by Stacy Gail
“That’s exactly how you feel when you’re inside me—like you were made for me. Where’d you get this?” she asked, touching the scar that went through his eyebrow.
“Remember when I said my mom knocked me for a loop before I threw her to my dad? She knocked me into the stairs in the foyer, and I banged my head on a corner of one of the risers. Ripped it right open.”
The cooing sound of sympathy she made healed him better than any medicine on the planet. “And this one?”
He nearly groaned when she ran gentle fingers over an old jagged scar to the left of his navel. “Got in the way of a steer that thought he was a bull when I was a kid.”
“You Brody boys just can’t seem to stay out of trouble, can you?” She bent forward, her hair falling over him as she caressed the scar first with her lips, then with her tongue.
Shit, that felt good.
“The only scar I have isn’t nearly as cool as yours. I had an appendectomy when I was seventeen.” Her breath fluttered over his sensitized skin as she spoke, pausing here and there as she covered his lower abdomen with swirling, tasting kisses. “Almost died, too. Come to find out, redheads and anesthesia don’t mix well. But I’m glad I pulled through. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this feast for the world.” She scooted farther down his legs so her mouth could blaze a trail right down to his cock, now standing hard at attention. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Dallas.” Her name barely managed to make it through the barrier of his teeth as his jaw locked and his temperature shot through the roof. God almighty, he was about to spontaneously combust with her sweet, wet mouth that close to his dick. “Suck me off hard, baby. Do it.”
“I’m savoring you.” With a hungry smile, she kept her eyes on his while wrapping her fingers around his hardened flesh and licking the side of it, from base to throbbing tip.
“Fuck.” He arched into her, helpless to stop himself. “Fuck me, baby.”
“I am.” With her eyes still on his, she rolled her tongue around the purpling crown, lavishing such attention on the super-sensitive ridge for what seemed like eternity that it took every ounce of control he had not to come right then. Sweat prickled along his skin, almost unnoticed as he strained to keep a tight leash on himself. That was why he closed his eyes as she at last took him fully into her mouth.
Yes.
If heaven wasn’t exactly like this, he never wanted to go. All he needed was Dallas and that seriously talented mouth of hers, and he’d have all the heaven he’d ever need.
“Dallas.” He whispered her name, then groaned as the pleasure ran like a spark along a fuse, from his cock to every nerve in his body. Blindly he plowed his fingers through her hair and thrust into that sweet, wet suction. Her tongue stroked him without mercy, and he loved every moment of it. He shuddered under the crushing pressure of holding himself in check, because he wanted to fuck her face forever.
She was right. No matter how insane it was, and no matter how star-crossed they seemed, he couldn’t deny that they fit each other.
In every possible way.
A telltale rush of warmth started at the base of his spine, and it took every ounce of will power he had to drag her mouth away from him before he lost control. Blindly he grabbed at his wallet, found the last condom he had left, got it on, and flipped her onto her stomach.
“Killian—”
“One of these days we’ll mouth-fuck each other until we’re unconscious. But right now I got work to do, because I want you with me when I come.” He got to his knees behind her, pulled her up by the hips while keeping her head down, and nudged her legs far apart. “Hitting you hard and fast, Spice, because I’m so damn close to losing it.”
“Do it.” Her lower back arched while her legs spread wider, offering herself up like the gift she was. “Fuck me hard, Killian, just as hard as I’m going to fuck you.”
“That’s my Spice.” With his heart thudding like a jackhammer against his ribs, he found her threshold and surged inside. She was so slick he glided in with ease, and she felt so good he couldn’t stop a groan of pleasure as her pussy gloved him. “Made for me,” he breathed reverently, reaching a hand around to slide his fingers into her cleft, and he didn’t stop until he rested against her clit. “You were fucking made for me.”
“Oh, yes, Killian.” She reared back against him, impaling herself on his cock while at the same time pressing a hand over his to help him stroke her just the way she liked it. “Yes, yes...”
“You like that?” He pressed harder, stroking that hot, slick nub with increasing urgency. Her ragged moan was music to his ears. “Yeah, you like that.”
“Yes. Oh...God...Killian.”
“I fucking love being inside you,” he gritted out, even as he felt the hot depths sheathing him spasm around his cock. His muscled tensed, his balls contracted, and the whole world seemed to hold its breath...
Then he came, the rush of ecstasy so overwhelming it almost drowned out Dallas’s cries of completion. He pumped into her with all the fierce glory of finding that pinnacle of pleasure in her, this impossible woman who fit him so well.
She was still gasping when he finally returned to earth, and that was exactly what being inside her was like—an out-of-body experience that shot him straight into the heart of heaven. As reality crystallized around him, he saw she’d gripped the fitted sheet so hard she’d tugged it off the mattress. The sight of that crumpled-up sheet, coupled with the gasps that moved the subtle ladder of her rib cage, filled him with an even greater sense of satisfaction than coming his brains out.
“We’re getting good at this.” Gently he pulled out, then smiled when she collapsed bonelessly onto her side. “Just think how good it’ll be once we’ve got some practice under our belts.”
