by Lora Leigh
“Come play with me, Alex,” she murmured, hunger and need clashing inside her. “Let me be your fantasy, too.”
It slammed into his gut. It sent arcing though him a wave of heat so powerful that Alex wondered that he didn’t come in his jeans that second.
Lust. A lust unlike anything he had ever known. Hunger he’d beaten down over the years, determined to conquer. Because in the back of his mind, he’d always known he’d have her. And he didn’t want that part of himself interfering. He didn’t want to frighten her. Didn’t want to ask more than most women wanted to give.
And now it raced through his system like a runaway train, determined to have its way. He watched her eyes, his body stiffening, his dick tightening until it felt as though it would burst.
She wanted the games? The hard edge of a sexual intensity so sharp it cut through the senses like a blade? Oh, he could give it to her. Give it to her and make her love it, if it didn’t destroy both of them first.
Before she could counter, he twisted her around, pressing her firmly against the door as he felt her gasp.
“Once you open the cage, the animal doesn’t go back in,” he growled at her ear. “Be sure, Janey.”
“Are you scared, Alex?” Her ass ground against his dick.
“You should be scared.” He held her wrists in one hand and jerked his belt loose with the other.
His cock was throbbing now; he could feel the pre-cum dampening the crown. The thought of what he was about to do tightened every muscle in his body and had his balls tight with lust.
Hell, this went deeper than lust. It was a craving. A fucking addiction. One of the wildest damned fantasies he had ever known.
He looped the belt around her wrists, tightened it, and secured it. She couldn’t get loose unless he let her go. She would be restrained, helpless. He could have her any way he wanted her.
“That Mackay courage is going to get you in trouble, sugar,” he drawled, nipping her ear, tangling his fingers in her hair and tugging her head back. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”
Her lashes lifted; sparkling green eyes, so light they were almost colorless, looked back at him as her pouty lips parted, her tongue stroked over them.
“You have no idea how much more I want.”
Damn. Hell.
The rasp of his zipper was the only sound in the room. He didn’t loosen his jeans, just the zipper; then he drew the swollen shaft of his cock free.
His dick was violently engorged, the crown so fiercely swollen it felt bruised.
“I’m going to fuck your throat,” he growled, his hand tightening as he held her hair, turned her, and pressed her down.
Wild, wanton, she went to her knees, staring up at him, her eyes flashing with color, darker green and lighter green swirling together in an incredible hue as the pupils dilated.
Alex held the shaft of his cock in his hand, pressing it against his lower stomach as she licked her lips. Eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, he used the hold he had on her hair to pull her to his tortured ball sac.
“Lick my balls. Suck them. Nice and easy, baby.”
He almost shouted in pleasure when she did just that. Watching him, her eyes on him, her tongue swirled around the tight flesh before she drew first one tortured sphere into her mouth, then the other.
He was stretched on a rack of pleasure so intense he didn’t know if he could keep from coming then and there. He’d never seen anything so beautiful as Janey caressing, licking, kissing his tortured balls. But he was about to see something a hell of a lot prettier.
He took the agonizing pleasure for as long as he could. His head falling back, his neck tightening as he felt perspiration glaze his face. Fuck, this was good. So good.
Too good.
He pulled her head back.
“Open your lips. Give me your mouth, sweetheart.”
She loved the endearments. He watched her pupils dilate, her lips part. Sweet pink lips. Holding the shaft of his cock, he rubbed the head against them. Over them, letting her hot tongue lick over it.
She curled her tongue beneath the sensitive spot underneath the head, rubbed at it, licked at it.
“So naughty.” His jaw tightened as he pulled back. “But it’s not just those pretty lips I want.”
He tucked the dark, engorged crown between her lips and pressed inside. Slow and easy. He wanted to watch. Wanted to see her suck his dick into her mouth.
