A Matter of Time 06 - But For You (MM)

by Mary Calmes

  Duncan left, agreeing to return in the morning for breakfast so Sam could talk to him. I thanked him profusely, shook his hand—and I saw it, the wistful look in his eyes as they ran over me and then the things in the room: shoes, stuffed animals, and action figures. It was very easy to see that the man needed a mate and a family. Sam’s life looked really good to him.

  When the door closed and Sam and I were alone, I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind. He kissed me before I could get a word out.

  It was rough, the mauling he gave me, opening my mouth, his tongue tasting and tangling. He pressed me to him, devouring me until I had to tear free before my head exploded from lack of oxygen.

  “Sam,” I gasped.

  He knotted his hand in my hair and shoved my head back so he could bend to my throat, suck the skin into his hot mouth, and nibble down to my collarbone. The hickeys would be dark against my gold skin in the morning. Just the thought of him marking me brought a guttural moan from deep in my chest.

  As I stood there, shivering and panting, he lifted me with strong arms corded with muscle, arms that I loved to be in, and walked backward, carrying me, suckling my neck as I tilted my head sideways so he could reach as much of me as he wanted.

  “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he chanted as he licked up behind my ear, his big hands digging into my ass as he shoved me roughly up against the wall, pinning me there, recapturing my lips, and kissing me again, hard and deep.

  He smelled dangerous, the mixture from the bar still clinging to him, smoke and acrid perfume, but there was sweat in there too, and the taste of scotch on his tongue. I tried to wiggle closer, undulating in his grip, rubbing my now leaking cock against the rock-hard abs.

  My legs tightened around his narrow hips as he levered off the wall, turned, and manhandled me down onto the couch.

  “Don’t fuckin’ move.”

  I did as I was told, and he was back in minutes from our bedroom with the extra sheets from the closet. He also had the bottle of lube from where I had stashed it in the armoire.

  He spread a sheet on the couch and then put another one over him, draping himself—as he was now gloriously naked—from head to toe.

  “What are—”

  “The kids could wake up and come out.”

  The man was always thinking.

  “And what are you planning?”

  He grabbed me—which answered my question—and dragged me to the floor, flipped me over on my stomach, and told me to get on my knees.

  I hurried, shucking out of my belt and dress pants and briefs as fast as I could.

  The swipe of lube over my crease made me catch my breath, and the feel of his hairy thighs pressing against the backs of mine brought on the whimpering. “Oh, Sam.”

  “Forgive me, I was an idiot. Of course you would worry, I was just mad.”

  We could talk about it later. “Yes.”

  The first slick finger breached me, and I put my head back and moaned. He was pushing in and out, curling forward before pulling out only to add the second finger as he licked up my spine. I was panting, mouth open, pushing back as hard as he was pushing in. He rubbed and scissored, working my muscles, opening them, relaxing me like he wanted.

  “I want to suck your cock,” he told me, his voice scratchy and low.

  “No,” I barely got out. “You fuck me. Hard.”

  His moan was strangled and needy, and the sound, all dark and growly, sent a flush of fresh arousal over my skin.

  “Sam… please.”

  His hot, wet mouth made me shiver as he kissed up the side of my throat. The bite on my shoulder made me jerk under him, and when I felt the flared head of his cock against my entrance, the pleading began.

  Slowly, pushing insistently forward, inch by inch, he pressed inside me. My muscles were still resistant even though I was slick with lube, and I could feel every bit of the stretch as he filled my clenching channel.

  “Oh fuck.” His voice cracked as he slid home, buried to his balls, his hands gripping my hips too tight not to leave fingernail marks and bruises.

  I shivered under him; the feel of him fully seated inside me was almost more than I could bear.

  “You’re so hot,” he whispered. “And tight, and I so wanna—”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you grab ahold of yourself, ’cause I can’t even think.”

  I closed my hand around my own shaft as he pulled out and then thrust back inside me.

  The cry I let out was too loud.

  That quickly, Sam slapped a hand over my mouth and came down on top of me with his full weight, crushing me under him to the carpeted floor, now covered by a thin sheet.

  My dripping erection was forgotten, trapped as he lay on top of me and ground his massive cock into me, pushing deep with each swivel of his hips, the movement sensual and drugging, not the pounding thrusts he normally delivered.

  I was panting against his hand, and he finally laced his fingers over the top of my head, using that leverage to plunge deeper and longer. His weight, his smell, the sound of skin slapping against skin, the heat rolling off him, the absolute, utter dominance—it was all too much for me, and I bit down on my own forearm so I wouldn’t scream when my entire body seized at once and I came so hard I almost blacked out.

  My muscles fisted around his cock, tightening so fast that he let out his own garbled shout as he lifted me up with him and then sat down on the couch.

  I cried out as I was impaled on his long, thick shaft. My back to his chest, I let my head hit his shoulder and lean against his as he grabbed my ass and pounded up into me.

  There was still come dripping down my dick as I felt my ass flooded with liquid heat and Sam suddenly froze under me, his entire body tensing as he pulsed within me. As usual, the man’s orgasm had rendered him incapable of any thought or movement. I was exactly the same.

