Conquered

by Angel Payne

Which he was thrilled to cut short after just her first volley—by diggin’ a pair of brutal grips into the curves of her thighs. Then tuggin’ hard, without any more of his sweet and sultry shit about it, to align her body perfectly beneath his.

  “Bastard?” He flashed a smirk, pouring on a mixture of allure and antagonism at once and rejoicin’ in how that dilated her irises. Despite the evidence of her arousal, he went ahead and taunted lowly, “Good bastard…or bad bastard?”

  “I—I don’t know,” Jenny stammered. “Ohhhh, shit.” Her limbs quaked as Sam rolled his hips—scraping her pretty, sensitive nether lips with the nasty blue spikes that poked from all around his girth. Those perfect, incredible little teasers… “Y-You’re driving me crazy, damn it. I—I can’t think—”

  “Then don’t.” He stamped a fresh underscore of command to the words. “Just stop thinking and feel it, my beautiful Jenny. Feel me. All of me.”

  But suddenly, despite her passionate dictates, the woman had started to hold back. Sam could ken it as sure as the air in his lungs; there was fresh tension in her muscles along with the strict line that now comprised her lips. She clung to it even as he seduced her more with the latex she’d called full-on excitin’ a few minutes ago—but that wasn’t nearly enough. For some reason, her surrender had been yanked off the table—ever since the moment he’d pierced her gaze with his own and ordered her not to just take him but feel him.

  Damn it.

  She was at it again.

  Wantin’ all of the sex but none of what it now represented between them. Oh aye. She craved all the teasing strokes of the wild spiked condom and even the rockin’ climax they’d bring, but none of what he was askin’ her—ordering her—to give him in exchange. Her truth. Her vulnerability. The honest, real, gory, scary passion that he’d been willin’ to expose to her already…

  That was, as she would say, bullshit.

  But now he just had to find a way of showin’ her so.

  And set himself to the task with a purpose that might turn him into a bloody superhero.

  Intense or not, he already had the ideal starting block. Or, more accurately, the commencing condom. Thanks to the Nyte Resort and their dedication to makin’ every mate’s sexual swim a safe one, he already had the ideal tool to taunt her sweet pussy in ways he hadn’t anticipated. With deliberate gyrations of his hips and tantalizing taps with his cock, he soon had Jen lurching and shivering under him again. The second her higher sighs punched the air, he moved to phase two. With deepened snarls, he nuzzled her neck. With calculated pressure, he tugged at her nipples, stroked her outer thighs…and went for the ultimate clincher in circling her clenching asshole.

  But as soon as she moaned and bore down, hoping to get more of him inside her sensitive entrance, he purposely pulled back. Then, coiling his muscles to assist, all the way up.

  He descended his gaze over her body, restrainin’ himself even more. The effort was not fuckin’ easy, especially with her hair already lookin’ freshly fucked and her lips so plump and berry-red from bein’ fucked by him. There were new temptations here as well. The engorged erections of her nipples. The sight of that bright-blue condom, ready to protect his length as he plunged home inside her…

  But not yet.

  Almost. There.

  Almost. There.

  Which was why he locked his teeth and held back just a little more. And stared down over all of his gorgeous Jenny again, takin’ note of every tremor, quiver, shiver, and shake that led to his overridin’ instinct about how this was goin’ to go down next.

  Which was why he lifted back up, until their faces were in line again—

  And let her have it with his surest, sexiest half grin of ultimate triumph.

  Instantly earnin’ himself what had to be her most incredible scowl.

  Incredible—as in needin’ to be capitalized and practically spelled out in twenty-foot neon over the bloody Vegas Strip itself.

  Incredible—as in the woman looked ready to crumble from the force of lashin’ it at him.

  Incredible—as in that was right the fuck where he wanted her. Needed her.

  “Goddamnit, Sam.” Her wince was just as harsh, but she didn’t look away. Not this time. Not when she clearly, fully intended that he see every square inch of it, proved as soon as she drove a hand up into his hair and twisted as if her life depended on it.

  Sam wasn’t sure his didn’t.