It wasn’t just sexual. The intimacy of the act slammed into him. This wasn’t an experienced woman who knew exactly how to work a man. This was Janey. She’d been a virgin for him. She was innocent, fragile, and blowing his mind as her mouth tightened on the swollen crown and sucked with wicked, sensual pleasure. Shafts of brilliant sensation tore through the head of his cock, raced to his balls, and ran up his spine. She sucked with hungry, fierce draws of her mouth. Taking him deep, working her tongue over him. He could almost feel the back of her mouth, and when she swallowed, sweat dripped down his cheek.
“Oh, you’ve been very bad, darlin’,” he groaned, his hand tightening in her hair, drawing her back, then forward, moving her on his cock. “Flatten your tongue and breathe in.” He pushed in a little deeper, watched her eyes widen, water. But she took him.
He pulled back, his heart racing, his breathing tight and restricted. Hell, he didn’t know how long he was going to last.
“You practiced,” he accused her with a tight smile, sinking inside again. “Did you have a toy, baby?” Her pupils flared again.
Janey wouldn’t have taken another man like this, not without giving him all of her herself. No, this belonged to him, just him, and whatever toy she used to fulfill her fantasies.
“Let’s see if we can give you what a toy can’t.” He held her head still. “Breathe in, sweetheart.” He sank in, watched her eyes water as the head of his cock touched her throat, then pulled back.
“Next time, breathe in and swallow.” He took her mouth again, sank in, and a snarling groan tore from his chest as she did as he told her.
Her eyes watered, but her face flushed as she swallowed and then moaned in protest as he pulled back. Alex had to shake his head to find one last thread of control. This was destroying him. Janey on her knees, his hands tangled in her hair as he fucked her throat.
“I’m going to come, baby,” he warned her as he sank in again and the pressure nearly ruptured his balls. “One more stroke. When I pull back, open your lips. Let me see my cum fill you.”
He was twisted. He was fucking insane. He sank in again, and when she swallowed, he let go. Stroking the shaft of his cock, he pulled her head back, watched, and couldn’t hold back the throttled yell that tore from his throat.
“Fuck yes. Take it, Janey. All of it.” He filled her mouth, watched each spurt of his seed filling her mouth as tears rolled from her eyes.
They weren’t tears of pain, physical or emotional, but the sight of them struck at his chest.
“Now suck. Swallow me, baby. Swallow all of me.” He pushed the head of his cock past her lips again and gave one last pulse of release as she swallowed, sucked, and moaned around the sensitive crown, and tore another groan from him.
He wished he could curb the need. Pulling her to her feet, he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell. He was still dying for her. Dying for more.
Catching her around the waist, he moved her to the chair next to them, pushed her to her knees in the seat cushion, and pressed against her shoulders to lean over the back. Gripping the belt around her wrists, he held her in place as his knees bent and he pressed the still-hard, violently sensitive crown between the bare, soaked lips of her pussy.
Intense heat encased his cock. Slick, fiery syrup. He could hear her crying, begging for more. But he wanted this to last. Wanted to feel every ripple of her pussy as he pressed inside her. Feel her tight.
“Ah God! Janey, baby.” He bent his knees, worked in deeper, deeper, and felt every cell in his body catch fire as he lodged to the hilt insi
de her. “Sweet, sweet Janey. God, I love this. So tight. So fucking hot.”
Janey was drifting in a haze of pleasure and need. Her pussy throbbed, flexed. Her clit was tortured. Behind her, Alex held on to the belt with one hand as she felt the fingers of the other slide around her hip, pushing between her thighs.
“Poor little clit,” he groaned at her ear. “Poor sweet pussy. What do you need, Janey? Slow and easy? Or hard? Fast? Do you want me to pound inside you, or slide in long and slow?”
She shook her head. She was supposed to decide? She wanted both. She wanted it all. Her head hung over the back of the chair as she panted, just trying to breathe through the pleasure.
“Do you need a little more burn, sweetheart?”
He was buried full-length inside her. How could he burn her more?
His hand rubbed the side of her ass; her eyes widened.
