The Heathen: Preacher Brothers, 2

by Snow, Jenika

  And that’s exactly what I was going to do.

  I looked at the bedside table, where she’d put the gun, where she’d forgotten about it when I’d caught her watching me, staring at my body.

  And using all the strength I could muster, I wrapped my hands around a metal bar of the headboard and pulled until I felt it start to bend to my will. The pain of the rope digging into my skin made me stronger. I felt the skin break around my wrists from the force of my actions and blood start to slide down my forearms.

  And all the while, I stared at that bedroom door, about to break free of these fucking bounds and finish this once and for all.

  Chapter Ten

  Kimber

  “Shit,” I cursed as the plate I’d gotten out of the cupboard fell to the floor and shattered. My mind was muddled, my thoughts on Cullen.

  I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to feel.

  I bent down and started picking up the shards, feeling my brows knit, as everything was so damn confusing. The weather was raging outside, even worse than it had been just an hour ago.

  Trapped in here with a man who wanted to kill me.

  I stood and tossed the broken shards in the trash then looked at the counter, where the ham and lettuce, tomato and cheese sat. I’d been making him something to eat, trying to get my mind off… everything.

  I braced my hands on the edge of the island in the center of the kitchen, thinking about Cullen, the man I currently had restrained to my headboard. God, what was wrong with me? There was a difference between healing and helping someone, and keeping them against their will. It was very clear he didn’t want to be here, didn’t want my help.

  Yet I couldn’t stop being myself to let him go. Hell, I didn’t even know if he’d let me get out of this unscathed.

  I looked down the hallway at where the bedroom door was closed, wondering what he was thinking, feeling. How angry was he right now? Angry enough to hate me when this was all said and done? Angry enough to wrap his hands around my throat and squeeze the life out of me?

  Maybe I could convince him otherwise. Maybe I could be with him.

  What the hell? No, I couldn’t be with a man like him. Never... right?

  I turned my attention back to the food on the counter, the bread sitting off to the side, the sandwich ingredients ready to be placed on those twin pieces. He had to be hungry. Thirsty too. It had been hours since I’d brought him back to my place.

  I washed my hands and started making the sandwich, and once everything was piled on the plate, I added a handful of chips on the china. I reached out with my free hand for a bottle of water and turned, ready to go back to the room, when a startled cry left me.

  Involuntarily, I took a step back, the plate falling from my grasp as it shattered on the floor, all the ingredients scattering across my feet. I still held the bottle of water, my fingers wrapped tightly around the plastic, the sound of my grip squeezing it loud and obscene.

  Just twenty feet from me was Cullen, his massive body taking up the entire entryway of the hallway. Shadows partially concealed him, but it was the gun he held that had my heart stopping.

  He still had the twine wrapped around his wrists, and I could see blood covering his forearms.

  “Oh my God,” I found myself saying and snapped my gaze back up to his face. He was unmoving, not even blinking. I didn’t even think he breathed. “What are you going to do?” I felt like I stuttered those words out. “Kill me?” I didn’t know why I asked that, the question hanging between us as if it was almost a challenge, a taunt.

  I was terrified in this moment, seeing him standing there like some kind of menace, some kind of monster. But even though I felt that way, even though my heart was racing, and adrenaline was rushing through my veins, and the flight-or-fight response rose up in me violently, I also felt… arousal. It was as if my life balanced on the precipice of being extinguished, like there was this rush, this desire that clenched through every single part of me, squeezing my veins, my lungs, my very heart until I was gasping for air.

  And all the while, I stood there, unable to move or run, react or fight back.

  “Well?” That lone word was whispered from me, and even though he took a step forward, and another, still I stayed rooted to the spot. The water bottle fell from my hand and landed on the island before rolling off the granite and onto the ground with a thud.

  Move. Run. Fight back.

  Those words played over and over in my mind in rapid succession as perspiration dotted my brow, as my breathing increased. And the closer he got, the more reality set in.

  I found myself taking a step back and then finally turned and all but ran toward the front door, unsure where I would go, how I would escape. The storm was brutal outside. I wouldn’t even be able to see five feet in front of me. And I had no shoes on, no jacket. But none of that mattered, because all I was thinking about was getting out of here, getting away from him. Surviving.

  But was I really trying to get away from him? Was I really trying to do that? Or was I just telling myself that to make it seem better that I had twisted desires for a man who wanted me dead?

  Before I could reach the front door, I felt his hand on my wrist. It wasn’t painful, wasn’t forceful. It was firm, secure. He spun me around and pressed me against the wall, his body heat slamming into me, the very presence of him intimidating. He blocked out everything behind him.

  All I saw was him.

  He took up my entire field of vision, and everything in me heightened, alert. I had to crane my head back just to look into his face, and there was no way I couldn’t. No way I wouldn’t. I had to read him, his expression, to try to find out what he would do, what his next step would be.

  “What are you going to do to me?” I whispered, my voice thick, and it had nothing to do with fear.

  It had everything to do with need.

  I stared into his dark eyes, ones that were like a demon’s, or maybe the very devil himself.

