by Lora Leigh
Had he ever lost control sexually? She knew women who bemoaned over the fact that they could never make one of the August brothers lose control. She tightened around him further, her hips shifting as heat scalded her vagina, making her writhe in need beneath him.
His hips retracted then plunged harshly, and Sarah heard herself cry out as her flesh throbbed and pulsed around him. Sensation after sensation tore through her, making her arch closer to him, tighten further around him.
“Stay still, Sarah,” he begged her roughly, grinding his hips against her in short, involuntary jerks.
She couldn’t help it. The feeling was too intense, the need riding her like a demon intent on satisfaction.
“Make me scream,” she whispered, staring into his face as he rose above her. She was amazed at the husky sexuality in her voice. “Please, Brock. I’ve never screamed.”
His eyes widened. For a second, long and intense, he watched her in surprise.
“Never?” He growled the question as his body seemed to tense, bunch for action. His arm wrapped around her hips as he moved her back along the seat.
The motion tore a cry from her. It made the flesh filling her shift, move, stroke and caress. She was desperate for more.
“Never,” she cried out roughly. “I want to scream. Just once, Brock.”
“Just once?” He levered over her, pulling back slowly. “No love, you’ll scream more than just once.”
A low, keening cry filled the interior of the jeep as he plunged hard inside her. Sarah felt her vagina stretch with a bit of protest, but that small edge of pain made her want more. Always more. And he didn’t stop with just one. One hand gripped her hip, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and his hips began a strong, rhythmic thrusting that had her arching and crying out. The tension in her grew, the fire and heat filling her, stretching her on a rack of pleasure so torturous she began to fear insanity. She couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t. It was building harshly, always building, never releasing, never ending.
“Brock?” Fear was filling her now. It wouldn’t stop. The tension in her body was winding tighter and tighter, with no ease, no release.
She strained against him, her head tossing, her hips fighting against his grip as they jerked in time to his hard thrusts. She could feel the invader, thick steel driving between her thighs over and over, making her body fill and gush with moisture but the tormenting grip of erotic fury never eased inside her.
“Soon, Sarah,” he gasped at her ear, his lips caressing the lobe as she fought against the steady pace. “Just let it go, baby. Don’t worry. Don’t fight it.”
“It’s killing me.” Her cry echoed around them, rising in intensity as the fire built in her body.
She couldn’t stand it. She wouldn’t survive it. She would die. It would kill her.
“Then it will kill us both.” He arched into her, his cock pummeling into her like a flesh and blood jackhammer intent on driving her past the edge of frenzy.
The fierce impalement, the frenzy of lust and need made her gasp, cry out. The tension was winding tighter, fear threading through the haze of passion, making the sensations stronger, deeper. She wouldn’t survive it. She couldn’t survive it.
Brock jerked her legs back, holding them now as he rose above her, his face a mask of furious intent as he slammed his cock repeatedly inside her. The sounds of wet flesh, gasping need, and Sarah’s pleas filled the interior of the jeep. She writhed beneath him, her cries rising in crescendo now as the building inferno began to engulf her.
Fear edged her cries, her consciousness, but she couldn’t halt his thrusts, couldn’t halt her body’s reaction.
“Now, Sarah,” he cried out harshly, leaning over her, applying a pressure against her clit that sent her careening into insanity.
His pelvis stroked the ultra sensitive bud with one last hard thrust and Sarah felt herself dying. Exploding, lost in an inferno of sensation that threatened to destroy her. She heard someone screaming as she felt her flesh tighten around the pistoning cock painfully. Screaming, pleading as her body tightened to breaking point, arching so tight she feared she would break as wave after wave of shocking release tore through her body. It ripped through her vagina, burned past her stomach, and shredded her sanity as it wound over her, through her, seeming never-ending until finally, with one last brutal jerk of her body, she collapsed back to the seat, feeling the warm jet of Brock’s semen against the soft flesh of her lower stomach.
