by Celia Kyle
Beside him, his brother eased up until he stood and leaned against the wall for support. “So,” he sucked in more air. “I guess things have changed.”
Van couldn’t have torn his gaze from the delectable Lauren if he’d tried. “Yeah.”
“Interesting,” Keen murmured, and Van looked to his youngest brother staring at his mate with appreciation in his gaze.
Hell no.
Van reached for Keen again, stretching out his arm, curling his fingers in preparation of strangling the man. His mother gave birth to four boys, she wouldn’t miss one, right?
The tinny voice of Mia came through the discarded home phone, and Van realized he couldn’t kill Keen. Not when he needed the male to keep an eye on Lauren while he spoke on the phone. The animal rumbled in protest so he amended his thought. They couldn’t kill him… yet.
Once Bryson Davies ceased being a threat, it was on. Until then, he needed Keen. Because Bryson Davies, Mayor of Grayslake, Georgia was as mean as a snake and it was only a matter of time before he struck.
Chapter Six
Three hours later and Lauren still couldn’t get Van out of her head. That look, that fierce expression… it made her wonder what it’d be like to have that passion unleashed on her.
A shudder overtook her, a spark of arousal slinking into her veins. Nope, that was the wrong direction for her thoughts to take.
Papa bear. She had to remember that. He only wanted to take care of her and…
The last thing I feel about you is paternal.
The memory had her arousal doing a little more than slinking. It brought forward the feel of his lips on hers and then the rough way he wrapped his arm around her and jerked her against him. She recalled how she’d grown hot for him, her pussy aching with need while her clit twitched and begged to be stroked.
And now she was an aroused jumble once again. She was back to hot, needy, and craving Van Abrams. Except instead of being pelted by warm water in the shower, she now had a bed nearby and fantasies spinning through her mind.
Lauren stood in the middle of the room, filled with indecision. She looked toward the bed, the full sized mattress. Then she focused on the bedroom’s door. She could flick the lock. It wouldn’t hold up against Van if he fought to get in, but she could engage it and then try very, very hard to be quiet…
There was no better remedy for pain than pleasure right? A quick “O” and the aches would be a distant memory.
She tiptoed to the door and twisted the small button, wincing when it snicked into place. Somehow Van had super hearing and the last thing she wanted was to alert him to her “activities.” Getting caught in the shower was bad enough.
A warm ache formed between her thighs and a slow, gentle rolling need blanketed her. Excitement filled her, along with a hint of naughtiness combined with craving.
The object of her lust—how lame did that sound?—lay on the couch down the hallway, the massive man squeezed onto a five-foot long piece of furniture.
There was an additional empty guestroom in Martin’s home since Anna was sleeping in Martin’s room. Anna wanted to be close to Martin to feel safe, but she reminded the male a time or two that there would be no hanky-panky until her divorce was final.
So, there was a nice empty bed, but Van wanted to be in the common area in case of trouble. Or if someone tried to gain entrance through the front or back doors.
Lauren slipped beneath the sheets and settled against the mattress with a soft sigh as it welcomed her. Without waiting another moment, she slipped one hand beneath her tight top, lifting it as she reached for her left breast. She cupped her flesh, weighing it in her hand, stroking her skin with teasing brushes before focusing on her nipple. The nubbin was already hard and aching, just begging to be pinched and petted.
She grasped the bit of flesh and pinched lightly, imagining his large, callused fingers doing the same. He’d pluck and squeeze, listen as she cried out for more and more. Then he’d lick her, his warm mouth kissing her there, gently sucking her nipple.
Each suckle would send another jolt of pleasure through her, each pull on the hardened nub going straight to her clit.
Her clit…
Lauren brought her other hand into play, sliding her palm over her body, over the curve of her belly, and she toyed with the waist of the tiny shorts. She imagined him, dipping beneath the elastic, tormenting her with a barely-there touch. His fingers would burrow under the fabric an inch or two only to pull away again and again.
