by Jillian Neal
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Potent desire flooded through Kaitlyn. She’d never felt more wanted. Somehow having her hands bound and being at his mercy set her free. Using her upper arms and shoulders, she pressed her breasts tighter together. His responding growl delighted her.
He was slack-jawed, leaning back on the couch with his eyes closed in ecstasy, and she’d done that to him. Raw power catapulted through her.
Leaning her head down, she managed to lick the tip of his massive cock as it crested her cleavage. His flavors saturated her tongue once again. A moan of pleasure worked up from her lungs as his scent filled them.
She made another lick. A hot gasp of air blew from between his teeth. “Dammit all to hell, finish me. Now,” his growled demand made her fly. Easing back, she drew him into her mouth and sucked hard.
His right hand threaded through her hair once again. Every nerve-ending on her scalp rejoiced as he took control, thrusting gently in and out of her mouth. His entire body drew taut. Another moan took up what little space was left between her lips.
“Drink me,” spilled from his lips as hot cum filled her mouth. She swallowed, not certain she was doing this right. He certainly seemed to be enjoying it, so she continued.
A full minute later, he stopped her. His momentary look of bone-deep satisfaction was quickly replaced with his customary expression loaded with undiluted intent, the look that said he was about to fuck her senseless.
Reaching behind her, he unlooped the belt, freeing her arms. “Fucking hottest thing I have ever seen. Come here to me.”
He cradled her face in his right hand, drew her upwards, and then his mouth was on hers. She swore the kiss reached through the fear that had defined her entire life. It sank slowly beneath her skin, electrifying her until her lips were steeped in his kiss. He fed her on his tongue, drugging her, owning her thoroughly.
“I taste myself in your mouth. Damn, you drive me wild. You taste like mine, sugar, all mine, all for me.”
“I am yours,” she vowed readily.
“And I ain’t near done with you.” He joined her on the floor after shedding his jeans. Crowding behind her, his index fingers traced from her shoulders down her arms as he removed the shirt and bra, leaving her in nothing but the thong.
“So damned gorgeous,” preceded his thick fingers sliding the crotch of her panties aside and tracing her slit.
She writhed between his chest and the couch cushions. “Lean forward,” he commanded as two fingers slammed into her hard and fast.
“Oh, God,” she cried out as he pumped in and out without reprieve.
“Come on my fingers, peaches. Made you hot and wet to suck my cock, didn’t it?”
“Yes,” the word echoed in her mind.
“Such a good girl. So nice and tight for me. It’s right there ain’t it, sugar? I can feel it coming.” He spoke directly in her left ear again. The rasping rumble of his voice carried her higher and closer to the point of no return. Every pulse point in her body timed itself to his strokes.
All sound was muted but her own moans. His mouth kissed a trail of sweet fire between her shoulder-blades. His other hand cupped her left breast.
Suddenly, his teeth sank gently into the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder. His mouth punished and forgave, constantly skirting the edge of pain that bordered on pure bliss. Warmth licked at her spine. All thought left her. She was capable of nothing but feeling. When he twisted her nipple back and forth between his fingers, she broke on a scream of his name.
She was wrung out and trembling in his arms. Still, Grant wasn’t even close to being ready to quit. Not if he had to take her back to that hell she lived in tomorrow. He’d make damn sure she existed in heaven all night long.
Laying her head back on his shoulder he kept them on their knees, running his hands tenderly over all of her beautiful curves. “Can you hear me, sweetheart?”
She managed a half nod. Chuckling, he cradled his cock between her ass cheeks, feeling the slip of satin abrade him. “I’m about to make it hurt so good again, baby. You ready?” He couldn’t quite translate her moan that time. “I told you I’m relentless and you drive me wild.”
“Fuck me,” came out in a timid plea that he swore made his blood sing.
“Filthy mouth, darlin’.” Grasping thick globe of ass, he massaged and then swatted rather hard.
