He stared at her, saw her tight hole easing open, stretching around him.
“I won’t hurt you,” he gasped. He couldn’t hurt her. If he hurt her, what was the point? He had to replace the horrific memories with pleasure, only then did they ease. Only then did he regain the control he needed so desperately.
“Sam, why?” She opened farther, and Sam grimaced as half the head buried inside her. She was hot, so damned hot and tight already that all he wanted to do was plow as deep and hard inside her as he could. The scars on the head and shaft of his cock did little to dim the pleasure to be found in a hot, tight anus. The bite of the tight muscles on his flesh was exquisite, the sensations too shockingly arousing to be denied.
“Stop, baby.” He gripped her hip as she tried to jerk from him again. “Please, please, Heather. Stay still.”
“Why?” She managed to jerk to the side, escaping the invasion he had started.
“No.” He jerked her back, held her still as he pressed forward again. “God dammit, Heather, you want it. I know you do.”
“I want to know why.” Her back bowed as he pushed the flared head of his cock inside her ass with a desperate move of his hips.
He gritted his teeth, feeling his control slipping.
“Stop.” He smacked her ass as she jerked again, nearly tearing him free. He watched her muscles flex from the small stinging caress, heard her gasp of pleasure. “Please God, Heather. Please. Take the pleasure, baby. Take it, so I can forget the pain.”
The words that left his mouth penetrated his brain. The shock of it destroyed any semblance of control he might have possessed. A ragged cry, fraught with pain and rage, billowed from his chest as he thrust inside her anus. Hard and deep. The instant heat, like fire on his cock, tightening around him, stroking him as she screamed out beneath him, fighting to accept the full, thick length of the cock buried in her tender depths.
Her back bowed, her head thrashing as the long tendrils of her hair rippled over her back.
“Sam…” He knew that husky sound, vibrant with the shocking pleasure/pain of his entrance.
Dark, primitive lust shot through his veins as she took him. Her scream was one of intense arousal. The point where everything is heightened, mingling and searing in its heat. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t contain himself or his need. He drew back, watching as his cock eased from her tightly stretched hole then thrust back hard and deep. Over and over. He watched her flesh stretch for him, heard her cries echoing around him and felt heaven and hell in her acceptance.
He bent over her then; reason lost, only pleasure, only the white-hot heat of her ass gripping his cock meant anything. His hips moved as he powered his erection inside her, pushing through sensitive tissue, feeling it stretch, tighten to bite at the invader taking it so ruthlessly.
He was groaning as his thrusts became harder, quicker. He could hear Heather screaming beneath him, calling his name, begging, pushing back to him as he fucked her with hard, furious strokes. He throbbed, pulsed. Hurriedly he tucked his hand beneath her hips, his trembling fingers finding the hard, swollen knot of her clit as he began to deepen his strokes.
Her hips were jerking, fucking back at him as the soft syrup that flowed from her pussy coated his fingers and her clit. She was taking him, loving it, accepting it. Lust clawed at his loins then, his scrotum tightening with the excitement, and as he stroked Heather’s clit, he felt the climax that tore unexpectedly through her body.
A howl ripped from his throat as he gripped her hips, laid over her and began to fuck her with hard driving strokes. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t control the driving lust as it boiled through his cock. When his climax came, it was like white-hot death. Streaks of lightning tore through his cock, his body, as he buried himself one last time in the tight depths of her anus and felt his seed explode from the tip of his erection.
Explosive pulse after pulse tore through his body as her anus tightened around him with each jetting release. Her muscles bit at his cock, milked it, sucked the seed from him until he could only lay against her, jerking at each whip of fiery pleasure, gasping for breath, and realizing each gasp came out as her name.
Long moments later he found the strength to draw back, to watch in dazed pleasure as his still hard cock pulled out of her tender, well-fucked ass. The little hole was coated with his cream now. Her body holding it inside her, accepting him, a part of him held within her, at least for now.