“Stop teasing,” she whispered into the darkened room. “Please.”
Van would smile at her, mischievous glint in his eyes while his expression promised wicked, wicked things. That’s when he’d give her what she wanted, slide his hand beneath the elastic, and over her bare skin.
“No panties?” he’d murmur while he played with her cropped curls.
She’d bite her lip and shake her head, silently willing him to continue.
Lauren did as she imagined, caressing the top of her slit, rubbing the tiny patch of skin. Just that small touch alone had her pussy clenching, tightening, and sending a tiny shiver through her.
“Need you,” she whispered into the empty room.
“You’ll have me,” he’d answer.
Because he’d want her as much as she craved him.
Those fingers slid between her sex lips then, separating her pussy and delving into her wetness. The first touch had her gasping. The second, the one that brushed her clit, drew out a moan.
Each brush of the bundle of nerves traveled through her body, zinging through her from head to toe. It electrified her, sent her arousal flying higher.
“Feel good, baby?” His voice was a deep growl.
In real life, Lauren nodded. “More.”
Fantasy Van chuckled and gave her what she craved. He circled her clit in tiny rotations, focusing on the nubbin. Then he turned his attention to her breast, suckling her once again. He pulled, tormenting her with his attentions. Her cunt spasmed, screaming to be stuffed full of him. Yes, that was what she wanted.
Her fantasy altered to her desires, Van’s fingers abandoning her clit and circling her heat. ’Round and ’round he traced her hole, her cream easing his way.
“In me. Please.” She needed to be filled, to have her desires sated.
Once again, her Van didn’t disappoint. Two fingers shoved into her cunt, spreading her wide. He didn’t stretch her like she imagined his cock would, but he still touched those delicious places inside her. He pumped in and out, fucking her with his hand.
Lauren rode the caresses, rocking in time with each plunge, gasping and moaning as the heel of his hand rubbed her needy clit.
“Yes, yes, yes.” She was conscious of the need to whisper, to not alert the house to her dirty fantasies. “Fuck me harder.” She lifted her hips up, pretending he fucked her, plunged his fingers in and out of her sopping wet pussy. “More.”
She pinched her nipple harder, tugging on the nubbin. She imagined him nibbling and softly biting the small bit of flesh. Yes, he’d be rough, but careful with her.
The wet squelching sounds of her fingers moving in and out of her cunt joined with her heavy panting. Her body knew what it fought for. She wanted to come all over Van, claw him, and scream as she found her peak.
Fuck, it was gonna be soon.
“Please. Close.” She sped up her attentions, fucking herself harder and harder, the heel of her hand rubbing her clit in the perfect way…
Her pleasure grew, forming an ever expanding ball within her, the need increasing with every breath. She didn’t stop fingering herself, didn’t stop imagining Van toying with her pussy and bringing her to her peak. The ecstasy filled her, crept into every nook and cranny, growing as it promised more and more.
Any second now, any moment, she’d pop the bubble and send it careening down her spine.
“Please…” she whimpered and moaned, her body searching for something else, anything else. One more push…
That was enough to solidify her fantasy and thrust her over the edge. Lauren’s orgasm burst past the dam and exploded within her. The pure, unadulterated pleasure careened through her. It coated every nerve ending and forced spasm after bliss-fueled spasm to overtake her. She bit her lip against the sob that threatened to explode from her chest, the ecstasy almost too much for her to bear.
The molten sensation of release seemed unending, thrumming through her with no end in sight. Oh god, he’d keep fucking her, too. Plunging his fingers in and out of her until…
“No more. Please…” she whimpered, but her fantasy Van wouldn’t quit, wouldn’t give in.
“One more, baby. Come for me one more time.”
“Can’t…”
But he didn’t listen, he picked up a punishing pace, fucking her in earnest, pounding her cunt.
Lauren panted and moaned, writhing on the sheets. She needed to come again, to let her orgasm assault her once again.