“Oh, my God.” Dazed eyes lifted to his, and his whole world narrowed down to that love-drunk glow in those peridot depths. “How is it possible that you can almost get me to orgasm just by talking? Say something like that again, and I swear I’ll do it.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?” He chuckled, because Jesus, how could he not? Delighted with her, he leaned over her to tell her exactly what he planned to do to her next when the sound of the doorbell pealed through the house.
“I will fucking kill whoever’s ringing that fucking bell at eight in the fucking morning. Fuck.” He ignored her snort of laughter as he rolled out of bed and snagged up his jeans. He slammed into them without underwear as he headed out the door, nearly killed himself going down the stairs before he had them fully pulled on, and he was still fastening them up when he jerked the front door open with murder on his mind.
“What the actual fuck?” Des all but shouted the moment the door was open.
Chapter Fourteen
A yell and a loud crash from downstairs brought Dallas popping out of bed like she worked on a spring. Hastily she grabbed up the first thing she could get her hands on—Killian’s button down shirt—and her jeans. In the thirty seconds it took to make herself somewhat decent, she heard another crash and a boatload of swear words.
What the hell was going on?
Uncaring that she’d buttoned just three buttons of Killian’s shirt—and buttoned them all lopsided—she raced toward the stairs and was halfway down them when she heard the impact of flesh against flesh a heartbeat before she saw Killian, framed in the open front door, stumble across the verandah.
Holy shit.
A raven-haired man in jeans and a black work shirt stalked after him, only to get stopped in his tracks with a sharp jab to the chin from Killian.
Holy shit!
“Stop!” Barefoot, she raced to the open doorway, took in the scene of two men squaring off, with Killian bare-chested and sporting a bleeding lip, and the other man—much thinner and with a wiry build—looked like he was readying to tear Killian’s head off. “Stop right there! I’m calling the police!” Which would be a nifty trick, since she wasn’t anywhere near a phone.
“Stay the hell o
ut of this, Dallas.” Killian’s voice was a vicious snarl that chilled her to the bone. “Let’s just let Des work through his little temper tantrum so he can get all that bitchy hostility out of his system.”
“Des?” She gasped, turning to stare at the thinner man. In the half-second she had before he went for Killian once more, she could hardly reconcile the image of the cherubic, round-faced, raven-haired boy with smiling light green eyes, to the square-jawed man with angular cheekbones, two-day-old scruff and murder in his eyes. If they’d passed each other on the street, she never would have recognized him. And she probably would have crossed to the other side, just to stay safe. “Oh, my God. Des.”
Her presence wasn’t even acknowledged as her little brother locked onto his target. He threw a hard right to Killian’s gut; by now she knew that Des might as well have punched a brick wall for all the good it would do him, but it still made her cringe. Not surprisingly, Killian absorbed the hit and jabbed at Des again, this time hard enough to snap his head back.
Oh, shit.
“Calm the fuck down, Desmond.” Killian’s growl seemed to fill the whole world even as Des was knocked back a step. After Killian’s last jab, blood dripped from her brother’s nose like an open faucet, and the light in his eyes became downright crazed. “You wanna tangle with me, fine. But do it after you’ve fully recovered so I can give you a proper ass-kick—”
With a low roar, Des threw himself at Killian in an impressive football-style tackle.
“Stop it!” The semi-scream of horror erupted from Dallas as both men tumbled down the verandah stairs. If they both walked away from this without something broken—like their necks—it would be a frigging miracle.
They made her a believer in the divine when they hit the dirt and hopped back up so they could continue trying to demolish each other. She shouldn’t have worried, obviously. After all, she’d always heard that guardian angels looked out for children and fools.
Killian and Des were definitely not children.
“Fucking idiot, throwing your frail ass around.” Killian looked none the worse for wear after his tumble down the steps, though there was now blood smeared on the teeth he bared at Des. “What’s the damn point of my going easy on you when you pull a boneheaded move like that?”
“Going easy on me?” There was now a cut above Des’s eye in addition to his bloody nose, but the fight in his eyes was hotter than ever. Hot enough, anyway, to burn away all signs of intelligent life. “You’re going to pay for that, along with the goddamn insult of fucking Dallas so you can rub my nose in just how whorish my side of the family is.”
Dallas’s sharp intake of breath hurt her throat.
What...?
Her sweet, much-adored little brother thought she was...
Whorish.
Oh, no.
No.
He did not get to say that shit about her.
No fucking way.
Killian made a sound of impatience. “Are you serious? You think that’s what I’m—”
Clearly Des didn’t want to hear it. Again he rocketed toward Killian, who this time evaded just enough to push Des into her car hard enough to set off the alarm.
That was just about enough of that.
Fury boiled through her veins as she ran down the verandah’s side stairs and grabbed up a neatly coiled garden hose she’d seen ranch workers use to water the main house’s meticulously kept flowerbeds and hanging baskets. After cranking the spigot on as far as it would go, she ran back around the front, uncoiling the hose as she went, gripped the spray nozzle attached to the hose, and opened fire.
