholic girl I am, I thank God.

  With his hands holding my legs just under my ass cheeks, he opens me up with his thumbs and presses his entire length into me. My toes curl, my nails dig into my palms, and a long slow moan seeps from my open mouth.

  So, so good…

  “Sweet baby Jesus, you are heaven, Gwen.” I can tell from his voice he’s in the same heady space I am.

  He pulls slowly back once, enters me again, holds himself there for a long moment, I can feel him swell inside me, then he slowly pulls out. My entire being weeps from the loss. Until his mouth lands on me and begins to feast furiously.

  I’ve just gone from drunken languor to mind blowing ecstasy in .5 seconds flat.

  He’s like a starved man, his mouth and tongue spearing me, licking me, nibbling on me. He leaves love bites on my ass cheeks and thighs, he sucks my folds and lips into his mouth. But when he slides his tongue to my back entrance, I jerk. His grip becomes firm holding me right where he wants me. He circles the tight entrance, and pushes the tip inside.

  OH MY GOD.

  When he slides his finger into my wetness as his tongue ravages my bottom, I come unraveled. My entire body shakes and some foreign sound I’ve never heard before leaves my mouth.

  “One more question,” he growls as his swollen shaft fills me up.

  His thrusts are ravenous as his skin slaps my skin and his balls hit my clit.

  Questions?! How the fuck am I supposed to think?

  He’s wild and savage as he fucks me. Taking, taking, taking. Every time he enters me, he’s taking me with him. Higher and faster, we keep going and going. I never want to come back.

  He said question?

  That’s right, I get to ask something.

  Our walls are annihilated when we’re like this. There’s nothing but honesty and truth and every secret ripped open.

  “Why are you here?” I pant.

  His fingers dig into my flesh as he pulls me into him.

  “To keep you safe,” he grits out roughly.

  “I am safe. Because of you. Because you’re here.”

  He slams me into him again. “NO, you’re not. And me…being with you…could make it worse.”

  No, that’s not true.

  I slam back into him, meeting his fury with my need for him. Because I do need him. So much.

  I feel my release flowing through my body. It starts at my toes and my scalp, unfurling in hot electric waves, until the waves crash together at my core. I scream out with the intensity. Bull thrusts, once, twice, then buries himself so deep inside of me, it feels like we’re one.

  “Fuck, Gwen…” He sounds almost pained.

  I can feel him coming undone inside me, and knowing I make him feel like this, that I make him lose control the way he does me, is the most glorious feeling ever.

  He doesn’t leave me, his thickness still pulsing in my heat, as he unties my limbs. When my arms are free, I slump to the bed, and he comes with me. Our bodies stay connected as he pulls me close. His big chest is rising and falling with his heavy breaths, his heart beating a matching rhythm to mine. I hold his arms around me. I’m content and happy. For now.

  I’m still reeling from the thunder and lightning of my orgasm. Wait. That’s right. Orgasm equals question. My eyes open as I ponder my last question.

  “I get one more question,” I ask quietly. I chew my lip nervously.

  I can feel his chest rumble against me as he chuckles. “Yes, you do.”

  “Um,” I begin nervously. Might as well just say it. I take in a deep breath. Just spit it out. “Do you guys have sex with women together?” I blurt it out.

  Bull stills behind me. The moment is frozen and I hear him breathing as my question hangs heavy in the air.

  He lets out a long rush of air. “Yes.” My entire body responds to his answer, very much like the first time he teased my back entrance, fear, excitement, arousal, and holy shit! The sensations are intensified by his lips leaving a trail down my neck and over my shoulder. I think of how Rock is with Summer, and how all of them are protective over the women in their lives. I envisio
n Gringo’s face, broken and agonized, with Sasha gone. I recall how both Snake and Raven are so powerful together, and with those who are close to them. And I think about the formidable bond the four of them share. This, all of this, tells me what they share is more than I can imagine.

  “I have a question,” his tone has grown serious with his lips brushing against my skin.

  “Oh?” I ask. That surprises me.

  His arms tighten around me. I pretend it’s because he doesn’t want to let go.

  "Did someone offer to purchase your share of the mill?”

