Losing It All

by Wilde, Kati

  “That doctor was real smart to put that little stick in your arm.” His head bends closer, his voice harsh. “He knew that sooner or later a bad man like me would pin you down and fuck your good girl pussy full of his filthy cum.”

  Oh god, oh god. I cry out through clenched teeth and struggle harder, feeling his thick cock so deep. He’s not moving at all now, but I can’t stop pushing and writhing.

  “You keep fighting me, angel, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.” Hot breaths gust over my lips and he catches my jaw in his big hand, makes me meet his eyes. “But if you don’t like what I’m giving you, just close up those legs.”

  And shut him out. Make him stop. If I don’t like what he’s doing…or saying.

  I let them fall wider.

  “That’s my angel. Christ.” Now he moves again, his swollen length pumping slowly into me. “You’ve kept those thighs open so damn good, keep letting me fill up this tight little cunt. First with my cock and now with my cum. Though maybe you didn’t notice that I got into you raw.”

  I noticed. But it wasn’t hard to guess why. I bare my teeth at him in a snarl of a smile. “Because it’s not bait pussy anymore?”

  “Because I know I’m clean. Now I know you’re clean.”

  “Even when you didn’t, you sure as hell didn’t mind eating it!”

  “I sure as hell didn’t.” He gives a hard laugh and his thumb presses between my lips to slide over the edge of my teeth.

  My damn mouth. Making him like me.

  I suck on the tip of his thumb.

  He groans. “So you ain’t gonna come?”

  “No,” I gasp, already so close.

  “Yeah, you are.” He surges deeper and pushes his hand between us, teasing my clit. “I need your pussy to suck me off, so I can empty out all this need into your hot little fuckhole. Because you made me need you so damn bad.”

  Yes. God, so much need. Back arching, I take his cock again, again.

  “Your pussy’s tightening up, angel.” Above me his thrusts become more urgent, his breaths harsher and harder. “You still fighting your come? You want me to stop and pull out so you won’t?”

  “No!” The denial erupts as I begin to shatter, winding my legs around his back and holding him so deep inside me.

  His eyes blaze down into mine and then glaze over as my inner walls begin convulsing around his shaft, a guttural curse ripping from his chest, his head falling back as he grinds into me, harder and harder. Abruptly he stills. His powerful body shakes, the tendons in his neck standing in sharp relief as his cock pulses inside me, so hot and deep.

  “Holy fuck. Christing fucking hell.” Skin slick with sweat, Stone collapses over me, his weight partially braced on his forearms, his hips cradled between my thighs still wrapping him up tight. His forehead rests against mine. “The best thing I’ve ever seen is you chasing your come. That was the hottest fuck I’ve ever had.”

  “Me, too,” I agree breathlessly. “Though I suppose it’s also the worst.”

  He laughs on a gusting breath, then lifts his head to search my face. “You all right?”

  Far better than all right. “Yes.”

  His gaze falls to my lips. Sweet emotion clutches at my chest when he lowers his head, brushing his mouth against mine.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up, then.” Pulling me with him, Stone rolls to the side. That sweetness within me blooms brighter and tightens when he rises from the bed with me cradled in his arms and heads for the bathroom. “And don’t look down, or you’ll think you’re dying.”

  Because of a few streaks of blood on the pillow and smears between my thighs? Hardly terrifying to anyone whose period often started while sleeping and then woke up to something out of a murder scene. But I don’t protest, loving his strength as he carries me against his chest, then the tenderness in his touch when he sets me down and turns on the shower, holding his hand under the stream until it warms.

  He urges me in ahead before following me, then seems to utterly fill the small shower cubicle. We’re standing so close, face to face, and his gaze holds mine while he quickly soaps the blood from his cock, then reaches down to gently wash between my thighs.

  “All right?” he murmurs.

  Except for wishing that I could touch him. “Yes.”

  His eyes darken as he glances down between us. “If I remember Shakespeare right, when someone takes a pound of flesh, the rule is that they can’t draw any blood with it.”

