by Lora Leigh
Doogan gave a rough, pleased little chuckle as he nipped at her hip, his hands stroking her thighs, his body easing between them.
“I hate you,” she cried out, staring down at him, trembling at the sight of the hunger in his eyes. “Untie me.”
“Not on your sweet life, baby.” His eyes were nearly black, his expression fierce with the sexual need raging inside him.
And dominant. There was a deepening, dark dominance tightening his features, turning them savage in their intensity.
Before she could make the demand to release her again, his hand landed on the swollen folds of her sex, a quick little pat, amplified by the moisture lying thick and slick on her inner lips.
Zoey froze, the sensations that ripped through her body holding her mesmerized, eyes wide, her gaze locked with his.
“I’ll untie you,” he growled, his hand cupping her, his palm applying pressure to the swollen bud of her clit. “But if I do, I won’t do this anymore.”
His hand lifted, then landed again, the sharp, fiery pleasure surged through her, stealing her breath.
A hoarse, broken cry spilled from her, her hips arching, savage desperation rolling through her.
“Just a little more pleasure, baby,” he promised. “Just a little higher. And then, when I push inside that tight little pussy you’re going to cum for me at the first thrust. You’ll tighten and ripple around my cock. You’ll scream for me, and you won’t stop coming until I’ve finished. Over and over, Zoey. So much pleasure we’ll both die a little from it.”
His hand landed again.
Her hips jerked upward as she sobbed, the sound strangled and harsh. Furious need burned through her. Sensation seared her. It traveled through her body, sending a rush of hungry demands zipping through her.
She would kill him if he pushed her so high she was unable to orgasm. If he did her as she had often found her own desires would do. Become so desperate, so aching that no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t satisfy the hunger.
“Your clit’s so swollen and tight.” A waft of heated air blew over the painfully swollen bud, causing her to shudder at the caress. “And your pussy’s so wet. So sweet and wet and so ready for me.”
His tongue licked through the narrow slit. The slow, heated lick was a lash of pure ecstatic pleasure. Better than anything, the hunger for more clawing through her senses now. Her hips writhed. Bucking against the licking strokes that drove her into a storm so chaotic she wondered if she’d survive it.
“Damn, Zoey, your pussy’s so sweet and hot,” he groaned, the vibration of sound pulsing into her clit, making her crazy for more.
Doogan’s forehead pressed against her thigh then, his breath harsh, his tortured moan filling the air around her.
“Just a little more,” he snarled.
A second later his head lifted, his hand landing against the vulnerable folds again, then again, again.
“Doogan . . .” She screamed his name, each heavy caress sending such furious shudders of sensation racing through her that she wondered if she was losing her mind.
Fiery pleasure almost, oh God, just almost detonated inside her.
She was dying. Crying. Begging him . . .
“Doogan, please.” Her gaze locked with his, her breathing so hard, so harsh she could barely speak. “Please. Please fuck me now.”
His expression was hard, his dark gaze filled with carnal hunger and desperate pleasure as he rose between her thighs. One hand wrapped around the heavy width of his cock, his fingers stroking the shaft once, twice, before he released the ties at her ankles with one tug of the cord restraining them.
“Bend your knees,” he snapped, dragging a pillow from beside her head. “Lift for me.”
Her hips lifted, anticipation shredding her senses as he pushed it beneath her, angling her hips upward, displaying her sex to his avid gaze and her shocked one.
“Watch,” he snapped, coming to her and dragging her thighs over his, his cock pressing against the clenched entrance he sought. “Watch, Zoey. Don’t you close your eyes. Watch me take you.”
Holding on to her thigh with one hand, he eased closer, the wide head parting her, pressing into her, stretching her with such flaming pleasure that Zoey felt the pressure expanding in her clit.
“First thrust,” he snarled. “You’re going to start coming, baby. You’re going to die for a minute right here, my cock filling you, working deeper and deeper inside you. Let it have you, witch. No worries.” His thighs bunched beneath hers. “No worries, give it to me . . .”
She watched.
He pulled back, the thick width of the crown gleaming with her juices, the heavy veins pulsing in the shaft. Pushing back, he hesitated at the entrance, a hard groan leaving his chest, and a second later, Zoey screamed.
He surged inside her. One hard, fast thrust and half the fierce, heavy width of his shaft was inside her and she was exploding. Her hips arched, dragging a snarl from him, another cry from her as she took the throbbing length deeper and the detonations exploded inside her with a violence that stole her breath.
She was coming for him, orgasming with such brutal pleasure that one explosion gave birth to another and released Doogan from whatever restraints held him back.
God, she was killing him.
Blinking the sweat from his eyes, Doogan stared at the point where his cock penetrated Zoey’s once-virgin body. Fuck, she was so delicate, so fragile, and each jerk of her hips against his thick erection took him deeper, clenching her tighter around his cock and making her pussy slicker, hotter.
The fist-tight grip around his sensitive flesh milked him, each pulsing shudder of the pleasure detonating inside her pulling him deeper.
