The Darkest Hour (Running with the Devil Book 1)

by Jasmin Quinn

  He shouldn’t have come into the house, he realized as he watched her go through a practiced safety routine. What happened to her in Vancouver, with him, with the Russians, obviously changed her, made her afraid and vulnerable. And she was creating this false sense of security, believing that the locks on her door, the alarm would keep her safe.

  It was too late now, and he couldn’t wait another minute anyway to wrap his arms around her, hold her again. “Kelsie,” he said softly as he stepped out into the hall, into the full light. It made no difference – she startled at the sound of his voice, her face betraying her fear and panic, then a flicker of recognition as her eyes lighted on him. She swayed in that moment, and fell to her knees. He saw her tears start to fall and his heart broke. He went to her, fell to his knees in front of her, and pulled her into his embrace.

  Kelsie threw her arms around his neck and clung to him. “Dean,” she wept. “Oh my god. I thought you were dead. I thought I would never see you again.” And then a fresh round of sobbing as reality set in. Dean felt his eyes moisten as she hugged him to her, curving into him with her body, weeping on his shoulder.

  And he knew with sudden clarity that he shouldn’t have come here. How could he tell her that he had to leave again? That they couldn’t be together, that he refused to ever again put her in harm’s way? Not now, he thought as he rocked her in his arms. He brought his hand to her head and forced it up so he could see her beautiful blue eyes. Then he lowered his head as he kissed her gently on the corner of her mouth, then more fully on her lips. He felt that flash of heat sear through him, familiar and yet, new and exciting.

  Kelsie kissed him back, softly then suddenly pushed him away. “Don’t you dare go anywhere,” she breathed as she untangled herself from him and got up off the floor. She almost ran down the hall and around the corner. He heard a door close, and then her vomiting, the toilet flushing. Quiet for a moment, then water running.

  Dean lifted himself up off the floor and walked around the corner standing in front of the bathroom door, hesitating, not willing to invade her privacy, but not wanting to let her be alone. He had been waiting for her for over an hour. He knew each room of the house, knew where the kitchen was, the bedroom, the den. He couldn’t decide where to take her first. He grinned scathingly at himself. What the fuck was wrong with him? She’s throwing up in the bathroom and all he can think of is fucking her.

  Kelsie stood in the bathroom, wiping her hands with a towel, repeatedly. The water in the sink was still running, though she no longer needed it. What she did need was a little time to think. Dean was here. Dean was alive, and he found her, came for her! She felt herself thrill at the thought, she had imagined it so many times, thought she was ready, but then to actually have him here, to have him back, made her realize how unprepared she was.

  She looked at herself in the mirror, her red eyes, her pale face staring back at her, winter coat still on. She wished she had been more stoic when she saw him, more composed. In all the time she’d been with him, she’d been a disaster. And she had vowed that if this moment ever happened that she would stay composed and calm. But this moment was happening, and her heart was beating out of her chest. She had so much to tell him, so much to say and yet, all she wanted to do was take him to her bedroom and show him how very much she’d missed him. She reached for the faucet then and turned off the tap.

  She jumped when she opened the bathroom door, not expecting him to be standing there. Dean assessed her. She looked pale and wan, her blond hair was still beautifully long, but lacked its shine and curl. She looked a little older, small signs of stress permanently etched on her features. No make up, and a little fresh toothpaste clinging to the corner of her mouth. She was thinner too, maybe too thin, her collarbones prominent against the neck of her shirt. The heavy winter coat she wore dwarfed her, making her look like a refugee, and she smelled slightly of vomit. And he thought in that moment that she was even more beautiful than he remembered – that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid on eyes on.

  And then she smiled at him, radiantly, dazzling. He looked down at her, his smoky eyes betraying his thoughts. He reached out and traced a line across her cheek with his finger. “I’ve missed you, Kelsie,” he said, holding himself back, trying not to be an impatient prick. He kissed her. As he felt her kiss him back, her lips parting to let his tongue slide in, he thought that he probably should have asked her if she was okay first. But she seemed not to care as she slid her fingers through his hair and pulled his head down lower, crushing her lips against his. That was all the invitation he needed as he felt a wave of lust crash over him. He pushed her up against the wall, one hand tangled in her hair, the other trying to unzip her coat, fumbling.

