“More,” he demanded. “Touch your nipples.”
His voice was like an aphrodisiac. As if hypnotized, she took her nipples between her fingers and began to rub – tweaking them, pulling them, squeezing, milking. The more she stimulated her nipples, the harder her clit began to throb.
Rogue was enthralled. The sight of her pleasuring her own tits made him crazy. He latched back on to the little bundle of nerves and sucked hard.
Kit squirmed, she couldn’t be still. What he was doing to her was too much. The more she petted and played with her nipples, the more voraciously he sucked. “Rogue,” she whispered his name. She was on fire. She needed…him. “Rogue, please!”
“Don’t stop, I’m not through,” he instructed, his voice hoarse. “Pull those sweet nipples, beg me to suck them.”
Beg? Her whole body was begging. She was heated, blushing. Her breasts were aching and her pussy was creamy wet. Kit tried to tell him, she wanted to tell him. “God, Rogue, I need you,” she sobbed. As if she were caught up in an out of body experience, Kit seemed to rise above herself. All she could do was compare this wanton sexual creature to the one who had stood cringing as Rogue had judged her unworthy. How could she reconcile the two?
Rogue moved closer, his mouth closing tightly over her clit, his hands pushing hers out of the way. He gripped her nipples between his own fingers—tweaking, twisting, pulling, milking— while at the same time he sucked hard on her clit. So hard that she dissolved, she melted, pleasure flooding her loins. A need that had wound into a tight erotic knot suddenly unfurled and she splintered apart into the oblivion of a mind-blowing orgasm.
Before she could even think of coming down from the peak, Rogue stood, fisted his own cock and grasped her hips, thrusting home. Kit was lost in a haze of ecstasy. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest, she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. “Rogue!”
This woman would be the death of him. Rogue understood this. Never had he been so desperate to mate, so desperate to merge. He bellowed her name, “Kit, baby,” even as he pumped inside of her, fucking her so hard that the couch was almost torn from the bolts holding it to the floor of the plane.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded.
“Never,” he hissed, pulling out and flipping her onto her belly, wrapping an arm around her body. Seeming to know what he wanted, she held herself up on hands and knees as he gave her support. With a possessive snarl, he pounded back inside of her, splitting her open like a ripe peach, thrusting deep.
Kit melted, she tilted her ass up and laid her head down on her forearms. “Fuck me, Rogue. Fuck me hard!”
Rogue covered her, molding himself to her body, one hand reaching up to palm her breasts. His touch spiked her need once more. She was at his mercy, an instrument for his playing. Looking back over her shoulder, she sought his eyes, needing to know what he was thinking.
“I’ll never get enough of you,” he whispered as he ground into her pussy, undulating his hips in luscious figure eights. “You’re addictive. I want to fuck you all the time. I can’t get you out of my head. Being inside of you is all I can think of.”
Kit didn’t know if it was the relentless pounding of her pussy, the filling, the stretching, the possessing. Or if it was his words, the idea that she held Rogue Walker in the palm of her hand that made her explode. She shook and trembled. Rogue wrapped her in his arms and kept her safe, even as he ravished her body. Kit didn’t know where she ended and he began. She didn’t want to know – she didn’t want this to end. Clawing the couch, she pushed back against him—over and over—impaling herself on his cock, opening herself wider for him to plunge in and fill her to the brim.
Rogue was blind with pleasure. His cock sank into her again and again, deep into her lush hot pussy. As his whole body shook with pure unadulterated bliss, he felt Kit begin to quake. Beneath him, she was convulsing in a climax so hard he was afraid she’d shatter into a million pieces. And he followed her, right over the edge.
Long moments passed as he held her, kissing her smooth, silky back. “So good, you’re so good, so beautiful.” As he praised her, held her, letting her calm down and her breathing ease, Rogue realized they hadn’t needed a plane to fly.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You had a successful trip, I take it.” Marliss sat a big bowl of chicken and dumplings in front of him.