  “Jenny.” He poured all of himself into the syllables, makin’ damn sure she knew she wasn’t in this emotional whirlpool by herself. And that if the spinnin’ waters pulled her down, he was damned well going to follow her into them. “Jenny.”

  I’m here. I adore you.

  I love you.

  “Stop.” She almost hissed it, as if she’d somehow heard everythin’ he’d said. His heart was thunderin’ so hard with the force of his vow, he wouldn’t have argued it. Because, of course, selkies were real and he really was sure he’d seen Nessie of Loch Ness once, right? “Stop, okay?” She gritted her teeth on the words now. “You’re tearing me apart.”

  He dropped his forehead atop hers. “Good.” Welcome to the fuckin’ club.

  “Damn it.” She dropped her hand. Squeezed her eyes shut. “You really are a bastard.”

  He was actually grateful for her sarcasm. Told her so with a rueful wince. “Yeah? Well, the bastard says to spread your legs for him, beauty.”

  She spat back a watery laugh. “I should tell you to go fuck off.”

  “But you won’t.” He took his voice into a register barely above a whisper. Into the tone of a command that would resonate into every pore of her body and awareness of her soul. Because that was exactly where he felt her inside his own bein’…in the fibers of what made him a creature reborn. By her. For her. “You won’t—because denyin’ me is like cuttin’ out your own heart.”

  “Shit.” She said it slowly, shakily…as she parted her thighs for him.

  Then again as Sam moved into her with his first hot slide. And his second. And his third. And all the slow, tantalizing thrusts after that—delivering the sensual swipes of those blue latex spikes against every inch of her juicy little clit, fadin’ just a little bit more of her control.

  She reached for him again. Hung on with a grip that would surely leave deep red marks along his shoulders—or so he hoped—sighin’ and gaspin’ with every new, deeper plunge of his throbbin’ length, helpin’ him climb for the pinnacle they both sought with growlin’, surgin’ exigency.

  “Oh, Sam. Sam!”

  He was shakin’ sorely himself but sucked in enough air to whisper back. “Aye, a ghrá geal?” Yes, my beloved?

  “Tear. Me. Open.”

  Her snarl worked through him like quicksilver. Settled at the base of his spine for excruciating moments before spreading across his ass and injecting itself into his swollen, screamin’ balls. He tucked his head against her neck, prayin’ like fuck for the strength to hold on as he braced her waist with hands that felt stiff as goddamned Lego bricks. He was likely markin’ her soft skin the same way she’d bruised him—not a thought he needed right now—but it helped him secure his grip so he could ram her body harder around him.

  Her screams started.

  But not the telltale tremors through her channel that he sought.

  Not the tremors he longed to give her.

  He growled out his greedy approval at her shrieks nonetheless, thankful there were only bunches of cactus and a few coyotes around for miles. Dear God, the sounds this passionate creature could make. She was magnificent, now becoming his uncaged tigress, so fierce and savage, scratchin’ him harder and yellin’ at him louder, as if challenging him to find a way to fuck her harder and bruise her deeper, before she gave up the screams of her ultimate, searin’ surrender.

  Soon. Oh God oh God, please let it be soon.

  “Sam. Sam!” she finally cried. “I can’t—I don’t know if I can hold it—”

  “Don’t you fuckin’ hold it.” His
face locked into a thousand angles of his own tension. As he kept rammin’ her, still working to brand himself on every inch of welcoming tissue inside her, he raised a hand to her forehead. For a moment, he left his grip right there, before twisting his fingers into her hairline with brutal force. “Now, Jenny.” The words seethed from between his teeth. “Let me watch it. Now.”

  And finally, he tore her apart.

  Just as she ripped him into a thousand shards of rushing, relieving ecstasy.

  The orgasm bloody killed him.

  His heart stopped as the heat blazed in, crashin’ his blood and evisceratin’ his senses. “God,” he groaned. “Fuck.” He plunged into her with merciless force, his shaft retreating and then reentering with long, hard strokes. He was nothin’ but ripped, raw glory, splayed beneath the desert stars, never wantin’ to be whole again. But that was exactly what Jenny Thorne did the very next moment. She melted him back into one piece as he kept shuntin’ inside her, giving her every last drop of come his balls could squeeze and punch into his strained, and soon utterly drained, cock.