  “Let me,” she said urgently as she pushed his hands away. She pulled down the zipper and threw her coat off in one graceful move, then she was back in his arms, kissing him, letting him kiss her. She pulled at his sweater, dragging it up over his head. He momentarily lost sight of her as she grappled with it, trying to pull it off him. He felt his not-quite-healed shoulder protest, but he ignored the pain, the reminder of what he went through. It was worth every fucking moment to be here with her now. He pushed her away impatiently and pulled the sweater over his head and down off his arms. Kelsie was on him again before he dropped the sweater to the floor. Dean groaned when she raked her nails down his chest as she struggled with the buttons on his shirt. “Why the fuck are you wearing two shirts?” she said, her voice thick with desire.

  “I obviously didn’t think this through.”

  She laughed throatily and then grabbed the shirt in her fists and ripped it open, mindless of where the buttons landed. She ran her hands over his broad chest, burrowing her face into the soft chest hair, smelling him, feeling him. Drawing her hands down to his stomach, down to his waist, feeling his contours, remembering him and then, suddenly still.

  He drew his fingers through her hair as she dropped to her knees in front of him, running her hand across the jagged scar, the livid reminder of that first night. She looked up at him, eyes reddening, tears threatening to spill over. “I didn’t even ask you how you were.”

  “Kelsie,” Dean said gruffly, tightening his grip on her hair, “unbutton my fucking pants while you’re down there.”

  Kelsie looked at him, his dark eyes smouldering, his face uninterested in her compassion. A slow smile of understanding spread across her face. Action first, talk later – it’s what they both wanted. She reached up with her hands, and her fingers suddenly nimble, undid the button and pulled down the zipper. She brought her hand up to his crotch, and felt his cock through the fabric of his underwear. He was already fully erect and straining to get out.

  She could feel Dean’s hands in her hair, holding her head, clutching at her. She pulled down his pants and his underwear. Freeing his cock. It was long and thick and hard, nestled on his hairy balls, just like she remembered. She ran a slow finger down the shaft, and with her free hand, she squeezed each ball in turn, gently at first then a little more firmly. She heard Dean inhale as she wrapped her fingers around his wide shaft, pulling at it, a little lightly, a little roughly. She felt her own heat pool in her belly and then down to her pussy, feeling the wetness between her legs, dampening her underwear. Then she flicked her tongue against the rim of the head, like a little whip, lashing at it, a few times and then, running her tongue over it, and then another little flick, and a tender kiss, her breath caressing it, and the helmet purple and impatient, throbbing. A little come escaping. She ran her tongue across the top, tasting him, savouring it. She was about to put his penis in her mouth, when she looked up at him. “You might want to be sitting for this,” she teased, breathlessly.

  Dean responded by tightening his fingers in her hair, forcing her face down, forcing his penis into her mouth. She took it in, all of it. She wanted to do it her way, wanted to be the one to control his desire, show him who she was now. But he wasn’t letting her. He was taking over; his
need was taking over. He was fucking her mouth, hard and demanding. She tried to keep up with him, one hand on his shaft, pumping it, the other abandoning his balls and grabbing at his ass to help her maintain her balance. Then he reached down and pulled the hand that was holding the shaft away from it, forcing his entire penis past her lips and driving it fully into her mouth. A bolt of lust hit her, and she felt her clit hardening, throbbing, her pelvis, unbidden, thrusting back and forth, begging for attention. Then he stopped his pumping, pulled out of her, away from her mouth. His breath hard and jagged, his cock wet and glistening and still throbbing with need.

  Dean almost came as he slammed his cock fully into her mouth. She was startled at first, he could see, grappling at his ass with her hands to help her keep up with his frenzied thrusts. And then he saw past her beautiful submissive head to her body, pumping with her own need, her own hips thrusting forward in desire, her pussy needing attention.