She lay still against the mattress, her breathing labored, her small body quivering as he removed the wrist and ankle cuffs that had held her to the bed. His hands caressed the fragile wrists, stroking the skin that the padded cuffs had held prisoner. They were reddened slightly, proof that she had fought the restraints, fought to be free. Free of him? Or free to touch him? Bitterness seared his soul as he realized he was afraid to know the answer.
As she lay there, he moved to the bathroom, wetting a washrag and cleaning himself before wetting another and moving back into the bedroom.
She still lay there, perspiration coating her body as he sat beside her. His hands were gentle as he cleaned her, his heart aching in regret as he glimpsed the slight bruises that now marred the cheeks of her rear, and her slender hips.
He shook his head, fighting the rage that seemed to only build now. He rose from the bed, jerked his sweat pants on and rushed from the room. God help him, he’d hurt her. He had to have hurt her.
“Sam.” Her surprised, slightly angry voice followed him from the room. The husky confusion that filled his name called to him, drawing him to turn back, to return to her. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t face her, couldn’t face the possibility of hatred, the possibility that he had finally stepped over a line that had terrified him for years.
Voices pounded in his head, the remembered scent of blood washing over him as his fists clenched and remnants of terror bit at the edges of his mind. He raced down the stairs, threw open the door and ignored the surprised voice of the bodyguard as he made his way into the night.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Son of a bitch.” Heather came to her feet, jerking her robe from the floor and pushing her arms through it quickly as she heard the front door slam close. “I’ll kill him. I swear to God this time, I’ll just kill him myself.”
Anger surged through her, mixing with an arousal so desperate, so hot, that she could feel the juices from her cunt trickling to her thighs. He had left her again. Left her body raging, on fire, so damned hot she felt as though her pussy was blistered from the need.
She rushed for her bedroom, grabbed the gun from her dresser and then rushed out the door. She gritted her teeth as she met Cade and Brock in the hallway, barely dressed, their expressions concerned as they headed for the stairs.
“Heather.” Cade caught her arm as she rushed past him. “What the hell happened?”
His face was lined with grief, with pain. In his eyes she saw the same shadows, bleak and dark, that filled Sam’s.
“He doesn’t need you,” she bit out, knowing what usually came after the nightmares, the lust and brittle pain of the three men forming, coming together, fighting to find ease in the body of their women. Together. Always together, as though in the sharing of the lust, they could ease the memories of the pain.
“You know better than that, Heather.” Marly stood in the bedroom doorway, watching as Heather faced off with the two brothers. “You’ve seen enough to realize what he does need.”
“No.” Her hand sliced through the air as she tore away from Cade. “He doesn’t need your protection. He’s not a child.”
“Dammit to fucking hell, you don’t know what you’re doing.” Cade’s voice was desperate, his expression taut, fierce as he watched her.
“Stop trying to protect him, Cade.” Heather faced off with the older man, seeing so much of Sam in him that her arousal only grew. She knew very damned well what they believed would ease the horror that gripped Sam. Knew what they wanted and how it would happen. But she would be dam
ned if it would happen tonight. “Your protection of him is killing him, can’t you see that?” Her voice rose as she fought to make him understand. To make all of them understand. “You’re babying him, giving him what he needs to hide from whatever is ripping him apart. He has to face it, and he needs to face it now, before that fucking stalker gets any closer to him than he already has.”
Cade paled. She watched, surprised, suddenly terrified as he lost the color in his face and denial filled his expression.
“Listen to me.” He grabbed her arm again, hauling her close as he stared down at her, his gaze fierce, searing in its demand. “You don’t want this, Heather. You don’t want him to remember, do you understand me? Sam doesn’t fucking remember the details. He dreams of it, he knows it happened, but he doesn’t remember it, and by God I won’t let you force him to.”
Heather’s eyes widened as her own fury flamed. “What in the hell makes you think he can survive like this, Cade?” she yelled up at him, jerking back, tearing her arm from his grip. “How much longer do you think he can stand the poison that’s only growing in his mind? For God’s sake, surely you know better than to try to suppress those memories?”
