by Stacy Gail
This was it.
He was giving her the freedom to decide.
The aching emptiness inside her made the decision for her.
“Remember when you said I’d be screaming for you to seduce me?” With a sense of rightness, she stepped into his space and looped her arms around his neck. “Consider this a scream for you to go for your homerun.”
He met her kiss head-on, his mouth greedy on hers as he lifted her a couple inches off the ground and backed in through the open door. Once inside, he absently kicked it shut behind them, his mouth never leaving hers. He didn’t stop until he was in her room, where he came to a crashing halt a second after she’d reached out to flick on the overhead light.
“Twin bed.” He uttered the two words like they were the world’s greatest profanity. “I forgot you had a goddamn twin bed in here.”
Ack. “If you want to go upstairs to one of the other—”
“Not going on a damn hike when all I need is right in front of me. I’ll just have to get creative.” Letting her feet touch the ground, he plowed his hands through her hair and kissed her like it was his one true calling. When his lips left hers, he brought one of her hands up and pressed it to the center of his chest. “You feel that, Spice?”
A heart hammering out of control was pretty hard to miss. “Yes.”
“Good. I like knowing you can feel how my heart beats for you. That’s how I am—who I am—whenever I touch you.”
Her own heart came to a stop. “Did you really just say that?”
He nodded before he kissed her brow. “One of these days, this reaction I have whenever you’re around is going to fucking kill me, but I don’t even care. I’ll die happy, because that’s what I am when I’ve got you under my hands.”
A shiver sliced through her as the melting between her legs grew worse, and she squeezed her thighs together in a futile effort to control her rising lust. “I don’t need pretty words. I just need you. Tonight. That’s all.”
“You have me tonight.”
“Good.”
“And tomorrow,” he went on, surprising her. “And the next day, and any other damn time you can think of, because there are no limits for us. And you’ll find a way to cope with my words, pretty or not, because I’m not speaking anything but the truth. Fin said it’s bad news for a man to tell lies to his woman, so the truth is all you’re going to get from me.”
She had no idea what to say to that, but since his mouth was on hers again, she figured an answer wasn’t necessary. What was necessary was focusing on the fact that he was undoing the front of her jeans.
What a great idea.
It was such a good idea, in fact, that she reached for the fastenings of his jeans as well, and in her haste she accidentally brushed the hard bulge behind his zipper.
He groaned, and she winced. “Sorry. You’re so, uh, big that I didn’t expect you to be right...there.”
God, had that actually come out of her mouth?
He chuckled, proving to her that she had, indeed, said it out loud. “Glad to know I’ve impressed you.” His grin was impossibly masculine, and the sight of it only made the ache in her lower regions worse. Until that moment, she hadn’t known desire could actually hurt. “Keep going, baby. Take my clothes off and get your hands on me.”
Oh, yes.
Quickly he went about following his own advice. Shoes, socks and jeans were all kicked aside, his hands everywhere on her flushed, responsive body. He tugged her T-shirt off before he took his time sliding her panties—a pair of hipsters, but that was what he got for coming home early—slowly past the swell of her butt.
“I’m replacing all the clothes I ordered for you.” His voice was distracted as he drank in the sight of her, almost naked as she stood before him, except for her pink bra. Within seconds that was gone as well, and all she could hear was his disturbed breathing. “I deliberately bought ugly shit that I thought would keep me from wanting you, but there’s nothing on this earth that could diminish your perfection. My God, Dallas, you’re so damn beautiful I can’t fucking take it.”
“Yes, you can.” In moments she had his shirt off and his jeans pushed open as wide as possible. At turns careful and eager, she delved her hands past his boxer-briefs to cradle the impressive, heavy length of his granite-hard cock. Wow. “You can take me.”
No more words were necessary. Communication came in the form of touch, and she wanted to touch him everywhere. He seemed to be caught in the grips of that same need as he moved her back to the narrow bed. As she sat on the mattress’s edge, he pushed her back and spread her knees.
