Fearless (Broken Love Book 5)

by B. B. Reid

  “Yes, Keiran,” she answered sounding sleepy and defiant.

  Such a handful.

  “Where are you?” I demanded even as my hand began to stroke.

  I heard her sigh and imagined the feel of her breath on my dick. It hardened in response.

  “It’s almost three in the morning. Besides, I told you before. We need time apart to think.”

  “And I told you that you belong here.” With me.

  “So you can try to scare me?”

  Fuck. Why did the thought of feeling her tremble beneath me in fear cause me to lift my hips with need?

  “Oh, wait.” She laughed but it was filled with sarcasm rather than humor. “You want me back so you can protect me.”

  “No, baby. I want to control you.”

  The hitch in her breath had conveyed her true feelings before she said, “What?”

  “I crave your fear, and I want you safe. But I need to control you.” I bit my lip to keep from giving myself away and gave in to the demand for pleasure. My hand stroked faster.

  “Is this always how it will be?” When I didn’t respond, she called my name. “Keiran?”

  “Yeah, baby?” I tried to keep my voice neutral, but the soft moan I’m sure she didn’t mean to release gave her away.

  “Keiran… are you—are you touching yourself?”

  “I need you.” I didn’t bother to conceal my pleasure.

  “What are you doing to me?” she asked, but I could tell it was rhetorical. She was silent, and I wondered if she was listening to me until I heard her breathing quicken. I decided to poke the sensual beast coming awake inside her.

  “Just because you aren’t home with me where you belong, doesn’t mean you can leave me hard and wanting.” And I was damn hard. “If you were home, you’d be in our bed. I’d lay you on your back and kiss your soft skin until you were hot enough to set us both on fire. Then I’d spread your legs…” I heard the sound of sheets rustling and knew she obeyed my hidden command. “I’d nibble on your thighs so you’d hurt so good. You like when I make it hurt, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  My cock released a little drop of pleasure at the sound of her moan. I pictured her thighs flushed with heat and my mark of possession. “I’d touch your clit, baby.”

  “Ok,” she agreed, and I smiled knowing she was doing just that.

  “You’d want me to stroke you fast so you can find release, but you wouldn’t do that, would you? You’re a good girl.”

  “Damn you, Keiran.”

  “Slow—I’d savor it—how wet you are and how hot your pussy feels. Savor it.”

  “I want to come.”

  “I know you do, but I’m still not inside you.”

  I’d never grow tired of the sound of her begging. I was a slave to her need. My own cock, straining against my hand as the physical need to release escaped and traveled down the length, proved that. I used the added lubrication to glide my hand up and down easier.

  “If you were here,” I continued the game, “I would use my fingers to fill you.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’d beg for my mouth.”

  “I want it.”

  “My tongue would come next so I could taste you.”

  “Please.”

  “You’d move against me, sending my fingers deeper inside you. You’d use me, baby and I’d let you.”

  God, I was so close.

  “You’d be right on the edge and just when you’re begging to be fucked—”

  “Oh, God,” she cried. I knew she was much too close to stop now.

  “I’d take you, Lake. I’d fuck you so goddamn hard.”

  My hips tensed with the need to drive into her and give her everything I had promised, and I came.

  I fucking came.

  Involuntarily, I released a hoarse shout that mirrored her cry on the other end of the line. My name on her lips was all I could hear. Nothing else mattered.

  The line became quiet as we settled into the silence of the aftermath. When seconds turned into long minutes, I picked the phone up, ignoring the sweat and leftover release and disengaged the speaker. I started to speak, but only when I hesitated did I realize how nervous I had become at the possibility of rejection.

  “Keiran?” she called, sounding just as nervous as I felt.

  “Come home, Lake.”

  “I—” Silence returned and then she quickly said, “I can’t.”

  The line disconnected, leaving me with a soft cock, a mess, and even more pissed off than I was before.

