The Bastard

by Julie Kriss

  I jumped, startled. A large, warm pair of masculine hands came to my shoulders, holding them firmly and gently. I could feel Dylan behind me. I went still.

  He stroked my bare shoulders briefly, then let his hands run lightly up my neck beneath my hair. I shivered. I didn’t try to hide it, just let him feel it under his hands. Honest for once.

  Dylan’s hands worked gently into my hair and he undid the clasp that held it back, then pulled my hairpins out, one by one. My hair fell down my back and he brushed his fingers through it. I could feel the tug on my scalp as he touched me.

  Thunder rolled again. “If you want me to stop, tell me,” Dylan said, his voice low but clear.

  I closed my eyes. All that bullshit about having you when and how I want to—it had been just that, bullshit. Dylan was dominant, but he wasn’t that kind of man.

  I summoned my voice. “Don’t stop,” I said.

  He ran his thumb down the nape of my neck, then turned me to face him. He was gorgeous in the strange light of the storm, his dark hair tousled, his gaze fixed on me. I’d spent the entire flight this morning trying to stay focused on spreadsheets and dividends and not on the memory of how he’d kissed me. How nice it had been. How much I’d liked it. How much I wanted it again.

  Me, the girl who never wanted hearts and flowers. I wanted Dylan to kiss me.

  But let’s get real—I wanted him to fuck me, too.

  He moved his hands down my body to my waist, hooking his fingers in the tie of my wrap dress. He moved slowly—not tentative, but reading me. Paying close attention to my reaction to everything he did. For all his audacious talk, he wasn’t going to just strip me and throw me down. He was going to be nice.

  I covered his hands with mine, then brushed them gently away. I untied the wrap dress myself and let it fall open. Then I shrugged it off and let it fall to the floor.

  Dylan went very, very still.

  I admit it. I had dressed for the occasion. I had put on a bra and panty set from Victoria’s Secret, a lacy design of dove gray trimmed with small pink ribbon in the details. It wasn’t something I usually wore. I’d bought it especially for the occasion, because in my file I had an email from one of his former lovers saying that she had shopped at Victoria’s Secret for him. I thought he must like it. And if she could wear it, then so could I.

  His gaze traveled over me, down and up again. He was intensely focused, as if taking in every detail.

  “Christ, you have a beautiful body,” he said.

  I felt a rush at that. I stepped forward and slid my hands under his T-shirt, placing them on his bare stomach and sliding them up. Oh, my God, it’s better than I imagined. “Your turn,” I told him, trying to sound playful but sounding dead serious instead.

  A glint of humor crossed his expression, and he reached behind his neck and pulled the shirt off in one move. “You’ve already seen the goods, Maddy.”

  “I didn’t look long enough,” I admitted, touching the hard muscles of his stomach, running my fingers along the fascinating lines of his chest. “I was trying to be professional.”

  “I wasn’t.” His hands dropped to his belt, and he undid it as briskly as he had the first time, hooking his thumbs in the waist of his jeans and boxers as he shoved them down. “I’m still not professional,” he said.

  I took a step back. I couldn’t look at everything at once, though God knew I tried. The trail of hair below his belly button, his hips, his sexy legs, his cock—hard and getting harder. It was a thousand percent better than I’d imagined, and my imagination of Dylan King naked was detailed and very, very dirty. “Jesus, you’re ridiculous,” I breathed.

  “It’s all yours,” he replied, making my heart try and crawl up into my throat. He stepped forward and I took a step back, then another until the backs of my legs hit the edge of the bed. Still he came closer, all that spectacular male skin, those hard muscles, his cock awake now and very, very interested. Toe to toe, I was only a few inches shorter than he was, my mouth within reach of his clavicle and his neck. On impulse I traced my fingers over the tattoo on his left biceps, the ring that went all the way around his arm. Then I leaned up and kissed the side of his neck, inhaling his skin. He had a scar there, very old and healed over, from God knew what. I kissed and sucked the skin.

  Dylan moaned softly. He reached his arms around me and took the clasp of my bra in his fingers. “Take this off.”

