He must have heard the raw need in her voice because he caught her hips and pulled back until she was on her hands and knees. He didn't wait, but surged into her hard, driving her forward so that she fell to her elbows, her breath coming in ragged pants as she pushed back for more.
He took her hard and fast. Over and over. She screamed as her orgasm overtook her in a scorching rush she couldn't stop. It was powerful, ripping through her body, spreading up to her belly and breasts, and down her thighs all the way to her toes. He didn't stop, powering through the strong ripples, the tight muscles clamping down on him. He drove her up fast again. "You're not done," he bit out between clenched teeth. "More. Give me more."
She did. She couldn't have stopped the force of it if she'd wanted to. It overtook her fast, with the force of a tsunami, wave after wave and still he continued to thrust into her like a piston, hard and hot and dragging over sensitive nerves. Her muscles gripped and milked at his cock. She could feel his heartbeat right through his shaft and up through her own muscles.
"Again."
"Honey." Her voice was a sob. It was too good. "Too high."
"Fall for me."
"Catch me."
"I've got you."
She let go, and this time he went with her, his hot seed splashing her sensitive inner walls so that the ripples rocked them both. She gasped and fought for breath as she was thrown into a whirling vortex of sheer pleasure. The powerful quakes kept coming and she screamed, letting it take her, letting it throw her into subspace where she seemed to float endlessly in pure bliss.
"Oh for God's sake, Czar, do you know what a fuckin' bed is for?" Reaper's voice brought her out of her floaty, perfect wonderland.
He stood in the shadows, Savage about five feet from him, both with guns drawn. She gasped and went down once again on her elbows as Viktor wrapped both arms around her, covering her nearly completely with his larger frame.
"Get the fuck out of here, you pervert." There was no menace in Viktor's voice, more amusement than anything.
"She screamed."
"Women scream. She's a screamer. Can't you tell the difference between a woman screaming because she's in trouble and one screaming because her man is all over her?" Viktor demanded. "Of course you can't. You don't know the first thing about women."
"I learned that when I was eight, you moron," Reaper snapped back.
Blythe closed her eyes and jammed her fist into her mouth. They were arguing. She was on her hands and knees with Viktor's cock buried deep inside her, her body sticky with ice cream and beer and still pulsing, her inner muscles tightening rhythmically around Viktor's shaft, with the men arguing back and forth.
"Then what the hell, man? I'm going to shoot your ass the next time you barge in when I'm with Blythe."
"You're the one with the ass in the air," Savage pointed out.
"And you're not technically 'in' anywhere. You're outside, not in the bed," Reaper added.
"Um. Technically he is 'in' somewhere," Savage corrected.
It was either laugh or cry. These men had no idea how inappropriate they were. Viktor had told her about their childhood, but she had the idea they'd been given the same kinds of instructions the rest of his birth brothers had been given. That they'd all be suave and charming with women. They'd know the right thing to say and do in every circumstance. These men didn't know the first thing about etiquette or how to behave properly in society. They were raised without clothes and had sex in front of one another without batting an eyelash.
Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to shed them. They held their heads up, and she could learn to live with their ways--although maybe not this. They had to live in a world they probably didn't understand and most likely, even with gentle help, they probably would never quite get society's rules. They'd had their own rules, developed from their horrific childhood. Clearly modesty and private time was not part of that.
"What the hell, Savage? This is not the time to joke," Viktor snapped.
She started to laugh. She couldn't help it. It wasn't the time to argue either, but he was doing it. It was an impossible situation, and she wasn't about to be the one embarrassed when clearly they weren't. "Go away," she said, although her muffled laughter made it impossible for any of them to understand her.
"What?" Savage asked.
"Go away," she repeated. Viktor's weight was threatening to break her in half.
"Stop screaming," Reaper told her.
"She likes to scream, she can scream. Besides, I like her screaming. Learn the difference," Viktor snarled.
"Go away," Blythe said again.
She let her body collapse, Viktor sprawling on top of her. She had no idea how he did it, but his arms locked around her hips, pulling her bottom back into him so that his cock was still buried deep. It was only then she realized he was still as hard as a rock. He wasn't finished.
"Get the fuck out of here," Viktor ordered, his voice this time one of pure command. He was moving again, a slow glide that sent streaks of fire spreading through her body. How he could do that when she was somewhere between laughter at the absurdity of their situation and tears for the men and women who had suffered at the hands of vile, brutish criminals, she had no idea. Only that he could. Viktor could make every situation better.
Reaper and Savage shook their heads, turned and walked away, Reaper muttering to himself.
She turned her head to one side and let him take her back to that place where it was just the two of them in their own world. He was gentle, his hands moving over her body, claiming her for his own.
"I can never get enough of you," he whispered. "Never. I dreamt of you every night. I thought about you every day. I don't believe in God, but I found myself praying you would wait for me, that you were everything I remembered." He whispered the confession as he moved in her body, keeping that connection between them.
It was so good. It was always good, but when he was like this, so gentle and sweet, he took her heart along with her body.
