He collapsed over her, dragging air into his lungs as though he had been deprived of it for too long, then turned and rolled over as he dragged Sarah over him. Like a sweat sheened, human blanket she lay limp and exhausted, her head pillowed on his chest as she fought to catch her breath. She had never known such intensity, such souldestroying pleasure. She felt possessed, taken over by a creature of need that had no care for humility, no shame in her desire. A woman on the verge of destruction. Lora Leigh
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Why don’t you want me to stay?” Brock asked the question long minutes after she asked him to leave for the night.
Sprawled on the couch, naked, his body behind her, holding her against his broad chest, Sarah sighed.
“I need to think,” she whispered. And she did.
She needed to accustom herself to the decision she had made. Not about his brothers, but with him. She couldn’t deny Brock, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold out against what he needed. The only question was, could she ever forgive herself if she gave in.
She glanced back at her lover, the closed eyes, the thoughtful expression on his face as he considered her request.
“Do I get to come back?” She could hear his determination to never leave if she answered negatively.
Sarah took a deep breath, turning her eyes to the ceiling and studying it as though it held the answers to all her questions.
“Yes, in a day or two,” she whispered. “I can’t deny you anymore, Brock, but just you. I need time to think. I need to understand what I’m doing here.”
She felt his body tense, his arm move, his hand cupping her breast.
“You can’t decide this while I’m gone tomorrow?” he asked her softly. “I’ll leave in the morning, Sarah. Come back at night.” He wasn’t pleading, merely stating another alternative.
She shook her head.
“You’re asking a lot of me, Brock, is this so little to ask for?” She questioned him, keeping her voice quiet, reasonable.
A part of her had calmed. As though Brock’s revelations earlier had stilled the agonizing thrust of betrayal that seared into her heart. She didn’t understand, but she needed to. She needed to think about it. She needed to be certain of this next step in her life. She needed to be certain she could handle the passion and the pain Brock would bring with him.
He sighed deeply. “I hate sleeping without you, Sarah,” he revealed with weary male patience.
She shook her head. Give a man sex he thinks is good and he’s a bigger baby than he was to begin with. Or at least more determined.
“You’re a big boy, Brock, you can handle it.” She smiled. “Just for a night or two.”
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“One night,” he bargained. “That’s all I can handle, Sarah.”
She looked over at him as he opened his eyes, stretching, moving that large, muscular body until he was leaning over her, staring at her stubbornly. Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’ll call you when I’m ready,” she told him firmly. “That’s my final word.”
“Then you better open your mouth and decide on another one,” he assured her softly. “I will not stay away from you for an undetermined amount of time. I won’t spend all this time getting past that prickly pride of yours again. Next time Sarah, I’ll just strip your damned clothes and take you. I won’t give you a choice.”
“You gave me a choice this time?” Mockery lay thick in her voice. “Why, Brock, I never noticed. Maybe your subtlety lacked something. I would work on that if I were you.”
She didn’t raise her voice, didn’t argue, didn’t demand, but she knew her tone was noted when his eyes flared with lust. What was this? Defy the man and instead of getting angry, he gets horny. It made no sense. At least not to Sarah. But she felt his cock rising, long and hard at her thigh, it’s heat tempting her to urge him into her one last time.
“I’m going to work on something all right but it won’t be the least bit subtle,” he warned her. “When I come back, Sarah, I’m going to work on broadening your horizons a bit.”
Sarah swallowed nervously. “My horizons are plenty wide enough to suit me, Brock,” she promised him carefully.
“Too fucking bad.” He pulled her over his body, settling himself into the cushions as he arranged her thighs to straddle him intimately. Sarah gasped.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never done this.” His look was wickedly sexy.
“Well, Mark and I never experimented much,” she gulped. “So, no. Straight missionary. That was enough.”
“He never ate that sweet pussy?” he asked her, his voice deep, husky. “Never lapped the honey from between your thighs?”
Oh hell, she was in some deep trouble here. She shook her head.
“No. Just you. No one else.”
The beginnings of a smile shaped his lips. For the first time since she had known him, Sarah saw a measure of joy reflected in his eyes.