“Oh, God, yes, more,” she whimpered. With that, all semblance of gentlemanly behavior he’d ever managed to cling to disappeared. Jerking the panties aside yet again, he impaled himself on her with another smack of her backside.
“Count them for me. That was two.”
With his every quick retreat, she cried out for more. With every hard thrust he brought his hand back to her ass until it glowed pink, driving him wild. “Three,” she moaned.
“You feel your greedy little pussy nursing at my cock, naughty girl? You feel how wet you are for me? Dripping down my thighs.”
“Yes,” hissed from her as she arched her back, offering him more. Raw need blazed through him. Impatience surged through his veins. Every strike made her wetter still. “Four, five.”
The panties were drenched. Another gush of wet heat dripped around his cock and his groan of adamant approval shook the windows. His hand connected with the thick globes of her ass again and again, and she cried out for more.
“Six, oh, God, yes. Seven.”
He abandoned her backside, moving his hand to her satin covered clit instead, watching his cock disappear deep inside her folds. Tugging on the panties, he slipped the slick fabric back and forth over her sensitive little pearl. Her cries reached deafening decibels.
The longing to fill her full decimated his resolve. Every silky ripple of her pussy spiked his blood. When she cinched so tightly around him he could barely withdraw, he jerked her body closer. Her climax drove his.
Barely managing regular breath, he eased out of her, watching his seed drip out of her of her pussy, shiny and red with the mix of their juices. With what little strength he had left, he lifted her up into his arms and carried her to bed.
God only knew what tomorrow would bring, but tonight he’d sated her thoroughly. Fucked her so good and so hard she was almost out by the time he arranged her tenderly on his chest.
“That was amazing,” in her sweet sleepy tone were the last noises he heard that evening.
By one AM he knew sleep was never coming. Josh would follow through on his threat. If there’d been any money in Grant’s bank accounts, he would have bet it all on that fact. And that pissed him off thoroughly.
He refused to be afraid, but getting arrested didn’t sound like a precious lot of fun, and he didn’t have time for it. Taking Kaitlyn back was equally as despicable. Turning her over to low-life asswipes that treated her like shit wasn’t happening, not on his watch.
Repositioning himself so he could cradle her closer, he watched the silvery moonlight dance in her hair. Brushing a kiss on her forehead, he prayed she’d awaken.
God must’ve been in a good mood, because her eyes blinked open and a gentle smile creased her beautiful face. “Hey there, gorgeous. I need another fix. I told you I’ll never get enough.”
Her smile expanded as he drew her closer.
At 5:00, after another slow gentle session, he eased away from her sleeping form. He had shit to do. He had to decide what he was going to do about the corn and the cattle, and no pansy-assed cityboy was gonna keep him from his duties.
Josh could lick the shit off his boots. Nobody was going to have to bail Grant Camden out. He’d work his ass off before that would happen.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The sun was far too high in the sky the next time Kaitlyn awoke. She blinked a few times and then ordered her eyes to close once again. It was easier to remember every single detail of the love they’d made that morning before he’d left when her eyes were closed.
That morning had been a gentle answer to the rough passion he’d given her the evening b
efore, their session in the middle of the night a mix of the two. She’d loved every single moment of all three.
She had never felt more powerfully desirable. It was a heady sensation.
“Oh, crap,” she jerked upright in bed. They had to leave. What time was it? Stumbling out of bed, she cupped her breasts in her hands to keep them from bouncing when she ran to the living room wearing nothing but the warm wool socks he’d put on her once again before he’d left that morning.
Ten minutes later, she found her phone buried deep in the couch cushions. Her heart located a steady beat. It was only 8:30. They still had time. Part of her longed to believe that Josh was just being an ass, that he was bluffing and would never get a warrant for Grant’s arrest, but another part of her knew she just wasn’t that lucky. If Josh wanted a warrant, her father would issue it.