  “Who are you?” I whispered when I could breathe again.

  His expression was stone cold. Hard. But his eyes burned fire.

  “I’m the bad guy.”

  Yes. Yes, he was.

  Long seconds passed, the tension between us so thick it could have been cut into with a knife. And as he stared at me, as I felt my heart racing this war-drum beat, I knew what I wanted. I knew what I wanted Cullen to do.

  Kiss me. Take me.

  Claim me.

  As if he read my mind, he let out this harsh groan, his hand by my head, the gun still in his grasp. The coldness of the metal touched my temple, turning me on even more.

  “Fuck,” he groaned to himself right before he slammed his mouth on mine and gave me exactly what I desperately needed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cullen

  Fuck, what was I doing?

  I had my hand cupping the side of her face, tilting her head back and kissing her like I was starving. Like I was dying for her flavor, the feel of her... the very essence of her body.

  And I was.

  I felt like I was burning alive from the inside out and the only way to extinguish those flames was to make her mine, to take her and claim her. To show her that her strength gave me strength and turned me on more.

  I didn’t want to stop kissing her. Never.

  I tilted my head to the side and deepened the kiss, stroking my tongue along her lips. How would she feel if she knew this was the first time I’d done this? The first time I’d touched a woman… had my lips on one?

  Never breaking the seal of our mouths, I lowered the hand holding the gun and tucked the weapon at the small of my back, inside the waistband of my jeans. The metal was cold against my skin, but it felt good on my overheated flesh.

  And then I had both hands cupping the sides of her neck, keeping her stationed as I mouth fucked her with my lips and tongue, dominating the situation.

  God, she felt, smelled, tasted incredible.

  The little sound
s of pleasure she made fueled me on even more. But then reality set in.

  I hadn’t been lying when I admitted I was a bad man. I’d maimed, stolen, and hurt to survive. And I’d do those things again and again. It was in my blood, my nature, the very make-up of my DNA.

  A bad man.

  She was too good for me, too sweet and kind and caring. Despite the way I treated her, the fact that I’d threatened her with my gun, she still persisted, insisted on caring for me.

  “Fuck,” I muttered against her mouth and forced myself to pull back. She kept her hands on my waist, her nails digging into my flesh as she tried to keep me close. I stared into her face, her expression drug-like, euphoric.

  “You stopped,” she whispered in a thick, pleasure-laced voice. Her lips were red and swollen, glossy from what I’d just been doing to them.

  Kissing her like I was hungry, starving.

  “Why’d you stop?” Her eyes were partially closed, but I could see her pupils were dilated.

  She wanted more. She wanted me.

  Fuck, I wanted this so damn much, but this unknown fear gripped me. I was dizzy, my heart raced, my cock throbbed, and my balls were drawn up tight. I’d never experienced this before, and even though it was this unusual feeling, I knew I didn’t want it to end.

  I didn’t answer her, just pressed my chest back to hers and growled low and in need when I felt how hard her nipples were. I slammed my mouth on hers, stroked the seam of her lips with my tongue, silently urging her to open for me. And she did. Fuck, did she ever.

  I turned us away from the wall and slid my hands down to her ass, gripping the lush, curved mounds in my big palms. I felt how she rose up on her toes, her belly sliding against my hard dick.

  Another groan was ripped from me, and I kissed her even harder.

  “I’ve never done this.” I growled the words again and again, those four words leaving me of their own accord. I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop myself.

  I didn’t want to.

  I found us by the kitchen island. Thank fuck it was already cleaned off, because I lifted Kimber up and set her sweet ass right on the granite. She spread her legs for me, and I grunted as my hard dick came right in contact with her pussy. It didn’t matter that there were clothes between us, stopping me from feeling her bare, raw.

  I would soon enough.

  It was hard as fuck—literally and figuratively—but I pulled away from her, my hands on either side of her hips, the granite warming under my outstretched palms. I stared into her face, her cheeks flushed, her pupils dilated, and her eyes wide. Her lips were swollen and glossy from my kiss, and this groan ripped from me at the sight, at knowing I was the one who made them look like that.

  I was the one who made her feel like this.

  “Don’t stop,” she said softly, begging, pleading.

  I curled my hands into tight fists, shaking my head slowly. “No fucking way I’m stopping, Kimber.” I leaned in and kissed her again, sliding one hand up her arm and cupping the side of her face, my thumb tilting her head back so I could delve deeper, fuck her mouth with my tongue... make her take it.

  And she did.

  I was so inexperienced in this kind of thing, my sexual partners equaling zero. I’d never touched a woman, never even fucking kissed one. Here I was, in my thirties, experiencing this kind of pleasure for the very first time in my life. It overwhelmed me, excited me. Scared the fuck out of me.

  But I didn’t want it to stop.

  I never wanted it to stop.

  And I only ever wanted to experience this with Kimber, over and over again until both of us were drunk off the sensations and needing more.

  I dragged my lips and tongue along her cheek, over her jawline, and down her neck. I sucked at the pulse point right below her ear, feeling it race, knowing it was because of me that her heart pounded so hard and fast.