  All I could do was let the aftershocks vibrate through me. Sam put one of his big hands on my throat, making sure I didn’t try to rise.

  The other slid through the thick semen on my stomach, spreading it and rubbing it into my skin.

  We sat there quietly, the sheet covering me from the waist down and Sam still seated within me.

  “I take back every word I said. No one takes care of me like you do, and you know that.”

  “Yes,” I sighed. “I do know that.”

  “You scared me because if I hadn’t gotten back at that exact moment, you would have gone to that dive bar with Duncan, and there’s no way he would have been able to protect you.”

  “He’s a big guy, Sam.”

  “He’s not as invested in you as I am.”

  No, he wasn’t. “So what the hell is going on?”

  “Well, someone doesn’t want me digging into this witness situation, that’s for certain.”

  “When will you know who that guy was?”

  “In the morning. After I put you to bed, I’m gonna wake up my guys at home.”

  “I want you to come to bed with—”

  “No,” he said, lifting me easily, sliding me off the end of his softening cock with a warm gush of fluid.

  “Sam—”

  “It’ll fall on the sheet, J.”

  For a minute I was lost. “What?”

  “You’re worried about my getting jizz all over the—”

  “I don’t give a crap about that,” I said quickly. “I just want you in bed with me.”

  “Uh-uh, you go take a quick shower and get in bed. I’ll be in to tuck you in.”

  “Sam—”

  “Jory, there’s a police outline in the room that our kids were in.

  You and Kola and Hannah are going home tomorrow.”

  “Sam—”

  “I mean, you called Dane, right?”

  I groaned.

  He cackled. “You’ll be lucky if he spares you the yelling.”

  Crap. “Why did I do that?”

  “Because after me, it’s Dane, and you couldn’t get me.”


  “But I can’t ever unring the bell, you know?”

  He was laughing. “Yeah, I know.”

  Chapter Seven

  I WAS sitting in the lobby the next morning with Kola and Hannah, both of them entertained for the moment and quiet. She was coloring and he was playing something on his DS.

  “Jory?”

  I looked up and found Milton standing over me.

  “Hey,” I greeted him. “Sorry about last night. It just got weird.”

  “You and Sam, that’s kind of volatile, huh?”

  Not how he thought. We were only explosive in bed. I shrugged.

  He gestured at Kola and Hannah. “Why are you guys all packed up? Are you leaving?”

  “Yeah,” I told him. “We’re going home a day early. Sam needs it that way.”

  “So he says jump and you say how high?”

  “Not quite,” I chuckled, because what would Sam actually pay to make that the case?

  “Then why are you going?”

  “Because we’re not safe and Sam needs us to be so he can concentrate on what he needs to.”

  “Ohmygod, Jory, what—”

  “Jory?”

  Regina and Thomas were cutting across the lobby toward me, and when they got there, with the others in tow, the whole Kage clan that was mine, I tried to force a smile for Regina.

  “Honey, where are you going?”

  “Home,” I explained, soothing her at the same time. “But just a day early. We’ll be there when you guys get in.”

  “But why?”

  “I’ll let Sam tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” she asked.

  I looked over at her son, saw him standing where he had been for the last twenty minutes, with Duncan, two Scottsdale detectives, three of the guys from his field office in Chicago, and two marshals who had flown in from Langley. One of them was Sam’s boss, Clint Farmer, and he was standing shoulder to shoulder with Sam. The other guy I didn’t know, but he was listening intently even as he was on his cell at the same time. It didn’t look good to me—it looked like extended time away from home.

  “Jory?”

  “Sorry.” I forced a smile. “We just need to go home, Regina.

  Apparently we’ll be under police protection, with one officer in the house at all times and a patrol car outside until the man that Sam is looking for is found.”

  “Oh my goodness.” She was scared. “Sweetheart, we should all go then. You should move in with us until this whole thing goes away.”

  “No, I—”

  “And we can help you with the kids.”

  “I don’t need help,” I explained. “And home is better for them so they don’t have their routine upset.”

  “Jory,” Michael began, “don’t you think that it would be better if you—”

  “Oh… my,” Milton breathed out, clearly and utterly floored by whatever he was seeing.

  “Uncle Dane!”

  I looked up—we all did—and there, crossing the lobby of the hotel, was Dane Harcourt. People stopped and stared. It was a known reaction.

  The first thing you noticed about my brother was his towering height. He was six five, so you couldn’t miss him. Next it was the stare, normally a slight squint, just enough to pinch his brows together and to convey his irritation with the world at large. The length of his stride and the way he moved commanded interest. There was an energy you could feel, and looking at him was a pleasure. I was not alone in my assessment that Dane could still, even in his late forties, begin a lucrative modeling career. Yes, he was a wealthy architect, but he could grace fashion magazines all over the world. The glossy black hair and charcoal-gray eyes with flecks of silver in them, chiseled features, and swimmer’s build made the man a standout in any room he was ever in.

  As he walked across the lobby of the hotel, all eyes were on him.

