by Lora Leigh
As though helpless in the grip of his own tormented need, he suddenly penetrated her with a single, hard, to-the-hilt thrust—oh sweet God, so deep inside her—
Her eyes jerked open, staring up at him as he held still. The heavy throb of the flared crest buried inside her impossibly stroking nerve endings she hadn’t known she possessed.
“I love it. Love having you inside me.” Broken, breathless, the cry tore from her as her pussy fluttered around the heavy shaft buried inside her.
“Fuck!” The harsh exclamation seemed torn from him as another of the twisting waves of sensation tore through her sex, tightening the muscles around the heavy girth invading her.
“Ah baby. My sweet, sweet Amelia. Never knew anything this damned good.”
Watching his eyes, the raptor brown and mixed fiery gold as it flared, his pupils dilating as his hips shifted, tilted just enough—
The flared edge of the heavy cock head buried deeper, higher, suddenly raking against a once hidden bundle of nerves in a shallow indent high in her cunt. Just a small dip, but Crowe knew exactly where it was and exactly how to find it.
“Yes.” Another hiss of near rapture escaped her.
Holding his gaze, Amelia tightened her muscles on him again, milking at his cock, stroking it—sucking at it erotically. “Fuck me. I can’t bear it. Fuck me, Crowe. Deep. Please.”
His expression tightened, a grimace contorting his face as sweat beaded his forehead and shoulders, his hip jerking—hard.
Amelia stared up at him, barely able to hold her eyes open. Needing to see him, to watch him. Needing to pleasure him, she used the muscles of her vagina to do what she had never done before. To stroke and suck his cock deliberately. Erotically.
She jerked, shuddering as his hips clenched and he thrust against her involuntarily, the hard throb of his flesh so intense it was like a caress inside her.
“Oh—good. So good,” she gasped, still holding his gaze. “So empty without you.” Her hands gripped his powerful forearms as his fingers plucked at her nipples again.
“Always so empty.” Her back arched, the constantly twisting, erotically sharpened waves of intense pleasure building, multiplying, tightening. “Oh God, Crowe. I love this. Love your cock so tight and hard, opening me, taking me—”
His shattered, broken snarl of disintegrating control was like another trigger. It set off slashing internal contractions that were so close to an orgasm—yet not quite there—she knew that when it came, it was going to control her.
A broken sob parted her lips.
She loved him. Loved him so much. Oh God—oh God.
He was suddenly moving, impaling, his cock shuttling through the slick, saturated depths with destructive, torturous results.
Fucking her with ever-quickening thrusts Crowe lowered one hand, caught one of hers, and lifted it from his arm before bringing her fingers to the engorged bud of her clit.
“Touch yourself,” he groaned. “Let me see, baby. Let me see you pleasure your pretty clit, elf.”
Amelia found the painfully engorged bud as he watched. His hand returned to her hips, holding them tight, watching her fingers as she stroked, caressed, pushed herself closer to the peak of pure rapture.
Sweat ran in rivulets down his flexing abs. His expression turned savage, as relentless as his strokes. The chaos suddenly surged, nearly taking her, building, reaching out to her.
“Yes. Yes.” Her hips churned beneath him in short, shallow thrusts. “God yes. Fuck me, Crowe. Fuck me. Fuck me until I never forget how hard you feel inside me.”
His head tipped back. A snarl tightened his lips as he buried deep, hips twisting, maneuvering the thick flesh to stroke that high, inner spot, the hooded crest tucking in, raking against those erotically raw nerve endings.
Cataclysmic.
Waves of exploding, body-wrenching, ecstatic chaos.
She tried to scream his name as he fucked inside the rapidly flexing, clenching depths of her pussy until he was buried to the hilt.
His cock throbbed, thickened further, then fiery pulses of his release began flooding her. Each jetting ejaculation of semen sent another bolt of lightning-swift, razor-edged sensation tearing deeper inside her.
The force of the explosions raked through her senses with such pleasure she knew she would never be free of the need to experience it again and again.
Her legs tightened around his hips, her pussy flexing and milking his cock with such internal spasms and ever deepening rapture that reality simply receded.
She was crying out, but she didn’t care what she was saying.
She was begging, pleading, but she didn’t know why, or for what.
Life itself was flooding her in a release so primal, so erotically violent there was simply no way to survive it.
Distantly, fearfully, Amelia knew when she could think again—when she could breathe again—it would only be to find that who and what she was before tonight would never exist again.
Crowe had somehow changed her.
To the very depths of her being he had changed something so intrinsic that she feared she may not even know the person who eventually rose from the ashes of a pleasure this perfect, this radiant.
“I have you, baby,” he swore, his voice strained, hoarse as he held on to her hips, holding her to him, refusing to release her. “I have you.”
The most perfect pleasure given by the man who completely owned her heart. The man who completely owned every part of her that she had to give.
This was why she had never been able to bear the thought of another lover. Crowe had touched her first. She had loved him first. And she’d never been able to convince herself that she wasn’t supposed to belong to him forever.
Because that woman’s soul he held, that part of her refused to allow her to do anything else.