“Oh Sarah, you have a lot to learn,” he promised her. “What about dildos? Surely you’ve used one.”
She shook her head, her face flaming, then she gasped as he lifted her, lodging the head of his penis between the hot lips of her hungry cunt. Lora Leigh
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“No dildos huh?” he asked her, considering, though his voice was husky and tight as he slid slowly into her. “I’ll get you one.”
“That’s okay.” She breathed harshly. “Who needs one with you around?”
“I do,” he growled, his hands gripping her hips as he filled her, grinding against her. “I want to teach you how to use it. Watch you fuck yourself with it.”
Sarah whimpered, her womb contracting almost painfully at the erotic words.
“That’s so perverted, Brock.” She was shocked, aroused at the thought.
“So much pleasure, Sarah,” he promised her. “I would watch you, tell you how, let you find the ways of pleasing yourself. “
Her head tossed, her hips jerked as she fought to ride him harder. He held her still, the hands at her hips keeping her locked to him.
“How could that be better…” she gasped, “than this?” She clenched her muscles around him, hearing him groan in pleasure at the small movement.
“It’s a different pleasure,” he promised her, watching her from beneath lowered lids, his eyes glittering with sexual promise. “I promise, baby, you’ll love it.”
His hands loosened on her hips, his thighs bunched as he pulled back, then drove into her. Sarah lost her breath. Her hands braced on his chest, her head tossing in an agony of need and fiery sensations.
“Ride me, Sarah. Like this.” He stilled, his hands moved on her hips again, teaching her how.
She lifted her hips, feeling the glide of silk enclosed steel along her vaginal walls. He stopped her an inch from total retreat.
“Now, lower yourself slowly,” he whispered. “Ride me like that, Sarah, slow and easy until you get a feel for it.”
A feel for it? The feel
of
it was slowly killing her. She rose by slow degrees, her breath heaving from her throat at the forced reduction in the pace she so loved. She wanted him driving into her, throwing her into climax. This was too much, too many sensations rioting through her body. The slow steady impalement as she lowered herself had her tossing her head, moaning brokenly. She felt the slow pinch of his thick cock stretching her, filling her. The bulging head flared, pushing past sensitive tissue. It slid slow and easy through the natural lubrication of her body until it lodged, tight and hard at her womb. There, it throbbed against such sensitive flesh that she wanted to scream at the pleasure.
“Oh, Sarah,” his moan sounded awestruck.
She opened her eyes, staring down at him. His face was flushed, his eyes glittering with emotion. So much emotion. So intense, so filled with—adoration?—that it made her heart clench. Did she really do this for him? Make him as wild for the building explosion as she became?
“You like this?” She was surprised. More than surprised, actually. Lora Leigh
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She rose on him again, watching him grimace as her flesh gripped him, suckled his straining cock.
“No, baby. I don’t like this. I fucking love the hell out of it.” His teeth were clenched hard, the muscles of his neck and shoulders bulging as he fought for control. “You’re killing me with pleasure, and I promise you, I’m a willing damned sacrifice.”
His voice was strained, gasping.
She lowered herself again, a keening wail of excruciating sensation had her nails digging into his hard chest muscles. His hands flexed on her hips, his thighs bunched, lifted, driving his flesh deeper, harder inside her.
“Sarah, baby,” he gasped. “Find that fucking rhythm soon, sugar, before you kill us both.”
She lowered her lids, fighting the need to ride him hard now. Her lips lifted.
“You don’t like this?” she asked him, her voice soft, wondering as she watched him.
“Hell no,” he growled. “Oh shit, Sarah.” She rolled her hips above him, moving languorously as she twisted on the thick intrusion of his cock. Her stomach clenched, her womb vibrated with shudders of impending orgasm.
“You sure you don’t like it?” she panted, rising up again. He didn’t give her a chance to torment him further. With a lurch of his hips, a swift motion of his hands on hers, he drove her body onto his, his cock like a battering ram, tearing through her with such a mind numbing intensity of pleasure that she exploded the minute it struck the back of her throbbing pussy. She screamed, jerked and began to thrust against him mindlessly as she felt his cock explode, spewing his seed deep, deep inside her body, flooding her with the hot release as his arms wrapped around her, dragging her to his heaving chest.