"I spent hours of every day thinking of all the things you like. How to get them for you. How to make things right for you." His mouth whispered down her back, returned to the nape of her neck and pressed kisses there. "I want to give you the world, Blythe. Everything."
"You give me you," she said. "That's enough for me." It was. He was.
He fell silent, letting his body speak for him. She heard the love there. She felt it. This time when he brought her to the very edge, she bit her lip and made certain she didn't make a single sound. That didn't matter. Sound or no sound, it was perfection.
Viktor collapsed over top of her and then slowly, reluctantly, pulled out of her body. The movement sent another ripple of pleasure shooting through her body. They were silent, both trying to catch their breath, and then he rolled over to lie beside her on his back.
"Thanks."
She turned her head just enough to look at him, her eyebrow raised.
"For being you. Not freaking out when they showed up. They really aren't perverts," he said, staring up at the sky, his hands locked behind his head.
"They might be," she pointed out, amusement in her voice. "That's twice." She waited a heartbeat and then took a chance. "So you know that's entirely inappropriate."
He turned his head to look at her, frowning. "I just knew you were uncomfortable. I can read your body language like a book. You're uncomfortable, then it doesn't happen."
"But it doesn't bother you that they walk right in when we're making love?"
"I love you. Totally. With everything in me. I'm proud of you. Taking your body is just that, loving you. Claiming you. Having you claim me."
"But I'm naked."
"It isn't anything they haven't seen since they were babies. But bottom line, Blythe, you don't like something, it isn't done. I'll talk to them," he promised. "I'm sorry. They just won't listen when it comes to my personal safety."
"I suppose we're going to have to add a few more bedrooms on to
the house, or maybe a wing just for them," she ventured, amusement returning.
"That won't be necessary. They aren't living with us. They can get their own damn homes. If they want to hang around, they can sit out on the roof and play with their guns."
She didn't point out that they'd be right outside their bedroom. What would be the point?
"And I like you to make noise when I'm inside you, baby. Screw Reaper. Make as much noise as you want. It sounds like fuc-- music to me."
"I will." She wouldn't.
"Promise me, babe." He turned on his side, his arm curving around her waist and pulling her closer into his body. "I'll talk to them. Seriously. It matters to me that you can relax and be you when I'm inside you."
"I'll try, but if they come rushing into the bedroom when I'm right in the middle of coming, I might shoot them myself."
He laughed and rubbed his chin along her jaw. "I knew you'd be like this about them."
"Like what?"
"You don't get angry with them--or me. Give us time. I swear we'll get it figured out."
He bent his head and his hair brushed along her sensitive skin, sending a shiver down her spine and peaking her nipples as he kissed the curve of her breast. She had been completely sated, bordering on exhaustion, but with just one touch, her body was alive all over again.
"I know you will." Because it mattered to him. She mattered to him and what she wanted or needed mattered. She knew it in her heart. He really would work to fix whatever was wrong. Still, he believed in her--had faith that she wouldn't judge them or be angry over the way they'd lived and would most likely continue to live. "We're a mess. We're sticky with ice cream and beer."
"It's going to rain soon. It'll wash us off."
He was complacent. He meant it. The rain didn't bother him any more than Reaper and Savage running into the yard with weapons drawn. He didn't sweat the small stuff because his life was filled with big things to worry about.
"Where are we with Darby?"
We. She had to fight the smile that wanted to come. He meant her. What had she done to expedite Darby and her sisters getting to their home? He wasn't moved in. His undercover mission wasn't finished. He was surrounded by danger and could be killed any moment, but what mattered to him were three homeless children, two of whom had been victims of human trafficking.
It was always going to be that way. Viktor would request something and turn it over to her, having faith it would get done. She could live with that. It was in her nature to take care of the details.
"The paperwork is going through. Lev and Maxim seem to be the best at falsifying documents. I can't believe I just said that." She burst out laughing. "The six of you have changed our lives."
"Seven. Baby brother is part of us whether he wants to be or not," Viktor corrected. "He'll always have our protection."
"I know." That made her love him even more.
"What's the holdup with our girls? I heard it in your voice that there is one."
"It's just taking a little longer. The latest foster parents for the youngest girl--her name is Emily and she's six--have decided they want to fight for her."
"What the fuck? I thought she keeps running away."
"She does, which my attorney has pointed out to the court."
"I can get a few of the boys and we'll go pay them a little visit," Viktor said.
"No, you won't," Blythe said, glaring at him. "I mean it, Viktor. On this, we're going to do everything by the book."
"Like falsifying documents?" Now his voice was tinged with amusement.
"Everything else."
He laughed. "I'll go along with you, babe, unless they continue to make trouble. I've gone through the house a few times to familiarize myself with escape routes and the layout. It's nice. Big rooms. I like the bedrooms downstairs and the master suite upstairs, but we're going to have to get alarms on the windows and doors. Keep those kids in and everyone else out."
The wind picked up, blowing leaves into wild little eddies, cooling the heat of her body. The cool breeze and fine mist felt good on her skin. Darkness had fallen, and she felt braver talking about a subject she abhorred.