* * *
“I love you. I love you so much, Crowe. Oh God—Oh God—Crowe,” she cried, her hoarse voice broken, filled with pleasure, with pain, with a longing there was no hiding from. “I died without you—”
The memory of her cries echoing around him still had the same power they’d had at the moment they first fell from her lips.
The power to rock him to his very soul.
She had never told him she loved him. Not even that night, seven years before, when he’d taken her innocence on her father’s office couch. Or the night she found his note then hid in the corner of her balcony, sobs ravaging her slight body as he had fought to contain his rage.
What would he have done, he wondered, if she had told him then that she loved him?
Holding her tucked against him hours later, watching as the first fragile beams of dawn began lighting the edges of the curtains and shades beneath them, he knew the words she had cried out to him had opened a door he couldn’t close now.
Crowe closed his eyes, desperate to escape what he had seen in the depths of her gaze for the briefest time. There, unlocked, shining so pure, so fucking innocent, had been her woman’s soul.
It had glowed in her face, transforming her expression with such love, such perfect, soul-deep, tenacious love that the sudden realization of this woman’s strength and courage had terrified the hell out of him.
Because he’d felt it. As though she had somehow found a break in the walls protecting his soul, he’d felt a part of her invading him before he could stop her.
Before he could pull back, pull his ejaculating cock from the fist-tight grip she’d had on him, he’d come so hard, so brutally deep his balls still ached. So explosively that somehow, his defenses had dropped, and she had slipped in.
And that chink Amelia had found in his soul was like a raw, open wound he couldn’t force closed now.
His parents had loved in just that way. As Amelia’s love had glowed from the depths of her being, so had the love of his parents, and his cousins’ parents. They had loved with such ferocity that it had bound them—even past death, he often suspected.
Opening his eyes once
more, he stared down at her pale, slumbering features and felt his heart twist at the open, naked vulnerability she possessed. And he hadn’t even realized it. He’d never let himself really see or accept how much she loved him.
How much he—
Crowe quickly slammed the door on that thought.
He couldn’t let himself think it. He wouldn’t admit it even to himself. Because if he failed as his father had, as his uncles and his grandfather had failed, and Wayne actually managed to steal the life that gleamed so bright and pure inside her, then he’d never survive it.
The pain would lacerate his soul until there was nothing left but to follow her into death. He would leave Rafer and Logan to protect themselves—and that was just never a good idea. Those two could get into trouble faster than two Christmas pups. But he’d also be leaving Cami and Sky without the added protection of their lovers. And leaving Logan and Sky to raise their twins alone. And he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell his cousins and cousin-in-law could keep after two little Callahan hellions.
He’d sworn he’d never allow anything to weaken the promise he’d made his cousins the night their parents were killed. The solemn vow that he’d look after his younger cousins, always. That he’d never allow anyone or anything to threaten his protection of them.
He’d sworn it on all their parents’ graves as they were buried. And now, there was his sister Anna as well. The sister he’d believed was killed so long ago. He had sworn it again when they returned here two years ago, only to realize that the death that stalked them before they left had returned as well.
Or it had never left.
And now he was dangerously close to betraying his promise.
Because he may have closed the door on that one thought, but he didn’t know if he could repair the damage to the protective shield around his heart and soul.
As he finally allowed sleep to gather inside him, Crowe admitted he may have just lost it to this courageous, enduring woman.
Hell, he had lost it long before this night. He may just have lost it the night he watched a pretty little autumn fairy peek from the summer foliage and motion him to her with a slow, teasing curve of her finger.
Yeah, he decided, that was when he’d lost his heart.
CHAPTER 15
The shadows programmed into the wireless and wired cameras Crowe had installed outside the house finally revealed themselves the next afternoon. Staring at the screen thoughtfully as he rubbed his finger against his upper lip, Crowe wondered where the hell Wayne had managed to get his hands on a military jammer armed with the ability to reprogram the monitor setups.
That was one hellaciously expensive piece of equipment.
“Son of a bitch,” Cameron muttered behind him as the new tech, Jase Grogan, watched as the shadowed images slowly cleared to reveal the recognizable figure of Wayne Sorenson.
“How the hell did he do that?” Jase breathed out, leaning in close to examine the reprogramming details.
“What I want to know is how the fuck that mad dog got into my system.” Cameron’s Texas drawl was now a deep rasp of anger.
“Shit!” Jase exclaimed, his tone still low as they all leaned in closer.
Crowe hit rewind, scrolled back mere seconds, and watched again as Wayne smiled up at the camera before just disappearing.
“What the hell just happened?” he demanded, sitting back in the less-than-comfortable chair before leaning forward again and typing several commands into the program that had managed to pull the image in.
Nothing worked. One second Wayne was there, the next he was gone. Just that fast and just that impossible.
“Oh hell no, we got a problem here,” Cameron muttered.
At six foot four of heavy marine muscle, he shouldn’t have been able to work himself beneath the makeshift counter that ran the length of the small room, but that was exactly what he did.
Crowe and Jase looked at each other in bafflement before staring down at the long, jean-encased legs stretched out along the floor.