  I had thought, as Dane aged, that his appeal would wane. But even now, with the white at his temples and the laugh lines in the corners of his eyes much heavier, he was stunning. Women flirted harder, men were drawn faster, and Dane, being Dane, just scowled. He was private; he had a small circle of friends and his family, which included me and Sam and our kids, who were precious to him, and that was all. Dane didn’t invite new friendships. When he was younger, he’d been more patient, more able to forgive things, but now, with his focus on his wife and children, he’d didn’t have the time or energy to devote to newness. You could be an acquaintance of his, but really, he was done making lifelong friends.

  “Jory, who’s that?” Milton was breathless.

  “My brother,” I said as Hannah wiggled down off the chair and ran, arms flailing like she was running from a fire, to greet her uncle.

  He went down on one knee, and everyone saw it then: the smile, so rare, so unguarded, that it took your breath away.

  Hannah hit him hard. She is not a gentle flower, my girl, more like a projectile missile, and she wrapped her little arms around his neck. He hugged her tight, rubbed her back, and then, when she wanted and only then, did he let her go so they could talk. Kola was right behind her, but he leaned into Dane’s arm, and they hugged gentler.

  When Dane stood, he had a kid in each arm and, seeing me, began walking over.

  “Is he gay too?”

  “No,” I told the very hopeful man lusting after my brother. “He has a wife and two kids.”

  “That doesn’t mean—”

  “It does for Dane,” I assured him. “The man is madly in love with all of them.”

  “Got it,” Milton said as Dane stepped into my personal space.

  “Tell me now,” my brother demanded instead of greeting me.

  We always talked as though our conversations were on a continual loop. “I thought Sam was missing but he’s not,” I said, pointing to where he was standing. “But he wants us to go home where we’re safe. There was a man in our room last night.”

  His grunt was very soft.

  “So we’ll go home with you.”

  “Of course you will.”

  Like there would have been a choice. “You know I’m thirty-five, right?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Where are your things?”

  I tipped my head at the pile of bags in pink, lime green, and black.

  There were blankets and toys and a little pink ribbon-yarn poncho.

  “Call Sam over. We’re leaving.”

  “Kola, go get Daddy,” I directed my son.

  He ran over, stood beside Sam, put his hand in his, and waited until Sam acknowledged him. When Sam looked up and saw Dane, he excused himself and walked back toward us, hand in hand with his son.

  Regina was upset and so was Thomas. Sam’s sisters and Michael were all, I could tell, a little annoyed with me. They were talking over each other to assure me that the kids and I could stay. But the thing was, as soon as I thought Sam was in trouble, I had called Dane to come pick up my children so I’d know they would be safe while I looked for him. It was ingrained in me to go to my brother. After Sam, it was Dane. And everyone wanted to know why I didn’t have any faith in them. Why did I need Dane when Sam’s whole family was there?

  Didn’t I trust them?

  It was hard to explain. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust them, and it wasn’t that I didn’t think they cared as much about my kids as any of the others, but these were my kids, and my brother and his wife were who they were going to if anything ever happened to me and Sam. And now because Sam couldn’t be there, he wanted Dane to take us home and help watch over us. It was how we were: we both believed in my brother.

  Into the many raised voices stepped Sam, who only got loud because he had never been one to have a discussion when someone questioned a decision he had made. He wanted me and the kids to go home with Dane. His parents, his sisters and his brother were questioning if that was best. Sam’s temper could easily have gotten the better of him, since he was on edge to begin with. He didn’t want to de
al with questions; he had to find a witness, and that witness was either trying to kill Sam himself or the man who had hidden the witness was trying to kill Sam to keep him from said witness. Either way, it was out in the open now, and there were several agencies ready to work together to figure out what the hell was going on. Sam wanted to be doing that, wanted to be concentrating on that. He needed me and the kids gone so he could focus all his energy there and be in hunter and not protector mode. His family was only pissing him off.

  I saw his jaw clench and would have said something, but at that point Dane quietly lifted his hands to get everyone’s attention. I usually had to jump up and down or stand on my head to get the silence that was his in only moments.

  It was one of Dane’s many strengths: the ability to spread calm, to be a rock in any kind of crisis. He explained gently, calmly, employing the voice he used in contract disputes with builders, how Sam was concerned for everyone’s safety. He told them that Sam was worried about putting any more of his family in danger, and that this way everyone else could stay and finish up the reunion and maybe have some semblance of normalcy. They all looked at Sam, who was glowering at that point.

  “Get them out of here, Dane.”

  And Dane passed Hannah to her father so the good-byes could commence.

  Hannah cried because she wasn’t at home. In her own house, Hannah said good-bye to her daddy every morning. The idea of getting on a plane without him was not appealing, and she clung and howled, which I could tell just from looking at him tore Sam up.

  I took her, and she sobbed into my shoulder, her being overly tired not helping one little bit.

  Sam went down on one knee, and Kola stepped close and fiddled with Sam’s collar and the buttons on his dress shirt. “Do you have your gun, Dad?”

  “Dad” was newly shortened from “Daddy.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “So you’ll be safe, huh?”

  “Yes, I will. You need to take care of Hannah and Pa and Chilly for me, okay?”