“Gotta have a taste of that heaven, Spice. I’ve been dreaming about this sweet pussy of yours since I first laid eyes on you, so lie back and enjoy while I find out just how delicious you are.” He settled between her legs, looking hungry and driven to satisfy that hunger in all the glorious ways he could imagine.
Yay.
He spread her intimate folds with the thigh-quivering stroking of his fingers, his other hand caressing a path up to a breast to cup its feminine fullness before tweaking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. When he lowered his head to her body, she closed her eyes. She couldn’t help it. The first sweep of his tongue was...extraordinary. Any more of that and she’d lose her damn mind.
Unerringly his tongue found the small button of her clit. Just like he had during that unforgettable horse ride, he toyed with it, this time with his tongue, circling that hardened nerve cluster until she wanted to scream. Thankfully he seemed to sense she was in no mood to play, because just as she was getting ready to curse him, he closed his mouth over that nub and sucked.
“Fuck. Killian.” The pleasure fireworked through her, so intense she couldn’t stop the breathless scream that burst from her clenched throat. She couldn’t take this, she was sure of it. If he kept sucking on her like she was his favorite candy, she was going to die.
“You’re not going to die.” His murmured assurance made her realize she must have spoken out loud. He lifted his head, and the lost connection instantly made every nerve in her body screech in protest. She let out a broken whimper while he moved to retrieve his wallet from his jeans to fish out a condom. “Though I’ve gotta say, it sure as hell sounds like I’m murdering you. God, I fucking love the sounds you make when I’m playing with that sweet pussy of yours. One touch from me and you lose it.”
“Don’t gloat.” The admonition came out between jagged breaths, but there was nothing to be done for it. When a man had the skills to make a woman completely unravel in the best possible way, she had no hope of hiding it.
“No way, baby.” In seconds Killian had the protection rolled into place. “From here on in, I’m going to do nothing but gloat.”
“First you have to do something to gloat about, pal.” God help her, once again she was almost panting in her excitement as he moved between her knees, and spread them as wide as they would go. “Are you up for the challenge?”
“You tell me.” He paused so she could get a good look at him, and wow, was there a lot to look at. Simply put, his cock was magnificent. The stiffened flesh curved upward he was so hard, and so thick and long the sight of it took her breath away.
“Challenge accepted.” She could barely hear her own voice over the pounding of her heart as she reached for that hard length, guiding him to her threshold. With one careful thrust he filled her, stretching her inner walls until she groaned and let her head fall back, her eyes closing once more so she could better concentrate on the exquisite feel of him. Blindly she pushed her heels into the backs of his thighs while her hands clutched at his rock-solid ass, pulling him in as deep as he could go. She gasped as a shimmer of pleasure darted through her even as her body adjusted and molded itself around his, and for a heartbeat of time she went still as the sensation of oneness sank into every part of her.
Bliss.
She’d heard the word before.
Now she knew what it meant.
Then
he rolled his hips, and she couldn’t hold still to save her soul. Each thrust brought her closer to heaven. Every roll of her hips deepened their connection. Theirs was a perfect fit, the greatest gift she’d ever stumbled upon, and if they could somehow be like this forever, she’d be just fine with that.
But even as that thought appeared, the building tension deep inside spasmed until every nerve jangled. Then the tension snapped, exploding outward, and she came so hard tears rolled from the corners of her eyes. Half a second later, his half-groan, half-roar filled the room to mingle with the cries tearing out of her. She didn’t care about how loud she was, but damn, she had never heard anything as sexy as Killian giving in to the pleasure she gave him. If she could have that sound in her life again and again, she’d be a happy woman.
With her body still clenched around his cock, he slid his arms under her and pulled her upright, sliding her all the way off the narrow mattress to collapse onto his lap as he eased back to sit on the floor.
“Two things,” he said, still breathless and looking happier than she’d ever seen him, “One, the next time we fuck, we’re doing it on a damn bed that can fit the both of us. And two...”