“Yea, you could say that.” In more ways than one. “How do you know all of my favorites—this, cinnamon rolls, blueberry pancakes?”
Marliss patted his shoulder. “Baby, I know everything about you. Everything about all of you boys. I cooked lasagna for Killian and chocolate cake for Jackson. And Dylan – the boy loves liver – go figure.”
“So Dusty talked about us, I take it.”
Marliss sat down beside him. “He sure did. Theresa had her own life. She traveled, she had clubs. But your dad, when he wasn’t with one of you boys or traveling, he would spend time at this table and tell me everything.” She smiled. “I know all about your mama and how much he loved both of you. Hell, all of you. If life had been perfect, he would’ve had all of you right here with him.”
Rogue tried to process what Marliss was telling him, he tried to assimilate his feelings but decades of ill will were hard to push aside. “I don’t see how you can think he loved us the way you say. How can a man love five women?”
“We love people in different ways, there were things about each one of your mamas that were dear to Dusty. He took pride in you.”
“How can you say that? Look what he named me—Rogue. Have you ever looked up the definition of the word rogue?”
Instead of showing pity, Marliss threw back her head and laughed. “You don’t know why Dusty named you Rogue, do you?”
“Because he didn’t name me Sue?” Rogue snarled.
Marliss watched him clean his plate and then she reached behind him and brought over a chocolate meringue pie that was at least nine inches tall. Rogue’s eyes widened. Another one of his favorites. “No, you were a celebration,” she said as she sliced him a generous wedge of pie and handed it to him. “You can go look up the details in Dusty’s journals and books, but there was a huge find, a gas field that was called Rogue Angel.”
At the familiar name, Rogue almost fell out of his chair. “Seriously?”
“Yes, your father followed his own instincts and invested in something everyone else said was a dud. There wasn’t any oil in the ground, but it was full of gas. I don’t think they call it Rogue anymore, I think they call it Hell—and that’s no joke, it’s one of the biggest most profitable gas finds in the world. It made Dusty. He was able to pay Theresa and her father back the money they’d given him. Oh, he stayed with her, Dusty was a man of his word, but he was no longer beholden to her. And when you came along right after he received the good news that his instincts had paid off, he named you after that field.”
Rogue’s head was spinning. Something was clicking in his head, but he wasn’t sure what it was. “Well, at least I’m glad it wasn’t because he couldn’t stand me.”
“Not a chance. Did you look at that scrapbook?”
“Yes, I did.”
Marliss went to the closet and brought out three more. “Here’s some more light reading for you. I think it’s time you got to know your brothers.”
* * *
And get to know them he did. Rogue pored over the books and he was amazed at what they had in common. Oh, they were different—different mothers, raised in different parts of the country. But there was a common bond, a similar thread of interests and strengths. The greatest thing they all shared was the obvious fact that they were special, a huge part of Dusty Walker’s life. A wave of remorse washed over Rogue. If things had been different, they could’ve been closer, all of them. What they’d lost, what they’d missed seemed like a huge chasm dividing the paths that each of the Walker boys walked. But what was also evident was that Dusty had been laying the groundwork for them to be united. It was as apparent as the n
ose on his face that Dusty had dreamed of the day when he and his brothers would know of one another and become close—become family.
It was just a shame that he had to die for that to happen.
All of this, coupled with Marliss’s insight into how he got his name, Rogue couldn’t sleep. So about three o’clock he got dressed and went into the office. He wanted to know more.
Once he’d let himself into Walker Mineral and got the lights turned on, he went about making himself at home. Rogue even made a pot of coffee, then he went upstairs to where the records were stored and carted back as much as his arms would hold. Then he made another trip and came back with a box filled to the brim. All of the ledgers and papers from several years before his birth to several years after now lay on and around the desk. Rogue intended to learn everything he could about Dusty Walker and what made him tick.