A profound sadness washed through her as she turned on the coffee maker. What happened when they arrived back in Lincoln? Grant had become the single most important thing in her life in just three days.
It made no sense to think about him being two hours away on his ranch while she sat miserably in her parent’s home on the golf course.
She’d never really dated anyone other than Seth, and most of the time she didn’t want to see him so she never worried about the time in between their dates. Not seeing Grant for days at a time sounded inhumane.
Scolding herself for being overly dramatic, she poured a cup of coffee and let the warm liquid sate her soul. They would figure it out. She just had to get her father and Josh to calm down first. After that feat, most anything was doable.
Noticing the slight rub marks on her wrists from his belt, she wrinkled her nose. Hopefully no one else would notice those.
As each moment of the night before replayed in her mind, she casually strolled to the bathroom, pretending to be unaffected, play-acting for no one but herself. Flipping on the light, she turned and cringed at the deep purple markings on the back of her neck and shoulders from his mouth.
Biting her lip, she stood on her tiptoes and made a quick note of the slight pink heat still clinging to her right butt cheek in the distinctive shape of his hand. Damn. At least that would be easier to cover.
Her father had been a detective for the better part of his career. There wasn’t much he didn’t notice. That’s why Kaitlyn and her siblings rarely put so much as a toe out of line.
Borrowing another one of Grant’s shirts, she relaxed. The collar more than covered the hickeys and the sleeves came down to her knuckles. She just wouldn’t roll them up, keeping the leather markings on her wrists concealed. And she’d have a talk with her cowboy about his claims of ownership, even though she’d loved every moment of them.
Loathing the process, she went on with packing her suitcases and gathering her belongings. At least going back home meant she could get more suitable clothing and dispose of most everything she’d picked out for the ill-fated honeymoon.
By nine-thirty she was panicked. Where was Grant? He’d heard Josh the night before. Pacing in his living room, she debated. In what had to be the most insane part of this whirlwind relationship was the fact that she didn’t yet have his cell phone number. They were almost always together. There’d been no need to have a way to contact him.
Slipping into her black ballet flats, she marched out onto the front porch, squinting her eyes, praying he’d come galloping up on his horse. She saw no one.
The ranch expanded for miles and miles on every side. She had no idea which way would lead her to another human being, but she had to find Grant.
Trying to remember the way he’d driven home from the bar, she thought the main road from the entrance was to her left so she headed that way. She passed fields full of cows, but most of them had the NC brand on their hides. They were Natalie’s. Doubting Grant was working with Natalie’s cows, she stayed on the path.
Suddenly the whir of a motor was upon her. She hadn’t heard it coming. Spinning around, Dec grinned at her from the seat of a Gator. He killed the motor. “You making a break for it or looking for Grant?”
“Looking for Grant. Did you hear about what happened last night with Josh?”
“I did. Not much happens around here that everyone doesn’t hear about. Hop on in. We’ll go find him. I’m betting he’s the opposite direction, actually.”
Kaitlyn slid into the passenger seat, hating herself for feeling wary of Declan. He seemed like a nice guy. Doubling down on hating her father for teaching her fear, she drew a deep breath. Manure mixed with sweet corn didn’t do much to bolster her courage, however.
“He knows we have to be in Lincoln by noon. I don’t understand why he’s not back,” she sighed.
Concentrating as Dec cranked the motor again, she watched his lips to see his response.
“Oh, I bet if you really think about Grant and how he does life, it wouldn’t really surprise you that he’s not back.”
Odd response. Kaitlyn considered.
“Sorry, I’m a psychologist by trade. I tell Holly you can take the man out of the therapist’s office but you can’t take the therapist out of the man.”
Laughing at that, she nodded her understanding. “Grant doesn’t want to take me back.” The answer had been right there in front of her all along.
“As you Americans say, Bingo, but that’s not all.”
She considered everything she’d learned about Grant Camden in the past few days. “And he’s stubborn and refuses to let Josh affect what he does.”