  Clarity sears me like a solar flare.

  It’s all clear. All of the questions are suddenly answered. Every missing piece is suddenly there.

  “Yes.” That’s all I have to say.

  He doesn’t respond. He really doesn’t have to. Sasha, Summer, the mill, my safety, they’re all connected somehow. I don’t know how, and I’m not sure Bull does either. But he knows. Now so do I.

  He slides his hand up and turns my face so he can kiss me. This time it’s different.

  It’s possessive. It’s a promise. A promise to keep me safe, although I’m still not sure from what.

  He gets up from the bed to get a cloth from the bathroom, leaving my body cold. Him doing this, cleaning himself from me, is a level of intimacy that leaves me speechless. I don’t think about the fact this is the second time we’ve had sex without protection. He gets back in bed with me and covers us both.

  “Sleep darlin’. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

  I believe him.

  I believe him because things are different now.

  He’s just told me there are monsters in the dark. He’s here to protect me from them.

  CHAPTER 20

  Bull

  I didn’t fuck her to get the answer we’ve needed.

  I didn’t want to fuck her at all, I hadn’t even planned on seeing her.

  Bullshit.

  Maybe I’d waited until late to come inside to avoid running into Gwen, but I damn sure wanted her. If I could have her wrapped around my dick twenty-four-seven, I’d be the luckiest man alive. But it’s not even the sex. It’s how I want her, it’s way more than that. There’s an ache in my chest the size of the Grand Canyon when it comes to Gwendolyn, nothing can fill it except her.

  After she’d fallen asleep, I peeled myself from her and did my rounds through the house, then crawled back into bed with her and closed my body around hers. Nothing is better than that. Nothing. I must have slept, because I woke up to Gwen’s mouth around my morning wood. The little minx rolled me onto my back and rode me until she came. It was all I could do not to ejaculate after five seconds like a fifteen-year-old kid as soon as she slid her magic pussy down my shaft.

  Goddamn, that woman is perfect. Too perfect.

  I carried her to the shower afterward and fucked her again. Decided to kill two birds with one stone and remove the scent of sex so the both of us wouldn’t smell like a whore house when we went downstairs. But the best part of that shower was washing her long, thick, red hair. Everything she used smelled like roses. I had a constant erection while I massaged her head as I worked the shampoo and conditioner through her silky strands. When she went to her room to dress, I resisted following her. It was torture, but I had no choice. I quickly threw on some clothes and went downstairs to face Mrs. Merriweather.

  As I walk toward the kitchen, I hear her mumbling to herself.

  “Tis about time,” she giggles like a little girl when I walk into the large, cozy kitchen.

  The old lady warms my heart.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” I rumble.

  She waves a hand at me absently, not stopping whatever she’s doing. “Don’t you be ma’aming me, lad. Sit, I’ll ‘ave your cuppa in just a moment.”

  The old woman’s got me in limbo. I don’t know if she’s mad or relieved I slept upstairs. Well, not entirely slept. She’s not stupid, she knows something happened between me and Gwen last night. And this morning.

  “Thank you, Mrs. M.” It makes me feel guilty she goes through the trouble with me. But this morning I’m going to take advantage. I have more questions that need answers.

  She busies herself setting the table with the tea cups, sugar, and cream as the kettle boils. When the copper pot whistles, she fills my cup with the steaming water. I add the sugar and cream just as she’d done before and lift the cup to my lips.

  “Seems you finally decided to shit,” she states adding sugar and cream to her own cup.

  I choke on the hot liquid, fighting the need to spit it out all over the table.

  “Excuse me?” I cough. “Was there a toilet clogged, ma’am? I’ll call the plumber.”

  I didn’t even use the bathroom!

  “Och, lad,” she lets out a good belly laugh. “I meant you and my Gwendolyn,” she waves her hand. “You shagged ‘er, you did.”

  I stare at her a moment trying to understand exactly what she’s just said. I’d bet my ass Mrs. M. just told me I screwed her granddaughter.

  Rule #1, never admit to anything.

  “Ma’am?” there ain’t no way in hell I’m owning it.