“Yes?”
“We have to fuck each other about a mile away from any other human being. Either that, or we find a soundproof room, because my God, do I love to make you scream.”
“Right back atcha,” she whispered, and reveled in his breathless, sexy laugh.
Chapter Thirteen
Killian opened his eyes, saw pale morning sunlight slanting in through the window’s shutters, and for a handful of seconds had no idea what year it was. That beige wall with the white crown molding, and that slant of early morning sunlight through the slats of shutters across the window was something he’d never forget. For the first eighteen years of his life he’d opened his eyes to that image, and dreamed of never seeing it again. Yet here it was.
If he was dreaming, it had to be a nightmare.
Then he heard a sigh next to him, and his sleepy confusion vanished.
Oh, wait.
No, this wasn’t a nightmare.
Far from it.
Dallas.
“Hey, Spice.” With a yawning stretch, he turned onto his side to watch her. Last night he hadn’t fully appreciated how good she looked as they moved from her tiny twin bed to what had once been his childhood bedroom upstairs. But with the sun coming up and their corner of the world still blanketed in sleepy peace, he sure as hell was going to take the time now.
Dear God, she was a work of art.
Her wild red hair was a vivid splash of color against the whiteness of the pillows, and the flawless alabaster that was her skin looked too delicate for his work-rough hands to touch. But that sure as hell wasn’t going to stop him from touching her. He’d never seen skin like hers, or felt anything so silken. It was like she wasn’t even real. And those sweet noises she made when he was inside her. They were like crack to him. He was addicted, hardcore, and he didn’t even give a damn.
A whimper escaped her, and one glance at her sleeping, unhappy face told him it wasn’t one of the good noises he loved so much.
“Hey, baby.” Gently but firmly, he caught her wrists in his hands so he wouldn’t wind up with an inadvertent black eye. “Dallas. Come on, Spice, wake up. You’re dreaming. It’s okay, baby. I’m here.”
“No.” She jolted sharply awake, eyes wide and breath coming fast, and he had to thank his foresight to restrain her. With her hands balled into fists, he was pretty sure he would’ve wound up seeing stars. “What...? Oh. Killian.” She sucked in a shuddering breath and held it for a long moment. When she finally let it out, it wasn’t any steadier. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He pushed her hair back and pressed his lips to her brow. “Were you hiding in the closet with Des again?”
“Yes. But also no. I started out with Des in my closet. But this time, when my father tried to take him and I was trying to hold on to him, I looked up at Des and saw I was holding on to this monster that had a mouth full of horrible, deep-water fish teeth. But in the dream I know it’s still Des, so I freeze, because I’m stuck between trying to hold on to him, or letting go of a vicious thing that’s trying to eat me.” She tried for another steadying breath. “Of all the variations of the closet dream, that one’s always the worst.”
“Always.” Damn it. “So you’ve had this dream before.”
“Only about a million times. And before you ask, I get it, okay? I know exactly what my subconscious is trying to tell me, because that bitch isn’t subtle. It would be healthier for me let go of the past before my present and future get swallowed up by all that terrible ugliness I’m holding on to. Honestly, I get it.”
At least he didn’t have to spell it out for her. “But?”
“Knowing it is one thing. Being able to do it is another. I just wish...”
“What?” He touched her chin and brought her gaze to his. “Tell me what you wish, Dallas. No matter what it is, I’ll make it come true.”
Her sad half-smile made something tighten in his chest. “I just wish I could find a way to free myself of the past and just...live.”
He had some ideas, but at the moment he had a feeling she was way too fragile for big steps. Baby steps first. “Have you tried talking about it?”
“What? The dreams?”
“The past. The dreams. Everything. Where your parents are, how your first foster dad hunted you until you felt compelled to dress in closets, and what was it that scared you more than when you thought I was kidnapping you.”
“You did kidnap me.”
He sighed. “Fuck me, I totally did.”