“So, not in any way shocking that he hasn’t come to pick you up.”
“I will not let him get arrested because of me.”
“I’ve seen the way he is with you. Trust me, he’d throw himself in front of his own hay-baler for you. Getting arrested isn’t something that concerns him.”
“Well, it concerns me.”
“I’ve been arrested. Not a particularly pleasant experience, so it concerns me as well. Let’s go find him.”
Kaitlyn was dying to ask what Declan had been arrested for and how all his extensive tattoo work and piercings matched with his career as a psychologist, but knew that would be impolite. She went with her alternative question instead. “You said you were a psychologist?”
“Still am. Holly and I run the free psych center here in town.”
“Oh, that’s so nice. Um, could I ask you a kind of question I’ve wanted to ask a therapist for a long time?”
Dec turned his head to study her. “That most definitely depends on the question. You can make an appointment, though it might be better if I didn’t counsel Grant’s girlfriend. I have several colleagues I can recommend back in Lincoln.”
“It’s not about me. It’s about my mother.”
“That’s probably doable.”
“Thanks. My twin brother was in the Army and he was killed a few years ago in Afghanistan.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. I’m getting better at saying that out loud. That might be a good sign, right?”
“Maybe, but I thought this was about your mother.”
“Fine. So, after Keith was killed, my mom sort of came completely apart. She’ll go days without speaking and cries all the time to this day, unless she’s at the club or with anyone but me and my dad. I keep telling my dad she needs to see a therapist, but then he just goes into this fit of rage. I don’t know what to do.”
Declan offered her a sorrowful glance. “This is why therapy sessions on the Gator aren’t a great idea. Here’s what I can tell you, the grieving process isn’t what you see on television or read about in books. It’s very unique to each person experiencing it. Anger is a very common part of grief, and it’s usually most frightening for the person who is the angriest. The anger is usually a result of guilt. That’s a bitter anger.
“Your mother should seek a therapist, and no therapist in their right mind would attempt to diagnose without ever having seen the patient, so everything I’m saying is an unprofession
al opinion as your friend. Your mother’s inability to cope currently might not be solely about your brother’s death, and your father might need one more than your mum. Your mother’s behavior outside the family indicates that she probably doesn’t want to feel and act the way she’s acting when she’s only with you. She’s clearly struggling. There may be more at stake that continues to wrench the process they both need to go through to grieve. And the worst part of it all is that we don’t get to decide when we’re finished grieving. Grief lets you know when it’s finished with you and never the other way around.”
He drove the deeper into Camden land while Kaitlyn let that tumble around in her head. “That just sucks,” she finally summed.
“It does. And I’m very sorry you have to go through it. I’m sorry anyone has to go through it, but it seems to be a part of life.”
“Is that a …?” Kaitlyn couldn’t believe her eyes. On the left as they passed, she found herself staring at a small graveyard, neatly trimmed, each headstone bearing a bouquet of wildflowers or a small wreath.
“Generations of Camdens are buried right there. We all take turns keeping it cleaned up and tended. This ranch means everything to them. Luke once told me that he intended to work this land all of his life and then return to it when his work here was through. They all seem to understand that death is a part of life, just like grief seems to be. What I wouldn’t have given to grow up understanding that.
“Now, Grant is out in that field on Blaze trying his best to forget that he’s supposed to be taking you back to Lincoln today.” He gestured his head to the small field in front of them.
Grant was seated on a massive copper quarterhorse. He appeared to be counting the nearby cattle. “Blaze? Does she ride really fast or something?” Kaitlyn wasn’t certain if she should get out of the Gator. Cows were much larger up close than they appeared from the safety of Grant’s front porch, and his horse looked to be several stories high.
“Jessie names all the horses, and her delightful sense of literary knowledge always comes through. Blaze is German for unwavering protector. Sounds like Grant, doesn’t it?”