by Lora Leigh
His hands smoothed down her thighs before gripping them firmly and pushing them apart as his larger body came between.
He’d shed the cotton pants he had worn. Bare male legs brushed hers as she tried once again to roll to her back.
“Don’t.” Gripping her thighs, Logan held her in place before allowing one of his fingers, knowing and determined, to slide between her thighs to find the sensitive, swollen folds of her pussy.
“So fucking hot and wet.”
He parted the saturated folds, allowing two fingertips to slip farther inside to rim the clenched opening.
Skye couldn’t resist parting her thighs further, allowing him greater access to the tormented depths of her body.
He tucked two fingers together at the entrance and pressed inside, working slow and easy as he began to part the tightened depths.
“So fucking tight,” he groaned as he pushed his fingers in, burying the tips, pulling back, then pushing in more as she felt her inner muscles gripping him desperately.
“Let me turn—”
“Hell no.” His voice was a low, sensually ravenous rumble. “You want to pretend you don’t belong to me? Is that your plan, Skye? Is that how you want it?”
Was that what she wanted? She had no idea what she wanted anymore.
“Logan, please!” she cried out, wishing she knew what she wanted, wishing she knew how to understand what she felt.
His fingers worked deeper inside her, stretching her, easing her open. They stroked, rasped, against tender flesh as her juices flowed to them, saturating her pussy and his fingers.
As they slid back, releasing her, Skye arched, her rear lifting, a hungry moan slipping past her lips as the need for more sensation became overriding.
Needing him, fighting the waves of pleasure amplified by his refusal to allow her to turn to him, Skye arched again, her hips rolling, bearing down on his fingers as they lingered just inside the opening of her sex.
“No ties, is that how you want it, Skye?” he asked again. “No bonds? Just the same as a one-night stand, over and over again?”
His fingers slid back entirely as he moved fully between her thighs, his knees pushing her thighs farther apart as he gripped her hips and lifted her. One hand slid up her back, bearing down on her shoulders to keep them to the mattress as she ground her teeth on a frustrated cry.
She tried to struggle again, to lift herself and force him to allow her to turn. Instead, she suddenly stilled as she felt the hot, broad head of his cock press against her entrance.
Bent in front of him, her rear lifted to him, completely open, completely vulnerable to him, Skye closed her eyes, whimpering at the pleasure of his touch, at the emotional pain building inside her.
She had no idea how to vanquish it, how to stop whatever emotions were tormenting her, tightening through her, because she had no idea what they were.
How could she accept them when she couldn’t identify them? How could she fight what he did to her when she had no idea what he was doing?
She needed to hold him, though, needed him holding her, needed to see his eyes, his expression, the dark hunger in his gaze. She needed him to hold her. Needed his kiss and the proof that she wasn’t trapped in the endless chaos of the exquisite rapture alone.
“Logan, please—” Even she could hear the pain building in her voice as he began taking her.
It wasn’t from the pleasure-pain of his entrance. It had nothing to do with each inch of the hardened, heated flesh taking her, possessing the snug depths of her core.
“But this is what you want.” Coming over her, his tone savage at her ear, his hips pushed against her harder, driving him deeper, then deeper, each inch he forged inside her throwing her deeper into the realm of ecstasy dragging her in as her pussy sucked at his cock. “No emotions, Skye. No belonging.”
“I didn’t say that!” she cried out painfully, realizing how much emotion, how much pleasure and belonging, had gone into his kiss while he was buried inside her earlier.
“You walked away from me.” As he pulled his hips back, his cock eased from her despite her attempts to hold him in, until it was poised at the entrance, throbbing and thick. “You walked away to another man.”
“No.” She shook her head desperately now. “You ordered me, Logan.”
“I warned you. You’re mine or this ends now. Make your choice.” His voice was hard, unyielding, only to soften as he whispered in her ear, “Do you think it’s any easier for me, baby? Do you think you would have reacted any different?”