“Yes. Oh God, Alex. Yes.” Her back arced, and a cry strangled from her throat as his hand landed on the side of her ass.
Again. He pulled back and his hand landed, not too hard, hard enough to burn, hard enough to send explosions of brilliant pleasure racing through her.
“So fucking pretty.” He smoothed his hand over her, then lowered it, pressing her thighs farther apart.
His fingers rasped around her clit; then he was gripping her hip and plunging inside her. As though he couldn’t go deep enough, couldn’t fuck her hard enough.
Janey felt her muscles clamp down on him involuntarily, trying to hold him inside her, tightening on him seconds before the most incredible orgasm tore through her.
It lit up her mind. It sent brilliant shards of heat and light racing through her body as she screamed his name, cried, felt the tears that rolled from her eyes at the sheer, perfect brilliance of a release that soared through every fragment of her being.
She was pulsing around him. He slammed in deep, yelled her name, and she felt him, spurt after spurt filling her again, sinking deep inside her as her pussy flexed and tightened around him.
She was left limp, ragged. Her only tie to earth was his grip on her hip and the warmth of his body behind her. Because nothing in this world, nothing else, mattered in this single moment, but this.
It was after midnight, and Natches was still awake. He paced the living room of the houseboat, feeling the chill wind outside, though he knew it hadn’t penetrated the heavily insulated interior.
It was a chill he couldn’t shake inside.
Clad in jeans, barefoot, a longneck bottle of beer in his hand, he paced back to the closed shades of the door and paused. He took another drink of the beer, then paced back to the table. To the picture and the note.
She was the devil’s whore and now she’s breaking a good man. Your sister. Your responsibility. Take care of her as you took care of her bastard, incestuous lover.
God, this was insane. He stared at the picture. It had been taken from the second floor of the building across the street from the restaurant. The window there looked directly into Janey’s window. Through the sheer curtains Natches could see the two forms. Alex and Janey. Alex was too damned big. Too fucking old for her.
He wiped his hand over his face and turned away. It looked as though Alex were forcing an embrace on her. Natches finished the beer and only barely managed to keep from throwing it at the wall.
“Natches.”
He turned, watching as Chaya moved into the room from the back bedroom. She swayed with maternal, sensual grace. The hard mound of her belly poked out ahead of her, and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his damned life.
His Chay. She moved into his arms, and he held her and their child against him, closing his eyes, praying to God he could protect them better than he was protecting his sister.
“Have you called Alex yet?”
She knew about the picture. She had been there when the plain manila envelope had been delivered by Ray after he found it on the front seat of his pickup that evening as he was leaving for home.
Natches’s name was printed on it in large letters, obviously computer-generated. She had been there when he pulled the picture free.
“He wouldn’t hurt her,” he said heavily. “Tell me again it’s not what it looks like.”
“Natches.” Her hands rubbed against his back as her head lifted from his chest. “You know Alex. You said that yourself.”
“A lot of years,” he admitted, moving away from her. “He’s a good man. A good soldier.”
But was he a tender lover? The kind of lover his sister needed? It was bad enough the son of a bitch was fourteen years older than she was.
“You need to call him,” she told him again.
Natches nodded. He knew he did. Alex had been sloppy closing only the sheers like that with a stalker obviously watching Janey. If this had happened after they learned about the stalker.
Alex had come to him with the information. Zeke had told Alex. Zeke would have had a reason for doing that. He would have had to have seen something, known something. And Janey had been wary, but it had been her idea for Alex to stay.
Or had it?
Alex was more than just a fucking soldier; he worked with the Department of Homeland Security and was one of the most manipulative special agents employed there.
Shit. He couldn’t think like this.
“Natches, if Janey were being forced into anything, she would tell you,” Chaya told him again.
Natches shrugged, appearing to agree with her. He tried to tell himself. Hell, she had snapped his and Alex’s head off that evening. She wouldn’t have done that if she was scared.
“I’ll go talk to them in the morning,” he said.