  He pulled her up by her arms and pushed her against the wall as he freed himself from his jeans and his socks. “Why the fuck you do still have your clothes on?” he said hoarsely as he crushed his lips on hers, pulling her shirt up her body, taking his mouth from her lips just long enough to drag it over her head. She wrapped her arms around his back as he brought his face to the hollow between her breasts, tasting her with his tongue. Smelling her sweetness. He felt his cock get harder, if that was even possible.

  “Get out of this bra,” he demanded, trying to open it himself, but stupid big fingers, too clumsy. She reached back and unhooked it, sliding it off her shoulders, exposing her firm breasts, her hard nipples. He raked his fingers through her hair, tugging at it as he closed his mouth over hers. He wanted to be gentle, he wanted to be slow, but that ship had sailed, he thought as he grabbed at her breast with his free hand, squeezing it. It was bigger than he remembered and then his penis jerked up, rubbing hard against her hip. He brought his mouth down to her nipple, took it between his teeth, nipped at it, then sucked it hard.

  Kelsie cried out – pain and pleasure coursed through her. Her nipples were hypersensitive now that she was pregnant, her hormones raging out of control. And it was beyond magnificent. She almost came then and there, without any stimulation to her clit. Dean was too far gone to be gentle or slow. She didn’t want him to be. He squeezed at her breasts, kneading them with his fingers, pushing her against the wall with his body and dropping a hand to rub her pussy, through her pants. She groaned as he sucked at her nipples alternating between them. “Oh my god,” Kelsie gasped. “Dean, take my pants off.”

  He stood up to his full height then, looking down at her, pressing her against the wall, moulding his body to hers as he yanked her pants down over her ass. He grabbed her ass with one of his hands, and shoved her hips forward as his free hand plundered her wet pussy, sliding his fingers expertly over her clit, then down her vulva, forcing a finger, then two into her vagina. She grappled at his back with her hands, raking her fingernails into his flesh as pleasure coursed through her. She tried to spread her legs, open herself to him, she wanted more of him deeper into her. But her pants were restricting her. “My pants,” she gasped.

  Dean dropped down on his knees and yanked her pants and underwear down, and off her legs, then brought his hands back up to her breasts as he trailed his lips down her stomach, licking it, kissing it. He dropped his hands to her waist pulling her to him, to his mouth. Then he stopped, lips to her stomach. He jolted back, still on his knees, looking up at her. “You’re pregnant.” He forced the words out between heavy breaths.

  Kelsie looked down at him her chest heaving. Not now, she thought. Her pussy was on her fire, crying out to him to douse the flames. “Can we talk about this later?” she panted as she pulled his head back against her, trying to get him to pick up where he left off.

  “Is it mine?” he said, his voice muffled by her stomach pressing up against his mouth.

  “Who the fuck else would it belong to?” Kelsie muttered hoarsely. Then she moaned as Dean drew a hand down her hip, forcing her legs open, running his tongue along the inside of her thigh, up to her vulva, and then across her clit. She felt a jolt of primal lust shudder through her. “Stop that,” she gasped. “You’re going to make me come.”

  Dean didn’t stop though. Not exactly. He drew his tongue away from her clit, and down her vulva, tasting her, licking her. He brought his tongue up into her vagina, then out again, running it back up over her clit, nipping at the folds of the labia, feeling her heat, knowing he was pushing her to the edge, but keeping her from falling off. Not yet, not until he was in her. She was wet and ready, he was hard and ready. He had been thinking about this for four fucking months as he laid in that private hospital, recovering. What he didn’t factor in was a baby. Good thing his cock was in charge right now or he might have been tempted to stop and talk this out.

  He felt Kelsie’s fingers pull sharply at his hair. “Dean,” she begged impatiently, “please.” He lost it then, his lust crashed down on him like a fucking hammer. He stood up, picking her up by the ass and forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist. She draped her arms tightly around his shoulders as he brought her down on his cock, driving his way into her pussy, impaling her. She threw her head back against the wall, crying out as he pumped into her.

  He watched her face as he thrust, her eyes closed, her beautiful lashes fanning her cheeks, the utter look of wild abandon. He knew when she was about to come, her eyes flew open, smoky blue, glazed with passion. She was thrusting faster, pushing against him, guiding herself to exactly where she needed to go, where she needed him to take her. Crying out his name. And then she arched her back and froze, for just a second as she peaked. But that was it for him, that was the moment that sent him crashing, his orgasm hitting him hard, almost causing him to lose his footing as he felt his semen spew out of him and deep into her. There was nothing quite like it, he thought at that moment. The little death of nothingness.