She abandoned her breast and lowered her hand, rubbing her clit with her left while her right continued to plunge in and out of her cunt.
“Oh fuck, oh god, oh fuck…” She whispered the litany over and over.
Her pussy was soaking wet, her body slick and prepared for him.
“Give it to me, baby.”
And she did. Back arched, eyes wide, and air frozen in her lungs, Lauren came apart. She exploded into a million pieces, shattering beneath the force of her release. It overwhelmed her, destroyed her senses to anything but the pleasure pummeling her body and filling every nook and cranny inside her.
She rode the wave of ecstasy, riding on the rush of sensations, and reveling in what he could do to her body. She panted and heaved, gasping for breath while the ripples continued to lap at her nerves.
In gradual increments, she slowed her ministrations, easing the rapid pump of fingers and the fast rub of her clit. She allowed herself to be brought back from the abyss until she floated on the aftershocks. Her heartbeat reduced, easing toward normal as her panting slowed.
Finally, her hands stilled, no longer tormenting her pussy, and she slipped them from beneath her shorts. Fingers sticky with her juices and cunt wet from her multiple orgasms, the dark side of sex, masturbation, reared its ugly head.
Ew. Sticky.
A low, deep yet muffled sound reached her. A groan?
No. No. No. He couldn’t have heard her. Did she scream his name when she came?
No. Yes. Maybe?
Damn it.
She wiggled to the edge of the bed and rolled free of the mattress, careful to keep her hands from touching anything. She did not want to explain the need for cleaning supplies to Martin in the morning.
Lauren tiptoed to the door and listened, ear pressed against the wood panel as she sought an indication of another’s presence. She found nothing but quiet.
Using her wrists, and her miraculously clean pinkies, she managed to get the door unlocked and opened. She poked her head into the hallway and glanced in both directions, hunting for any hint of life.
She found nothing.
Thank. God.
She tiptoed to the bathroom and took care of all the messy repercussions of super-fun-alone-times, and then retraced her steps to silently slip back into her room. She pushed the door closed, careful to make the action as quiet as possible.
Then she leaned against it. Safe and sound and no one the wiser.
Chapter Seven
Lauren crept through Martin’s home, tiptoeing down the hallway, toward the front door. She was careful, quiet, while she moved. She held her sneakers in one hand and purse over her shoulder as she hunted her car keys. Regardless of the tiny—super über tiny, in her opinion—threat Bryson represented, she needed to work. No one else was gonna pay her rent.
So, okay, it was probably a little more toward “stupid” on the idea-o’-the-morning spectrum, but she didn’t have a choice.
Her travels led past the kitchen and… there… her keys sat on the counter, happy as they pleased. Perfect. Ever so carefully, she placed her hand atop the mass of metal and gently lifted them. They softly clinked together and she winced while she waited to see if anyone would react.
When an alarm didn’t sound and no massive man came barreling down the hall, she breathed a sigh of relief. Part one of her plan was a wrap and now she could move on to phase two.
Lauren gulped. That involved getting past Van and out the front door. A sensation of wrongness slithered into her. Okay, she really, really knew it was a bad idea, but then the image of her landlord with his greasy hair and disgusting leers entered her mind. A shudder raced down her spine at the thought of having him on her doorstep looking for the rent check.
Okay, go, team Lauren Needs To Work.
She paused and carefully slid her feet into her shoes before continuing. The soles didn’t make a sound on the soft carpet. She halted when she came to the archway that exposed the living room. Van lay scrunched on the couch, his massive frame folded onto the piece of furniture.
Memories of the kiss they shared floated to the front of her mind. The feel of his lips, the press of his body against hers, the flare of possessiveness in his eyes…
Lauren wanted to stay, wanted to crawl atop him and beg for a few of those kisses and maybe more.
Of course, it’d be a mistake. Her focus needed to be Anna and her happy-ish life. She didn’t have space in her world for Van Abrams and, honestly, he didn’t have time for her. Whenever she turned around, he was answering another call, dealing with another crisis.
