On the Prowl

by Kimberly Dean

  She shouldn’t be used to this!

  She pulled back to look at him. His eyes were full of steely intention and his touch was just as determined. Awareness sizzled across her skin. With that frenzied coupling at his party, things had risen to another level. Now that he’d screwed her, he wasn’t going to be satisfied with anything less.

  “I am not yours to order about as you wish.” Her lips flattened but she couldn’t help the unsteadiness in her voice. “I’m not your sex toy.”

  His lips curled upright. “The hell you’re not.”

  To prove his point he lowered his mouth to her breast and gave it a solid nip. Even cushioned by her soft sweater and bra, the pain was sharp and hot. Talia let out a surprised yip. “Ah! Brent! What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Playing.” His teeth clamped down harder.

  She let out a whimper and pulled at his hair. The stinging pain hurt but pleasure followed close on its heels. The two were a combustible mixture and she felt an unwanted twinge low in her belly. Heat radiated from her throbbing breast straight to her core.

  “No,” she said, more to herself than him. She wasn’t giving in this time. She refused to let it happen again. Still, her grip on his hair loosened.

  He took it as sign of concession. The vice on her nipple loosened and he nuzzled his cheek against her. “You’re wearing a bra again. I thought I’d taught you not to do that.”

  Her pussy pulsed at the rebuke. Even as she fought him, she felt a delirious sexiness overcome her. “I don’t take orders from you.”

  His attention shifted to her cleavage, left bare by the low cut of her lavender cashmere sweater. He pressed his face between the swells and inhaled deeply. “I didn’t like it last night either. That dress would have been fantastic if your perky nipples had been on display. With that white top, they would have shown right through.”

  “Brent, let me go.” Talia took a shaky breath, only to realize too late that it pressed her breasts more tightly against his face. Hands trembling, she smoothed back his hair, trying to calm him. Things were too volatile. If she didn’t approach him rationally, he’d have her on her back with her ankles somewhere around her ears. “We need to talk.”

  “Talk, talk, talk,” he mocked. “I want to suck your tits.”

  His grip suddenly moved to the hem of her sweater. He pulled it up over her curves, yanked the cup of her bra to the side and latched onto her left breast.

  “No!” she said, this time meaning it. Energy coursed through her body and she began to fight.

  She remembered how ruthlessly he’d pushed his fat cock into her. He’d pumped her like a jackhammer and she had been helpless against the onslaught. Her orgasm had been powerful but she hadn’t wanted it.

  She didn’t want it now—no matter how much her pussy was itching for attention.

  “Let me go. Damn you. Don’t!”

  His teeth punished her again, this time with the added rasp of his tongue.

  “Get rid of this damn thing,” he said as he tore at the front clasp of her bra.

  Talia struggled harder but the bull had caught her scent. She wasn’t going to get away. Her nerves shimmered when she felt the catch give and her breasts swing free. He caught her stiff nipple in the hot, wet confines of his mouth and began to suckle lustily.

  “Mmm,” she groaned. “No, I don’t want this. I don’t…want… I want… Nooooo.”

  “God, you’re hot,” Brent said, his mouth making slurping noises against her raw flesh. “Are you creamy?”

  His hand shot up under her skirt. Talia tried to kick him but it was to no avail. His fist curled around her hot pussy. She cried out as unwanted arousal coursed through her. She’d worn nylons, but no panties. All that saved her soft flesh from his intrusive fingers was a thin cotton panel.

  He rubbed her clit through the fabric. “Your mouth says ‘no’ but your cunt is dripping, Tally.”

  “I swear if you—”

  “Oh, cut the crap and get on your knees,” he growled. “I want your mouth.”

  She stood there, breathing hard. She’d come here to make a point but look at her. She was half-naked, clutching at his shoulders for support as she humped his hand.

  She hadn’t made the point; he had.

  A little light inside of her flickered out and tears pressed at her eyes.

  “I hate you,” she whispered.

  He flicked her nub and her back arched. “Hate me all you want,” he chuckled, “but you love what I do to you.”

  She did and that’s what killed her. She’d loved his touch even at the tender age of fifteen when he’d flaunted his control over her at the Devonshire party. She’d let him do whatever he’d wanted to her that night. She could have left but she’d stayed. She’d even danced, knowing that her breasts were making an entire room of horny teenage boys drool.

  For years, she’d let Brent look. He’d stared at her breasts without an ounce of shame and she’d complied by throwing her shoulders back and giving him a better view. She hadn’t worn bras to events she knew he’d be attending. Unconsciously or consciously, she’d played just as much a role in this sick seduction as he had.

  “What’s wrong with me?” she asked, not meaning to let the words slip out.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you, baby,” he said, his voice for once amazingly gentle. His hands slid up her rib cage and cupped her breasts possessively. “I’m your master. I’ve always been your master.”

  Talia tried to look away, but couldn’t. The sight of his big hands molding and shaping her was too erotic. He’d fondled and suckled her tender breasts to the point where they were a riot of nerve endings. Every time he squeezed his hands, she felt her pussy clench.

