The Nauti Boys Collection

by Lora Leigh

  Her eyes snapped open. Nearly black in arousal now, they watched him warily, knowingly. She knew what was coming. She had seen the toys, knew he wouldn’t wait long before using one of them.

  He pressed the narrow tip against the tiny puckered opening.

  “No,” she whispered. “Not the toy. I want you there.”

  His cock jerked as a grimace tightened his face.

  “I’ll be there later, sweetheart,” he promised. “I want you to know what this is like. Filled from one end to the other. So hot and tight that you won’t know where pleasure ends and pain begins, because it’s all going to be so damned good that you can’t stop coming.”

  The toy eased inside her, stretching her, causing her to arch and whimper with sensation as he watched the pleasure contort her face.

  Dawg worked the toy inside her, easing it in, watching as the little hole spread to accommodate the toy and finally tightened around the narrower base. He watched as the muscles of her rear tightened and flexed as she fought to adjust to the stretching. Heard her muttered moans as he picked up the little remote that would activate the vibration inside it.

  Placing her feet back on the edge of the desk, he pressed the switch and growled as she jerked, bucked. Her hips began to move, swaying and jerking as the plug began to not just vibrate but also flex inside her.

  Her eyes flew open. Between her thighs, her juices began to build on the soft folds and silky curls. Her body flushed, her nipples tightened.

  “Oh God, Dawg.” She arched to him as he stepped closer, his dick gripped in his hand, the heavy crest tucking against the flexing opening. “Oh God. Fuck me. Fuck me, Dawg. Before it kills me…”

  Dawg had to fight for control. The feel of silky wet heat on the crest of his dick had his teeth grinding together as he fought for control. Just a little more control. Just another minute to relish her surrender, her pleasure.

  But she was so fucking hot. And he knew how tight she was, how hungry her pussy was when she was aroused. And he needed. God help him, just for a little while, he needed…

  What had he done to her? Crista could feel the insidious vibration in her rear, the slow flex, an easing, then a stretching that began to make her insane for more.

  Her eyes slitted open; she couldn’t manage to lift the lids fully, sensuality made her gaze heavy, made her body weak and melting. But she was able to watch Dawg.

  His broad hands held her legs up beneath the knees. His eyes were centered between her thighs, to the spot were the head of his cock was tucked at the opening to her vagina.

  She could feel him, a heavy presence at the entrance, hot and thick and ready to fill her.

  “Dawg,” she whispered his name, a sigh of pleasure, a questioning breath as he paused.

  Thick black hair fell along the sides of his face, straight and raven black, framing his savage features.

  “Taking you is like losing myself,” he groaned roughly. “I feel you clasping my dick, Crista, but I feel you pouring into my soul.”

  Celadon green eyes, so light they were like pale green ice, burned now. They flickered with a darker edge, gleamed with carnal knowledge.

  Crista whimpered at the words as well as the look.

  “Don’t do this,” she whispered tearfully, seeing the dark longing on his face, not the need to share, but the need to possess more than just her body.

  He shook his head roughly, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a silent snarl as his hips moved, the broad head of his erection working inside her, stretching her, burning her.

  “Did you walk away—” A hard breath hissed between his teeth. “Did you leave without looking back?”

  She shook her head. She couldn’t do this. She could let him have all of her.

  “Answer me.” He paused, the head of his cock filling her, teasing her. Daring her. “Did you look back?”

  “Please, Dawg…”

  “Tell me.”

  Another inch. The movement he made didn’t ease his cock inside her, that additional inch was taken with a hard flex of his hips and a destructive flame along the tender nerve endings it stroked.

  “Yes,” she cried out. The words falling unbidden from her lips. “I’ve always looked back.”

  His hands clenched on her legs.

  “You didn’t forget.” His voice softened then, his cock shifted and moved inside her, stroking her, taking her by the smallest degrees with each movement.

  She couldn’t hide from him. She wanted to. She needed to.

  “I never forgot.” A tear fell from the corner of her eye. “I never forgot you, Dawg.”

