by J. R. Ward
"Well?" she demanded. "What will you do to him?"
Wrath nodded to his left. "Vishous, you better field that one."
V's answer was factual, straight to the point. Horrific.
Hell, any plan that ended with "and then we pray" was not a trip to Disneyland.
"Where would you do it?" she asked.
"Down in the training center," V replied. "The Equipment Room has a separate area for first aid and PT treatments."
There was a long silence, during which Butch stared at Marissa. Surely, she couldn't be—
"Okay," she said. "Okay… when do we do it?"
Butch's eyes popped. "Baby…?"
Her gaze stuck to Vishous. "When?"
"Tomorrow night. His chances will be better if he has a little time to recover from the regression."
"Tomorrow night, then," Marissa said, wrapping her arms around herself.
V nodded, then looked at Butch. "I imagine you two are going to want some privacy today. I'm going to crash here at the main house, so you have the Pit to yourselves."
Butch was so stunned out, he couldn't make sense of anything. "Marissa, are you—"
"Yes, I'm sure. And I'm terrified." She walked past him, heading for the doorway. "Now, I'd like to go to the gatehouse if you don't mind."
He grabbed his shirt and went after her.
As they went along, he took her elbow… but had the sense that she was leading him.
When they got to the Pit, Butch could not read Marissa's mood. She was quiet, but she'd marched across the courtyard like a soldier, nothing but strength and focus.
"I'd like a drink," she said as he shut the door.
"Okay." This at least he could handle. Assuming they had anything but hard liquor in the house.
He went into the kitchen and cracked the fridge. Oh, man… decaying bags of Taco Hell and Arby's. Mustard packets. Two inches of milk that was now a solid. "I'm not sure what we've got. Um… water—"
"No, I want a drink."
He looked up over the icebox door. "All… right. We have Scotch and vodka."
"I'll try the vodka."
As he poured her some Grey Goose over ice, he watched her walk around. She checked out V's computers. The Foosball table. The plasma screen TV.
He went over to her. He wanted her in his arms; he gave her the glass.
She put it to her mouth, tilted her head back, took a long one… and coughed until her eyes watered. While she choked, he maneuvered her onto the couch and sat down next to her.
"Marissa—"
"Shut up."
Okaaay. He clasped his hands together as she struggled with the Goose. After she got down about half an inch, she put the stuff on the coffee table with a grimace.
She tackled him so fast, Butch never saw it coming. One second he was staring at his tightly laced fingers. The next, he was pressed into the sofa and she was straddling him and… oh, God, her tongue was in his mouth.
She felt so damned good, but the vibe was all wrong. The desperation and the anger and the fear just weren't appropriate background music. They were going to end up further apart if they kept going.
He held her back from him, even though his cock screamed in protest. "Marissa—"
"I want to have sex."
He closed his eyes. Christ, so did he. All night long. Except not like this.
He took a deep breath, trying to frame the words right… and when he opened his lids, she'd pulled off her turtleneck and was working the clasp of a black bra that totally knocked him out.
His hands tightened on her waist as those satin cups came off her and her nipples tightened in the chill. He leaned forward, ready to put his lips to the first piece of her he hit, when he stopped. He was not going to take her like this. The air was too hard between them.
He stopped her hands as they went to his pants. "Marissa… no."
"Don't say that."
He sat up, putting her back from his body. "I love you."
"Then don't stop me."
He shook his head. "I won't do this. Not as we are now."
She stared at him in disbelief. Then snatched her wrists out of his hold and turned her head from him.
"Marissa—"
She shrugged off his hands, batting them away. "I can't believe this. Our one night together and you say no."
"Let me… Christ… let me hold you. Come on, Marissa."
She rubbed her eyes. Laughed in a tragic little burst. "I am destined to go to my grave a virgin, aren't I? Sure, technically I'm not, but—"
"I didn't say I wouldn't be with you." She glanced over at him, tears glimmering on her lashes. "I just… Not with the anger. It'll pollute the whole thing. I want it to be… special."
So what if that line was right out of a high school playbook. It was the truth.
"Baby, why don't we just go into my bedroom and lie down in the dark." He handed her back the turtleneck and she put the thing to her breasts. "If we end up doing nothing but staring at the ceiling all night long, at least we'll be together. And if something happens? It won't be about pissed off and frustrated. Okay?"
She wiped off the two tears that had fallen. Pulled her shirt on over her head. Looked at the vodka she'd tried to drink.
He got to his feet and offered her his hand. "Come back with me."
After a long moment, her palm met his and he pulled her up and took her down to his bedroom. When he shut the door, everything went pitch-black, so he clicked on the little lamp on the dresser. The low-watt bulb glowed like embers in a fireplace.
"Come here." He drew her over to the bed, laid her down, and eased himself next to her so he was on his side and she on her back.
As he smoothed some of her hair out on the pillow, she closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath. Gradually, the tension loosened in her body.
"You're right. That wouldn't have gone well."
"It isn't because I don't want you." As he kissed her on the shoulder, she turned her face to his hand and pressed her lips to his palm.
"Are you scared?" she said. "About what'll happen to you tomorrow?"
