The Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 1-4

by J. R. Ward

  “Marissa. You’re beautiful.”

  She lifted her lids, bracing herself. Except he wasn’t staring at what she’d revealed.

  “But you haven’t looked at me yet, have you?”

  “I don’t need to.”

  Tears speared into the corners of her eyes. “Please…just look.”

  His eyes drifted downward and he inhaled sharply through his teeth, the hiss cutting through the room. Ah, hell, she knew there was something wrong—

  “Jesus, you’re perfect.” With a quick pass, his tongue licked over his lower lip. “May I touch you?”

  Overwhelmed, she nodded with a jerk of the chin and his hand slipped under the bodice, smoothed up her rib cage and caressed the side of her breast, soft as a breath. She surged at the contact and then settled down. At least until he brushed her nipple with his thumb.

  Then she arched involuntarily.

  “You’re…very perfect,” he said in his hoarse voice. “You blind me.”

  Butch’s head went down, his lips finding the skin at her sternum, then kissing the way up her breast. Her nipple gathered up on itself, straining for…yes, his mouth. Oh…God, yes…his mouth.

  His eyes stared into hers as he latched on to the tip of her breast, pulling her between his lips. He sucked on her for a heartbeat before releasing and blowing across the glistening tip. Between her legs, she felt a warm rush.

  “You okay?” he said. “This okay?”

  “I didn’t know…they could feel like that.”

  “No?” He brushed his lips over her nipple again. “Surely you’ve touched this beautiful place? No? Not ever?”

  She couldn’t think straight. “Females in my class…we’re taught that we shouldn’t…do such things. Unless we are with a mate and even then…” God, what were they talking about?

  “Ah…well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” His tongue came out and licked over her nipple. “Yeah, I’m here now. So give me your hand, Marissa.” When she did, he kissed her palm. “Let me show you what perfection feels like.”

  He took her forefinger into his mouth and sucked on it, then popped it free and brought it to her distended nipple. He ran circles around the tip, touching her through her own hand.

  She let her head fall back, but kept her eyes on his. “It’s so…”

  “Soft and tight at the same time, isn’t it.” He lowered his mouth, covering her nipple and her fingertip, a smooth, licking warmth. “Feels good?”

  “Yes…dear Virgin in the Fade, yes.”

  His hand went to her other breast and rolled her nipple, then he massaged the swell beneath. He was so big looming over her, the hospital gown slipping from his bunched-up shoulders, his heavy arms clenched from holding himself above her body. As he switched sides and went to work on her other nipple, his dark hair brushed against her pale skin, soft and silky.

  Lost in the heat and a growing restlessness, she didn’t notice as her skirts started moving…until they were up around her thighs.

  As she stiffened, he asked against her breast, “Will you let me keep going a little farther? If I swear I’ll stop anytime you want?”

  “Um…yes.”

  His palm slid onto her bare knee, and she jerked, but when he went back to work on her breast, she forgot the fear. With slow, lazy circles, his hand went higher and higher until it slipped between her thighs—

  Abruptly, she felt something spill out of her. In a panic, she clamped her legs together and pushed at him.

  “What, baby?”

  Blushing fiercely, she muttered, “I feel something…different…”

  “Where? Down here?” He stroked her inner thigh.

  As she nodded, his smile was slow, sexy. “Oh, really?” He kissed her, lingering with their mouths together. “Want to tell me what it is?” As she flushed even more, his hand kept up the caressing. “What kind of different?”

  “I’m…” She couldn’t say it.

  His mouth shifted so it was next to her ear. “Are you wet?” When she nodded, he growled deep in his throat. “Wet is good…wet’s right where I want you to be.”

  “It is? Why—”

  With a smooth, quick move, he touched her panties between her legs, and they both jumped at the contact.

  “Oh…God,” he groaned, his head dropping on her shoulder. “You’re so with me right now. You’re so right here with me.”