  Her heart never forgot. Her soul never released the memory of his touch, his hard voice whispering at her ear, his hunger, or her need for him. Her love. The soul-deep, unquenchable agony of loving him.

  “Don’t cry, fancy-face.” His voice was graveled now, thick and rough as she felt the agonizing pleasure beginning to engulf her. “I’ll take care of you.”

  Each inch of his erection inside her was like a brand laid to the tender muscles. A brand of fiery sensation and exquisite pleasure.

  Crista arched, driving him deeper inside her, feeling the piercing, burning sensation of being doubly penetrated, exquisitely stretched.

  “There, sweetheart.” He wrapped her legs around his hips as he leaned closer, his head lowering to her nipples, adding to the ecstatic pleasure already gripping her by drawing one tight bud into his hot mouth and suckling it deeply.

  His hips were moving, his cock thrusting slowly, working into her with each thrust as the overwhelming sensations of heat, stretching, and brutal pleasure began to build inside her.

  It was always like this with Dawg. The world centered to two beings, time stopped, nothing mattered but this, with him, the feel of him fucking her, owning her.

  He owned her.

  He thrust inside her, and she arched to take him deeper.

  His lips, teeth, and tongue consumed her nipples, one then the other, and her hands threaded into his hair to hold him closer.

  “So good,” he whispered. “So sweet and tight.”

  Her body reflexively tightened further around him, muscles contracting, her soul glorying in the harsh male groan that whispered around the nipple his mouth returned to.

  “Beautiful.” He buried his head between her breasts, the rhythm of his hips increasing, and she spurred him on with her cries and her pleas for more.

  “Mine!” he snarled, and she exploded around him.

  Her orgasm tore through her as his thrusts became harder, deeper. He pounded into her, shafting her with surging strokes and fucking into her with an ever-growing greed.

  “Damn you.” He bit her shoulder, his hands gripped her hips, and as the climax began to ease, she felt the powerful first spurt of his semen blasting into her.

  She arched violently through the second release. Tightening on him to the point she could feel every throb, every pulse, every ripple of Dawg’s release inside her. And she felt another part of her emotional defenses collapse.

  Dawg once again held her heart.

  SIXTEEN

  Two days later, Dawg admitted what he should have known eight years ago. Crista Ann had managed to wrap herself around his heart in a way that he knew he would never manage to escape. He could feel the bonds tightening as he pulled the pickup into the parking slot directly in front of the small, exclusive spa that had moved into downtown Somerset.

  Beside the truck, Rowdy pulled up on his Harley and helped the little wildcat he was engaged to from the back. Beside Rowdy, Natches pulled his Harley in and waited.

  “This is insane,” Crista muttered in the passenger seat as she stared mutinously at the front door of the spa. “It’s going to hurt.”

  “I’ll kiss it all better tonight.” He turned to her, letting her see just how much he was anticipating kissing the delicate flesh between her thighs and easing the memory of any discomfort she would feel with the waxing he had had Kelly schedule for her.
/>   Her arms crossed over her breasts defensively.

  “How did I let you talk me into this?” she snapped, only half-angry. The other half was uncertainty, perhaps a little embarrassment.

  “Because I’m persuasive?” he asked with a waggle of his brows.

  He had done his best to be persuasive. For hours. Licking, kissing, tempting her with the knowledge of how much better it could be, making her so hot, so damned desperate, she would have agreed to anything.

  Her lips twitched then, a sensual smile of remembrance tugging at the lush curves as a faint blush stole over her cheeks. And his chest clenched. Right there in the front seat of his pickup, Dawg felt his heart swell with an emotion so unfamiliar he knew it was fucking love. It was strong enough, hard enough that he reached up and rubbed at the center of his chest to ease the constriction.

  “You were very persuasive.” She sighed, staring back at the spa morosely. “And you know I’m going to be very put out when I’m finished.”

  A goofy smile tugged at his lips, and his heart raced.

  “I’ll take you someplace special when you’re finished,” he told her then. “Someplace you’ll enjoy.”