Her laugh was small, but real, and it lightened the mood substantially. “I did talk every couple of weeks to my social worker. At the time, she’d also been working on her PhD in psychology, specializing in childhood trauma. She did her best to look out for me, so I think it’s down to her that I’m not as screwed up as I could have been.”
“There.” He curled his arms around her before rolling onto his back, bringing her with him so that she sprawled on his chest. “That’s what I’m talking about. You had a social worker instead of parents. Where were they?”
“My father went as crazy as your mother did, if your descriptions are anything to go by. He said he’d kill Des or Mama if she didn’t get rid of him. All of which Des heard, and had to wonder why Daddy didn’t love him anymore.”
“Motherfucker,” he muttered as a terrible fury kindled in his heart. “Des was five years old, for God’s sake.”
“Cruelty doesn’t give a damn how old you are. It just smacks you around whether you’re ready for it or not. My dad was an extra-special kind of cruel though, as far as I’m concerned. Even after Des had been dropped into the Brody family lap, dear old Dad still left. I mean, my idiot mother abandoned a child for him. Sure, she told me it was to save Des’s life because Daddy was going to fucking murder him, but she had other choices, Killian. She could have gone to the police to get a restraining order. She could have taken Des and me and booked it the hell out of town. She could’ve told him that if he ever raised a hand to her children again, the way he did with me to make me let go of Des, she’d be the one who’d be committing murder. But she didn’t do any of that. She just...caved. She abandoned Des like he was an unwanted kitten, and then turned around and tried to continue to live with the man who’d threatened to kill her child. Who does that?” She shook her head with a grinding weariness, a gesture that made him realize she’d probably been asking that same question since she was eight years old. “Seriously, who? I’d never do that to my children. You bring babies into the world, that means you put them first. Your needs, they go to the back of the line. I don’t give a fuck who their daddies were. You take care of your babies, no matter what. That’s it.”
“That’s who you are, Spice, and thank God for it.” To make sure she knew he meant it, he gave her a bone-creaking squeeze. “With your brains and your spine a
nd your code of honor, I would trust you with my life. But that woman who gave birth to you... She was from another planet. You’re the one who tried to physically hold your family together, not her. And I’ll tell you another thing—you holding on to Des when you were just a little bitty thing is the bravest goddamn thing I’ve ever heard. When you held on to him, you were trying to hold an entire world together, something no eight-year-old should ever be put in a position to do. But that’s what happened, and that’s what your automatic response was. I’m so proud of you I could bust.”
“Really?” To his shock, her eyes glittered with unshed tears, and he gave her another squeeze.
“Hell, yeah. That moment right there encapsulates your truest character. You’re loyal to the very end, and when you love, you’ll fight for it with everything in you. I’m just sorry your parents didn’t feel the same way about you.”
“You’re right, they didn’t.” Something cold and terrible passed through her expression, and for a moment she was looking into a place far away from the sunlit peace of his old bedroom. “Despite my mom giving up Des in order to keep my father around, he took off a few months later, but not before emptying every cent out of their bank account. I remember coming home from school to find my mother packing up a car she’d rented with a credit card she couldn’t pay off. She drove us to Houston so we could stay with her sister—my aunt, who was sick with metastatic breast cancer. About a month after that, my mom was dead. Suicide. I found her. My aunt died a couple years later.”
“Fuck.” He rolled onto his side with Dallas clamped to him, this time so he could shelter her from a god-awful past that had already happened. “Fuck.”
“For a while, I had night terrors about my mom—finding her like that in the bathtub. I was actually afraid of taking hot soaking baths after that, long before I got to the pedo-perv’s foster house where he would insist on, shall we say, helping me bathe. The day he nearly drowned me because I fought to get away from him was the worst terror I’ve ever known, since you were so interested in knowing what was worse than your kidnapping attempt,” she added dryly while the fury inside him went nuclear. “Needless to say, to this day I’m a big shower fan. No long hot soaks for me, thank you very much.”