  At once, he wanted to let out a hysterical laugh. Had he really thought he could make his mark on her? As he curled his face back into the curve of her neck, the truth blared at him with agonizing clarity.

  She’d marked him for life.

  Forever.

  Holy God, he hoped so.

  Especially as she kept clinging to him. Desperately, unbelievably, milking even more out of him. With one hand latched against his scalp, her fingers tanglin’ in his sweaty hair, one sweet little mewl from her had him pumpin’ yet again, wrappin’ her hair all the way around his fist this time. Ferociously, they clung to each other. Passionately, he fucked into her. Then suddenly, once more together, they came again—twice as hard. But he slowed as Jen’s scream pierced the air, also doubled in force.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “Am I hurting you, mo luaidh?”

  “Y-Yes.” She swiveled her face, punctuating with a ruthless bite in his neck. “But don’t you dare stop.”

  Inspired by her move, he sank his teeth into the flesh beneath her ear. Filled her sex with more of his passionate possession. “I want you to feel me inside you for weeks,” he growled. “I want to walk into your office, bid you a good mornin’, and know that the sound of my voice makes your cunt wet from rememberin’ me. I don’t even want you to sit without feelin’ the pain I’ve given you…the marks I’ve put on you…inside and out.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Nasty words…breathed into her with the solemnity of a vow.

  The former fired into every inch of Jen’s body. The latter sang to every hollow of her heart.

  The collision destroyed so much of her will, making it impossible to hold back her whispered confession in return.

  “I’ll never forget you, Sam Mackenna. Ever.”

  He pulled his head up a little—just enough for her to see the effect of her words across his face. She wasn’t sure whether to feel good or bad about it. He looked like he’d just been drawn and quartered but hadn’t been able to process the torture yet.

  “I’ll never forget you, Jenny Thorne.”

  As the promise left his lips, the come exploded from his body. He didn’t look away for a second, baring the apex of his passion to her. His brow crumpled. His cheekbones jutted, stark against his skin. His teeth gritted until a guttural groan spilled out.

  He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  He was the ultimate dynamite to her defenses.

  At first, she thought she could contain the damage to a couple of sobs—but after those tumbled out, the truth was clear. The torrent was just starting. The tears rushed out, violent and consuming, destroying everything in their path, including any self-dignity she had left.

  She shouldn’t have gotten into the helicopter with him. For that matter, she shouldn’t have even let him get into the elevator with her, that handful of hours ago…now feeling like years.

  God. All the stupid love songs were right. Maybe, with the right person, it was possible to live a lifetime in one night. And yeah, just maybe…Sam was her right person. Maybe fate really had dealt them the wild card—that this one time in a million, the hunk and the geek were perfect for each other.

  But they’d only ever own it for this one night.

  How could she afford to think otherwise? In ten days, he’d be five thousand miles away. But Elgin, Scotland isn’t exactly the surface of Mars, Jen.

  Right. So she’d just…what? Decide to pop in casually in a few months, telling him she was “in the neighborhood” on holiday? The idea alone made her squirm, wondering if Sam already smelled the desperation on her. Behavior like that only worked for women in rom-coms and nighttime soaps. The last time she checked, her name wasn’t Bridget Jones or Cookie Lyon. Sam would give her his politest smile while taking her out for a Dundee pie and a pint—and then put her on the next transport back home. The whole time, he’d hide glances that questioned if she really was from Mars.

  No matter what kind of obstacles they’d both hurtled to truly find each other, they’d still done it in the wrong damn place. At the wrong damn time.

  The truth of it torpedoed harder. Sobs erupted from deeper in her chest. She fought them hard—so damn hard. There were bigger things to grieve about. Much bigger things. But right now, nothing felt that way. Nothing felt better than giving in to her selfish pain. Of caving to the knowledge that once the sun rose, her romance with Sam Mackenna would be over—and there really wasn’t a damn thing to be done about it.