  “We’re connected,” he said seriously. “We always have been. You can’t deny it.”

  “No, I can’t,” she said, her voice aching at the admission. She licked her lips and tried to find a shred of self-respect. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Do you like it better with the cop?”

  The question was so jarring, he might as well have reached out and slapped her. “What?” she said, her eyes flying open.

  She didn’t want the detective inside her head. Not now.

  “Kinkade. The two of you have been connected at the hip—or maybe I should say groin?”

  The sneer in his voice surprised her. He sounded almost jealous.

  “There’s nothing going on between—” She sputtered to a stop. She didn’t have to talk about her personal life with him. “That’s none of your business.”

  His forehead scrunched and, for the first time that she could remember, he looked angry. “Yes, it is.”

  Talia was taken aback. Things were quickly spiraling out of her comfort zone. “You don’t own me!”

  “You’re mine,” he growled. “You always have been. I’m not going to give you up to some blue-collared slab of meat.”

  The conversation made her uneasy. It was too twisted, too obscene. “Brent, you’re married. Shelli is your wife. I can be with whomever I want.”

  “Not the detective, you can’t. I won’t allow it.”

  She looked at him, dumbfounded.

  He pinched her nipples hard and she gasped. She tried to pull away but he used his hold on her to pull her close until her forehead rested against his. “You can fuck other men,” he whispered, staring straight into her eyes. “I like the idea of you lubed and ready but you’ll only do it with my permission.”

  The submissive part of her creamed.

  “I don’t want Kinkade wasting time looking for your pussy when he should be looking for mine. You remember it—bronze, about this big.” He gestured with his hands against her breasts.

  Her nipples burned as circulation was restored. Oh, she remembered his kitty, all right. She felt absolutely no guilt at what she’d done with it. “The detective has been working very hard to find your Mène. Believe me,” she said in a hard voice.

>   “Seems to me he’s been working you harder than the case.”

  Talia couldn’t help it, her hips swiveled. Brent saw her unconscious reaction and he let out a swift curse.

  “I don’t want that son of a bitch laying his hands on you. Do you understand me? You’re not to let him touch you.” His hands fell heavily on her shoulders and pushed downwards. “On your knees. Suck me now, damn it.”

  Her knees buckled under the pressure. She dropped to the floor and her feet tangled in her coat. When she looked up, she found her face in Brent’s crotch. The sight of tented fabric made her muscles stiffen. It reminded her all too much of Riley.

  Suddenly, she realized why Brent was so touchy about the detective. He realized that Kinkade was the one man who could take her away from him.

  Self-realization made Talia rock back on her heels.

  She didn’t want this.

  For once, she truly meant it.

  For years, she’d been telling Brent “no” and not really meaning it. She’d said it to make things hotter and to relieve herself of any blame. This time, though, she was being brutally honest with herself. She had to break herself of her Harrington habit.

  There was another man she wanted more—even though she could never have him.

  An oppressive weight suddenly lifted from her shoulders. She’d been tied up in a sick obsession for Brent Harrington for so long, she hadn’t been able to think straight. She felt as if her head had just been cleared of a fog.

  She shook her head, feeling almost sorry for the man who’d harassed her since they’d been kids. As a willing accomplice, she’d only helped him along. “I’m sorry, Brent.”

  His hard touch went still. “What?” he said, uncomprehendingly.

  She looked up at him. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m done doing this.”

  She braced herself against his thighs and felt them tense. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet. With grace and dignity, she pulled her bra together and did the clasp.

  He reached out to stop her. “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t blame you, although I’m sure I will later.” She brushed his hand aside and smoothed her sweater down to her waist. “I’ve been enabling you but, as of now, it’s over.”

  “What are you talking about?” The look on his face was almost desperate. “What’s over?”

  “I won’t degrade myself for you anymore,” she said calmly. “You’re right. There is something happening between Riley and me and you’ve got Shelli. We need to put all these perverse teenage games behind us.”

  He yanked her back to him, clutching her almost frantically. “It wasn’t a game. I would have married you, Tally. Shit, if you just would have had the bloodline, we’d be together now.”

  It was sad but, in her heart, Talia knew it to be the truth. Prick that he was, if he’d asked her to marry him, she would have run full speed to the altar.

  She wouldn’t have been able to deny herself.

  She cupped his face and felt his jaw tighten. “Take care of yourself, Brent.”

  She pulled back and their fingertips brushed as he caught her hand, but slowly let it go. He acted like a five-year-old who’d been told “no” for the first time. He looked uncertain, unhappy and on the verge of rebellion.

  She turned her back on him. It would be best not to drag this out. She picked up her things and headed for the door.

  “We aren’t finished,” he finally called, his voice hoarse. “I won’t let us be.”

  “You don’t have anything to say about it.” She paused in the doorway and calmness washed over her. “Not anymore.”

  And never again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Riley followed Talia down the alley behind Coolectibles. He’d given up all pretense of laying low. It was time they had this out. When she parked, he pulled into the spot beside her. He was out of his car and waiting for her before she even undid her seatbelt.

