“I’m going to play with your ass.” Jake said the words very close to her ear. “And then I’m going to put a butt plug inside you.”
Ginny tensed for one moment, and then she relaxed. This was now, not then, and she knew that if she gave the word, Jake
would
stop.
She licked lips that felt dry despite her body being drenched all over with warm water.
“All right.”
He must have heard the slight trepidation in her tone. “Honey, I won’t hurt you—at least, not much. We won’t lie to you. When we fuck your ass for the first time it
will
hurt some. But that pain can be a lot less with the proper preparation. In fact, you may discover that it’s what you’ll want to call
erotic
pain.”
“You mean like that old song, ‘hurts so good?’”
She guessed they heard the sarcasm in her voice, because they both laughed. “Just exactly like that,” Adam said. Then he cupped her face. “Ginny? We promise you, that if you hate this, we won’t do it.”
Wasn’t she the woman who’d demanded, this very evening, that Adam not hold back on her? And why had she done that? Because she didn’t wanted to be treated as if she was fragile, or broken, any longer.
Ginny Rose wanted, needed to be treated like a
whole
woman. Maybe she would hate anal play. She simply couldn’t banish the memory of the time Deke had raped her that way. But her men obviously wanted to take her this way, and she understood that if she wanted them both inside her at the same time, this would be the best way to accomplish that. Bottom line, they wanted to fuck her ass, so she wanted to try.
Everything else they’d done together had been totally different from anything she’d ever known. It was time to really trust her men, take them at their word, and
act
like the whole woman she yearned to be.
Only the sound of water falling on ceramic tile filled the spacious glass-enclosed stall. The brothers Kendall stood silent, awaiting her response.
She stretched up on her toes so she could place a gentle kiss on Adam’s lips, and then she dropped back down. She kept her hands braced on Adam’s shoulders as she looked over her shoulder.
“Okay, Jake, give it your best shot.”
* * * *
Maggie Morrison stretched, sore muscles from a hard day’s work making themselves known, even after the hot shower she’d just enjoyed.
There’d been a few more check-ins that day, so the weekend ahead appeared to be shaping up into something halfway decent. She should be grateful that she was able to make a life for herself, and for the most part, she was.
But she had a love-hate relationship going with this damn inn, and lately, the hate had been winning.
Wearing a robe over her fleece nightgown and sporting fuzzy slippers on her feet, Maggie poured herself a glass of merlot and took it out onto her tiny private deck that overlooked the back parking area, the motor hotel next door, and a chunk of Ocean Avenue.
Spring hadn’t completely sprung quite yet. The air still cooled after sunset, with tonight being particularly chilly.
Maggie shivered. “I wonder if it’s the chill, or…” She let the sentence drop, even if her mind kept the thought. She’d been more than a little surprised when she’d finally gotten a look at one of her check-ins that morning. Carmelita-call-me-Melly Hill, an Atlantic City “security consultant,” had apparently been hired by the Kendalls, “as a precaution” to keep an eye on her until that prick, Deke Walters, was back in custody.
Maggie shook her head. She couldn’t bring herself to believe that she could be in any kind of danger from that bastard who’d terrorized her niece. He was a fugitive, for God’s sake. Could he just get on a plane and fly out to the coast? That said, she knew that sometimes fugitives roamed free for years. If the Kendalls insisted on taking precautions, she guessed she’d let them as long as those precautions didn’t interfere with her day-to-day schedule.
Melly Hill couldn’t have weighed one twenty soaking wet. Her dark hair and eyes and latté complexion hinted at her Mexican heritage, but she spoke English with the precision of a college professor. She’d never known a bodyguard could be so tiny, or so pretty. Maggie grinned even as she acknowledged the silly thought.
Certainly, Adam and Jake’s act of concern made her feel better about the company Ginny was keeping.
Company she was keeping? My, my Maggie, that sounded like Mother
. Her niece was in love with two men, and if the way they’d looked at her and hovered over her was any indication, they loved her right back. She really wasn’t convinced that a ménage relationship could work for the long haul. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. Wouldn’t the men get jealous of each other? Who was going to look out for Ginny when that happened, when Adam and Jake started pounding on each other and the whole thing went to hell?
Maggie shook her head. She could argue with herself all she wanted that she had no right to feel proprietary feelings where Ginny Rose and her son were concerned. But Ginny and Benny were family—the only family she had left—and she couldn’t help but feel protective toward them.
Maggie sipped her wine and let her gaze wander over familiar sights. Off season, The Crest was quiet, a nice town populated by good people who lived with the capricious Atlantic Ocean on one side, and Sunset Lake on the other. Tolerant people, for the most part—they had to be, considering the influx of tourists every year, and the many, sometimes angry moods of the sea.
Maggie’s mother hadn’t been a tolerant woman, at all. Not only had she been completely intolerant of her oldest daughter. She knew her mother had always perceived Earline’s reaching out for love and following her heart to have been a personal betrayal.
Virginia Morrison had been intolerant, period. She’d also been a profoundly unhappy woman for all of the time Maggie had known her.
You only get one mother in life, Margaret Mary, and yours was better than some, and worse than some.
She’d been doing okay, mostly, working at forgiving her mother for being the unloving woman she’d been. But there were still moments when resentment reared its ugly head.