  Butch’s erection pounded as he kept his hand on the warm, damp satin over Marissa’s core. He knew if he pushed the panties aside, he was going to dive into a whole lot of honey, but he didn’t want to shock her out of the moment.

  Curling his fingers around her, he rubbed the heel of his palm against the top of her slit, right where it would feel best. As she gasped, her hips pushed forward, then followed his slow rhythm. Which naturally put him through the roof. To maintain control, he rolled his hips so his stomach was sitting on that arousal of his, trapping it against the mattress.

  “Butch, I need…something…I…”

  “Baby, have you ever—” Ah, hell, no way she’d ever pleasured herself. She’d been surprised at what her nipple felt like.

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” He eased off her core and stroked her panties, just running his fingertips over her. “I’m going to take care of you. Trust me, Marissa.”

  He kissed her mouth, sucking at her lips, getting her lost. Then he slipped his hand under the lip of satin at her core—

  “Oh…fuck,” he breathed, hoping she was too dazed to hear the curse.

  She tried to pull back. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Easy, easy.” He held her in place by putting his thigh over her legs. And then worried that he might have orgasmed…given the rocket launch sensation that had just ridden up his shaft. “Baby, there’s nothing wrong. It’s just you’re…oh, God, you’re bare here.” He moved his hand, his fingers sliding into her folds…holy heaven, she was so smooth. So honeyed. So hot.

  He was getting lost in all that slick flesh when her confusion registered through the haze. “You have no hair,” he said.

  “Is that bad?”

  He laughed. “It’s beautiful. It’s exciting to me.”

  Exciting? Try explosive. All he wanted to do was crawl up under her skirt and lick at her and swallow and suck her off, but all that was definitely too far.

  And shit, he was such a Neanderthal, but the idea he was the only one who’d put his hand where it was was erotic as hell.

  “How’s this feel?” he asked, tuning things up a little.

  “God…Butch.” She arched wildly on the bed, her head kicking back so that her neck bent in a lovely upward curve.

  His eyes latched on to her throat, and the strangest instinct went through him: He wanted to bite her. And his mouth opened like he was prepared to do just that.

  Cursing, he shrugged off the bizarre impulse.

  “Butch…I ache.”

  “I know, baby. I’m going to take care of that.” He latched on to her breast with his mouth and started to touch her seriously, finding a rhythm with the stroking, being careful to stay on the outside so she didn’t get thrown.

  Turned out he was the one who got tossed. The friction and the feel of her and the scent of it all snowballed on him until he realized he was shadow-pumping her, pushing his hips into the mattress in tempo with his hand. As his head fell between her breasts because he couldn’t hold it up anymore, he knew he had to stop the cock massage he was giving himself. He needed to pay attention to her.

  He looked up. Her eyes were wide and a little frightened. She was just on the verge and she was getting rattled.

  “All right, baby, it’s okay.” He didn’t stop working between her legs.

  “What’s happening to me?”

  He put his mouth to her ear. “You’re about to come. Just let yourself feel it. I’m right here, I’ve got you. Hold on to me.”

  Her hands bit into his arms and as her nails drew blood, he smiled, thinking that was so perf
ect.

  Her hips tilted up sharply. “Butch…”

  “That’s it. Come for me.”

  “I can’t…I can’t…” She shook her head back and forth, getting trapped between what her body wanted and what her mind was having trouble assimilating. She was going to lose the momentum unless he did something fast.

  Without even thinking or knowing why it would help, he buried his face in her throat and bit her, right over her jugular. That was what did it. She cried out his name and started convulsing, her hips jerking, her body flexing all along her spine. With profound joy, he helped her ride the orgasm’s pulses and he talked to her the whole time—although God only knew what he was saying.

  When she’d come down, he lifted his head from her neck. Between her lips, he saw the tips of her fangs and was struck by a compulsion he couldn’t fight. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and licked at the sharp points, feeling them rasp over his flesh. He wanted them in his skin…he wanted her to suck at him, fill her belly, live off of him.