She shuddered, shook with the incredible gentleness in his tone, at the knowledge that she would have hit the roof to have known about another woman what he knew about Ivan. To know Logan had walked away from her to talk to another woman he might have considered sleeping with or marrying.
“Let me turn around.”
“Make your choice.” His voice was savage. “I won’t take you as a lover unless you intend to be one.”
This wasn’t a one-night stand to him any longer.
She hadn’t realized that. The knowledge hadn’t formed within her mind because so much had been happening. She also realized he wasn’t going to relent.
He sank inside her again, his cock burying to the hilt, taking her, marking not just her flesh but also the burgeoning emotions she had no idea how to handle.
“Please, Logan,” she whispered desperately.
The thrusts began to gain in speed, moving inside her with powerful strokes and throwing her closer with each thrust toward release.
A hard, detached release. He was working her body. Working her pussy, her clit. He wasn’t stroking her, soothing her, as he took her; he wasn’t building that release that would satiate every part of her.
“I take it back!” she cried out desperately, suddenly, realizing she would never be able to accept that. “I take it back, Logan; I swear.”
“You’re mine,” he snarled when she said nothing. “As long as I’m the one fucking your sweet body, as long I’m the one sharing your bed, Skye, you belong to me.”
As long as. She could handle “as long as.” It wasn’t forever. It wasn’t the taboo she had understood since she was a little girl.
“Yes,” she answered him brokenly now. “As long as you’re sleeping in my bed, I’m yours.”
He pulled back instantly. One second he was possessing her; the next she was empty, crying out at the loss even as he flipped her over to her back and moved to come between her thighs once again.
She moved first.
Before he could stop her she was on her knees, pushing him back and straddling his hips, very well aware that he only went down because he wanted to.
His hand moved to his hard cock, gripping the base as she knelt over it, her lashes fluttering in pleasure at the feel of the mushroomed crest parting the dripping folds of her pussy.
And that was where his gaze was centered.
As he grimaced hard, teeth clenched as he ran the thick crest between the swollen flesh of her pussy, his gaze jerked to her face as she gazed at the feel of the silk over iron circling her clit.
“Take me.” Her fingers, so much smaller than his, pressed over his fingers, trying to guide him to the entrance once again.
“You take me.” Unwrapping his fingers, he moved his hands to her knees, then slowly smoothed them up, over her thighs, to the swell of her hips.
Gripping the base now, aligning it with the frantic ache throbbing in her sex.
She was desperate for him now.
Pressing down, a wild cry falling from her lips at the first stretching heat as she began to press down on him, Skye gave herself to the needs tearing through her.
Moving both palms to his chest, her fingers curling, nails raking against the hair-spattered flesh of his chest, she let her hips fall on the stiff column of flesh rising to her.
Stretching her, burning her, his hips moving against her, shifting and lifting, aiding her possession of him.
Feeling
the burning length as it pressed inside her, taking him, controlling each thrust her body took, only built the hunger overtaking her.
Skye became immersed in sensation, in the feel of him moving beneath her, the feel of him taking her, her taking him.
Each downward thrust of her body buried him deeper inside her, stretched her, sent a flurry of sensations amassing and shooting through her nerve endings.
Muscles tensed and shuddering, thighs straining and gasps of pleasure falling from her lips, Skye tilted her head back, feeling her hair caress her back, falling to his thighs.
His groan, hard and barely controlled, joined her cry. Hard male hands clenched on her hips as he moved with her, taking her as she took him.
His cock throbbed inside her, thickening, pulsing imperatively, as Skye gave in to the mindless search for pleasure.
She would consider the implications of the fact that he had taken her, twice now, without the benefit of a condom.
The feel of flesh caressing wet, slick flesh was a friction that only drove her higher, closer to rapture. Each stroke of his cock, each stretching thrust, pushed her, razed her senses, until she felt the impact of the next stroke of his cock inside her trigger a release that sent her hurtling through a vortex of pure, undiluted rapture.