“Holy shi—” That was as far as Des got before he got a face full of pressurized water, and his charge stopped dead in his tracks. Killian, his back to her, ducked out of the worst of the spray, but not before he got a thorough soaking. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but in that moment she was furious with both of them.
“Enough, you idiots.” Shaking as much from upset as she was from rage, Dallas finally relaxed her hold on the water nozzle but kept it aimed at them, just in case they thought she was joking. “It’s too fucking early to deal with this level of dumbassery. You want to go another few rounds, that’s fine by me. But you’ll do it far away from here, and you’ll do it without dragging my name into it. If you ever, ever do that again, or try to slut-shame me when it takes two to tango—especially when the man I tangoed with is standing right there not defending me—”
“What the hell, Dallas,” Killian muttered, scowling.
She ignored him. “Then I swear I will make you regret you even know I exist. Now both of you get the hell out of here before I really lose my fucking temper.” She screeched the last to make sure they heard her over the car alarm. And just to make absolutely certain they understood she was not there to play, she hosed them both down again before stomping off into the house.
It wasn’t until she snagged her car’s key fob and alarm control out of the purse she’d left in her rooms behind the kitchen that she realized she hadn’t even bothered to say hello to her long-lost brother, who’d obviously come by to see her.
“Goddamn it,” she whispered, and burst into tears.
Dallas slapped her tray on the bar. “Three drafts.”
“You gotta say the magic word.” When Dallas just stared at Manny, her employer made a production of looking put upon before grabbing up some beer mugs. “Geez, D. I’m old enough to remember a time when you were fun.”
“My fun reservoir has officially dried up.”
“With a sourpuss like that, you’re gonna scare all the customers away.”
Dallas glanced over her shoulder at the packed bar, a heavy crowd even for a Friday night. “Somehow I’m not too worried. But if you are, you can always fire me.”
“Why would I fire you just because you’re in a shitty mood? I’d have to fire myself on a daily basis if that’s the metric.” Placing one beer on her tray, he focused on getting the other two mugs filled up. “What I can do is give you a night off. Don’t worry about coming in tomorrow, yeah? Just go and fill up that fun reservoir of yours.”
Her brows came together. “I’m your only waitress, Manny, and tomorrow’s Saturday. I can’t take a night off and leave you all alone on your busiest night.”
“You can if I take the night off, too.”
She stared at him. “The Dive is going to be closed? On a Saturday?”
“I was thinking Imogene might like a night out on the town.” He shrugged, elaborately casual as he placed the remaining beers on her tray, and for the first time since this morning her mood began to lighten. “I’m taking the weekend off, so you should, too. Live a little. Otherwise you’ll grow old and grumpy like me.”
“I can think of worse things than being like you.” Picking up her tray, she couldn’t stop from smiling at him. “I think you and Imogene are a great fit, Manny. You just made my night.”
He shooed her away, red-faced. “Someone had to pull you out of the dumps. Now shut up and go get those served up. We got a shit-ton of thirsty people here tonight, so let’s get busy making ‘em not thirsty.”
An hour later, she had to admit this was one of the thirstier crowds they’d had since she’d started working there. Usually she had a minute or two of downtime to chat with customers or Manny, or play a quick song on the upright to really get the party started. But tonight she was run off her feet, hopping from table to table, and she had to admit keeping busy helped buoy her mood. If she was busy juggling drink orders for several different tables, she didn’t have time to remember that her brother thought she was whorish, just like their mother.
That had hurt. She hadn’t even known she still had her mother as a sore spot somewhere deep inside, but Des had knifed her right in the center of it. She didn’t know what to do with that. In part, because it hurt too much to think about. In part, because it was obvious Des still carried that same pain inside him.
That knowledge hurt her almost as much as his words.
Great.
Now what was she supposed to do?
Swallowing against the sudden emotional knot in her throat, Dallas gripped her tray and headed his way, taking in his swollen nose, black eye and badly taped up cut over his eyebrow. “Good evening, welcome to The Dive. We have a policy of not serving alcohol to people who are watching the continued good health of their liver. However, if you’re in the mood for water, we can accommodate you.”
He looked at her as if he wasn’t sure if she was joking. “Beer’s not really alcohol.”
“Maybe not in your world, whatever planet that may be, but here on earth beer is alcohol. That means you can have water, or we can go crazy and make it ice water. Coffee and tea are great drinks for promoting liver health, according to the reading I’ve been doing lately. Unfortunately, this isn’t a coffee or tea kind of place, so water’s going to have to do.”
Des sighed and sat back in his chair. “Then I guess it’s ice water. And some conversation.”
Her jaw locked on a sharp retort. Instead she nodded and turned back to the bar while hurt feelings went to war with the giddiness of talking to a brother she hadn’t seen for nearly twenty years.
Why was nothing in life ever easy? Why?
“Just when I thought we could go Brody-free for one full night,” Manny remarked as Dallas gave him the order. “Though this one is definitely different than the others. You okay with talking to him, D?”
“That’s all I’ve wanted to do since I got here. Now I’m finally getting that chance, and I have no idea what to say.” She grabbed up Des’s water and took an audibly shaking breath. “I know we’re busy, but could I take a five-minute break, please?”