Nah, he was hot, but she didn’t want that hot mess.
Silently, she tiptoed past him and on to the front door. The solid wood panel loomed before her, taunting her with its presence. She glanced at the hooks on the wall, particularly the line of keys occupying each one. When Martin invited her to stay—okay, she refused to leave—he’d pointed at a set she could use.
Again she was conscious of the noise created by her moves. She lifted the key and turned to the door. Three locks total, all with the same key. As quietly as possible, she flicked one after the other until they were all disengaged.
Thank god there wasn’t a security system. Martin intended to have one installed later in the day, but for now, she could escape without waking the house with random beeps from a keypad.
Lauren opened the door and slipped out, tugging it quietly closed behind her. Relocking the doors caused three low snicks, but again, no response from inside.
Whew.
Now she had to worry about driving away undetected. Already the morning sun peered over the horizon, lighting the front yard. It also brought early traffic. Hopefully enough to mask her departure.
Her feet crunched over the gravel, shifting the pale rocks as she walked.
At her truck, she slid the key into the lock and turned it, granting herself entry. She tugged on the handle and—
“Going somewhere?” The voice was deep, sleep roughened, and sexy as all get out. Also familiar.
Didn’t stop her from screaming. Lauren jumped, yelling and spinning around to face Van. Her heart rate sped, adrenaline flooding her at the surprise.
“What the hell are you doing?” Her eyes were open wide with the shock. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
He loomed over her, crowding her against the pickup, forcing her to lean back. Except she had no place to go. Nope, he surrounded her, his large body so close she felt both threatened and aroused. His heat engulfed her, caressing her with his warmth, and stoking her desire.
Damn it, she couldn’t go to work with wet panties. Well, at least, not that kind of wet. She didn’t have time to swing home and change. Thank god she had an extra uniform at work.
“I wouldn’t have surprised you if you hadn’t been sneaking out of the house.” His voice was a low, deep rumble, and he stepped closer, his hips brushing hers
. The bulge at the juncture of his thighs grew, a semi-hardness thickening and firming. “Where are you going, baby?”
That wasn’t the first time he’d used that endearment. Baby. He’d called her “baby” and then he spoke with “Mia.” Well, he could go back to her then. He was all kissing her and then running off to talk on the phone and… She mentally sighed. He did give the best fantasy orgasms though. Now she mentally slapped herself because she shouldn’t be thinking about fantasy orgasms after he’d scared her and she was mad, damn it.
“Work,” she snapped. “Some of us have to work for a living.”
Van grinned. “You don’t think keeping after you, protecting you, is work?”
Lauren narrowed her eyes. “You…”
Hell, she didn’t know what else she wanted to say. Asshole? Jerk? Fine as hell man?
No, definitely not that last one.
“Look, I need to go. So, run on back into the house and…” She glanced at the home and a thought struck her. “You were passed out and I just locked the doors. How’d you get from there,” she furrowed her brow and pointed at the front door, “to here so fast? And I didn’t hear you?”
Van shrugged. “Quiet, I guess. I can be real quiet when need be.” His eyes heated and he seemed to stare into her, plucking thoughts from her mind. “Like in the middle of the night when everyone is sleeping.”
Oh, god, no. She was going to pretend he didn’t say that last part because she most certainly didn’t hear a groan last night and it definitely wasn’t his. Lauren swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.
“Uh-huh.” She shook her head, pretending his insinuation never hit the air. “It doesn’t matter.” She huffed and got back on track. “Me, work. You, go do whatever it is you do that doesn’t involve me. It was fun, love you madly, yada yada, buh-bye.”
Lauren turned from him and her hip brushed his hardness. She tried to ignore the low hiss that escaped his lips and the moan when he leaned forward and his hard dick settled against her ass.
“Lauren, I need you to stay here. Stay safe. I told you last night, Davies is dangerous. Men like Davies don’t like to lose and you got his wife away from him.”