by Lora Leigh
His balls were painfully tight now as she cupped them, her thumb rolling over them, stroking the tight sac with such wicked enjoyment she had him ready to cum from that alone.
The sight of her mouth stretched around his cock as she drew on the sensitive head was like a shot of gasoline to fire. She was going to melt him with her touch. He could feel it coming.
She was loving it, too. She sucked the head of his dick, tongued it. Her cheeks hollowed as she drew on it, and her face flushed that pretty peach pink that drove him insane with lust.
His fingers tightened on the base of the wide shaft, a groan tearing from him.
She was working the head of his cock with such innocent, erotic enjoyment it was killing him.
“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, watching the pleasure she derived from the little endearments increase the look of sensual enjoyment in her expression. “Fuck, I love your mouth on my dick. So sweet and hot . . .”
Using his grip on her hair he pulled her head back, watching her eyes darken as he held her lips poised at the tip of his cock before pulling her back down, pushing deeper inside the suckling heat of her mouth.
He did it again, watching, feeling any chance he had at maintaining his sanity unraveling with each moan that vibrated around the sensitive head each time he thrust inside her again, taking her mouth as deep as he dared.
“Ah damn, that’s good.” He could barely breathe. His entire body was strung tight, his scrotum taut, tortured with pleasure as she cupped and caressed it. And he was going to fucking die if he lost her, he thought, because he knew this was something he’d never find again.
• • •
She was in too deep, and Angel knew it. Knew it, but couldn’t help giving herself to the overwhelming need to pleasure him, to mark his body, his senses, as he’d marked hers.
Each time his groans whispered around her, or his body tightened, each sign of his shaky control only increased her enjoyment. The sight of his body glistening with sweat, his muscles tightening as he fought to hold back, only made her hotter, wilder.
Taking as much of his cock as possible before easing back to suck and tongue the head, she murmured her enjoyment of him. His hand tightened in her hair, the other clenched around the base of his cock to hold back his release.
“Keep teasing me,” he warned her. “I lose myself to this, baby, and you might regret it.”
Regret it? Oh, she didn’t think so. She wanted him to lose himself, wanted to feel him taking his enjoyment, becoming lost in it as she always became lost in his touch.
• • •
“Angel, baby.” Duke felt sweat trailing down the side of his face, felt the warning tightness at the base of his spine and knew he was quickly losing control.
“Suck it, Angel,” he groaned. “Work that hot little mouth on my dick. Fuck. You’re killing me.”
The suckling pressure increased, her tongue rippled and rolled just beneath the head along the desperately sensitive nerve-laden area, and she took him deeper. So deep he could feel her little moans like fingers rasping over the throbbing head.
Holding her firmly in place with his fingers in her hair, Duke knew he’d already lost control. He’d lost it the second that hot little mouth tightened around his cock.
Holding on to her, watching her, he thrust against the suckling heat, pushing inside, retreating, and feeling the tight heat drawing more firmly, quickening against his flesh.
He’d intended to pull free when he reached that point where it would be impossible to release her. Duke had no idea he’d passed that point the first second he’d watched her lips stretch around his dick.
That point was gone now, there was no retreat, there was no going easier on her. He stared down at her, watching her, as he fucked her mouth, torn between agony and ecstasy as he felt his cock thicken, felt the warning tension of nearing release invading his senses.
Ah fuck.
He was dying in her mouth.
His balls were tight, his release boiling in them. His lips drew back in a snarl, tortured pleasure raking his senses and shredding his sanity.
Angel’s hungry little mouth and tongue were destroying him. He’d never expected this, never imagined she could steal into him and shred his control as no other woman had ever done.
“Fuck, baby. Draw back.” He barely recognized his own voice. “Angel, damn . . .”
She didn’t draw back. She became hungrier, her moans wilder, her wicked, wicked fingers playing his balls as her mouth sucked, her tongue stroked, and she took him with such greedy enjoyment he felt that last edge of reason explode along with his release.
“Fuck. Fuck. Tongue it. Suck it . . .” The first hard blast of his seed tore through him with white-hot rapture. Holding her head with both hands, keeping her in place, he bucked against her mouth, felt the heat of it searing him as each brutal shot of release tore from him in a lightning bolt of such pleasure he swore it would mark his soul.
His head tipped back, eyes closed, but he still saw her face. Saw it flush with added heat, the way her lashes fell to her cheeks, the way she worked to take each shattering pulse of his seed.
Tension racked him. Forked fingers of slamming sensation held him in their grip, ripping along his nerve endings and filling his senses with a pure savage pleasure.
And damn her, it wasn’t enough.
The broad head pulsed, throbbed, so damned eager to be buried inside her that even his balls ached.
Pushing her back on the bed he moved between her thighs, lifting her to him, watching as each inch of flesh disappeared into the lush, hot depths of her pussy.
She was the most pleasure he’d ever known in his life. She was a challenge, a comfort, a constant dare in the face of danger, and a reminder of everything worth fighting for.