“The pill,” he gasped as he fell over her, breathing hard, sweat dripping from his face and hair as he fought to catch his breath. “Tomorrow, Sarah. Tomorrow you go on the pill. I want to come inside you, love.”
Sarah shuddered at the thought of it. Feeling him pulse inside her would kill her. And why would the pill matter? It took at least a week to be effective. Did he intend more than the few nights the other women in his life had received?
She shivered against him. Her eyes were closed, weariness stealing over her now. Her body was relaxed, the torturous needs of moments ago sated.
“Sleep, love,” she heard Brock whisper gently as he moved away from her.
She felt him cleaning her stomach, running a soft cloth between her thighs to dry the cooling dampness there. Then her dress was lowered as he moved back to his own seat. The jeep started once again, the soft hum of the motor lulling Sarah further into sleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Sam asked Brock curiously, drawing him out of the thick sleep he had fallen into after bringing Sarah to his bed.
Brock blinked drowsily up at his twin, seeing amusement edged with concern in his eyes. He glanced back at Sarah, making certain she still slept deeply before he untangled himself from her and slid quietly from the bed. She whispered his name, but didn’t awaken. Making sure the blankets were tucked around her, he pulled a pair of sweats on and motioned Sam from the room.
His brother followed, but Brock was aware of the curious looks Sam had cast back at the bed before the door closed firmly on the view. Brock knew that Sam was more than aware of his desire for Sarah over the past years. Hell, they were twins, he couldn’t help but know. But he wasn’t ready to share her yet. Despite the heat that seared him at the thought of it, an edge of worry pulsed in the region that had once been his heart. He couldn’t lose Sarah, and he was very much afraid that was the reason she had run the first time.
“I need coffee.” Brock headed downstairs and the pot of coffee he prayed Cade had left before going out that morning.
“Cade’s pissed,” Sam said as he followed close behind him. “You were supposed to be in the barn at daybreak this morning. Remember?”
Brock grunted in irritation. He’d forgotten. Cade wanted him to help check some fences and move the cattle in the front pastures. He strode quickly into the kitchen and went straight for the coffee. Marly was still sitting at the breakfast table, her head rose as Brock went past her.
“Hey, sleepy head,” she greeted him with a smile. “Cade was gonna pull you out of bed this morning, until he saw your friend.”
Brock froze as he set the pot back on its warming plate.
“He came to the room?” he asked her carefully.
“Yeah, he did.” Her voice was amused but he could hear the echo of strain beneath it. “Then he told me to let you sleep and he would talk to you later.”
He picked up his cup, glancing at Sam’s carefully controlled expression. For some reason, Cade hadn’t wanted Marly to know just how angry he was. There was more to this than the work Brock had missed.
Picking up his coffee cup, he snagged several large biscuits and sausage and went to the table, followed closely by Sam.
“So who is she?” Marly asked curiously, watching him. “Anyone I know?”
Despite her amused expression, her blue eyes were dark with concern.
“Sarah Tate,” Brock answered her, knowing his voice was edgy.
He caught the look between Sam and Marly. S
am’s expression was mockingly amused and knowing. Marly’s surprised.
“She’s married.” Marly frowned. “No wonder Cade was upset.”
“She’s divorced. The papers were signed yesterday,” he told her tightly. “And since when did Cade think he could tell me who to fuck?”
Marly looked at him in surprise. Brock breathed out a rough sigh. He was on edge. He wanted to go back to the bedroom and waken Sarah. He wanted to hear her screaming out his name again. Begging him.
“You brought her home, Brock. You’ve never done that,” she reminded him softly. “Cade’s just concerned.”
Was Cade concerned, or was Marly? The complications of this burst into the forefront of his mind. He hadn’t thought, he had just reacted. And Cade had come to his room. He knew what Sarah meant to Brock, knew what having her there would come to mean. Just as Brock did, just as Marly should know. The edge of pain that she fought to keep hidden sliced his heart like a dull knife.
“Nothing to be concerned about.” Brock shrugged, forcing the lie past his lips.