The past was past, and Maggie was damn tired of being influenced by it. What she needed was to start all over again.
You’re thirty-five years old, Margaret Mary. New starts are for younger women.
Fuck, there was her mother’s voice again, nagging in her ear! Why couldn’t she start over again, if she wanted to? She wasn’t without means. She owned this sorry inn, lock stock and freaking barrel. And while it needed a ton of repairs, she knew the market value of the land—sitting on the edge of one of the most beautiful and desirable beaches in the whole country, she could sell it and be set for life.
Of course, she couldn’t just sit around doing nothing. Maggie had to be busy. It was the way she was made.
She took another sip from her wine, then shivered as a slight breeze found its way between the lapels of her robe.
It was past time to go in and get to bed. The morning came early, and maybe in the light of the new day she’d take a moment to sit and consider what she’d do next, instead of just letting life happen to her day after day.
She shut the patio door behind her, but stopped just before locking it. Something seemed off. It took her a moment to realize what it was. The front door, the one that opened to the stairs leading down to the office, was slightly ajar.
She could have sworn she locked it when she’d come up for the night.
A flash of movement to her left pulled a squeak from her as she turned—and moved right into the sailing back hand.
So fast, Maggie hit the floor, her body crashing against one of her end tables, sending everything on it smashing to the floor. Her face stung, and stars exploded behind her eyes. No time to think, no time to react, her hair was gripped hard, her head lifted, and a face loomed before her.
She’d seen his picture just that morning, so she had no doubt as to who her assailant was.
“Well now, you’re not an old maid aunt at all, are you? You look like a tasty little piece, even if you are older than I like.”
Maggie felt revulsion as he reached out his other hand and squeezed her breast, hard. Even with two layers of clothing separating his hand from her skin, her flesh crawled.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“I want what’s mine. Once I get Ginny trussed up good and tight, maybe I’ll let her watch as I fuck you. Be a good lesson for her to see what happens when a woman doesn’t respect her man.”
Maggie decided she didn’t want to play stupid. She was more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. More angry, too.
“Ginny’s not here.”
Walters seemed not to hear her as he ripped open her robe and studied the buttons of her white gown.
“Don’t you look all nice and virginal? But you’re a whore, too, aren’t you? I bet it just runs in your family. How long’s it been since you had cock?”
Oh, God. She didn’t like the look in his eyes, didn’t like it one bit. She reached out, her hand searching for something, anything that she could use as a weapon. She would not let him hurt her, and she sure as hell would not let him rape her—at least not without fighting back.
Her hand encountered something small and smooth, and she grasped it, even as her mind recognized it as the small snow globe she kept on the end table.
“Fuck you, asshole!” She swung her arm up, fast and hard, smashing the globe against his head.
Walters staggered back, his eyes glittering hate as he reached up and touched the area she’d assaulted. His fingers came away covered in blood.
“Bitch! I’ll fucking kill you for that!”
Maggie braced, ready to fight for her life.
An alarm bell shrieked, the same alarm that should have gone off when the bastard broke into the office downstairs.
“Maggie! The cops are coming!” Melly’s voice, and then the sound of her running up the stairs made Maggie blink, but Walters wasted no time. He stepped back, looked around, and then headed toward the balcony.
“Ginny’s not here anymore, you prick. And now you’re going back to jail where you belong.”
“You tell that bitch I’ll find her.” He swung the patio door open, and disappeared into the night.
They were only one floor up, and it didn’t surprise her at all when she heard a sound that told her Walters had jumped down to street level.
“Maggie!” Melly burst into the room, gun drawn, a look of fierce determination on her face.
“I’m okay. He went out there, onto the balcony. Get him.”
Maggie collapsed against the floor, one hand going up to rub her sore cheek. Close. That had been fucking close, and thank God the Kendalls had sent Melly.
The sound of steps running away and the siren of an approaching police car that veered off told her the chase was on.
She hoped to hell they caught the man. Because she’d seen the look in his eyes when he’d talked about Ginny, and she’d realized something in that moment, something that Ginny—and the Kendalls—needed to know.
Deke Walters wasn’t quite sane.
Chapter 15
Ginny trusted her lovers, she did—but that didn’t mean her body was completely convinced. She knew the trembles wracking her came from nervousness.
And so what if they did? She
would
do this, try this, and to hell if it made her nervous or frightened her just a little bit.
A life lived without risk wasn’t worth much, was it?
“Baby?”
She heard the hesitation in Adam’s tone, the concern, and she loved him for it. She certainly couldn’t blame him for it, because he’d seen her at her worst, at her lowest point.
Ginny replayed that thought and added to it. He’d seen her at her worst and fallen in love with her, anyway. It was past time she rewarded him by showing him what she could be as she neared her best.
“I love you. I love you both, and more than anything, I want to give and take everything. No half measures.” To punctuate her determination, she kissed him.
God, his flavor filled her and fulfilled her at the same time. Delicious arousal swirled within her, with just a kiss. His mouth opened wide over hers, warm and wet and so damn wanton. His tongue possessed her, owned her, and as she felt his cock begin to harden against her belly, she reveled in the reality that she could arouse such a virile man.