Hard Way (10 page)

“Stay right there or I fuck your ass with the end of a wrench, not my dick.”

A long, shaking moan worked from her mouth down to her toes. “Liam,” she whispered.

He squatted and tilted her face toward the moonlight. It wasn’t a plea or a question or a way of begging off. Yes, her cheeks were wet with tears and sweat. But her eyes were as bright and snapping with desire as he’d ever seen.

“Stay just like this. Hands and knees. Don’t you test me.”

Dash shut the trunk to make sure the light wouldn’t attract attention. Only the silver disk of a moon shone on their private perversion.

When he returned to Sunny, she was shaking from head to toe. Shock. Cold. Arousal. Dash merely folded over her body and shoved his prick home.

“Make that butt pretty for me,” he growled. “Shove it up. You don’t want me to hit your face, gorgeous. So get it down in the dirt. I don’t want to see anything but your ass slamming back. Let your body beg for me.”

She complied. Spine arched. Face down. One cheek nestled in the dry, dusty earth.

“God. Fucking
Christ
. No more fight left, Sunny? I would’ve thought you had more in you.”

Her cry was frustration, but maybe something more. More need. More eagerness. Dash couldn’t tell, and right then, he didn’t want to. She kicked her calves up and down, like a mermaid trapped on land, flailing her tail. Bound knees meant only her heels connected with his upper thighs.

“More. C’mon. Gimme what you got, you lazy, piece-of-shit whore.”

She reared half upright and butted the back of her skull against his forehead. Dash saw stars. He lost her pussy. Cool air slid across his slickened cock. She only managed to crawl a few yards.

Oh,
damn
.

That. He wanted that. Taking down a worthy opponent.

Standing, he stalked toward her. His jeans were open, with his prick jutting out from the waistband of his boxer briefs—leading him toward her.

“I’m done, Liam.” She turned onto her back to crab crawl away from him. “Game over. Enough.”

“No.”

He caught her ankles and dragged her ass across the ground. Soon he was straddling the outsides of her bound knees, pushing them up toward her chest. She needed to be bare. He’d take her again, and he wanted to see her tits bounce with every thrust. With one quick yank, he popped the buttons of another expensive work shirt. Her bra was a front clasp. Open. Exposed to him in the moonlight.

Dash stripped his T-shirt and, in defiance of their angered game, he slid it along her pussy lips and down between her ass cheeks. A few times. Cleaning. A real assailant wouldn’t give a damn, but he didn’t want Sunny’s tender flesh scored with grit.

Because she was still the woman he loved.

And she was sprawled on her back, knees to her breasts, face a mess. Her dark eyes were hazed. After satisfying himself with that wicked sight, he looked down. He couldn’t take his eyes off the two gorgeous choices waiting between her legs.

He wet his dick in her pussy. Withdrew. Then he shoved to the hilt into her ass. Sunny’s eyes went wide, her mouth opened, and Dash got the scream he’d been after.

There it is. There it is.

Nothing stopped him now. He curled his hands around her thighs. He pried them open despite how her knees remained bound. He wanted her more vulnerable. Just
more
.

“Dash, Liam, stop. Please. I’m begging you.
Stop
. I can’t…”

“You can,” he panted. Every thrust meant hitting her body, hips to ass. He planted his hands on either side of her face and levered over her. All his strength. All his anger. “You will, because I fucking say so. You wanted this, Sunita. You dared me. This is me…
Goddamn
. This is me accepting your dare.”

Her asshole offered no resistance now. He jerked in and out with the same ease he’d found in violating her slippery cunt. So he took. Pounded. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she thrashed her head.

“What if I really mean it?” She groaned when he slammed home. “How would you know? How would you know if I wanted you to? Just…
stop!
”

Still no safe word.
Eight years
was all she would’ve needed to say, but she didn’t get close. These were still taunting protests.

He gathered her petite body in his arms and crisscrossed them behind her back, driving into her as he’d never taken another woman.

He found her ear and nestled his mouth against it. “I’m taking you, my pretty little slut.
Taking.
Right now, I own you.” His grunts sped as he amped up the intensity. So close now. He grabbed her left hand and shoved it between their bodies. “Show me. Show me how much you love this. Circle that swollen clit of yours. I’ll feel your pussy pulse even while I fuck your ass.”

She complied instantly. Fast fingers. Her pace matched his. She thrashed until he had to resume his tight, crushing grip on her thighs. His mouth was still close to her ear.

“I’m gonna send us both over with words, you mouthy whore. You ready?”

“You couldn’t say a damn thing.”

Grim. Both of them. Now. It had to be now.

“My little wifey,” he said in a dark, low whisper. “I’m
raping
you.”

Tight. Everything went tight. Sunny’s body first. She shuddered and shrieked and balled up like a fist. Then Dash. He exploded, filling her asshole with his come. Nothing worked right. He was only his dick and his fantasies and his world going silver blue at the edges.

Moaning, collapsing, he withdrew as gently as he could. He kept repeating against her temple, “You wanted it too, Sunny. You
wanted
it.”

Sunny slowly straightened her legs until they lay side by side in the dirt. Both panting. Both gone to someplace…other.

She held his head and petted his hair back from his brow. “Yes, Liam,” she said softly. “I wanted it too.”

Chapter Ten

Sunny was running on a level she didn’t understand. Her body had won. Her head floated three steps behind. By the time Dash steadied her and guided her to the passenger-side door, she had barely broken through the haze.

Her knees were shaking. That didn’t count the raw, scraped pain radiating outward from them, or how sore her ass would be in the morning. She wasn’t fighting anymore. Her shoulders drooped with pure exhaustion.

“Here you go, sweetheart.”