“Come on, boys and girls, stop admiring my damned legs and help me trace these cables. I want to know where each damned one is going and how it’s hooked up.”
He tugged at the first cable.
Jumping to chase it to its entry point in the system, Jase was damned careful to stay away from those legs. The last man to step on them, it was said, spent the next six months sitting at a computer. Though Crowe was certain it was either a gross understatement or an exaggeration. He hadn’t decided which.
It took over an hour of chasing cables before Crowe and Jase managed to track down the problem. The cable running from the camera’s WiFi base to the security router had been left unplugged. That one cable, an additional layer of security, had allowed Wayne to infiltrate their system.
Crowe stared at it as Cameron pushed himself to his feet then moved quickly to where the cable appeared plugged in. Then they looked closer at the gap between the cable’s end and the plug it went into.
“Man, that bastard Mike is gonna be wearing my shoe straight up his stupid ass once I catch sight of him. Dumb motherfucker. I should just shoot him.”
“Good luck finding him,” Jase grunted as he moved to reset all the hardware after the cable was pushed firmly into place. “He went AWOL after Rory sent him back to the office yesterday. Said he was damned sick of dark rooms and rolling commands. Though he didn’t mention where he was going.” The tech rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug.
“Oh, he’ll be back,” Cameron assured them. “That overconfident little prick won’t be able to help himself.”
And Crowe had to agree with this estimation. Mike would be back simply because he wouldn’t be able to bear his curiosity. Once everything was over, he would just show up again, demand a job, and go to work.
His cousins had warned him about the man’s lack of dedication on the job, but Crowe had excused it. Mike had been a good friend, and until now his often irresponsible behavior had never threatened a mission.
As the monitors and computers came back online, Cameron stretched out his arm and tapped one of the upper monitors’ touch screens, displaying the temperatures. Both Jase and Crowe then winced at his subsequent curses on every paternal and maternal line Mike may have possessed.
“Damned sensors,” he finished as he moved to one of the keyboards. “I’ve changed every security box on each door and every window myself through the night.” He rubbed at the overnight growth of beard on his unshaven jaw. “I don’t get it.”
“What’s going on?” Jase moved from his chair to stand behind the other man.
“What’s going on?” Cameron snorted. “Either the thermostat on the heater has shot up to a hundred and fifty degrees in the library, or one or all of the internal thermostats on those security boxes is filled with gremlins. Because I damned well know they’re not all malfunctioning.”
“Jase, go check the library. Take one of the inside security agents with you. Don’t go alone. And be sure to get one of the new earbuds before going down. Stay in direct contact with Cameron while you’re checking them.”
“Got it.” Jase moved to the biometric cabinet, let the camera scan his eye, then punched in his security code. When the door opened, he pulled free the small communication device before setting the frequency to the one Cameron used at all times.
Jase left the room. Crowe watched the cameras as he moved through the house, making sure they were all picking up the tech’s image and body temperature—as well as scanning for weapons—as he passed each camera.
“Something’s wonky here, Crowe,” Cameron informed him. “And when I find out who’s responsible, they might not survive it.”
“You’ll have to beat me to them,” Crowe growled, interrupted by the ring of the cell phone he wore at his hip.
Pulling the smartphone free of the holster, he let the biometrics on the door scan his identity, then pushed in his digital code and stepped out to the hall as the request for videoconferencing came
through.
“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” he asked. “Things are kind of busy here.”
“Make time,” Archer demanded, his expression somber as he stared back at him through the phone’s small display.
“I’ll give you what I can,” Crowe promised. “So get started.”
“I received an email from Amelia last night. Did you know it went out?”
Crowe nodded. “I knew it went out, I don’t know what was in it.”
Surprise gleamed in the sheriff’s gaze, causing Crowe to snort. “I’m not her warden, Archer. Besides, I figured if there was a problem you’d get hold of me.”
“‘Archer,’” the sheriff began, quoting Amelia’s message. “‘It’s my decision after hours of consideration that I will not be pressing charges against Dwight, David, and Dillon Carter. To be honest, I don’t even remember the exact nature of the altercation with them, but knowing them as I do, I know no harm was meant. The agents of Brute Force acted on the appearance of a threat, though none was intended by the suspected assailants. It is my wish that you would escort me to the jail at some point in the coming day and allow me to speak to them before officially making known that I will not be pressing charges. I ask this as a friend, knowing you’re under no obligation to grant me this wish, and likely under great pressure not to. I would hope, though, that the friendship we’ve had over the years has meant as much to you as it has to me, because it is a request I would gladly grant you were the positions reversed. Sincerely, Amelia.’” Lifting his gaze from the printed email, Archer glared back at Crowe. “What the hell have you done to her?”
“Sheriff, I’m well aware of your history with Amelia.” Crowe drew the word out suggestively, reminding Archer of the fact that he and Amelia had been considered an item a year or so before the Callahan cousins returned to Corbin County.
“Cut it out, Crowe,” Anna’s voice snapped from somewhere on the line, causing Crowe to grin.
His sister had a habit of using the exact tone their mother had once used whenever Crowe was trying to maneuver her into letting him do something he shouldn’t be.