"No." The only thing he worried about was her. He didn't want her to watch him die. Prayed it wouldn't come to that.
"Butch… about your human family. Do you want them to be told if you—"
"Nope, there's no need to tell them anything. And don't talk like that. I'll be fine." Please, God, let her not have to see him pass.
"But won't they care?" When he shook his head, her expression grew sad. "You should be mourned by your blood."
"I will be. By the Brotherhood." As her eyes watered, he kissed her. "And no more about mourning. That's not part of the plan. Forget about it."
"I—"
"Shh. We're not going there. You and me are staying right here."
He lay his head down next to hers and continued running his hands through her beautiful blond hair. When her breathing grew deep and even, he shuffled a little closer, tucked her against his bare chest, and shut his eyes.
He must have fallen asleep as well, because a little later he woke up. In the best possible way.
He was kissing her throat and his hand was moving up her side, heading for her breast. He'd thrown a leg over both of hers, and his erection was pushed up against her hip. With a curse, he backed off, but she followed, staying with him until she was half on top of him.
Her eyes flipped open. "Oh…"
He swept his hands up to her face and pushed her hair back. Their eyes met.
Lifting his head off the pillow, he kissed her softly on the mouth. Once. Twice. And… again.
"Is… something happening?" she whispered.
"Yeah. I think something's happening."
He drew her back into a kiss, then entered her with his tongue, stroking against hers. As he kept at it, their bodies began to move together, mimicking the sex act, his hips advancing and retreating, hers absorbing him, rubbing against him.
There was no rush and he took it slo
wly, undressing her with care. When she was naked, he eased back and looked at her body.
Oh… God. All that soft female skin. Her perfect breasts with their nipples straining. Her secrets. And her face was the best of all: It showed no fear, just erotic anticipation.
Which meant he was going to finish this between them. If there had been a lick of doubt in her eyes, he would have just pleasured her and left it at that. But she wanted the same thing he did, and he was certain there would be no pain for her this time.
Butch stood up and slipped off his loafers, the Guccis making a thunking sound one by one. She watched with wide eyes as his hands went to the waistband of his slacks and he popped the button, then unzipped. Boxers hit the floor with the pants and his erection shot straight out from his body. He covered himself with his hand, folding his cock against his belly, not wanting her to get unnerved.
As he lay down, she rolled into him.
"Oh, God," he breathed as their skin met.
"You're so very naked," she whispered against his shoulder.
He smiled into her hair. "So are you."
She ran her hands up and down his sides, and he felt the heat in him go nuclear, especially as she slipped one arm between their bodies and her palm headed south. When she hit his lower belly, his erection pulsed with the desperate need to be touched, to be stroked, to be squeezed until it exploded.
But he captured her wrist and withdrew her hand. "Marissa, I want you to do something for me."
"What?"
"Let me see you through this, okay? Let's have this time be all about you."
Before she could protest, he covered her mouth with his own.
Butch treated her with such exquisite care, Marissa thought. And with total restraint. Every touch was soft and gentle, every kiss was easy, unhurried. Even when his tongue was in her mouth and his hand was between her legs and she was going wild from the way he went after her, he was in control of himself.
So when he rolled over onto her and his thigh parted hers, she didn't flinch or hesitate. Her body was ready to take him inside. She knew it by the slippery feel of his fingers when he'd touched her. Knew it from her hunger for his sex, too.
He settled his weight on her comfortably and that gloriously hard part of him burned her core as it brushed against her. With a shift, his shoulders bunched up and he put his hand down between their bodies. The head of him found the doorway to her.
Butch propped himself up on his thick arms and stared down into her eyes as he started with that light rocking motion she remembered from before. She deliberately relaxed herself, trying to get as loose as possible even as she became a little nervous.
"You're so beautiful," he groaned. "You okay?"
She ran her hands up his ribs, feeling all the heavy bones under his skin. "Yes."
Pressure and release, pressure and release, a little deeper each time. She closed her eyes, feeling his body moving on top of her, inside of her. This time the stretching, the way her interior yielded to him, the fullness, struck her as delicious, not scary. On instinct, she arched, and as her hips came back to level, she realized that his pelvis and hers had come together.
She lifted her head and looked down. He was all the way in.
"How does it feel? You all right?" Butch's voice was ragged as his muscles flickered under sweat-soaked skin. And then his erection jerked.
A stinging pleasure lit off deep inside of her and she moaned. "Dear Virgin in the Fade… do that again. I can feel you when you do that."
"I have a better idea."
As he drew his hips back, she grabbed onto his shoulders to stop the gliding retreat. "No, don't stop—"
He moved forward, pushing back into her flesh, filling her once more. Marissa's eyes popped and she shuddered, especially as he went again with the retreat and the advance.
"Yes…" she said. "Better. This is even better."
She watched him as he rode her so carefully, his pecs and his arms flexed up hard, his belly muscles curling and uncurling as his hips rolled into her and relented.
"Oh… Butch." The vision of him, the feel of him. She closed her eyes so she could concentrate on every subtle thing.