When Abby came in a little after seven she brought him another cup of coffee and offered to help. He waved her off and went back to work. Elaine’s arrival forced him to stop and explain that he was after the big picture, he wanted to know how Walker Mineral came to be and the building blocks Dusty had used to amass a fortune and make himself a name in the industry.
Walt looked in on him and answered a few questions Rogue had and he stopped to meet and eat lunch with Vic Armasa, the other minerals analyst and then he was right back to it. Rogue made notes and looked things up on the computer. A lot of what he was seeing was no surprise, but he also began to see a pattern, places and people that had proved to be invaluable, the systematic way Dusty proceeded to get a tip, follow through and amass the leases, investors and contacts necessary to get big deals off the ground.
And then sometimes after three, he found it. In 1989, Dusty had signed a contract with Lucius Angelo to explore a site named Rogue Angel Field. Rogue stared at the name. His eyes quickly scanned down the information until he saw another familiar name, Will Ross.
Will Ross was Kit’s father. Rogue could see where the two men had invested and the amount of money their investment brought. “Whew!” He let out a whistle at the amount. And there was another notation about a tax shelter and the pay-out being distributed in…bearer bonds.
Rogue sat up in his chair. Bearer bonds were bonds without any registered holder’s name. They could literally be cashed in by whomever presented them without question or proof as to how the person presenting them acquired the bonds. This made them risky to own but easily transferred and you only paid taxes when they were cashed in.
Over and over again Rogue went over what Kit had told him. It was obvious Will named the horse after the mine. “Like my father did me.” He huffed. Will had apparently used part of the bonds for that purchase, but according to the number he was looking at, there should be a helluva lot more money left. What had Ross done with the money? He wasn’t the type to gamble it away like Parker. And he’d told Kit that the Rogue Angel would take care of her. And he gave her a statue and told her it was her own Trojan horse…
All of a sudden Rogue sat straight up. He grabbed the phone and placed a call to his lawyer, Zane Saucier. He needed to talk to him anyway, but now there was something special he wanted to ask. After he’d listened to his attorney update him on several matters, he asked what might seem to be an unusual question. “You know Aron McCoy, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. Quite well.”
“He’s a sculptor, I’m aware of that. And Kit has an original that her father gave her about five or six years ago. I may be crazy, but would you ask if he put a secret compartment in the bronze?”
Zane laughed. “This does sound a little odd. I’ll be glad to ask but he might have a problem giving that information to anyone but Kit—if there is indeed a secret compartment.”
“I could understand that. The issue is that her father may have put some bearer bonds in the compartment and died before he could tell her. Those bonds could save White-Wing.”
“I see your point. Stay on the line, I’ll be right back.”
Normally Rogue didn’t like to be put on hold, but this time he felt it might be worth it. And he didn’t have long to wait, soon Zane was back. “Rogue, it’s not in the statue itself, it’s the wooden box the horse is sitting on. There’s a spring in the bottom that opens a secret drawer.”
“Thanks, buddy, I owe you,” he said even as he was heading out the door – to White-Wing.
* * *
White-Wing had taken on a new life, or maybe it was her, she wasn’t sure. But the world seemed brighter, the sky bluer. Everywhere she went, Kit hummed a tune. A bright smile was her gift to all she met. Even the more mundane chores she had to do around her house seemed full of joy. The mere act of cleaning out cabinets was something to be appreciated. “Where did all of this stuff come from?” She dragged box after box from the depths of the cabinet. Sitting back, she stared at the mess. “Whew!” With a hand, she pushed her hair from her forehead, she was tired and hot. A wave of dizziness made her sway. “Goodness,” she mumbled. “What’s wrong with me?”