  She had her hands clenched on my shoulders now, her nails digging into my skin. God, that pain felt so good coming from her. While still sucking and licking at the soft flesh of her throat, I curled my fingers under the waistband of her pants. She gasped against my lips.

  I didn’t have to say anything as I undid the button and pulled the zipper down. She rose up slightly, her hands now flat on the kitchen island. Kimberly lifted her ass up so I could shimmy the cotton of her pants and panties over her ass and down her thighs. She kicked the material off, and it landed with a soft thud on the ground beside me.

  I stepped in closer, sliding my hands along her dipped-in waist, and continued down until I felt her hips flare out. God, she was curvy and perfect, warm and soft.

  She was all mine.

  I sunk to my knees, and despite the fact that I had absolutely no experience in this, I found myself between her thighs, my hands on her knees, pushing her legs farther apart, staring at the perfection that was the very center of her.

  God, she was pink and swollen, soaked for me. And she smelled delicious, this sweet aroma with a slight musk that had my cock jerking and pre-cum starting to make the front of my jeans damp. My balls were drawn up, aching, so full. I wanted to fill her up, wanted to make her take every single ounce of my seed into her body.

  I slowly trailed my gaze up her belly, over her breasts, her nipples tight as they pressed against her shirt. And then I looked at her face. Her eyes were wide, this surprised expression reflected back.

  “You ever had anyone lick this pretty pussy, Kimber?” I was being a vulgar bastard right now, but I couldn’t help myself. I needed her to say the words. I needed her to admit it over and over again until it was cemented in both of our minds.

  Until there was absolutely no doubt.

  She slowly shook her head and licked her plump, red lips. “No,” she whispered.

  I held back the grunt that was about to break free. “I’ve never done this, baby,” I whispered in a harsh tone. “Do you want me to lick you between your thighs, to taste you, run my tongue up your center?” God, despite the fact that I was a virgin in every sense of the word, the things I said sounded almost like I was this experienced fucking male, knowing how to pleasure a woman, knowing exactly what to say to be this dominating asshole.

  And that couldn’t be further from the truth.

  The way she started breathing harder, the way her pulse kicked up even higher at the base of her throat, told me she liked it. She liked hearing me talk like this, and I liked murmuring the words to her.

  She licked her lips again and looked down at my chest for a suspended moment before slowly trailing her eyes back up to my face. “I want you to do it all, Cullen.”

  Fuck, the way she said those words so softly, so sweetly, as if she was hesitant, as if she was shy to utter them, had my cock jerking so fiercely I had to reach down and adjust myself. I was aching. I’d never been this hard in my entire life.

  Nothing else was said as I stared down at her pussy, as I slipped my hands along her inner thighs and pressed my thumbs on either side of her lips, gently pulling them apart, seeing her pink center, how wet and glossy she was for me.

  How primed Kimber was.

  “Lie back for me,” I said, ordered in the harshest way, my voice so guttural. I’d never heard this tone come from me before.

  But then again, I’d never felt this way before either.

  And when she lay back, I used my shoulders to spread her legs impossibly wider, moving closer, needing my face right up in her pretty fucking cunt.

  I leaned in and closed my eyes, smelling how sweet she was. I swear to God, I almost came right then and there, soaking the front of my jeans like a fucking teenager unable to control himself.

  I should’ve gone slow, took my time, savored this moment, but all I could do was absorb this attraction, this desperate need to have her flavor, her essence in my mouth, running down my throat, imprinting on every single part of my body from the inside out.

  And so I leaned in and devoured her, never having been with a woman but instinctually knowing exactly how to
touch her, where to suck and lick, how to pleasure her so she cried out for more. And when her hands landed in my hair, pulling at the strands, tugging at them in a fierce, almost violent manner, I felt my cock jerk once more.

  Fuck, I was so ready to feel her clenching around me, her body clutching at mine, the sound of her pleasure filling my head. I was so ready to make Kimber mine that stars danced behind my closed lids as I leaned in and licked at the center of her, dragged my tongue up her slit, and sucked on her clit.

  I felt my cock jerk again, my balls drawn up so tightly they hurt, ached, were so filled with my seed I knew I’d explode once I finally got off. I’d never tasted, felt, smelled anything as good as Kimber. And I knew I never would.

  She was the end all of everything for me.

  She was everything to me.

  All I needed was this short span of time to be with her to know that. Because when something made you feel alive for the very first time in your life, you didn’t walk away. You grabbed it with both hands and pulled it closer, knowing there was nothing better in this fucking world than feeling like you belonged.

  And that’s how Kimber made me feel.

  And fuck everything else.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kimber

  My heart was beating hard, fast, painfully erratic as I tried to calm my breathing.

  “Tell me,” he demanded, although he didn’t specify what he wanted me to say.

  I knew though.

  “I want you, Cullen,” I whispered, and a second later, this harsh growl left him. He stood, hauled me toward him, my chest slamming into his, my breasts pressing to his hardness. God, he was hard. All over.

  A startled, pleasure-filled sound left me. He grabbed my hips and pulled me forward, the feel of his massively hard, thick, and long cock digging into my belly.