  She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes.

  “How special?”

  “So special I’ve never taken another woman there,” he promised, watching her gaze jerk away, that hint of hesitancy that tensed her slender frame.

  She was scared of whatever he made her feel, and he couldn’t blame her. He had blackmailed her, and he would keep blackmailing her until he knew she belonged to him.

  She cleared her throat delicately. “Fine. But it better be worth this.” She gathered her purse from where it sat behind his seat and stared him fully in the eyes as she turned back to him. “And it better not hurt too bad.”

  “You’ll love it,” he promised her. “Just imagine me doing it.”

  She looked scandalized. “Oh Lord, don’t go there, Dawg. This is going to be hard enough.” She pulled at the door latch quickly, escaping before he could say anything that would deepen that blush along her cheeks or give her eyes more of that confused, uncertain look.

  He had a feeling Crista had once believed that she knew him. That she could predict him. He could have told her that wasn’t going to happen.

  He moved from the truck as she and Kelly headed into the spa, meeting Natches and Rowdy at the front of his truck and staring around the street curiously.

  “We picked up a tail,” Natches said quietly, his dark green eyes glancing to the gray sedan that had pulled in farther up the street. “She pulled in behind you after you hit the city limits.”

  Dawg glanced up the street, his gaze narrowing on Greta Dane. Normally when a woman looked at man with an expression as cold and hard as flint as Greta was giving him, it tended to make the balls draw up in fear.

  Thankfully, Dawg wasn’t prone to allow such things to affect his private parts.

  “Something’s up,” he murmured, turning back to the other men. “Have you heard from Cranston?”

  “Nothing.” Natches shook his head as he crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his hands by his sides. “We picked the bulldog up there just inside the city limits, and she didn’t bother to try to hide it.”

  Dawg rubbed his hand over his chin. “Stay here. Let’s see what I can find out.”

  He stepped to the sidewalk and strode quickly to the little sedan Greta was driving. As he neared, the window rolled down, and Greta’s pinched expression increased. She was also nervous. She tucked a cigarette between her lips and lit up as he neared the car.

  “What’s up, Greta?” Dawg leaned against the pickup next to her and stared back at her quizzically.

  “Cranston’s orders,” she informed him waspishly. “Unlike some people, I’m a team player.”

  Dawg tilted his head and smiled slowly. “Are you implying I don’t play well with others, Greta?”

  She drew on the cigarette again before flicking the ashes to the portable ashtray in the middle console.

  “I’m not implying anything, Mackay. I’m stating a fact.”

  The stare she leveled back at him was suspicious, chilling in its complete lack of emotion.

  “So you were ordered to watch me?” he asked her.

  “No, I was ordered to follow your girlfriend.” Her own smile was nothing short of relish. “I didn’t ask why.”

  Bullshit.

  Dawg stared back at her, his gaze narrowed, his body prepared. Somehow, Cranston had focused on Crista. This wouldn’t be a good thing.

  “Have fun keeping up with us,” he told her then, returning the smile with interest. “I’d make sure I wasn’t easily shocked, though. After we leave here, we’re heading into the mountains. I have a blanket in the truck, and we’re stopping for a light little picnic lunch that my favorite restaurant is currently putting together for us.

  Then, since it is private property, I thought I might introduce my girlfriend to a little fresh-air lovin’. Now, I don’t mind a little exhibitionism every now and then, but you should be prepared. It could get rather hardcore.”

  He watched her face flush. The hardened agent could kill a man without a thought, but the subject of sex seemed to make her jumpy as hell.

  “I’m sure I’ll survive,” she gritted out.

  Dawg nodded slowly and smiled again. “I’m sure you will, sugar. Just to be on the safe side though, I think I’ll have Natches go with us and sit with you for awhile. Some things just shouldn’t be done alone, ya know? And Natches, he makes damned good company in such situations.”

  Her gaze flickered over to Natches and Rowdy as Dawg turned as well. Natches grinned slow and easy. He might not know what the hell they were talking about, but even from there, Natches would have seen the hard flush on Greta’s face.