But they hadn’t known better. She saw it on Cade and Brock’s faces, just as she saw the confusion on Marly and Sarah’s.
“My God,” she whispered. “You’ve encouraged it. All these years, you’ve helped him hide. Helped that monster to fester in his mind like a fucking cancer.”
Disbelief washed over her. She shook her head, backing away from them, terrified now that Sam faced something he would never survive. He had hidden from the pain for over a decade. Fought the memories, and the healing he needed to make sense of the life he lived now. That was why he always seemed so bitter, so unable to accept that Marly or Sarah could find pleasure in the embrace of the three men.
“What have you done?” She raised a hand to her forehead, shaking her head as she stared from Cade to Brock, then to Marly. “What have they done to him, Marly?”
Compassion and concern marked the other woman’s sleepy features.
“Whatever it was, Heather, it was done to protect him when he needed protection. I don’t doubt that.”
“Marly,” she whispered. “He had to tie me down. He had to restrain me to assure himself that he wouldn’t hurt me.” She was trembling with her anger, with her own pain. “He couldn’t even take me normally. He had to fuck my ass to assure himself that he controlled me, that he controlled himself. Is that fucking protection?”
She was trembling with the implications of what Sam faced now. Pain surged through her body, overwhelming her desire, overwhelming her senses. How had he born the pain she knew he had faced? How had he had ever stayed sane all these years, fighting the memories, fighting whatever truth lay within his memories? A truth slowly destroying him now.
“Sam won’t hurt you…” Brock shook his head. “We’ll find him…”
“The hell you will.” She gripped the gun in her hand tighter. “You go after him and I’ll shoot you myself.” Her throat felt raw from the emotion that seared it, roughened her voice and shook her body.
“Like hell.” Cade threw her a bitter look before his muscles tightened and he began to stalk to the stairs.
“I don’t think so.” Before he could stop her, before Heather was aware of her own intentions, she had stepped in front of him, bringing her body flush against his, the muzzle of her gun pressing hard and commanding beneath his jaw.
Heather didn’t know who was more surprised by the action, herself or the men. Cade stared down at her with arrogant fury, his eyes narrowed, his body tight and furious as Marly cried out behind him.
“You’re playing a very dangerous game,” he warned her darkly, his cock tightening against the flat plane of her stomach. “A very dangerous game, Heather.”
She snarled in his face. “He’s mine, Cade. All mine, and I’ll be goddamned if I’ll let you help him hide any longer. He’s of no fucking use to me handicapped emotionally. And he’s no use to you, either.”
His eyes narrowed. “Go after him then,” he challenged her roughly. “Go on, Heather. See if you can stand his pain. See if your heart can take what we’ve fought so hard to ease for him. And I promise you, the day will come when you’ll pay for holding a gun on me.”
The threat may have carried more weight if his cock wasn’t so thick and so hard against her abdomen. She tilted her lips in what she felt was a smile of savage mockery.
“You know, Marly,” Heather sneered contemptuously. “Only an August could have a hard-on with a gun pressed under his jaw. Take your lover and fuck him, before I have to kill him.”
She jumped back from him then, turning on her heel and rushing the short distance to the stairs. She was fed up with August men, August pride and August demons. To her back teeth she had had enough. Sam had done nothing but tease her past any woman’s limits of control for nearly two years now. Taking her to the edge, only to deny her the release she knew was waiting just moments away from wherever he stopped.
If she had to hold the fucking gun to his throat, he was going to fuck her and do it right. She was damned tired of his self-pity and his dark demons, and she was determined to force him past them. The brothers might see their protection as a form of easing the pain for Sam, but she saw differently. She saw the man fighting to survive, to make sense of his needs, his desires. A man who loved those around him, yet had no idea how to show it.