Standing, she made her way to her bed to lie down for a few moments. And when she did, Kit became aware of a light cramping. Surely not. She was on the pill, this was weird. Forcing herself to her feet, she went to the restroom and pulled down her panties, adjusting herself on the porcelain seat. When she’d done her business, she wiped and something felt odd. Was she bleeding? This wasn’t right. Maybe she needed to go to the doctor, she’d been on the pill for years because of her heavy cycle but never had she felt this way. Perhaps she needed to change the type of birth control pill she was taking.
A noise in the living room caused her to look up. “Mother?” she called out. No answer. “Hello?” Maybe it was one of the employees.
Another noise, this time something breaking. She stood, adjusted her clothing, quickly rinsed her hands and started toward the front part of the house. As she turned the corner, something jerked her back. A hand came over her mouth and she screamed, or tried to.
“Where are they?”
It was Dave, her stepfather. His grip on her arm tightened, bruising. Letting go of her face, he spun her around and shook her. “Where are the bonds?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kit was afraid, his eyes looked wild and his face was ruddy like he was about to have a heart attack.
“Of course you do, Will told you everything. He bought you that damn horse, I know he told you where he hid the bonds. I thought if he was out of the way I could find them.”
“Out of the way?” Kit asked, not able to follow him. “You need to leave or I’m going to call the police.” Dave was either drunk or high, she didn’t know which.
“No, you’re not. No police. I’ll see to that. I tried to get rid of you once, punctured your tires. But you survived, unlike your idiot father. I took care of him so I could take back what was mine.”
“Did you kill my dad?” she asked, stunned and horrified.
“He took everything from me—Sheila, my land, my luck.” Dave was rambling now. He still gripped her hard, but he wasn’t looking at her at all, he was staring outside.
“You jerk, you pompous murdering son-of-a-bitch. All of this has been you, you broke into my house, you took my father’s guns. You killed him!” she screamed, pulling out of his grasp.
But she didn’t get far.
Dave was on top of her. He grasped her around the throat, drew back his fist and hit her as hard as he could. “I have to have money. I lost another game. I took money from a loan shark and he’ll kill me if I don’t pay him back. Tell me where the bonds are hidden!”
“I don’t know!” she screamed. “Let me go.”
Kit struggled but there was no use. He was choking the very life from her body. Looking up into his enraged face, a terrible sense of loss enveloped her like a cloud. She’d never grow old, she’d never see Rogue again, she’d never have children…
Dave kept pressing on her throat and hope left Kit’s body as quickly as her life would
.
She closed her eyes, not willing to see the last moments of her life—and then, blessedly, air flowed in her lungs. Dave was gone. There was a scuffle. Kit was choking, a cruel hand was squeezing her throat. One second she was on the floor and the next she was lifted up.
“Kit, oh, baby, are you okay?”
Rogue. Rogue had come in time. He’d come to save her. Kit’s arms crept around his neck. “You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
“Just in time,” she whispered against his rock-hard chest. “He killed my father, he punctured my tires, he took the guns.”
“I know, baby, I know.” Rogue rocked her. He held her close but kept an eye on Dave Parker, who was unconscious on the floor. “Let me call the cops.” While she sobbed into his shirt, he called the law. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“He kept talking about some bonds. I didn’t know what he was talking about.”
“I do,” Rogue said. “And I’ll show you as soon as we make sure the trash is taken out.” He pointed at Dave.
Kit was almost in shock. She clung to Rogue and he never once let her go, holding her close until the man who’d tried to destroy her world was off her property. “I don’t want to stay by myself.”
“I’m here.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Now, let me show you something that’s going to cheer you up.” Rogue hoped he was right. He hoped that when he found the hidden door that inside of it would be the answer to all of her problems. If not – maybe she would enjoy the notion that there was a secret hiding place in the work of art her father gave her. He led her over to the table where the horse statue sat.
“What are you doing?” Kit asked as he picked it up.
“You’ll see.” Gently he turned it over and probed with his finger on the bottom of the base until he felt something give and heard a slight pop.
Rogue: The Sons of Dusty Walker Page 20