He wanted to keep Sarah; at least until he knew if the obsession he had always had for her went deeper than just lust.
“Is that why Dr. Bennett had a message on his machine this morning that you were bringing a patient in for an exam and a prescription of birth control pills?” Marly dropped her own little bomb, watching him carefully. “He called this morning to set up the appointment time. By the way, he said late afternoon would work.”
Brock felt a stirring of lust and tamped it down ruthlessly. Soon, he would be able to take Sarah, to thrust into her and feel his own release shatter through him as it vibrated against the walls of her flesh.
“He’s zoning out on us, Munchkin,” Sam sighed with exaggerated patience. “He’s a goner.”
Brock flashed him an irritated look. He didn’t need Sam’s highjinks right now. He also caught the flash of fear in Marly’s eyes and his chest clenched. He didn’t want to hurt Marly. It was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Her ex was at her house when we showed up last night. It was late.” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on his cup.
“So you’re taking her home?” There was a measure of relief in Marly’s voice.
Brock wanted to hit something. He could feel the pain of this boiling through his system, making him want to curse in fury.
“Yeah, soon as she’s ready. Then I’ll run the bastard out of her house and put the fear of Brock in him.” He grinned crookedly, though he felt like howling.
He avoided Sam’s look, knowing his twin would sense the emotions he was keeping carefully under control. He hadn’t expected this, though he admitted he should have. He had hoped, no, he had believed Marly would eventually welcome any woman he claimed into the house. He hadn’t thought she would feel insecure, hurt.
“Hey, Marly, you’re gonna be late for your own appointment this morning,” Sam told her laughing. “It’s nearly ten. Didn’t you schedule with Denise for eleven?”
Denise Lamont did the intimate waxing, plucking and toning of Marly’s body.
“Damn.” Marly swallowed the last drink of coffee and jumped to her feet. “You’re right, and she’ll kill me if I’m late.”
She left the kitchen hurriedly, leaving Sam and Brock alone, the silence thickening harshly around them.
“What are you gonna do?” Sam finally asked him curiously.
Brock shook his head, hunching his shoulders as he sipped at his coffee. There was nothing to do but accept it. He hated it. The pain of it lay in his gut like acid. But what else could he do? He couldn’t hurt Marly.
“I heard her and Cade this morning. She was crying, Brock. Cade’s furious.” Sam kept his voice low as he leaned closer to Brock.
Brock grimaced, his own anger surging through his body. Dammit, it was his home too. His right. A right Marly’s pain would steal away from him. There was no sense in arguing the fairness of it, or of bemoaning it. Marly hadn’t been raised as they had been. She had been sheltered, loved during the years she had lived in their home. She didn’t understand the bond they shared, the needs they had.
“I’ll take care of it.” Brock shook his head.
Silence descended once again. It was strained, questions unsaid, explanations no longer important now.
“How will you take care of it?” Sam finally asked him quietly.
Brock flashed him a disgruntled look.
“I don’t know, Sam, do I need your permission, whatever I do?”
Sam sighed again. He pushed his fingers through his hair, and Brock knew Sam was feeling his own frustration. Brock could only imagine how Cade felt.
“She won’t handle Cade touching another woman, I don’t think.” Sam shook his head sadly. “It’s what Cade’s been afraid of.”
“And I won’t push her into it,” Brock promised him, finishing his coffee. “I’ll get Sarah up and head out as soon as I talk to Cade.””
He rose to his feet, feeling tired, lacking the enthusiasm of the day that he had felt when he first woke up. Damn. He didn’t know what to do now. He would have to move out, at least until he knew what was going on with himself and Sarah. He wasn’t about to do without her in his bed, in his arms, as long as he could keep her there. He would help her clear the trash out of her house, then come back and pack some clothes. The traveling between the ranch and her house would suck, but it beat the alternative.
“She isn’t the type anyway, Brock,” Sam told him sadly as Brock started to turn away from him. “She wouldn’t ease into the family. You know that.”