  “You remember right,” I say. “But it was nitpicking bullshit, so that Antonio could wriggle his way out of paying the debt that he owed to Shylock.”

  His mouth quirks. “Seems you paid better attention in class than I did.”

  Steadily, I meet his gaze. “I don’t want to wriggle my way out. I’d rather pay what I owe.”

  Especially if this is how I’m paying. His lathered hands move higher, soaping their way up my sides, before his right palm skims up my spine to clasp my nape.

  “Sure would like to kiss you as deep and hard as I just fucked you,” he says gruffly. Warmth spills through my chest as he tilts my head back, bending his mouth toward mine. “Take all the sweetness you have to give.”

  I want that, too. So much. But his fingers tighten in my hair as I rise up onto my toes, stopping my lips from meeting his.

  His voice goes low and rough. “Then I remember how I landed in the shit after kissing you before. How I wanted everything that kiss said you had to give. So I’m sure as fuck not kissing you like that again. I just want answers and pussy.”

  A spear of pain lances into my heart. “I don’t have answers.”

  “Bullshit. You’re real smart, girl. Good memory, too. So don’t tell me you didn’t pay attention those three months, because I’m not letting you go until I get those answers from you.”

  “You have to,” I tell him thickly, my throat raw. “That was the deal. I pay what I owe, then you let me go.”

  A muscle in his jaw works. I choke on a startled cry when he abruptly spins me around, pressing my upper body against the cold tile wall. His big body crowds up behind, one roughened hand palming my breast, his mouth hot against my ear.

  “Then I’ll be collecting for a long damn time, won’t I?” His hard cock is a rigid brand nestled against the split of my ass. “Your little fuckhole makes me feel real good, but how many times do you figure your pussy will have to suck me off before I get rid of this rot in my chest? How long until we’re even?”

  “It’ll never be even,” I tell him on ragged breaths that fog the ceramic tile in front of me. It never could be even. “But I’ll pay what I can—and you have to let me go soon.”

  “Not a fucking chance,” he snarls.

  With a scream of frustration locked behind my teeth, I shove back against his solid form. Stone doesn’t budge an inch. Just laughs.

  “Go on and fight, then. Get that cunt slicked up with your mad,” he rasps, pinching my nipple between his knuckles, sending a sharp and unexpected zing of heat across my skin. His other hand angles down over my stomach. “And maybe if you don’t come, I’ll get tired of this pussy real fast. Want to try that?”

  Oh god. Even as his fingers begin to tease my engorged clit, I nod and gasp my response. “I’ll try that.”

  Though I’m already helplessly rocking my hips back against him, already arching my spine to press my breast more firmly into his hand. I feel him move, then white hot pleasure flares behind my eyes when his thick length surges deep, a powerful thrust that lifts me onto my tiptoes.

  And I come twice before the hot water runs cold.

  25

  Stone

  Closing my eyes near a woman who once planned to kill a guard to escape probably isn’t the smartest choice I ever made. But for five nights straight, I fall asleep while holding her close and wake up with her in my arms.

  She hasn’t slit my throat. But she sure is killing me slow.

  Every morning, she wakes up long before dawn—still on barn
time. Since I’m a real light sleeper, I wake up, too. Then I just stay quiet, because she doesn’t get up, doesn’t do anything except snuggle a little closer, lightly lay her hand on my chest, and slowly fall asleep again.

  It’s her hand that’s killing me. And it’s what I ought to push away. I’ve made it pretty clear: no touching me, no deep kissing. I’ll take all the softness and sweetness that I can from her pussy, and leave everything else she has to give on the floor. So it’ll be a whole lot easier to walk away when I’m done with her.

  At least, that was the plan.

  Now I’m completely fucked anyway. And every morning, she touches me. Lays her hand right over my heart. As if she wants more than my cock or to pay what she owes. As if she wants more than the one thing she’s ever asked for.

  Letting her go.

  That’s one thing I can’t give. And I’ve told her why. If she’s out there alone, Papa will get her. If she goes to the cops, some dirty bastard on Papa’s payroll will get her. But it doesn’t seem to matter to her that she’ll be killed.