  “You sic that perverted bastard in my direction, and I’ll shoot him,” Greta warned him then.

  Dawg shrugged. “He’ll survive. You’re not allowed to kill him, and a little bloodshed between friends…” He smiled again. “Could get interesting.” He straightened and dropped the smile. “You talk to Cranston, tell him I’m waiting to hear from him, sugar. Soon.”

  He didn’t give her time to reply, but he was guessing she was on her cell phone even as he strode back to where Rowdy and Natches were waiting on the sidewalk in front of his truck.

  “She’s watching Crista,” he told Natches softly as Rowdy listened in interest.

  “Bad news.” Natches grimaced as he lowered his head as though to check the tips of his cowboy boots.

  “How long does this female stuff take, anyway?” Dawg glanced at the doors to the spa, knowing damned good and well he wasn’t waiting inside the building for Crista to finish. No way, nohow; all that estrogen could be fatal.

  “Wax, trim, and style,” Rowdy mused. “You’re looking at three hours.”

  Dawg leaned against the truck. “You two can just stand here and wait it out with me,” he decided.

  Natches grunted. “I had things to do, Dawg.”

  “Get over it. God only knows what Cranston has up his sleeve, and I’m not standing outside this place by myself.”

  “Hell. I’m getting the shit jobs and none of the pleasure,” Natches cursed. “This growing-up crap you two seem so intent on is starting to piss me off. I think I’ll go talk to Agent Dane for a while instead. She’s always good for a smirk or two, if nothing else.”

  Casting Rowdy and Dawg both an irate look, Natches ambled from his slouch against the hood of the truck and headed for Agent Dane’s vehicle.

  The agent in question lit up again as she watched Natches warily.

  “Do you think he’s really pissed?” Rowdy drawled as Natches neared the woman’s car.

  “With Natches, who the hell knows anymore.” Dawg shook his head wearily. “That boy didn’t come out of Afghanistan easy. He was going to stay with the bum shoulder despite his CO’s advice until the Marines booted his ass out.”

 
Natches, already an excellent shot when he went into the Marines and an instinctive hunter, had been quickly inducted into training as a sniper/assassin. Dawg suspected his cousin had more kills to his record than he was admitting to, and secrets that only Dawg could guess at.

  “You two didn’t do anything easy,” Rowdy said then. “I thought the agreement was that we’d go in, do our duty, and come home without changing who or what we were.”

  Dawg had a feeling Rowdy wasn’t talking about the lack of need in sharing his pretty fiancée.

  “Hey, you started it,” he said anyway. “Getting all possessive and snarly over Kelly the way you did.”

  Rowdy snorted at that. “Don’t play dense, Dawg, it doesn’t suit you.”

  Dawg grimaced. “We were more suited to some things than you were, Rowdy. You just didn’t want to see it.”

  “Killing?” Rowdy asked. “You were never suited to that. You or Natches.”

  “You just didn’t want to see it.” Dawg stared his cousin in the eye then. “Killing wasn’t the draw, though. It was taking out the monsters. And that was something Natches and I both were ready to do before we were out of our teens.”

  Dawg’s and Natches’s fathers were bastards. But most of the men out of that family were bastards. Literally. Good ole Grandpa August had sired sons from one end of the nation to the other. He had paused in Somerset long enough to fake a marriage to Ellen Mackay and give her a daughter and three sons. Then he had nicely informed her that the marriage was illegal because he was already married, and then he had disappeared.

  Ellen Mackay had taken the August name from her sons and given them hers instead. Four kids that she had raised herself with little help, and she had died knowing that out of all those kids, only one of them had a sense of decency. Ray Mackay had been solid as the earth. The rest? Hell, the rest of them were as black-hearted and mean as the old man himself.

  As Dawg understood it, his cousins in Texas hadn’t fared any better. Their father, Joe August, the legitimate issue of old Nate August, had been pure evil. The hell he had visited on his sons had nearly destroyed them. It was only by a miracle that they had survived both during and after the torture they had endured.