  Chapter Twelve

  LAKE

  I silenced my phone, shoving it under the pillow—as if it could protect me from giving in and running home, just as he had demanded.

  What the hell had I done?

  I told myself I was done taking orders, but when I heard his voice and shared his release, I wanted nothing more than to obey.

  I rolled onto my stomach and groaned into the pillow. The only thing keeping me sane was to know he was in no better shape than I was.

  The sound of movement traveling from the front of the apartment had me shooting upright. Had Keiran found me after all?

  Just as quickly, I shook my head, realizing how silly that idea was.

  When I heard stumbling, I figured Di must have just come in from another night of drinking. A male groan followed by a giggle and I knew she must have brought someone home with her. My head stopped mid shake when I remembered I wasn’t going to judge. I knew Di was screwed up, and the extent became clearer with each encounter. Keiran had told me a summarized account of what had happened to her starting as a young girl thanks to her father.

  Actually, it was all because of her father.

  I still couldn’t believe Mario prostituted his own daughter.

  And then to have never met her mother… Although, from what Willow and Keiran had told me about Esmerelda, I considered her fortunate. She disappeared after her attempt to kill Keiran had failed, but knowing she was still out there didn’t make me feel any safer.

  She’d try again.

  It was only a matter of when.

  Being with Keiran didn’t eliminate the constant fight for survival. I’d learned how to survive him and now I was learning how to survive with him.

  The unmistakable sound of sex began to drift underneath the door and my eyes widened when I realized they were doing it right in the hall!

  I stormed from the bed and yanked open the door. I didn’t stop to think about it. I should have stopped to think.

  The sight of a tall, muscular man with dark hair—who still wore all his clothes while Di was naked from the waist down—greeted me. His dark jeans were lowered, showing off his muscular ass that flexed with each hard, upward thrust. Di whimpered while her head rested against the wall. A tortured expression marred her features even as her nails dug into his shoulders.

  “Harder. Please harder.”

  Her fingers dropped from his shoulders to grip his powerful ass, encouraging him to take her the way she pleaded. He obliged and powered forward with impossible force. I watched as his head turned ever so slightly to take her lips.

  And that’s when recognition hit me hard.

  I was stuck. Stumped. Stupefied.

  Say something!

  “Q?”

  What followed was like watching a fifty-car pile-up on the freeway—except they froze. Di’s eyes popped open and stared back at me. She didn’t look surprised or sorry. Her eyes were empty of emotion.

  “Oh, shit,” the guy, who I quickly realized was not Q but looked a lot like him, swore. He dropped Di’s legs from around his waist and quickly yanked up his jeans. Di took her time lowering her dress, unbothered by her nakedness. Her thong lay at their feet, forgotten.

  “Sorry, girly. Forgot you were here.” She giggled but forgot to add humor. Her guest finally turned, giving me a full picture. He had the short, dark hair and matching eyes, and even the stature that screamed Q. The only thing he lacked wa
s the quiet reserve.

  “She’s fucking hot. Can she join?” he asked with a lustful stare that would have unnerved me much like Keiran’s did. The only flaw was, he wasn’t Keiran so it did nothing for me.

  “If you want to keep your balls and your life and in that order, I suggest you never think that thought again,” Di answered dryly.

  “That’s too bad.” He took one last pass at me with his eyes and then retreated for the bathroom indicating he’d been here before.

  “Boyfriend of yours?” I questioned.

  “I like to think of him as a fuck buddy. He’s reliable, available, and has a big cock.”

  “He looks like Q.” Shit, I didn’t mean to say that. Her emotionless gaze now burned with disdain and a mocking acknowledgment of my observation. Her expression read, ‘Yeah so?’

  “Sorry. I like the taste of my feet.”

  She chuckled and rolled her eyes before pushing away from the wall. “I’ll try not to keep you awake,” she promised as she disappeared into the bathroom with her Q lookalike.