  He carried her to bedroom, still inside her, her legs wrapped tightly around him unwilling or unable to let him go. He was already hard again and as long as she was still with him, he had no intention of stopping now. He knelt on the bed, thrusting slowly into her, holding her ass so she couldn’t disengage. Then he pushed her back on the bed, and laid on top of her, felt her legs and arms tighten around him, her hands pulling her face to his, her lips seeking his out. Nope, she wasn’t going to disengage.

  Kelsie’s orgasm was nothing like she’d ever experienced before. She felt it building as Dean drove into her, supporting her ass, pummelling her against the wall. She was peaking but she could already feel the tremors start to erupt, in her pussy, her ass, her womb. Like a tidal wave, coming on gradually, the pulsing, the sense of something big building, and then the edge, where there was no turning back, no way to stop it. It roared over her, drowning her senses, touching every nerve in her body. She braced herself, letting it hit her, trying to hold onto it. She opened her eyes, and saw Dean watching her, and then saw him fall off the edge, closing his eyes, thrusting harder and faster. And then he stilled, for just a moment before thrusting again, the intensity decreasing.

  He carried her into the bedroom, still inside her, laying her on the bed under him. For a brief second, she thought he was going to roll off her, so she tightened her grip on him, tightened her legs around him, holding him to her. She brought her lips up to his drinking in as much of him as she could.

  He rolled over on his back, keeping himself solidly inside her, moving her legs so that they straddled him. “Sit up,” he demanded. “I want to see you.” And she did, reluctantly moving her hands off his strong shoulders. She looked down into his eyes watching him watch her as he gripped her hips, moving them in tandem with his gentle thrusts, tracing a finger over her sensitive clit, making her gasp. Then moving away, running her fingers up her thickening waist, stroking his way up to her breasts, hands closing over them, squeezing them, rubbing her nipples.

  She felt shockwaves setting off ligh
tening bolts in her vagina, which tightened around his cock. She could hear his breathing quicken, feel his thrusts pick up pace, his fingers tighten on her breasts, but then he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, willing himself to slow down. She considered his face. Her heart soared and broke at the same time as she ran a finger down the scar over his eyebrow. If this didn’t happen, she thought, tracing another scar by his eye, one on his chin, another along his neck, and then the one at his side, if none of this happened, she wouldn’t be here with him now.

  He opened his eyes again, watching her as she glided her fingers over his face, down his chest to his stomach. He was doing the same thing to her, exploring her with his eyes, with his hands. He moved his hands up her back, tracing her spine, making her shiver, causing her to arch her back and open her chest to him. He grinned up at her as his hands explored the curve of her breast, the hardness of her nipples. She smiled back. Their eyes locked, their breathing picking up pace. She kept moving on him, feeling his cock deep inside her, filling her, her sensitive clit begging for more stimulation.

  “Hold my shoulders,” she whispered breathlessly, as she flattened her hands on Dean’s chest, bending forward a little so that she was sliding her clit over his coarse pubic hair, sending ripples of pleasure cascading through her. He brought his hands to her shoulders, watching her as she rode him. She cried out then, groaning her pleasure, trying to drop her body onto his, but was prevented by his grip on her, holding her upright. She flung her head back and moaned wildly, as her thrusting increased. She was coming again and it was going to be as delicious as the last time.

  Dean watched her face as she closed her eyes, and flung her head back, crying out her pleasure. Her palms pressed into his chest, her fingers pulling at the hair, her nails raking his skin as she rode him hard, took her pleasure from him, rocking her body, her pussy clenching around his cock, milking it, then feeling her orgasm as it spasmed through her. It was… the most fucking mind-blowing thing he had ever seen in his life. And then, orgasm spent, she dropped onto his chest and he let her, sliding his hands down her back, wrapping her close to him as she lay there, consumed. He waited for her, listening for her breathing to return to normal, waiting for her moment to pass.