"Viktor, I'm pretty certain I know what happened to your messages."
"I'm listening, baby." He brushed little kisses over the curve of her breast again, this time for her bravery.
"If Sharon didn't destroy the letter--and now, I don't think she did if it contained a way to reach you, or a way for you to reach me. She hated me having you. She used to say you'd cheat on me, that a man like you would never settle for someone so boring."
He made a sound in his throat as if he were strangling, but he refrained from speaking. His hand cupped her breast, his thumb stroking along the velvet soft curve. It was just distracting enough to keep the bile from rising. Just the thought of her mother sickened her.
"She was so jealous of me having you. She was always jealous of other women and me in particular. Having you meant escaping her. If there was a code, she never would have figured it out on her own."
"There was a code."
His thumb kept moving, a mesmerizing glide that helped anchor her when her chest felt too tight and her breath kept catching in her lungs.
"She wouldn't have been able to have the discipline needed to figure it out and then check the message center for any message you sent to me. She would have given the letter to Ray's partner. She thought he was so smart. He came to her house often and she'd drink herself into a stupor, and then the two men would disappear together. I thought, at first, that Ray cheated on her with women."
"He was a pedophile, Blythe. There were no other women."
"I understand that now, but then I didn't know. Walter Sandlin was an oily creep. I couldn't stand to be in the same room with him. He was definitely Ray's partner, though. They worked on a site on the Internet together."
"It was a worldwide site for pedophiles to gather, share their videos and sell the kids they were tired of, and a place to acquire more when they wanted. Ray actually envisioned conventions and meeting places."
"They. Walter definitely was every bit as involved, and Ray always referred to him as his business partner. Once I asked what business and if it made any money, because Ray never left the house to go to work. Walter laughed his head off and said it was very, very lucrative."
"Walter Sandlin?"
She nodded. "He's about sixty, a retired attorney out of LA. He owns a house out in Occidental. Viktor, he's got very powerful friends. His family has money, and he backed the DA as well as the sheriff in that location. He's friends with law enforcement and holds parties all the time. Ray and my mother used to go there quite often."
"All right, baby, I've got it," he said softly, brushing more kisses up to her throat. "You don't have to think about that anymore. Never again, you understand me? That's mine. I'll take that little problem and figure it out, and you keep on the girls. You need me for that, you say the word and I'll be all over it." He tipped her chin up. "Tell me you understand."
She nodded. "It's your problem. I don't want to think about it ever again."
"And one more thing. I know Elle is your cousin, but your aunts, baby. I'm never going to like them or get along with them. You have to be okay with that. I don't give a damn who likes me or who doesn't."
She knew that from his meeting with his brothers. He was unbending. Unapologetic.
"You want me to be around them, I'll be polite, because you ask me, but they left you out in the cold. That's never going to be acceptable to me. Part of that might be guilt, that I wasn't here for you, but damn it, they're your family and they should have been protecting you and standing for you. That's all I've got to say on that."
There was finality in his voice and she knew she was hearing Czar, not Viktor. Both men were hers and she could understand because, honestly, she felt the same way. She nodded to let him know it was okay.
He nibbled on her chin. "I want to dance with you."
"D
ance?" His mouth was distracting her. On some level she knew he was doing it deliberately, but she didn't care.
"Dance," he said decisively. "I brought music."
"Music and ice cream. What woman could ask for anything more?"
He reached back with a lazy arm and turned on an iPod. For some reason the thought of Viktor owning an iPod seemed totally out of character, and then the music started. She laughed. "That's my iPod."
"Yep. Your music too." He stood up and pulled her to her feet. "The mist is finally turning to rain." He turned his head up so the light drops could wash over his face. "I love the way the raindrops feel on my skin. I used to think, when I was a kid, that it would wash all the ugliness and shame away. That it would take the blood from my hands. It never did, but I held out hope." He smiled down at her, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Maybe I still have hope."
She circled his neck with her arms, locking her fingers at his nape. His long hair fell around his face, giving him that sinful, fallen-angel look. She pressed her body close against his. "If the rain can't do it, I will," she said, looking into his eyes. Meaning it.
He moved with her, small steps, taking her around the blanket and then onto the grass. The rain fell on their bodies, until what was left of the ice cream and beer ran off them in small little rivulets. They danced for three songs. Laughed through another one. Then he was lifting her and she circled his hips with her long legs and he was inside her.
It was good. It was perfect. It was all Viktor. She threw her head back and let the rain hit her face, laughing as her orgasm rushed over her. She was going to scream, and she didn't much care if Reaper and Savage heard or came running. She was just too happy with her man.
18
THE roar of Harleys, as they smoothed out every curve in the road, seemed loud in the gathering night. The sun had set, first plunging the world into gold and orange, and then into a silverish sheen that reflected on the leaves of the trees as they passed under them.
Viktor lifted his fist, signaling they were coming up on the road leading to Walter Sandlin's house. They needed to stop and park their rides. He slowed until he found a small trail leading off the main road. He pulled over and shut off the engine, looking up at the sky through the branches.