  “Don’t you like it?” I asked against him. God, his neck was so warm. I could feel his pulse, the strong, steady beat of it, could taste his skin on my lips.

  “It’s very nice,” he said, undoing my bra like an expert, “but it isn’t you.”

  I paused.

  He didn’t seem to notice. He slid the bra straps off my shoulders and tossed it away. Then he lifted my chin and kissed me, just like I’d wanted, a long, deep kiss that took my mouth against his. Seconds later I was somehow on my back on the bed with him braced over me, his tongue in my mouth as his body pressed against mine. He reared back and tugged my panties down, throwing them away.

  He looked down at me, naked now and sprawled on the bed, my hair tossed against the pillow, and a smile crooked the corner of his mouth. “That’s better. This is the Maddy I know.”

  “You’ve never seen me naked before,” I said stupidly. Because part of my mind still thought this wasn’t happening. After all this time—it couldn’t be.

  “Maddy,” Dylan said, leaning down to me again, “I see you naked every time I look at you.” And he kissed me again.

  I dug my hands into his hair. I wrapped my legs around his hips. I bit his lip, and he bit mine, and when I opened my eyes I saw only dim darkness. The storm was raging, and the power had gone out.

  But I could still faintly see Dylan, even in the shadows. He broke the kiss and trailed his mouth down my body, stopping at my breasts to take a nipple into his mouth. I arched into him, my breath coming hard, my hands still in his hair, which was thick and soft. Seven days, I thought crazily. I have seven days of this. He moved to my other breast and I arched again, moaning this time. It was already better than anything I’d ever done with anyone, because I didn’t have to pretend or fence or even wear lingerie. I just got to have him. And he hadn’t even been inside me yet.

  His hand moved down between my legs, his fingers sliding into me, and I knew he could feel how slick and wet I was. My hips pushed up, trying to get more of him, and his fingers rubbed me, his thumb moving over my clit.

  He moved up and dipped his mouth to my ear, his hand still moving. “You’re going to get what you want,” he promised me softly.

  “Please,” I said.

  “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” He took his thumb from my clit and replaced it with the heel of his hand. He was cupping me gently and firmly, his fingers inside me, possessive and expert and perfect. “I hope you’re ready,” he said. “This time is just the warmup. We have two hours. I have quite a bit of stamina.”

  I dragged my teeth over the side of his neck. “So damn full of yourself.”

  He laughed softly, and skin to skin I could feel every vibration of it, the flex of his stomach, the warmth of his breath. “I’ll convince you.”

  “Actions, not words.”

  I felt him grin against my neck, and then he pushed off me, getting off the bed and standing. The lights flickered, on and then off again, and I got a glimpse of the spectacular view as he walked to his open suitcase. He had another scar on his back, just below his shoulder, and yet another, deeper one on the back of his thigh. I was reminded that he’d spent twelve years fighting, risking his body and his life. He’d done things, been in situations, more frightening than I could imagine. It must have been incredibly hard, taken an incredible level of skill. I admired him, but I couldn’t say the words. They felt too raw, too risky. He didn’t know it, but he had so much power to make me feel small.

  “Did you delete your other women from your phone?” I asked as he rummaged through his suitcase i
n the dark.

  Dylan came back to the bed and I felt it dip as he straddled my hips. There was the sound of him ripping open a box—condoms, thank God. “No, because I don’t have any other women on my phone. I delete them when we’re over. Then I change the number.”

  I looked up at him, trying to discern his expression in the dimness. “So you’re going to delete me after seven days?”

  “Sorry, Maddy.” He took a condom out and tossed the box on the bedside table. “We’re going to have business after seven days, even if you don’t want to have sex anymore.” He ripped open the condom package. “So I’m not deleting you. Ever.”

  My heart hammered. What did that mean? Was he teasing, or did he really want more than seven days? Or did he simply mean what he said—that we’d have business dealings to do with the estate? I wished I could see his face—though when he wanted it to be, Dylan’s expression could be impossible to read.