Dragging the agonized flesh back until only the crown parted the spasming flesh, he thrust inside her again, her scream of pleasure causing his teeth to clench, sending warning chills of release to race up his spine as her pussy locked on his cock with a tight, rippling grip that had his balls flexing in warning.
He wasn’t going to last.
God, he didn’t know if he’d last long enough to bury full length inside her before he began coming.
Pulling back again, he thrust harder, deeper inside her.
“Ah fuck. Zoey . . .” His hands clenched on her thighs as she jerked again, surging into the thrust, his shaft penetrating deeper inside the hot, fisted grip of her pussy.
Timing.
Fuck, he had to watch his timing. Had to keep the sensations that rocked her into each orgasm at their peak. It was timing.
Sweet Zoey. Ah hell, it was so good. So good he didn’t know if he could hold on.
He pulled back, thrust deeper, harder.
“Ah hell, yes, baby. Cum again,” he snarled.
He was almost there. Almost there. His hips jerked, slamming against her as she lifted to him.
A strangled scream of agonized pleasure came as her body tightened again, her hips lifting further, taking him, ah God, taking him to the hilt as he shafted her hard and deep. She tightened around him until moving was agony, such deep, furious pleasure it was killing him.
They were both at their limit. He could feel her peaking, feel that final, destructive release building inside her, waiting. Just waiting for him to move.
He came over her, one hand holding her hip, restraining her movements, holding her in place, and then he began moving. Hard, jackhammer strokes and such blinding rapture he thought he might have bitten her, but hell if he could be sure.
He was fucking her with a fury he’d never displayed before, rapture shattering his senses, drawing an agonized groan from his chest as he felt her lift, tighten, her breath still for precious seconds before she exploded with a sudden, all-consuming violence that jerked him into the storm with her.
Her pussy flexed, sucked at his dick, heated and spasmed around it until control wasn’t even a thought. It was just gone. His semen shot from his cock, spilling inside her, jetting inside her pussy and destroying him with the sudde
n, agonized knowledge that nothing had ever been so good in his life.
He’d never cum so hard, so fucking deep. Never felt his lover’s flesh milking him with such deep, internal shudders that she marked him as he knew he was marking Zoey.
And through each blinding pulse of release he was pumping his cock inside her, small, slamming thrusts that amplified each agonized pulse of his release, each gripping, milking flex of her pussy.
When the final, bone-jarring shudder shot through him, stole the last of his energy and whatever ability he had to function, he simply stilled. It was all he could do to breathe. Beneath him, Zoey had become boneless, pliant, long seconds before him, though he could still feel the little tremors that occasionally rippled through her pussy and drew a groan from his lips as her still too-snug flesh fluttered around his cock.
He didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to ease from her. He wanted to stay right there, right where he was, just another heartbeat longer. He wanted to feel her wrapped around him for as long as possible. His cock buried inside her to the hilt, possessing her, feeling her like liquid silk wrapped so tight around his shaft like he’d never felt . . .
No condom.
He was bare inside her, he realized, his seed filling her, and he knew he’d shot inside her with such violent pulses there wasn’t a chance his seed hadn’t made its mark if by chance there was a flirty little egg waiting around.
Fuck.
How the hell had that happened?
He’d never fucked without a condom before. Never. It was a rule. Instinct. He’d had one tear once, the result was the marriage to a viper and the birth of the daughter that stole his heart. The child whose death had all but destroyed him. So what the hell had happened to instinct, to his determination to never chance another such loss, where this woman was concerned?
Dragging himself from her, his hoarse groan joining her weaker one as he pulled his cock from her tight grip, Doogan rolled to her side. What had him hooking his arm around her and dragging her against his chest, he’d be damned if he knew.
“I think I might have bitten you,” she mumbled, exhausted, now lying bonelessly against his side. “But I think you bit me too.”
He grunted at the information.
He knew he’d bitten her, and he’d glimpsed the mark he’d left at the base of her neck as he rolled from her. Unmistakable, livid, a love bite guaranteed to get him killed if anyone saw it and reported it to her brother.
Hell, it was worth it. He decided. The brutal explosion of pleasure he’d experienced was like nothing he’d known before. Let Dawg kill him. He’d regret never having her again, but he wouldn’t have wanted to die without knowing that pleasure either.
“Think I bit you hard.” She sounded sleepy, exhausted. “It’s gonna show.”
“Yours too.” He tucked her closer against him. “Give me just a minute, baby; I’ll get up and find something to dry you off.”
“It’s okay.” She was slipping slowly into sleep. “I want to wear you for just a little longer.”
Wear him.
Something tightened in his chest at her words. She wanted to wear him for a little while longer. She had no desire to wash the scent of him from her as other lovers rushed to do after sex. Instead of hurrying to the shower she was curled against him, her breathing easing, slipping into sleep.
He felt the moment she gave in to sleep, curled against him, the fragile delicacy of her body warm and far too comfortable to him. With any other woman he’d have already pushed himself from the bed and washed as well before dressing and finding another bed to sleep in. He hadn’t slept with a woman in his entire life. Even the wife he’d once claimed.
This one, hell, he didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay right here; he intended to stay right there.