  He forced himself to stop and the retreat was so damn hollow. He strained from unmet needs and they weren’t all sexual. He needed…things from her, things he didn’t understand.

  Her eyes opened. “I didn’t know…it would be like that.”

  “Did you like it?”

  Her smile was enough to make him forget his own name. “Oh, yes.”

  He kissed her gently, then rearranged her skirts and did up the buttons of her bodice, rewrapping the gift of her body. Easing her into the crook of his arm, he got good and comfortable. She was fading into sleep already and he was so damned content to watch her slide. It just seemed like the perfect thing to do, to stay awake while she rested, to watch over her.

  Although for some reason, he wished he had a weapon.

  “I can’t keep my eyes open,” she said.

  “Don’t even try.”

  He stroked some of her hair and thought, in spite of the fact that in about ten minutes he was going to have the worst case of blue balls known to mankind, that everything was right in his world.

  Butch O’Neal, he thought, you have found your woman.

  Chapter Twelve

  “He does so look like his grandfather.”

  Joyce O’Neal Rafferty leaned over the crib and tucked the blanket around her three-month-old son. This debate had been on going since his birth, and she was tired of it. Her son clearly took after her father.

  “No, he looks like you.”

  As Joyce felt her husband’s arms wrap around her middle, she fought the need to pull away. He didn’t seem to mind the baby weight, but it made her anxious as hell.

  Hoping to get him focused elsewhere, she said, “So next Sunday you have a choice. You can either handle Sean by yourself or you can pick up Mother. What do you want to do?”

  He dropped his hold on her. “Why can’t your father get her from the nursing home?”

  “You know Dad. He doesn’t deal with her all that well, especially in the car. She’ll get agitated, he’ll get frustrated with her, and we’ll have a mess at the baptism when they get there.”

  Mike’s chest rose and fell. “I think you better deal with your mother. Sean and I will be fine. Maybe one of your sisters can come with us?”

  “Yeah. Colleen, maybe.”

  They were silent a while, just watching Sean breathe.

  Then Mike said, “Are you going to invite him?”

  She wanted to curse. In the O’Neal family, there was only one “him.” Brian. Butch. The “him.” Of the six children Eddie and Odell O’Neal had had, two of them had been lost. Janie had been murdered, and Butch had basically disappeared after high school. The latter had been a blessing, the first a curse.

  “He won’t come.”

  “You should invite him anyway.”

  “If he shows up, Mother will become unglued.”

  Odell’s rapidly escalating dementia meant she sometimes thought Butch was dead and that was why he wasn’t around. Her other option for dealing with the loss was making up crazy stories about him. Like how he was running for mayor down in New York. Or how he was going to medical school. Or how he wasn’t his father’s son and that was why Eddie couldn’t stand him. All of which were nuts. The first two for obvious reasons and the third because while it was true Eddie had never liked Butch, it wasn’t because he was a bastard child. Eddie had never particularly liked any of his children.

  “You should invite him anyway, Joyce. This is his family.”

  “Not really.”

  Last time she’d talked to her brother had been…God, at her wedding five years ago? And no one else had seen or heard much from him since then, either. Word in the family had it that her father had gotten a message from Butch back in…August? Yeah, end of summer. He’d given a number he could be reached at, but that was about it.

  Sean let out a little whiffle through his nose.

  “Joyce?”

  “Oh, come on, he won’t show if I ask him.”

  “So you get the credit for putting the offer out and won’t have to deal with him. Or maybe he’ll surprise you.”

  “Mike, I’m not calling him. Who needs more drama in this family?” Like her mother being crazy and having Alzheimer’s wasn’t enough of a problem?

  She made a show of checking her watch. “Hey, is CSI on?”

  With determination, she pulled her husband out of the nursery, distracting him from things that were none of his business.