  I didn’t realize I was still standing there staring after her until the bathroom door reopened. I dove back into the safety of her guest bedroom to prevent another awkward situation with the reminder that her sex life was none of my business.

  Later, I found that early afternoon pancakes could momentarily cure any awkward situation. Di had trouble getting up due to a hangover—and hard sex, if the sounds coming from her bedroom were anything to go by—and I just needed the escape sleep promised, so I slept in.

  Di’s friend was gone so it was just the two of us, but I couldn’t get the sight of her being fucked out of my head. I kept seeing her face contorted with torture rather than pleasure. The way she clung to him and begged for more said it wasn’t physical pain that caused her torment.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I looked up to see her take a sip of her coffee and to stare at me over the rim of her cup. I could tell she found it amusing. Even though I couldn’t see her lips, I knew she was smirking.

  “I didn’t take you for a coffee person,” I commented, ignoring her question.

  She shrugged and took another sip. “It keeps me from crawling back into bed and staying there. It was either this or alcohol.” My mouth suddenly felt dry, so I took a sip of orange juice. Or maybe I just needed a distraction.

  “So do you?” she repeated.

  “No. I think I saw enough. More than enough,” I added.

  “Did you touch yourself?”

  I regrettably spit out the second sip of orange juice I had just taken. She looked down in disgust at the mess I had made and then handed me a napkin.

  “What?” I coughed.

  “I’m just wondering if you were shocked by more than just catching the act. Maybe you were turned on?”

  “Oh God, no,” I groaned in horror. She burst into laughter, and I knew it was at my expense. “You’re fucking with me,” I guessed with narrowed eyes.

  “Yeah, just a little. Have you never been caught in the act before?”

  “Yeah, actually, I have.” I could tell my admission surprised her.

  “Really?”

  “Keenan.”

  An involuntary shiver wracked my body at the memory of Keiran fucking me without mercy over his father’s kitchen table. Keenan had walked in and taunted me about how much I shamefully enjoyed the harsh pounding fuck. Something in his voice told me he may have even known I liked being watched, too.

  It was something I’d never admit to Keiran. He was too possessive, so it was a good thing I didn’t have a burning desire or fetish for voyeurism. The possibility of being caught only served as something to tip the edge.

  “That doesn’t surprise me. He’s a little shit. He probably walked in on purpose.”

  “Yeah, probably,” I agreed absentmindedly. My mind wasn’t on Keenan. I was craving the feel of his older brother taking me.

  Maybe I should go home.

  “I walked in on Dash and Willow, too,” I offered just to dim the heat.

  “Now that I’d love to see. Dash is yummy.”

  “Sorry. Willow’s got that locked down with no plans to free him, ever.”

  “I don’t want to claim him. I just want to ride his face and maybe anything else he has to offer.”

  If I had juice in my mouth that time, I definitely would have made an even bigger mess. “Too much,” I protested with a laugh.

  “Sorry. I’ll keep it in my pants,” she sighed.

  “Q might get jealous.” I was instigating. I needed to know if something was or could be between them, but her eyes only darkened with anger, and maybe shame.

  “I’m nothing but a dirty memory to Q. A dirty memory he’s already forgotten.”

  The regret in her voice was heartbreaking, and I wondered once again at the past Q and Di shared. I realized the silence that fell between had stretched too long. Her eyes were downcast, and she was no longer eating. I searched for a way to unfuck this situation and rescue my foot, yet again.

  “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Maybe I should have had a drink,” she murmured. A knock at the door saved me from answering that. The last thing Di needed to do was ignore her problems, but I doubt she’d listen anyway. She disappeared to answer the door, and I put our dishes in the sink.

  “What are you doing here and who are you?” I heard her say.

  Shit.

  “Is she here?” I heard Q question.

  Fuck!

  “Is who here?”

  “Don’t fuck with me, Diana.”

  “Oooh, Diana. So formal considering our history. You do remember you used to fuck my brains out when we were little more than tots, don’t you?”