  She sat for a long moment when she spied him, almost as if she didn’t want to get out of the car. When she finally opened the driver’s door, a wary look was on her face. “Detective,” she said.

  He was taken aback when she closed the door, turned and started to walk away. He could hardly believe it. He’d never suspected Talia Sizemore would turn tail and run. “Don’t even think about it,” he said, suddenly incensed.

  Snow scrunched under her feet as she kept right on walking.

  “Talia,” he warned.

  “Are you stalking me now?” she asked wearily.

  He reached out and caught her arm. She was going to at least look at him, by God. With a tug, he turned her around. “What happened back there?”

  She stiffened. “Where?”

  “At Harrington’s. You walked in there like you were on a warpath.” He ducked down to get a better look at her. The way she was keeping her face averted was pissing him off.

  “You followed me?”

  “Yeah, that’s what stalkers do. Detectives, too.”

  She fumbled with her purse. “Either way, it’s none of your business.”

  “Try again.”

  She shrugged uneasily. “It was nothing. I just needed to talk with Brent.”

  “Must have been quite the conversation. You didn’t even see me in the lobby when you walked out.” He caught her chin and forced her to look at him. “Should I send the paramedics back there or—”

  The look on her face nearly cut him off at the knees. Her face was pale, almost ashen. She had that utterly defeated look about her—the kind that people got when they fought back and realized it was of no use. Riley felt everything inside him harden.

  “That fucking bastard,” he said hoarsely.

  She looked as if she could shatter into a million pieces. Possessiveness hit him like a two-ton hammer and he moved closer to her.

  “What happened?” he asked. “What did he do?”

  She took a cautious step back and held up her hand to ward him off. “Don’t. Please. I can’t deal with you right now.”

  “Sorry, baby,” he said gently. “I’m not liking the way this conversation is going. You deal with me or I’ll go get Harrington and we’ll all deal with this down at the station.”

  She didn’t like that idea at all. As a policeman, he was trained to see details and, boy, were they flying at him now. At the mention of Harrington’s name, her lips thinned and her nostrils flared. It was the look in her eyes, though, that really stopped him. She looked wounded. He’d seen women act like this before and he didn’t like the implications.

  Self-consciously, she brushed her hair away from her face. “Can we not talk about him?”

  The son of a bitch.

  “He touched you,” Riley said in a flat tone.

  “I… He…”

  “Don’t try to deny it. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Riley’s stomach began to churn as his mind automatically went to the worst scenario. He didn’t want to ask but he had to know. “Did he rape you?”

  Her entire body rocked. “No!”

  He wasn’t ready to feel relief yet. If anything, the churning only got worse. “What exactly did he do?”

  She swallowed hard and Riley felt his rage build. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Not the way you think.” She tugged at her purse again in agitation. “Please, just let it go. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “You’ll just think I’m being oversensitive.”

  “I doubt it. I’ve met the asshole.”

  It was the right thing to say. Her gaze jumped up to meet his and Riley tensed. She was judging him. He suddenly found himself wanting to be worthy of her trust.

  “Did you see the morning paper?” she finally asked.

  He shook his head. He’d been parked outside her apartment but he had a feeling she knew that.

  “He took credit for the auction.” She took a deep breath that hitched halfway through. “I don’t know why I was surprised; it was classic
Brent. He has the power to do things like that—change things that shouldn’t be changed—just because he has the Harrington name. It was the last straw.”

  Riley wasn’t quite sure he understood. She was jittery, though, and he definitely got that. Carefully, he reached out and rubbed her shoulder. “From what I hear the Sizemore name is no slouch.”

  He took it as a sign of encouragement when she didn’t flinch away from his touch. Instead, she wrapped her arms about her waist in an unconscious hug. “Did you grow up in New Covington?”

  He hesitated. She’d never asked him anything personal before. “No.”

  “Then you don’t know what it’s like. My family moved here when I was ten. People wouldn’t accept us, though, because our money wasn’t old enough. Brent Harrington and his friends have looked down their noses at me for my entire life. Today was just the capper. Sadie and I worked long and hard on that auction but the Turd stepped in and took that away from us, too.”

  Riley heard the hurt in her voice and it ticked him off more than he would have expected. The pain sounded deep and inbred. Harrington hadn’t hurt her physically but he’d hurt her feelings—and not for the first time. It was a pattern that he didn’t like.

  At all.

  “Talia, you can’t let him get to you like this,” he said soothingly. He slid his hand across her shoulder and cupped the back of her neck. The muscles there were stiff as a board. “People know who put that auction together and what it was for. The newspaper isn’t going to change their minds.”

  “But anybody who wasn’t there won’t know.”

  “So you’ll tell them.”

  She let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re not helping.”

  He rubbed his thumb against a knot at the base of her skull. “Would it help if I went over there and kicked his ass?”

  That earned him a soft smile. He liked the look of her smile. It made something squeeze inside his chest.

  “It would be my pleasure,” he admitted. “The guys down at the station actually have a pool going as to how long I’ll be able to hold out.”

  She bit her lip and shot him a look of regret. “Has Brent been giving you trouble about…well, the case?”