  I wanted more than seven days. I wanted everything I could get. But if I said that now, he’d probably go running for the hills.

  Then I was distracted because he was rolling the condom on, and I wanted to see that, too. I wanted to see his hands as he did it, his cock. He finished and slid down, and I felt his breath on my belly, the rasp of his beard. He kissed me there, then trailed his mouth slowly up me, kissing his way to my breasts.

  I could barely breathe. “You didn’t ask if I deleted the other men from my phone,” I managed to get out.

  Dylan reached my breast and licked a nipple. “That’s because I deleted them myself.”

  I blinked in the dark. “You what?”

  “When you went to get a coffee before we got on the plane this morning. You didn’t even notice.”

  I dug my hand into his hair, meaning to push him away, but he was kissing my other breast, and I just gripped him instead. “How—how did you get the password to my phone?”

  He sighed against my sensitive skin. “Really, Maddy. Amateur work.”

  “Jesus.” I wanted to argue it further, but he’d sucked my nipple softly into his mouth, and all that came from my mouth was a whimper. His hand moved down between my legs again and his fingers slid inside me, his palm pressing me, and he sucked my other nipple into his mouth, and then I was on fire, my whole body writhing beneath him. I didn’t care about my phone anymore, because I didn’t want any other man anyway. Just this one, doing what he was doing. “Oh, God, Dylan,” I breathed.

  “More?” he asked, and he sucked my breast again as his thumb moved back to my clit, circling it. “You like this.”

  I was arched off the bed, and a line of pleasure stretched and burned from my nipples straight down between my legs, where his hand was torturing my pussy. “Yes,” I gasped. “Yes, I like it.”

  Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. The lights flickered on and off again. But Dylan didn’t stop—he just kept pushing me, higher and higher. “Give me more, Maddy,” he said, his voice low. “Give me more.”

  I couldn’t think anymore. I could only feel, only push against him as pleasure sparked through me. The pleasure he gave me was hard, relentless, demanding. He wasn’t tentative. He pushed me until it almost hurt, which was where I needed to be. My nipples were raw and my pussy was slicking his fingers, and he still wasn’t inside me. “Dylan,” I gasped, “I’m going to—I’m going to—”

  His mouth left my breast and then his breath was in my ear. “You’re going to what, Maddy? Say it.”

  I never thought of disobeying. “I’m going to come,” I said. “I’m going to come.”

  He kissed my mouth, deep and possessive. “Hard,” he said against my lips.

  I was at the edge, tipped almost over. He put his hand on the back of my knee, pushing my leg up, and thrust into me, the angle deep and powerful. The orgasm pulsed through me and I cried out, not caring if anyone could hear me, not caring if someone came to the door. My body took over and I felt myself squeeze him, the pleasure bearing down as I bucked my hips. He pinned me to the bed as I came and stroked me in a fierce rhythm, his breath coming harsh.

  “Fuck, Maddy,” he said, on the edge of control. “My God.”

  “Don’t stop,” I said. Begging him. He kept stroking me as my orgasm spun out and out, the muscles in his arms rigid and trembling, his face bent to my neck. When I slowed down he pushed deep into me and came, making a sighing sound in my ear that I wanted him to make a hundred times. A thousand. I wanted to hear him make that sound for the rest of my life, and only for me. Only for me, ever again.

  20

  DYLAN

  The rain had stopped, though the sky was still dark and the wind was howling. The power was still off. I stood in our room wearing my boxer briefs, rifling through my suitcase. Maddy was in the shower, and I kept getting distracted, thinking of her in there. Wet and naked. Even though I’d just seen it myself, because we’d spent fifteen very interesting minutes in the shower—after well over an hour in the bed together. I had to give her a few minutes to clean off after we’d gone multiple rounds. It was the least I could do to deliver on my promise, after all.

  I was looking for the folded shirt I’d brought when my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but I took a chance and answered it anyway. “Dylan King.”

  “Dylan.”

  I stopped what I was doing “Ronnie,” I said.