A man who loved her, and refused to admit it. She’d be damned if she would let him deny it any longer.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The front door slammed behind her. “Where is he?” Rick was on the porch, agitation tightening every line in his body as he swung around to her.
“You two are driving me fucking crazy,” he bit out. “What the hell is going on?”
She speared him a furious look. “I’m going to save the stalker the trouble and kill the bastard myself. Right after I fuck his brains out. Now tell me where he went.”
Rick eased back as the hand that carried her gun twitched.
“Heather.” He cleared his throat, but she still caught the edge of humor in his voice. “Maybe you should give me the gun first.”
“Where. Is. He.” Her teeth were gritted, fury and lust surging in equal parts through her body.
Rick blew out a hard breath. “Dammit, Heather, just don’t kill the dumb bastard. We don’t get paid if he dies.”
“Where?” She was tired of arguing with stubborn men.
“He headed for the barn. He’s barefoot though, so I don’t expect him to take a horse out. He dared anyone to follow him, Heather. And he looked mean enough to make it stick.”
“He’s trouble looking to happen,” she snorted furiously. “Expect anything.”
She stepped from the porch.
“Uh, Heather, you’re a bit underdressed,” Rick pointed out.
“Overdressed,” she snarled. “But I’ll take care of that when I find him.”
Thankfully, she had thought to slip her feet into the thin ballet-style house slippers that matched her robe. The thin rubber soles protected her feet from the concrete of the walkway and the rough dirt area in front of the barn and stables. She stalked across the distance, determined to finish this once and for all. She was ready to pack up and leave the ranch for good. Sick to death of the conspiracy and veil of secrecy that bound the brothers together.
They could deal with their pasts however they pleased. She wasn’t a fainting miss. Hell, she had been intrigued by Sam and his brothers from the beginning. But it was Sam that set her body on fire. Sam that kept her in such a state of lustful preparation that she couldn’t keep her mind on her job, or her own protection, let alone his. It was a dangerous line she was treading.
She entered the interior of the barn, stopping as she saw the dim light behind a stack of hay toward the back. She followed him, listening carefully to the shuffle of hay, a muffled curse. She moved purposely around
the high bales, then stared at him coldly as he stared up at her from the rough bed he had made in the thick loose hay behind it.
A battery-powered lantern lit the area. A thick blanket was spread over the rough dried grasses, perfectly formed to make a comfortable bed.
“Pouting?” she bit out as she watched him angrily.
“Go back to the house, Heather.” He frowned at her fiercely, and yeah, he looked mean enough to make it stick, but by God if she didn’t feel a whole lot meaner right now.
“Take those sweat pants off.” She pushed the words through gritted teeth, her body so hot, so desperate for release she could barely think coherently.
His dark brows arched in surprise, his gaze flickering to the gun in her hand. Heather didn’t give him time to comment further, or to refuse her. Training could be handy though, she thought as she moved in quickly. Before he could do more than gasp, she was straddling his tight abdomen, her wet pussy flush against his clenching muscles, the gun muzzle beneath his chin, much as it had been Cade’s. She was damned near mad enough to pull the trigger, and the amusement that suddenly lit his eyes did nothing to cool her down.
“Take the sweat pants off,” she gritted out.
“Do you have the safety on?” he asked her, arching his brow as his hips lifted, his hands moved.
“What safety?” she bit out, hissing out a hard breath as his abdomen tightened further, rippled beneath her swollen clit.
“You’re playing with fire,” he warned her as he slid the sweat pants away from his hips, then worked his legs until she knew the pants were separate from his hard body.
“I’m so damned hot I am the freaking fire,” she bit out, swallowing tightly as she edged back until she felt the naked tip of his engorged cock nudge between the cleft of her ass.
“Heather.” His hands caught the rounded curves of her butt as she wiggled against the engorged head of his erection. “Baby, please.” His voice stopped her.
She could feel the juices of her pussy leaking to his tight abdomen, his cock nudging at her. She stilled, staring down at him, dying to shift, to bring his thick flesh in line with her hungry cunt.