  “Posh, Bull, tis alright,” she takes a good sip from her tea cup as unbothered if we were discussing how the winter affected her gladiolus. “The way the two of you be dancing around each other, snipping and snapping the way you be. Tis about time you took the bull by the ‘orns, it is,” she nudges my arm with her elbow and has another good laugh at her joke.

  Don’t you laugh, Bull, this is not funny. Not with Mrs. M’s ten grandbabies waiting to make their appearance.

  I grab the teacup and lift it to my mouth, hoping like hell the old woman can’t see the snicker on my face. That was funny, corny as hell, but damn funny.

  “I’m not exactly sure what you mean, Mrs. M., but nothing happened between Gwen and me. We just talked,” I mumble from the behind the porcelain barrier, hoping she doesn’t call me on my bullshit.

  She pats my arm. “That be a load of crap, lad, but it’s alright. I’m just glad you not be sleeping on me settee anymore. A boy as big as you, I’m surprised the legs ain’t fall out from underneath it from the weight of you, I am.”

  “I’ll buy you a new one,” I wink at her.

  “Och, Bull, you are a naughty one,” she giggles again. I can just picture her when she was younger, she must have been a fiery beauty, just like Gwen. Her husband didn’t stand a chance. Setting her cup down, she gets up from the table and begins to busy herself around the kitchen, pulling out pots from the cabinet, eggs, mushrooms, and tomatoes from the refrigerator. “I’ll be fixing your breakfast.”

  “No, I insist,” I refuse her kind gesture. That shit bothers me, an elderly woman cooking for me, it just don’t seem right.

  “Yes, I will.” She peers at me over her shoulder. “Get Gwendolyn trained right from the beginning, we will,” and gives me a coy wink.

  I laugh. This woman has got me wrapped around her finger just like her granddaughter. “You are quite the troublemaker, aren’t you Mrs. M?”

  She chuckles with her back to me at the stove, cracking eggs into the pan. “’ad me ‘usband’s knickers in a twist a right good many times, I did. ‘e said I kept ‘im on ‘is toes.”

  That’s exactly what I want with Gwendolyn.

  The realization slams into me like a wrecking a ball, sobering me up and shutting down every good emotion I was riding high on.

  I clear my throat and get my head out of my ass. Now is not the time to be fucking around.

  “Mrs. Merriweather,” I begin. “You said you signed everything over to Gwen.” It’s a statement, one I’m sure of, but it still needs confirmation.

  “I did, lad,” she doesn’t turn around.

  “Is that including your husband’s estate share of the mill?”

  This time she gives me a look over her shoulder, stopping mid-slice on a tomato. “It does.” Her look tells me she knows I’m getting to something. K
nowing her, she won’t let me stop until she finds out what that is.

  “Please forgive me if I seem…forward,” I preface, because this one’s going to push the boundaries of polite. I’ve never claimed to be polite. “What is that worth?”

  “Och, let’s see lad,” chop-chop-chop, the knife hits the cutting board. “If it was sold, about three million dollars,” she answers without batting an eye or slowing the steady chopping. “American, not pounds.”

  Yeah, I figured.

  “Well, goddamn, Mrs. M.,” I let out a snort.

  That gets her turning around and pointing her big knife right at me. “You’ll not be taking the Lords name in vain, lad. Tis not proper.”

  A foreign flash of embarrassment washes over my features, even my bald head’s got to be pink.

  “Sorry, ma’am.”

  You say it’s okay for me to get freaky with your granddaughter, but I can’t curse.

  You bet your ass I won’t say that again in front of her.

  “S’alright, lad, you’ll not be knowing any better,” she mumbles as she puts the mushrooms in the pan with the tomatoes.

  I smell her before I see her. The soft scent of roses float in before Gwendolyn does. Ah, shit. My dick wakes up, even after the round in the shower we just had.

  “Bull doesn’t know any better about what, Nan?” she walks over to her grandmother, my gaze following her, and pops a mushroom in her mouth, taking it right out of the frying pan. “Mmmm, I’m starved,” No shit, we fucked like jack rabbits last night. I could eat the ass end out of a cow. I give her a smirk; she turns a pretty shade of crimson knowing exactly what I’m thinking.

 

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