His voice wasn’t sugary. That wasn’t in him. Truth be told, if Dash had used some sort of saccharine-sweet tone, she’d have known he was patronizing her. Instead, he talked simply. His movements were efficient as he wiped her down with a soft cloth he’d pulled from the backseat.

The whole time, she stood still. Numb. Her lips were dry and sticky. Dash’s tender touches swept down her legs, across her elbows. “You’ve got some scrapes there.”

She should mind. She should be pissed. Letting Dash wipe her face clean of the dust and dirt he’d pressed her into while he’d fucked her ass…

She took the washcloth away from him.

Didn’t seem to matter. He pulled another from his flight bag, doused it with water from a bottle and went to his knees. Sunny’s heart thundered in an empty chest. Having such a man kneel for her, after the things they’d done, was more than she could handle.

Such careful, tender attention as he cleaned her up. She reached out and let her hand hover above his head. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to feel the connection they’d been missing for so long.

Her fingertips shook as she pushed them into the raw silk of his hair. The cloth on her knee faltered and paused. He looked up at her. His mouth opened, but…there were no words.

She curved her own mouth into a tiny smile. Quiet was better. It was nicer to have peace between them. Nothing showy. No jokes. She felt like she was seeing the real Liam for the first time in years.

The way he looked up at her—with his whole world in his eyes, like she’d given him some amazing gift. She didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything that could be said, not then. Maybe not ever.

She’d been sad. She’d been lonely. She’d felt like she was alone in a marriage that had no purpose. None of that felt right to bring up when it would put such a pall on an otherwise good night—which was absurd to think, but there it was. She’d thoroughly enjoyed having her choice ripped away from her. The freedom to fight and cuss and still be forced to enjoy herself… It spoke to her on an animalistic level, even as she was shamed by her desires. She knew women who’d been abused and violated. How could this be happening?

It…
was
. Just was. She couldn’t deny what had made her feel brighter than a hundred firecrackers. And underneath it all, Sunny knew Liam would never hurt her. Eight years guaranteed that, both as the tally on their marriage and as their magic words—the ones Liam had insisted on. The ones she’d thought about saying, just to watch him stop. See if he could.

She hadn’t gone through with it because she would’ve broken the only vital thing remaining between them.

He brought a skinny tube out from his flight bag.

“What’s that?” God, it painfully scratched her throat to speak. Too much screaming. She pulled her hands out of Liam’s hair, curling them into fists against the front passenger door. Bits and scraps of reality were surging back in. His Evo was still sun-warmed.

He dabbed cream over her knees. It stung at first, only to be replaced by a soothing coolness. “Antiseptic.”

“Oh. Of course.”

The look he flicked up at her was filled with wry amusement. “Seemed like basic first aid to bring it.”

“Makes sense.” How could her words be so calm when they were layered with an absolute sense of absurdity? “And my car?”

“I’ll drive you back to get it before work tomorrow.”

After a few bandages and a few shots of numbing spray, Liam opened the car door and carefully bundled her into the passenger seat. He went so far as to loop his elegant fingers around her ankles and tuck her feet into the well. It was for the best that he did, because she felt muffled. Her senses were blunted. She’d been used up, wrung out in the best kind of way.

Her hands shook when she tucked them into her lap. Liam buckled her in and reached into his flight bag again. This time he emerged with a thin fleece blanket. Crouching next to the open door of the car, he tucked it around her in precise moves.

Confusion pinched at her temples. “It’s still eighty degrees out. At least.”

“Yeah, but your skin is cold. I think you might be a little shocky. Here, drink this too.” He pressed a cool bottle of sports drink into her hands.

“It’s even a Zero.” She smiled, then sipped at the no-calorie drink.

“Of course it is.” Except he wouldn’t look her in the eyes. “Your favorite.”

She folded her fingers under his chin. His wide, expansive grin had the power to obscure his strong, masculine jaw, but it was there, always lurking, always austere and so firmly set, as if something ate at his edges. She’d tried for years to find out what that was.

Maybe part of the process of letting go would be accepting that she’d never know what haunted him. Except part of her…part of her was damned stubborn. She still wanted to try. She’d never walked away from any challenge, not even one as heartbreaking as Dash Christiansen.

When he finally looked up at her, flashing that bright blue gaze, he radiated uncertainty and trepidation. She might never learn all his secrets, but she could fix this.

“Thank you, Liam.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, but he seemed to do so without thought.

“Not only for taking care of me now, but for giving me tonight.”

His gaze cleared. “Sunny. I would give you anything.”

The quiet beep of her alarm the next morning was useless. She’d been lying flat, staring up at the coffered ceilings, where white-painted molding outlined boxes of pale yellow. Sunny had painted the ceiling herself. Liam had offered to help, but life kept getting in the way until she’d pulled out the buckets and the ladders while he was off at some exercise.

It hadn’t felt like a big deal at the time.

Lying there, she couldn’t help but see the contrast with
I would give you anything
. Maybe he’d give her anything when it came to his dick.

Too much of her wanted to believe he meant it.

She got up and went about getting ready for work—all the usual stuff, along with aching legs, stiff shoulders and a sore ass. The lightweight linen pantsuit was the best she could do to hide the evidence—not because she feared they might get caught, but because she wanted to keep their night close and private.
Theirs.

At least it was Friday. She would only need to hide it for eight hours.

Then what? It wasn’t as if facing a weekend alone with Liam meant she’d be healed by Monday—healed in any sense.

Emerging from the bedroom, she tingled with the same heightened awareness she’d experienced the night before when stepping out of her office. The hair stood up across the back of her neck and her hearing flared. She was prey leaving the safety of her den, sneaking out as if a taxi were her only escape route.