  “Yeah, it’s me. I was just calling Maddy to make sure she got to Texas okay and she didn’t answer. She must have flown in this morning, the same as you. Have you heard from her?”

  I’d heard Maddy’s phone ringing from the depths of her purse a few minutes ago. Ronnie didn’t know that we had come on the same flight, were staying in the same room. Because I hadn’t told her, and Maddy had kept it to herself.

  “She’s fine,” I said to Ronnie. “She’s here with me. She’s in the shower.”

  There was a long silence, heavy with meaning. “Oh,” Ronnie said at last, obviously surprised. “Is that how it is?”

  “Yes.” Because after what we’d just done, that was absolutely how it was. Maddy didn’t know it, but I was in—and for a hell of a lot longer than seven days. I didn’t care about contracts or wedding dates or anything else; I’d delete whoever the hell she wanted off my phone, though there were no women on there in the first place. I was in. She wouldn’t give up without a fight, but that was fine with me. I’d take whatever time I had to convince her. And I didn’t care if Ronnie, or anyone else, knew it.

  “Okay,” Ronnie said. “That’s… unexpected. I mean, I almost like Maddy, but she seems a little remote. And you’re…”

  “An asshole?” I said. “You can say it.”

  “I was going to say mysterious.”

  “I get that a lot,” I said. “Maddy isn’t remote when you get to know her.” Not when she’s naked and begging me. “We hit it off. It was going to be casual, but it isn’t. At least for me.” It was a lot to confess to a half sister I hadn’t talked to in years, but hell, it was her wedding day. Maybe she wanted to hear something sappy, even from her asshole half brother. “Is everything okay at the wedding?”

  “That’s why I’m calling,” Ronnie said. “It’s probably best if you don’t come out to The King’s Land right now. The rain has stopped, but the system hasn’t moved through yet. They say it’s still dangerous.”

  Part of me was jubilant at the thought of having the rest of the day in this room with Maddy, but the professional in me shut that part up and took over. “Is everyone okay out there? Anyone hurt?”

  “No one’s hurt. We have about twenty people here, the early arrivers. We shut down the outside tent and outside catering and moved everyone into the main house. The power is spotty, but there’s a generator, and Clayton got it going. Now we’re just waiting.” She sighed. “It isn’t going to be much of a wedding in the end. The priest isn’t even here—he got caught in the rainfall and turned around because driving was dangerous. So we can’t do the ceremony, even in the living room. I’m starting to think
that a big wedding isn’t really in the cards for me, since this is the second try.”

  “Yeah, well,” I said, “Maddy tells me you two are already married, anyway. Legally.”

  “We are. But Clayton really wanted to do this. We were supposed to get married years ago, and… Well, it’s a long story. You know some of it.”

  “I know the wedding was off, and then he tried to pay me to stay away.”

  “Forget about that, okay? Because you’ve missed a lot, too. We’re doing this. It’s important to him that I have a wedding.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” I said. “The wedding, I mean.”

  “Honestly? I don’t care. All I want is Clayton. Even this whole thing with the will and the estate… I don’t care as long as I have him.”

  Shit. I had planned to have a sibling meeting with Maddy after the wedding. “Ronnie—”

  “No. Don’t. Please, Dylan. I have enough to deal with at the moment. I don’t want to talk about the estate right now.”

  “Okay. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I don’t know. There’s some flooding in a few of the outbuildings. We don’t have a basement or a storm cellar. We have to deal with the livestock, too. We have lots of food and water for now. There are kids here, and one of them has asthma. A couple of people are older. Some people are risking leaving on their own. I just hope we don’t have an emergency or the generator goes. I’ll be happier when this is all over.”

  Fuck. No way was I sitting here while all of that was going down at The King’s Land. “I’m coming out there to help.”

  “Are you sure that’s safe?”

  “Ronnie, who do you think you’re talking to? Special Ops, remember?”

  “Right. I forgot you’re basically Superman. I can’t stop you, can I?”

  “No, I really don’t think you can.”

  “Okay then, I’ll take the help. I’d like to get some of these people home if I can. And bring water.”