  I hurried to the door and turned the corner in time to see Keiran’s face twist with disgust. Beside him was an equally pissed off Q and a disturbed Jesse, whose astonishment mirrored my own. I was still sore with him so I couldn’t muster any sympathy for him.

  Keiran noticed me almost immediately. He pushed past Di and into the apartment. He was crazy mad. It was all there in his storm-gray eyes.

  “Are you fucking crazy?”

  “Keiran, I told you last night I can’t do this with you right now.”

  “You come here of all places?”

  “What’s wrong with here?”

  “Yeah,” Di cosigned. “What’s wrong with here?”

  Keiran didn’t bother to acknowledge her. It was Q who spoke up. “Your mother is looking for you, Diana.”

  * * *

  Keiran threatened to handcuff me to the steering wheel if I wouldn’t come willingly, and he was mad—and crazy—enough for me to believe him, so I thanked Di for her hospitality, ignored Jesse, who pleaded with his eyes for forgiveness, and said goodbye.

  Keiran actually scolded me when we drove away. Q had driven his own car but stayed behind to deal with the aftermath. Jesse sat in the back seat fidgeting, and I secretly enjoyed his discomfort. His loyalty had clearly shifted so as long as Keiran and I were at odds, he was the enemy.

  “Lake, I’m sorry—”

  “Shut it,” Keiran and I ordered simultaneously. I watched Keiran’s jaw tighten as he kept his gaze fixed on the road. I managed to keep my expression neutral when he sensed my stare and glanced toward me. In my peripheral, I caught Jesse looking between us as if we’d grown two heads.

  “Why did you bring him anyway?”

  “He wanted to make sure you and he didn’t do anything stupid,” Jesse answered sarcastically. I ignored him and faced forward again. Only five more hours of uncomfortable tension to go.

  At some point, I’d fallen asleep and slept through Keiran dropping off Jesse and driving us home. It wasn’t until I felt his arms around me and he lifted me that I woke up.

  “Welcome home,” he taunted. I looked up and was blinded by his shit-eating grin and wondered how bad things could get if I slapped it off his face.

  “Don’t be so smug. I could always handcuff you
to the bed again and this time, throw away the key.”

  The anger in his eyes should have scared me, but it tickled me with delight instead. “Don’t ever do that again,” he warned.

  “You handcuff me all the time. Is there some kind of double standard to foreplay now?”

  “Have I ever handcuffed you and ran away?”

  “I thought I’d shake things up a bit so our sex life doesn’t go stale.”

  I didn’t expect him to drop me on the couch and step back. I expected him to try and overpower me with his male ego. He only stared down at me as if trying to piece together a tough equation. It was then I realized how exhausted he appeared. Stress lines decorated his forehead and the bags underneath his eyes took away from the striking irises.

  “I was really okay,” I said, giving in. “I just needed to think and… I was scared.” I sucked in as much air as I could to hide the alarm that blared within.

  When had admitting fear become so hard? Once upon a time, I lived in fear until it was as natural as breathing.

  “I’m scaring myself.”

  He hesitated and then sat down next to me. “You’re scaring me, too.” I couldn’t recall a time when I’d heard him speak so softly. It turns out Mitch’s death and my lies were leading to a lot of firsts for us.

  Keiran had admitted he was afraid and it was because of me.

  “So what do we do about it?”

  He shook his head and stared deep into my eyes. “Just answer one question first. Did I do this?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Did loving me do this to you?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered reluctantly. “I only know I wanted to do anything I could to keep you around even it if meant corrupting myself along the way.”

  He blew out a harsh breath. “I don’t know if I can accept that. I don’t want you corrupted. I never wanted that for you.”

  My heart rate accelerated and my chest grew too tight. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t—

  “Ar—are you breaking up with me?” He looked as surprised by his words as I was.

  “I probably should…”

  No.

  He leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes tight. I wanted to scream and demand he open them again. I needed to see his eyes. I needed to know if this was real.