“You’re worried about more than just this.” She moved to him again. “What’s wrong, Natches?”
She saw so much of him. Sometimes it amazed him, humbled him. She was his second breath. Hell no, she was his first breath. He couldn’t live without her.
“I hurt her tonight,” he finally admitted, before explaining what happened. “She wouldn’t speak to me before I left.”
“Oh, Natches,” Chaya groaned. “You can’t play games with her. She’s too smart for that and you keep forgetting it for some reason.”
He frowned at her chiding voice. “She’s my sister, Chaya. My baby sister. I have to watch out for her.”
“She’s an adult, Natches.” It was the same argument they had visited for the past six months. “Let her decide on her own.”
“Hell, Chay, she’s talking about leaving.” He pushed his fingers through his hair roughly. “I’m just getting to know her. I don’t want her to leave.”
Chaya sighed. “Natches, you have to let go eventually. What are you going to do if we eventually have a daughter?”
Chaya was left speechless, lips parted, as Natches swung around and capped his hand over her mouth. He was pale, honest to God white, around the eyes, with a sick look on his face.
“Don’t say it,” he hissed fiercely, his green eyes bright, terrified. “Don’t say the D word, Chay. You gotta promise me. Promise me. We’re only going to have boys. Swear it, Chay.”
She blinked back at him as he lifted his hand just enough for her to speak. “Swear it. Right now.”
She chided him gently. “Natches, I can’t do that.”
“Don’t tempt fate by talking about it, then,” he growled. “I mean it, Chay. We’re having boys. Just boys. I understand boys.”
He didn’t feel nearly as vulnerable at the thought of a boy for a child, she knew. The thought of a daughter still had the power to send Natches into a panic.
Chaya sighed. Maybe tonight really wasn’t the night to tell her husband that the tests the doctor had done were definitely showing a girl.
She looked at his face again. No, it wasn’t the time.
“I’ll meet Alex in the morning when he goes to his house,” he said and nodded, turning away from her. “Not tonight.” He shook his head and groaned. “Hell no, not tonight. Swear to God, if I have
to look at that hickey on his neck one more time, I’m going to kill him, Chay.”
“I understand, Natches.” She kept her expression serious, somber, as he swung around her. “Really, honey, I understand.” She held her hand out to him. “Will you come to bed now? I’m lonely.”
His gaze flared; his body tightened instantly.
“I thought you were tired.”
“Natches.” She grinned. “I’m never that tired.”
He took her hand and let her lead him back to their bed. He made love to her. Slow, easy love. And later, when she was drifting off to sleep, he held her in his arms, stared up at the ceiling, and that picture flashed before his eyes again.
God, there were some things an older brother just didn’t need to know.
FIFTEEN
Alex stared at the picture and the note that Natches slapped on his kitchen table the next morning.
“Why the hell aren’t you at the apartment?” Natches bit out. “Whoever’s watching her is close, Alex.”
“She threw me out,” Alex murmured, staring at the image someone’s camera had captured. Janey, locked against him, his hold dominant, appearing forceful. It looked bad. It had been hot as hell when it happened.
“And you’re not covering her ass? You didn’t call any of us?” Natches stomped around the kitchen. “How do you know she’s safe?”
“I called in backup and told Faisal to keep an eye on her. That boy is hell in a fight, you know.” He stared at the letter, a frown brewing on his brow. “What the fuck is this?” He slapped the paper to the table. “They think she’s somehow corrupting me?”
“Yeah, go figure,” Natches sneered as he threw him a hostile look.
“And this was waiting in Ray’s truck last night after hours?”
“That’s what I said.” Natches was livid. A livid Natches was not a comfortable sight. “Who’s watching Janey?”
“Tyrell Grayson and Mark Lessing. And as I said, Faisal is inside.” Alex stared at the picture again. “This was taken from across the street, wasn’t it?”
“Good guess, Sherlock,” Natches grunted.
Alex’s lips thinned. “Natches, work with me here.”