  “Sam.” She wrapped herself around him, hanging on as if her life depended on it. At the moment, it just might have. “Sam.”

  He rolled to his side, keeping their bodies entwined in every sense. His cock still filled her, warm and strong. His arms encircled her, protective and sure. His voice flowed over her as he brushed his mouth across her face, capturing her tears. “It’s all right. It’s all right, my sweet mouse.”

  “I—I—”

  I love you.

  The words hovered, thick and demanding, in the very essence of her breath.

  Just say it!

  But she couldn’t. The words bore all of her heart, and she needed some of it inside to keep living after he’d gone. Somehow…

  He understood. The new shadows in Sam’s eyes, velvet as winter twilight, told her so. But he didn’t stop there. He leaned in, gently sucking that air from her, as if drawing her truth into his being. As he exhaled, his face warmed with a look of wonder and joy. He’d heard the words anyway—in the place they mattered most. She knew it with a certainty as solid as her heartbeat, as irrevocable as her breath.

  “I know,” he finally whispered. “And Jenny? I—”

  “I know.”

  And she did.

  Only then did the tears stop. No. She chose to make them stop. Acceptance bred stability, if not complete peace. What good would it do to hurl more sadness at it all? Nothing could be changed. The truth…simply was. She had to accept it like a moor accepted the rain.

  And eventually, rain brought the spring.

  She closed the thoughts off. Spring was not on the mental menu tonight. She refused to ponder fluffy bunnies and daffodils when she could savor her last hours encased in steely strength, wrapped in complete warmth.

  Surrounded by Sam.

  She nestled against his chest, pressing a hand next to her cheek to listen to his heartbeat.

  Remember this sound. Save it, savor it, commit it into the deepest parts of yourself.

  But her senses betrayed her, succumbing to the perfect heat and protection of his embrace. With the thrum of his life in her ears, she gazed up into the stars and followed their hypnotic peace into sleep.

  “Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on seas and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.”

  At first, her poetic whisper only earned her the continued thumps of Sam’s heart, steady and strong beneath her
ear. But after a few seconds, he scraped a hand through her hair in time with the wind against the window, accented by the lusty coos of the roadrunners and the sharp barks of the coyotes.

  At last, he even gave up a sleepy hum. “John Muir before six, lass? You really are the geekiest sex fiend I’ve ever met.”

  She flashed him a scowl. “And how many sex fiends have you met?”

  A smile tugged his lips. Just as swiftly, it faded. He lifted his hand to her hair again, letting the strands trail from his fingers, over her shoulder. “Only one who’s taken much more from me than that.”

  Less than ten seconds. Less than twelve words. He had her blood tingling, her chest flipping, and her heart breaking all over again—especially as he drew her down for a long, wet, lingering kiss. But as soon as he parted her lips and swept his tongue out for more, Jen forced herself away. Two more seconds of feeling his tongue like that, and she’d be getting hot and stupid with him again.

  “We—we need to think about getting back.” Her hair and makeup appointment was at eight. That had to be less than two hours away by now. “Time for real life, my laird-lord on high.” Despite the fact that he’d never appeared more like a perfect dream, the peach-and-gold dawn making his chiseled nudity glow.

  “I should roll you over and spank you black and blue for that nonsense,” he cracked. “But you’re right.”

  “If you want the last word here, that feels like a damn good place for it.”

  He sat up, leaned over, and reached a hand to L-frame her face. With the other, he guided one of her hands to the center of his chest. “My ‘last word’ to you comes only when this stops beatin’.”

  Jen struggled to laugh. It was ironic, right? That by staking his devotion on the beats of his heart, he’d stopped hers from working?

  From possibly ever beating the same way again.

  In just a month, he’d changed her. Moved her. Made her breathe, hurt, soar, seethe, laugh, cry, and live as she never had before.

  In just a month, she’d learned what it was to be in love.

  Why had she deluded herself that the truth of it would just…fade? That real life would be the magical blowtorch, razing everything back to the way it was?