As she shook, shuddering, her pussy clenched and tightened around his cock as she cried out with the sensations rocking every part of her soul. Stealing her emotions, racing through an overwhelming, brutal matrix of complete unimaginable release.
As she gave herself to the pleasure he built inside her, she felt him releasing himself to it as well. His cock swelling impossibly further, throbbing, then the fiery spurts of his release gushing inside her. Heating her further, extending her release, tearing at her until the final cataclysm raced through her and left her breathless. Left her sinking against him, his arms wrapping around her, his breathing harsh beneath her ear, his heart thundering.
“Remember it!” Logan growled. “Mine, Skye. You are mine.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Ivan Resnova arrived in a glistening, newly waxed black SUV. Traveling behind and in front of the vehicle he rode in were two exactly like it.
Skye knew those SUVs were customized, stylized, and as individualized as Ivan himself.
Moving in behind the three vehicles were the sheriff, his deputy, and behind him in the mayor’s King Ranch crew cab pickup the mayor and county attorney pulled in as well.
The convoy of vehicles drew the neighbors from their houses and had them watching in surprise and suspicion as Ivan’s bodyguards moved from the vehicles converged on the middle SUV and one opened the door quickly.
Ivan stepped out as only Ivan could.
Dressed in a charcoal-gray silk suit, his thick black hair brushed back from the strong, intently arrogant features, and his blue eyes as bright as sapphires. From one corner of that lean, savagely hewn face to the jaw on the other side, a thin, wicked scar bisected his face, but rather than detracting from the wickedly sensual looks, it only added to the air of danger that surrounded him.
Standing taller than Logan at six-four, his body all lean, powerful muscle, he moved like a jungle cat, stalking and always on the alert for his prey.
Whoever that might be.
Logan stepped to the front porch, his arms going over his broad chest as Skye came out behind him. He was scowling at the fanfare Resnova drew whether he wanted it or not. This wasn’t what Cami needed. But Resnova had called before his arrival and had provided something they had needed. Logan just wasn’t certain why.
Resnova’s comment: “As your cousin Rafer has been injured as well, I suggest he accompany us and be given time to heal alongside his fiancée. The wound he received will only slow you down should more trouble arrive.”
A clear message that Rafer was to pretend to be wounded as well. What the man’s plan was Logan didn’t have a clue. And he wasn’t so certain how he felt about the suspected criminal taking over so casually.
As Logan moved behind Skye, they met Resnova and his bodyguards at the middle of the walk, and Logan’s scowl only deepened as the bastard wrapped his arms around Skye and pulled her close.
Skye swore she could feel Logan’s glare smack in the middle of her back. She had known he wouldn’t get along with Ivan; they were much too alike. But this was the only way she knew to keep Cami safe long enough to deal with the problem.
“Ah, the most precious flower in this dreary little garden,” Ivan sighed with an air of relief. “How you must brighten this place each day, my little Skye.”
The snort behind her assured Skye that Logan had heard every word.
Ivan’s blue eyes twinkled with something akin to merriment as he refused to glance behind her.
“Do I detect a bit of the creature known as jealousy?” he pondered in a bit of a stage whisper.
“Or the creature known as drama,” Logan drawled.
Ivan chuckled before his gaze turned somber. “Come; we will go inside. There are things we must discuss.”
He moved to grip Skye’s arm, only to have Logan quickly step between them, his arm curving around Skye’s back as he drew her into the house.
“I’m not a bone,” she muttered.
“Ruff ruff,” Logan all but growled. “This was your idea, and remember, you must have known what was coming, because you were damned hesitant to mention it.”
“Because he’s difficult to work with,” she sighed.
“And shall I remind you, he is also listening?” Ivan asked behind her as his bodyguards surrounded him and led him to the door.
Inside the house, Skye and Logan stepped aside as Ivan motioned his bodyguards to remain on the porch.