God, she hadn't expected sex to sound so erotic. With her lids closed, she heard the catch of his breath, the soft creaking of the bed, the rustle of the sheets as he repositioned one of his arms.
With every push and pull, she was getting hotter. And so was he. In no time, his slick skin went fever-baked and he began to breathe in short sucks of air.
"Marissa?"
"Yes…" she sighed.
She felt his hand go between their bodies. "Come for me, baby. I want to feel you come like this."
He started in with a wicked, licking touch while keeping up with the slow pump. Within moments, lightning gathered in her core and exploded, blasting out all over her, the orgasm locking her onto him in a series of contractions.
"Oh… yeah," he said hoarsely. "Grab onto me. That's what I like… shit."
When she finally went limp, she opened her eyes in a daze and found him looking at her with total awe… and more than a little concern.
"Was that all right?" he asked.
"Amazing." The relief that bled into his face made her chest ache. And then she realized something. "Wait… what about you?"
He swallowed hard. "I would love to finish in you."
"Then do it."
"It's not going to take me long," he said under his breath.
As he began to move again, she went motionless and just absorbed the feel of him.
"Baby?" he said roughly. "This okay? You're so still."
"I want to know what your part is like."
"Heaven," he said into her ear. "With you, it's heaven."
He dropped down off his arms, his body hard and heavy as it began to churn above hers. She opened her legs as wide as they could go, her head moving up and down on the pillow from how he was pumping into her. God, he was strong.
With luscious propriety, she ran her hands across his bunched shoulders, then down his surging spine to the place that was hinging against her. She knew just when it was getting to be time for him. His rhythm became urgent, the distance of the thrusts getting tighter, the speed increasing. His whole body grew rigid within its range of movement, surging back and forth, no chance of stopping now.
Breath shot out of his mouth and brushed over her shoulder and the sweat beading on his skin wiped off onto hers. When his hand grabbed her hair and squeezed into a fist, she felt a lick of pain and didn't care. Especially as his face lifted up and his eyes squeezed shut as if he were in exquisite agony.
Then he stopped breathing altogether. The veins popped at the sides of his neck as he threw his head back and roared. Deep inside, she felt his erection kicking, felt hot liquid shoot into her on spasms that shook his whole body.
He collapsed onto her, damp, overheated, gasping. His muscles twitching all over.
She wrapped her arms around him, her legs, too, and held him within her, cradling him.
How beautiful he was, she thought. How beautiful… all this was.
Chapter Thirty-six
Marissa came awake to the sounds of the shutters lifting for the night and the feel of hands stroking over her stomach, her breasts, her neck. She was on her side, with Butch tucked in tight against her back… and his hard planes of muscle were rocking in an erotic rhythm.
His erection was hot and it was searching her out, probing at the crease of her buttocks, wanting in. She reached behind and dug her fingers into his flank, urging him on, and he took the cue. Wordlessly, he rolled on top of her back, his body pushing her facefirst into the pillows. She shoved them out of the way so she could breathe as he split her legs open with his knees.
She moaned. Which evidently woke him up.
He jerked back as if he'd punched his arms into the bed. "Marissa… I… ah, I didn't mean to…"
When he retreated, she rose onto her knees, trying to keep contact wi
th him. "Don't stop."
There was a moment of pause. "You must be sore."
"Not at all. Come back on me. Please."
His voice went all gravel and rasp. "Jesus… I'd hoped you'd want to do this again. And I'll go easy, I swear."
God, that rough sound was nice first thing in the evening.
His broad hand smoothed down her spine, and his mouth brushed the top of her hip, then her tailbone, then went lower, to the skin of her bottom. "You look so beautiful like this. I want to have you like this."
Her eyes flared. "You can do that?"
"Oh, yeah. I'll go deeper. You want to try?"
"Yes…"
He pulled her hips up farther and settled her weight on all fours, the bed creaking while he repositioned their bodies. As he came in behind her, she looked through her legs. All she saw was his thick thighs and his heavy, hanging sack and his straining arousal. Her core went utterly wet, as if her body knew exactly what was coming.
His chest eased down over her back, and one of his hands appeared beside her head, planting into the mattress as a fist. His forearm flexed and the veins in it thickened as he leaned to the side and brought the head of his erection to the tender skin between her legs. With a little teasing brush, he worked himself back and forth along the outside of her and she knew he was looking at her sex while he did it.
Going by the way he started to shake, he really liked what he saw.
"Marissa… I want to—" He cut himself off with an indistinct curse.
"What?" She twisted a little so she could look up at him around her shoulder.
As he stared down at her, his eyes had that hard, intense gleam he seemed to get when he was serious about sex, but there was something else in them, a glowing need that had nothing to do with their bodies. Instead of explaining himself, he planted his other hand into the bed, eased onto her back and pushed his hips in tight without penetrating her. With a gasp, she dropped her head and watched his arousal shoot straight up through her legs. The tip stretched almost to her belly button.
God, now she knew why he liked to look. Because… yes, she liked the sight of him all aroused, too.
"What were you going to say?" she groaned.
"Baby…" His breath was hot on her neck, his voice a dark, driving demand in her ear. "Ah, shit, I can't ask you like this."