  Marissa wasn’t sure what time it was when she woke up, but she knew she’d been asleep for a long while. As her eyes opened, she smiled. Butch was out cold and crowding her at her back, his thick thigh between her legs, his hand cupping her breast, his head in her neck.

  As she rolled over slowly and faced him, her eyes drifted down his body. The sheet he’d pulled up earlier had slid off him, and underneath the thin hospital gown, something thick rested at his hips. Good Lord…an erection. He was aroused.

  “What you looking at, baby?” Butch’s low voice was mostly gravel.

  She jumped and glanced up. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

  “I never went to sleep. Been watching you for hours.” He pulled the sheet back into place and smiled. “How you doing?”

  “Good.”

  “You want we call for some break—”

  “Butch.” Exactly how was she going to put this? “Males do what you made me do, right? I mean, last night when you were touching me.”

  He flushed and tugged at the sheet. “Yeah, we do. But you don’t need to worry about that.”

  “Why?”

  “Just don’t have to.”

  “Would you let me look at you?” She nodded at his hips. “Down there?”

  He coughed a little. “You want that?”

  “Yes. God, yes…I want to touch you there.”

  With a soft curse, he muttered, “What happens might shock you.”

  “I was shocked when your hand was between my legs. Is it shocking like that? In that good kind of way?”

  “Yeah.” His hips shifted, as if they’d rotated on the base of his spine. “Jesus…Marissa.”

  “I want you naked.” She sat up on her knees and reached for his johnny. “And I want to strip you.”

  He took her hands in a hard grip. “I, ah…Marissa, do you have any idea what happens when a man comes? Because sure as shit, that’s going to happen if you start handling me. And it’s not going to take long.”

  “I want to find out. With you.”

  He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. “Dear Lord in heaven.”

  Lifting his upper body off the bed, he leaned forward so she could slip the two halves of the gown down his arms. Then he let himself fall back on the mattress and his body was revealed: the thick neck plugged into those broad shoulders…the heavy pads of his pectorals that were dusted with hair…the ribbed expanse of his belly…and…

  She pulled back the sheet. Good God, his sex was…“It’s gotten so…huge.”
/>   Butch barked out a laugh. “You say the nicest things.”

  “I saw it when it was…. I didn’t know it got…”

  She just couldn’t take her eyes off his erection as it lay against his belly. His hard sex was the color of his lips and shockingly beautiful, the head blunt with a graceful ridge, the shaft perfectly round and very thick at the base. And the twin weights below were heavy, shameless, virile.

  Maybe humans were larger than her kind?

  “How do you like to be touched?”

  “If it’s you, any way.”

  “No, show me.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and his chest expanded. When he lifted his lids, his mouth parted and he slowly eased his hand down his pecs and his belly. Moving one of his legs out to the side, he captured himself in his palm, fisting that dark pink flesh of his, his man hand broad enough to hold the thing. With a slow, smooth movement, he stroked his arousal, base to tip, riding the shaft.

  “Or something like this,” he said hoarsely, keeping it up. “Good God, look at you…. I could come right now.”

  “No.” She pushed his arm out of the way and the erection bounced stiffly on his stomach. “I want to make you do that.”

  As she took hold of him, he groaned, his whole body undulating.

  He was hot. He was hard. He was soft. He was so thick she couldn’t close her palm all the way around him.

  Hesitant at first, she followed his example, running her grip up and down, marveling at how his satin skin slid over the stone core of him.

  When he gritted his teeth, she stopped. “Is this all right?”

  “Yeah…damn…” His chin tilted back, the veins in his neck popping. “More.”

  She put her other hand on him, stacking her palms, moving them together. His mouth fell wide open, his eyes rolling back in his head, a sheen of sweat breaking out over his body.

  “How does this feel, Butch?”

  “I’m so close already.” He clamped his jaws together and breathed through teeth that were locked light. But then he grabbed her hands, stilling them. “Wait! Not yet…”

  His erection pulsed, kicking in their grips. A crystal drop appeared at the tip.