Easing inside the snug grip, he came over her, his hand cupping her face, his gaze locked with hers. He had to clench his teeth to keep from saying something totally sappy. Something completely crazy.
Like he couldn’t imagine life without her, without this. That he couldn’t let her go, he wouldn’t let her go.
But he knew Angel. And his ability to speak, to do anything but let the pleasure rush through him, around him, was gone. The second he buried his full length inside her, the second he felt her coming around his flesh, it was over.
He was a man possessed. Moving inside her hard, deep. Thrusting inside her, taking her as though he hadn’t already spilled himself in her sweet mouth.
When the explosion shattered his senses again, he didn’t fight it, didn’t fight any part of it.
He claimed her.
He just hadn’t informed her of that yet.
SIXTEEN
Later that day, Angel finished another long trek around the yard surrounding the house. She was pretty certain the twisting, natural border of cleverly woven wisteria and wild grapevines was sprinkled with what appeared to be either dark thorns or sharpened spikes.
Going through any part of it appeared impossible, but the more she studied it, the more she was certain there had to be a way through it.
As much as she hated it, she had to admit she was going to need either Chaya or Natches to explain the puzzle in the natural boundary around the house as well as the strengths and weaknesses of the property.
Should she need to run, with or without Bliss in the event of an attack, or need the best vantage point, then it would be quicker if some of those were pointed out to her. Duke was still learning the property himself and had gone into the forest around the house with Seth and Saul more than an hour before and hadn’t yet returned. That left either Natches or Chaya.
Fine, she decided, either/or.
Her leg was beginning to ache again and she wasn’t in the mood to play games. If she was going to be here long enough to catch whoever seemed determined to abduct Bliss, then she wasn’t going t
o pussyfoot around where the answers she needed were concerned.
With that in mind she made her way into the house, the sound of the security system’s mechanical voice announcing the opening of the kitchen door barely noticed now. It was a strength in the event of an enemy sneaking in, a weakness if the enemy was already in and she needed to slip past it.
She’d use the patio door in the suite to figure that one out later, she decided.
She was nearing the door into the hallway when movement in the family room had her changing direction and striding to the wide doorway between the kitchen and the connecting room. Closing the door behind him Natches was just leaving the office.
“Angel?” His expression was somber, though his bright green eyes were still wild with inner turmoil.
“I need one of you to step outside and answer some questions about the property.” She propped one hand on the hilt of her knife where it was strapped to her right thigh, her jaw clenching with the certainty he would probably brush her off.
He almost paused for a moment, something in his expression softening before he shook it off and continued toward her.
“Questions of what kind?” he asked, a small frown brewing on his forehead as he watched her. “Is there a problem?”
“Only if I need to get through that fence you managed to convince to grow at the property line,” she informed him with resigned impatience. “I know how a Mackay’s mind works. You have a way to get through the damned thing at any point. I’m just not figuring it out. I need to know the secret.”
He paused, tipped his head to the side just a bit, amusement invading his gaze.
“How a Mackay’s mind works?” he repeated, curious now. “How does it work?”
“Like a steel trap searching for prey,” she fired back instantly. “And that fence is just waiting for me to get my ass caught in it. Admit it.”
That gleam in his eye assured her she was right. That fence was a trap just waiting for the unwary.
“You haven’t figured it out?” Male satisfaction just covered his face.
Yep, Mackay.
“Listen, puzzles aren’t my forte, all right?” She propped her weight to her good leg and arched her brow mockingly. “Need someone small enough to wiggle through a sewer drain? Come find me. You need someone to catch, kill, clean, and cook wild game on a little flame barely big enough to warm your hands? I’m your girl.” She shrugged, pointing an index finger back toward herself. “You need someone to help you put a puzzle together, then you better get hold of Tracker or Chance, ’cause I’m just going to confuse you and me both. So, in the interest of not messing my head up any further, could you please bring your intelligent self outside and show me what I need to know?”
He was on the verge of grinning, which was a good thing. She hadn’t seen so much as a hint of a grin since they’d arrived and she knew that wasn’t like Natches.
“My intelligent self, huh?” he asked with no small amount of male satisfaction.
Jeez, men were just so easy. Even Tracker and Chance fell for that one.
What was it Dawg often said? God bless their hearts?
“Don’t let the compliment go to your head,” she advised him somberly. “I say that to Duke all the time.”
It took him about a second.
He chuckled, shaking his head almost helplessly as he stared back at her.
“I heard you call Duke a slack-jawed moron when the two of you were standing outside earlier. I might have to be offended,” he warned her, finally grinning, his green eyes going emerald.
She brushed back her bangs with blithe unconcern. “Yeah, well. We have a complicated relationship maybe.”
“Complicated?” His brow arched, that supreme male arrogance that was so much a part of him reigning on his expression. “Is that what you call it?”
“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it,” she promised with a tight nod. “So what is it? You going to explain this to me or do I have to take my chances and convince Duke to go through it first?”
He snorted at the suggestion.