Ivan stood for a moment, gazing around the large foyer, the marble floor, the sweeping staircase that led to the second floor, and nodded with a sharp, approving motion of his head.
Glancing to Logan, a small smile quirked Ivan’s lips. “You have hidden your ownership of this house quite well. It was only by chance I found it.”
Logan frowned. “Then I didn’t hide it well enough.”
“Ah well, it would be hard to hide what I wish to find,” he stated. “Are your cousins here?”
“This way.” Skye stepped between the two men at that point and led the way to the kitchen, where she had put coffee on.
Cami was sitting in the large recliner Rafer had pulled into the room, while Rafer stood behind it. Crowe had taken position against the wall, next to the back door, but he’d placed coffee cups, saucers, and spoons in front of the coffeepot on the counter.
Pouring the coffee, Skye set each cup close to the Callahans, Cami, and then Ivan before getting her own.
“You have an interesting problem.” He let his gaze run over the occupants of the room. “I’ve been quite intrigued with it since Skye moved here and I learned who her neighbor and landlord was.”
“And it was your business?” Logan asked broodingly.
Ivan smiled. “I have no designs on your lovely Skye as long as you take proper care of her,” he assured Logan before his expression turned dark, dangerous. “Harm her, make her unhappy, and I would change my mind quickly. Otherwise, there is no reason for this animosity.”
“Other than the fact that she was here, smack in the middle of the danger without my knowledge, but evidently with yours,” Logan pointed out. “You neglected to care for her when, according to your claims, you protect her.”
Ivan tilted his head to the side in acknowledgment of the point as Skye just sat back and drank her coffee. She’d dealt with men enough to know that they were going to do their posturing and engage in their pissing contests whether she liked it or not.
“Very well.” Ivan still nodded. “We have the problem of Ms. Flannigan.” He looked to each Callahan. “There has indeed been a professional assassin hired. One whose only job is to kill Ms. Flannigan, as well as any other woman sleeping in a Callahan’s bed, before they can conceive.”
“Fuck!” Cr
owe’s muttered curse was barely heard.
“Ah yes, quite a problem I agree,” Ivan sighed as he sat back in his chair. “The identity of the assassin has so far eluded me.” He frowned in consternation at that fact, as though that in itself was a problem that needed to be dealt with. “What I did manage to learn was the code name he uses, though. King Arthur. Does this sound familiar?” He looked at the three men.
“He’s struck three times in the past year,” Crowe stated. “All political figures, mostly in third-world countries and in Russia.”
“Bastard,” Ivan muttered. “The Russian ambassador to America was a fine man. He was considering entering the election campaign for prime minister when he was murdered.”
“Rumor is that’s why he was murdered,” Crowe pointed out.
“I have my men working on this,” Ivan sighed. “Strangely, the normal chatter about this assassin is not there. And it is extremely rare for him to take such jobs as the murdering of women. Actually, I have never heard of it. King Arthur generally chooses his jobs based on the targets’ sins. Not their sex or their lovers.” The fact that this had Ivan confused was clear in the darkening of his gaze.
“He’s good,” Crowe said then. “How good are you?”
Ivan’s smile was confident. “I am better, my friend,” he assured Crowe. “My estate in Colorado Springs is highly secured, and will protect her like a cub in the middle of the lion’s den. Her safety is assured.” He glanced at Skye. “I’ve come to collect you as well.”
Skye had to laugh at the statement. “Not happening, Ivan.” She gave her head a hard shake. “You’re not into kidnapping and I don’t run and hide. I came here looking for this problem.”
“As your foster sister came here looking for this problem?” He glowered back at her, then at Logan. “It is your place to change her mind.”
“I’m not touching that one,” Logan stated as he shot Skye a rueful look. “Besides, she would just be in the position of escaping you and being alone until one of us found her. I don’t want to give that bastard a chance to set his sights on her.”
Ivan’s gaze was clearly concerned as he stared back at her.