  The only thing that seems to matter is going. Every day that I don’t let her, her eyes become a little more haunted. Like the vulnerable girl I first met back in that tavern.

  And this morning…she doesn’t go back to sleep again. Just lies against me, real quiet, for a long damn time. I know the second she realizes I’m awake because she pulls her hand back and tucks it in between us.

  But it doesn’t seem like she took something off my chest. Her hand gone feels like a heavy weight pressing down on my heart.

  Pressing harder when she asks softly, “Do you think I could go outside today?”

  “I don’t know. You gonna try to escape?”

  “Probably.”

  Yeah, she will. Because it’s become a game between us—one that isn’t really a game to either of us. Every chance she gets, she makes a break for it. And my heart just fucking stops until I catch her again. I’ve had to buy a lock box for the key because she started going after it every time my back was turned. Got the door open once before I got my hands on her and wrestled her to the floor. And she was still clutching that key in her fist when her pussy was squeezing the cum from me.

  “You don’t have any shoes,” I remind her. “And it’s damn cold out there.”

  “I could double up a pair of your socks.”

  Or I could just carry her. She wouldn’t be getting away, then. “All right. This afternoon, if it’s sunny. You need any more books? Or you want me to have them download some shows?”

  Which are fine to put onto a device and bring out there, because there isn’t any wireless or a way to connect to the outside. So she’s been going through what she calls ‘comfort reads’—which seems like a whole lot of Jane Austen.

  “I won’t have time to watch them,” she says, her voice going low and muffled when she presses her face into my shoulder. “Because I need to leave soon.”

  That weight on my chest makes it damn hard to breathe. “I don’t give a fuck what you need. I’m not letting you go until I get some answers.”

  “You haven’t even asked about Papa in two days.”

  “Because there’s no point when you only pay in one way.” I haul up off the bed. “So start rubbing that pussy and get it nice and wet. Gonna fuck it real hard in a minute.”

  She sits up, those emerald eyes looking so damn big. “And I’ll love how you fuck it, because you make me come so hard when you do. But then you’re going to let me go.”

  “Why the hell would I do that?”

  “Because you’re a good man,” she says softly.

  That bullshit ain’t worth responding to. Especially with my throat closing up so damn tight. I head into the bathroom and stand in front of the john—my eyes on level with the evidence of how bad she wants to get away from me.

  More tiny scratches around the vent screws today. And the fingernails that she kept so pretty in the stables are torn down to the quick. Because there’s no fucking way she’ll get it open like that, but she keeps trying.

  I haven’t said a damn thing about it, because if she’s doing this, then she’s not spending time trying to get out another way. I just don’t know what I’ll do if she starts making herself bleed.

  Except I do know. I’d let her go…then follow her. Because she can’t be out there alone. Not while Papa’s hunting down anyone who might point a finger at him.

  But I know damn well where she’ll be headed—straight to the cops. I’d have realized it the night of the raid if I’d known her better. Because she told me straight up that if she went to the police, I wouldn’t have to worry. She wouldn’t say anything to them about me.

  And this girl, this fucking angel. She really does believe that she owes me. And she’s always taking care of me.

  Hell, maybe she thinks going to the police is taking care of me, too—so I won’t end up killing another man and fucking myself up worse than I already am.

  Which is sweet. Except killing Papa wouldn’t do that. I’ve never had any trouble putting down the bad guys, the garbage people who the world would be a lot better off without.

  But maybe her reason for going to the cops is simpler than that—and nothing to do with me at all. She’s a real decent person. It might be that she believes in lawful justice for everyone, even for a bastard like Papa. Not the sort of justice that I intend to hand out.

  I can respect a belief like that. But I still ain’t going to let her go. Not when she’s likely to end up dead.

  And not when that would kill me, too. She’s filled up this hole inside me with so much sweetness, so much softness. But if that was gone? I suspect that her dying would tear open a hole in me that would rip out even more than Crash did.

  And I don’t even know her fucking name.