“Come on then.” He chuckled again. “Let me go explain the puzzle to you. But don’t feel bad, even Chay didn’t see it at first.”
Well now, he just had to mention that one, didn’t he?
“That was supposed to make me feel better, right?” She shot him a withering look. “It didn’t work.”
“Sure it did,” he drawled as they neared the back door. “You just want me to think you’re titanium. I know better.”
Really? Oh, he had no idea how wrong he was.
“Good Lord, another know-it-all male,” she muttered. “Remind me to keep my ass out of Kentucky when all this is over.”
“You’d have to escape first. . . .”
That was what she was afraid of.
• • •
Duke watched the exchange, aware of Chaya standing next to him, her hand over her mouth, her breathing choppy as she listened to her husband and her daughter pretending to bicker as they made their way outside.
“That’s Angel,” he said softly, looking down at her as she walked away from him to the window, peeking around the shade as she followed Natches and Angel as they made their way to the fence.
“She sounded like Bliss,” she whispered hoarsely. “She does that when she doesn’t know how to respond, or if she has to face something she’d prefer not to face.”
Well, he knew where Angel got it from now; he’d wondered about that.
“I bet Natches accuses you of the same thing.” He watched her expression, a mother’s hunger and pain reflecting clearly on her face.
A tear eased from her eye and slid slowly, unashamedly, down her cheek.
“How do I get her to talk to me?” she whispered, turning back to him. “What do I do, Duke?”
“I’m not allowed to conspire.” He sighed heavily, crossing his arms over his chest. “That was a promise I made her years ago.”
She stared back at him, eyes narrowed, her expression just a shade calculating, and that look was pure Angel.
“And you always keep your promises, huh?” she asked thoughtfully.
“My word wouldn’t be any good if I didn’t, now would it?” he asked.
“So if I wanted to know something . . . ?” she mused.
“If I break my promise to her, she’d never forgive me. I promised her I wouldn’t conspire with anyone but her, and I won’t break that promise.”
Chaya nodded slowly. “I understand, Duke. I won’t ask you anything then.”
“I appreciate that.” He nodded. “Now I think I’ll go see about that puzzle of Natches’s. I think I might have figured it out.” Saluting his fingers to his forehead with a grin, he strolled to the door and left the house.
There were things Chaya needed to know if she was going to find a way to get Angel to talk. They had to find common ground before it was too late and Angel walked away from the mother that loved her.
Because if she walked away from Chaya, she’d have to leave Kentucky. And that, Duke simply couldn’t allow. He couldn’t interfere, but if interference was needed, there was always Tracker. . . .
• • •
It was nearly dark before they made it back into the house. Angel washed up quickly, then returned to the kitchen, where she placed the soup she’d made earlier in the day on the stove to warm and hurriedly baked a skillet of cornbread to go with it.
As Chaya and Natches, Bliss, and then Duke made their way into the kitchen, rich, creamy potato soup bubbled merrily, the buttery, bacony scent of it drifting through the room.
“Is that Ms. Tully’s potato soup?” Natches sniffed the room curiously as Angel began ladling the soup into the bowls she’d put out.
“She gave me her recipe when I was staying in the apartment between her and Lyrica,” she admitted,
a little self-consciously, as Chaya continued to stare at her. “I like to cook.”
“Ms. Tully won’t even give her sister that recipe,” Chaya stated, attempting to smile. “She must have really liked you.”
Was it so hard for her to believe someone liked her?
“I guess,” she answered faintly, returning to the bowls, trying not to believe that was hope she saw in Chaya’s eyes. “Anyway. Everything’s finished.”
“You’re lucky Natches didn’t catch you frying the bacon,” Chaya teased her—and why she was teasing her Angel couldn’t figure out. “He would have eaten it before you had a chance to put it in the soup.”
The look Natches sent his wife was decidedly sensual. “Now, baby, you know I love your burned bacon,” he murmured.
Chaya blushed. The look was so rife with love and lust Angel thought she might have blushed herself.
Mackay males were dangerous.
“I did most of it earlier while everyone was outside.” She cleared her throat. “It’s easier to cook when no one else is around.”
She’d learned that young.
After handing out the bowls, she quickly ate, then excused herself when Chaya and Bliss insisted on cleaning up. She needed some time away from Natches and Chaya. Some time to think, to figure out how the hell she was going to handle it if she was there much longer.
The longer she stayed around them, the harder it was not to demand answers, to demand explanations.
“She’s waited all day for a few minutes to talk to you,” Duke said quietly as he entered the bedroom. “This thing between the two of you is going to have to be discussed.”
She inhaled slowly. She didn’t want to fight with him, not tonight.
“Duke, the best thing you can do is stay out of this ‘thing,’ as you call it, between Chaya and me,” Angel warned him, facing him as she tried to make certain he understood the fact that this had nothing to do with him. “Becoming involved in it any further is only going to drive a wedge deeper between you and me. When this is over, I want at least a chance to figure out for myself what was between us without this situation shadowing it.”