“God. Sarah.” His voice was tortured, emotion spilling through it as his arms spasmed around her body.
Her body continued to tremble, shudder. Small explosions shaking through her as she fought for a measure of control now. It was the most sensual, erotic experience of her life. She was still gasping for breath, still enjoying the small, brutal pulses of orgasmic delight.
Minutes, hours, days later, he shifted her body and allowed her to collapse beside him once again.
“Let me stay and I’ll let you ride my cock again first thing in the morning,” he bargained with a drowsy sigh.
“Get dressed, cowboy.” She yawned, tucking her head more comfortably against the couch cushions. “You’re out of here until I personally call you and ask you to return.”
He sighed deeply.
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“Sarah, you forget to call and I’ll tan your hide when I get you naked again,” he promised her, his threat followed by a slow caress over her rounded buttocks.
“I promise. I’ll call, Brock.” She smiled lazily. “Now go home.”
He grunted with grouchy emphasis and rolled until he could find a sitting position.
“Never seen the like, Sarah. Running me off this way.” He snagged his pants from the floor and began to drag them over his legs.
Sarah sat up on the couch, pulling the afghan from the back and wrapping it around her shoulders. Brock dressed in silence, his expression quiet now, thoughtful. When he had his shirt buttoned over his broad chest, he turned to her, watching her out of somber, dark eyes.
“You going to be okay?” He touched her cheek gently. “Don’t worry over the things from the past, Sarah,” he whispered of his abuse. “It’s over.”
Sarah took a hard breath.
“It won’t be over until you can live with it normally, Brock,” she told him gently.
“Until then, the bastard has won. Because he’s stolen that from you.”
Brock shrugged. “We survived. We’re sane. He’s dead. That counts as winning to me.”
He rose to his feet, then pulled her up behind him.
“Go onto bed. I’ll lock up as I leave.” He nodded to the stairs. “Don’t wait too long to call me, Sarah. My patience isn’t at its best these days.”
She smiled up at him. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his swollen lips with a soft movement.
“Go home, Brock. I’ll call soon.” Her hands tightened on the afghan and she moved to the stairs.
She was almost to her room when she heard him leave. He closed the door soundly and long minutes later she heard his jeep start and pull from the drive. She shook her head, lowered it, and headed for her room.
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was still dark when Sarah awoke, groggy, uncertain what had disturbed her. She blinked, staring in confusion at the ceiling when she heard it again. The stairs were creaking. Slow, measured steps, but the creak of the wood in the silent house was easily heard.
Her heart jumped in her chest, nearly strangling her with her fear. Brock? Would he attempt to sneak into her bed after she had asked him to leave? To give her time to think? It didn’t seem his style. He would be the one pounding on the door, demanding that she let him in. That she make the choice to allow him to enter. He wouldn’t try to steal in on her while she was asleep. Defenseless.
It wasn’t Mark. She knew the sound of him sneaking up the stairs. She had lived with it for years. She swallowed, nearly strangling on her fear as they creaked again. She slid silently from the bed, grabbing the cordless phone from the cradle and crept across the room. She dialed nine one one quickly, knowing the call would go directly into the sheriff’s office.
“Sheriff.” Joshua Martinez answered the phone on the first ring. It took long seconds for her to speak. Panic welled in her chest, made her stomach boil with fear. She was shaking, naked and fighting to hold onto her control
“Joshua, it’s Sarah. Sarah Tate.” Her voice shook. Another step was breached. Nearly to the top.
“Sarah. You okay?” Joshua was instantly on the alert, his voice cool, precise.
“I need you over here, someone’s in the house.” Her teeth were nearly chattering as she heard the last step reached. “Hurry. Hurry.”
“Sarah, I’m on the way. You stay on the line with Mary here.” She heard him lay the phone down, the rush of feet. She heard a footfall outside her bedroom door.
“Sarah, hon. Give Josh five minutes. He’ll be right there. Do you know who’s there, Sarah? Sarah, talk to me honey. Is everything still okay?”