  I wash up and head back out to find her sitting on the bed, the comforter still tucked around her breasts, and trying out numbers on the key lock box.

  “There’s only ten thousand possible combinations,” she says with a cheeky glance in my direction. “And I’ve got nothing but time.”

  “You’ve got a pussy that needs to be fucked,” I tell her roughly, my chest pulling even tighter. Because this damn girl. She doesn’t even have to touch me, doesn’t have to kiss me. She just keeps on being so sweet and keeps fighting so hard, keeps on giving everything to me. “Hands and knees.”

  She must be gearing up for a hell of a fight. Because she just throws me another sassy look and rolls over onto her belly, lifting her pretty ass up in the air—her elbows braced on the mattress and her fingers still working that lock box combination, the numbers clicking rhythmically, steadily.

  Christ, she gets me worked up. Stroking my stiff cock, I move in behind her. “What number you up to?”

  “Eighty-seven.”

  “Tell me when you get to one hundred.”

  “I wi—”

  Her gasp fills out the rest when I bury my face between her legs, the rhythm of that clicking coming to an abrupt halt. Then starting again, though so much more slowly when I spread her pussy lips and take a long lick through all that delicious heat, then groan and rub my face up in there before giving those sultry lips a deep kiss. She tastes so fucking good, but even better is how wet she gets, how it takes only a few thrusts of my tongue into her tight little hole before she’s rocking back and demanding more.

  I pull back with the scent and taste of her all over me. “What number you at?”

  “Ninety…three,” she pants.

  Slowed way down. She ain’t ever going to get to one hundred. Not after I open my mouth up over her clit and begin sucking. The muffled cry from up front tells me that she’s got her face buried against the pillow, probably biting the shit out of it. Not playing with that lock anymore.

  Stiffening the tip of my tongue, I tease her juicy clit until her legs start shaking. With a final lick the length of her drenched slit, I rise up behind her rounded little ass, my aching cock in hand.

  One hard
thrust buries me balls-deep in the sweetest, tightest heaven. She screams her fuck-me-hard scream, fingers clenching in the sheets, already wound up so good that a few rough pumps send her over and catapult me into the paradise of her convulsing cunt that is too incredible to be real. My girl’s got a hair trigger, which is fucking amazing on its own, but the way she throws herself into her come, writhing and twisting like she’s wringing every bit of pleasure out of herself, inside and out, is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen or felt.

  I need to feel it again. Over and over. Her orgasm slowly releases its hold on her cunt, but I just hold onto her tighter, leaning over her trembling form with my cock still buried deep. Because the ache that was eating up my chest vanished the moment I got my mouth on her. All that sweetness just keeps filling me up—and will leave me with nothing if it’s gone.

  So I am never letting her go.

  * * *

  The afternoon sun turns her hair to copper and lights up her smile so bright. We’re about five minutes into our walk by the stream when she whirls and races toward the driveway. Only a little more than a mile from the main road. My heart jackhammers and I sprint after her, and I’m a half second from tackling her to the ground when I realize there ain’t no need for that. And she has to know it. She watched me run five miles on the regular.

  So I settle in beside her, instead, and go for a little jog. A hundred yards later, she gets to the clubhouse lot and slows to a halt, bending over and gripping her side. Those doubled-up socks protecting her little feet are filthy and loose now.

  “I’m…three months…out of shape,” she wheezes.

  I stop beside her, breathing easy. “I’d say you’ve had plenty of exercise this past—”

  She takes off sprinting again. This fucking girl. I’d be laughing my head off if my chest didn’t hurt so damn much.

  This time when I catch her, I throw her over my shoulder and start carrying her back to the cabin, caveman-style—to the amusement of the brothers who’ve shown up early for today’s club meeting. They shout encouragement my way, but my angel squirms and struggles and tells me to let her go. Then she tells me a whole bunch of lies: that she doesn’t have anything else to tell me, that she’ll be fine off the ranch and Papa won’t find her, that she’ll come back if I still want her to pay up more, that I’m a good man who knows what’s right.