Brock wasn’t so certain of that. She was untutored, innocent in many ways, but he had seen the spark of excitement in her eyes when he came to her in that damned bar. She knew the rumors, knew what was told about the August brothers and the lover of the oldest. The rumors had been flying for years.
“Yeah. I’m sure you’re right.” Brock agreed with him anyway.
He didn’t want Sam feeling guilty, didn’t want Cade or Marly feeling that way either. Life just sucked sometimes. You had to accept it, or opt out of the game. Brock was no longer willing to opt out.
He left the kitchen, feeling the weight of it dragging at him. He loved the ranch, loved the house. Leaving it for even a little while wouldn’t be easy. But he needed Sarah. The taste of her, so sweet and hot, was becoming addicting. He wanted more. He wanted her in his bed at night, he wanted to hear her scream out his name when she climaxed, but he also wanted more. He wanted her to be part of the family. His family.
* * * * *
Brock found Cade in the stables repairing a stirrup on his favorite saddle. He stood in the doorway to the tack room, silent, absorbing the scents of hay, sweat and horse as he watched his brother work to fix something older than all of them were. A piece of their history, yet one Cade had been unable to put away.
The saddle was old. Generations old. It had belonged to the first Cade August more than a hundred years before. Handed down from father to son, until Grandpa August had bypassed Joe and given it instead to Cade. The summer he died Joe had packed them off to the demon’s house. Brock refused to even think that name. For days, months at a time he could forget the horror of those months. Then it would swamp him again, rushing over him, boiling in his stomach like an evil acid, ready to devour him.
It never failed. It was the same for all of them. When they attempted to draw close to each other, to sense each other’s pain, to attempt to make reason of the hell their lives would often become, the memories attacked. That had been the intention. The object of the lesson. They were alone. Just as that fucking bastard father of theirs had been. He had despised the bond they had as boys, so he had defiled it. Made it ugly and useless, made it something to fear.
Brock clenched his teeth, his jaw aching as he fought for control. He wanted to turn and walk away, to leave the sight of his brother, a man alone, fighting his pain. Cade had always fought so well. For all of them.
“You should put it up. You
’re always working on it.” He stepped into the small room, ignoring the sense of oppressiveness, the demons raking at his soul with razor sharp talons.
Cade continued the delicate work, his tanned face tight and drawn as he concentrated on repairing the leather.
Brock leaned against the wall, as close to the door and escape as he could get. God, how did Cade stand it? Being closed up like this, enduring the small space and the memories he knew came with it.
“It endures, Brock.” Cade shrugged, the harsh sound of his voice vibrating through the confined space.
And few other things do.
Brock crossed his arms over his chest, staring around the room. Saddles, ropes, bridles, the tools of any cowboy’s trade lined the room. Sunlight filtered through a small, high window, but at no time of the day would the damaging rays of the sun be permitted to touch the leather. The damage would be irreparable.
“I’m getting ready to take Sarah home.” Brock took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Son of a bitch. He hated this fucking room. He could smell antiseptic, hear screams. He was breaking out in a sweat and only by force of control did he keep his body from shaking.
“Will you be back?” Cade didn’t look up. Brock knew what he would see if he did. Pain, anger, blood.
“I’ll be back in the morning for most of the day. I’ll drive the distance for the time being.” Brock shifted, watching Cade’s hands work stubborn leather, his head down bent.
“Marly still crying?” Cade’s voice reflected his torment now.
He couldn’t bear Marly’s tears. Never could. The sound of her sobs, or the whisper of tears over pale cheeks destroyed him. He would kill the man or woman who deliberately made Marly cry.
“No. I took care of it.” Brock clenched his teeth. Cade’s body tensed further.
“It’s best.” Cade finally nodded. “No sense in someone else being hurt by this, Brock.”
Cade was alone. Brock felt betraying moisture prick his eyes and he fought it back. The time for tears was long past. But damn, seeing his brother drawing away, being separated from him, tore at him. He pushed his hands through his hair, exhaling with a fierce breath.