Dragging the comforter from the other side of the bed to pull over them, he tucked his head against the top of hers, his fingers burying in the wealth of silky hair now splaying out behind her.
Those curls were like living silk. Springy, so damned soft it was only rivaled by the feel of her flesh, and warm. Just as she was. And he refused to allow himself to consider how dangerous she was to his control, to the lock-down he’d placed on his emotions. He couldn’t let himself consider what the result of this night could do to his soul if he wasn’t diligent enough, careful enough to ensure Zoey’s protection.
He felt his lips quirk as she moved, coming closer to him, flowing against him until she was close enough that not so much as a breath could slip between them.
He liked that. He liked it too much, he knew, and when it came time to move, to separate himself from her, would he be able to do it?
He would have to.
He couldn’t stay.
He couldn’t keep her.
That last thought as he slipped into sleep had his chest clenching in regret.
He had a feeling, if he wasn’t careful, nothing would matter more than keeping her. That holding her forever could easily become his only thought, his only desire.
And both their downfall.
SIX
Zoey Mackay stood at the edge of the water as the small waves lapped at the bank, mere inches from her bare feet. With her legs bent, her arms wrapped around them, her chin resting atop her knees, she watched as the sun began to descend along the top of the mountains surrounding her brother, Dawg’s, home.
She could hear the voices behind her, many raised in laughter as the Mackay family, relations and friends, came together. The family reunion grew every year. And it seemed to last longer every year as well.
Dawg’s sprawling backyard was filled. Tables laid out with every food imaginable, the smell of hot dogs grilling, the sound of children playing in the pool rather than romping in the shallow water close to the bank, echoed around her.
The pool was safer for the kids, Dawg had remarked.
Not to mention a hell of a lot cleaner.
It was the usual sounds of the Mackay yearly get-together, and once again, Zoey found herself on the outside looking in.
She’d been on the outside looking in since they’d arrived in Somerset. Never quite comfortable. Never quite certain when her past would catch up with her, when it would destroy her life and hurt everyone she loved.
She’d tried, she thought. She’d tried to fix it, but the price had been far too high. She couldn’t fix one betrayal by creating another, could she? She couldn’t betray her brother, her cousins. Her sisters. That was the price of freedom, and realizing that she couldn’t pay that price was destroying her.
“Hey, munchkin. What are you doing out here by yourself?” The question came as bare feet stepped up beside her, the ragged edge of a pair of men’s jeans brushing against the sand.
“Nothing. Just watching the sun set.” She moved to get up.
“Please don’t, Zoey.” Dawg touched her shoulder as he moved to sit next to her, his larger body dwarfing hers. “Here, have a beer.”
He extended the chilled bottle as Zoey turned to him warily.
“Thank you.” Accepting the bottle, she turned back to the lake and took a sip before sitting it on the sand next to the nearly full beer her cousin Natches had given her earlier. That bottle was sitting next to the soft drink Rowdy had brought her.
What was up with all the drinks anyway?
“You know,” he sighed, long minutes later, “when you and your sisters first arrived at the marina, I had a second I wished Chandler was still breathing so I could kill him myself. Especially when I saw you. All that wariness and fear in your eyes . . .”
“Do we really need to go over this, Dawg?” She sighed. “We’re here, we’re safe. It’s over.”
That usually managed to get him to back off. At least for a few months.
“Yes we do, little girl, and by God, this time you can give me the courtesy of looking at me while I’m talking to you,” he ordered, his tone lowering, darkening, causing her to jerk around and stare at him in surprise.
This was not
the gentle giant she was used to. Dawg never spoke sharply to his sisters. Ever.
“What did I do?” She frowned back at him.
Dawg wiped his hand over his face before staring back at her, the firm, commanding look giving way to a loving exasperation that always made her feel as though she had no chance of measuring up.
“You didn’t come to me,” he answered then, and for a second she saw a flash of pain in his eyes. “Even your sisters come to me when they need me. But when it was important, you didn’t do that, Zoey.”
God, no. He couldn’t know. There was no way he knew.
She jumped to her feet, aware that he was moving just as quickly. So quickly that as she moved to rush past him, he still managed to get to his feet and catch her by her arm. Gently.
“Let me go.” Pushing the words past clenched teeth as she refused to look at him, Zoey fought back the anger, the betrayal she’d kept a handle on for a year now.
“Why didn’t you come to me, Zoey?” he questioned her, the command in his tone once again. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on instead of hating us . . .”
“Is that what you think?” Jerking away, she turned on him, anger still a force that raged through her with such strength she had no idea how to contain it sometimes. “Do you think I hated you, that I blamed you somehow?”
Confusion flickered across his expression. “I would have helped . . .”
She laughed, a broken, bitter sound that caused her brother to flinch. “What would you have done, Dawg? What do you think you could have done?”
“Zoey, what have we done to you?” He gentled then. Reaching out, he pushed back a heavy fall of curls that trailed down the side of her face, until he could meet her gaze fully. “What have we done, baby sister, to make you think we’d not protect you?”
She trembled at the question. She couldn’t stop the tears that filled her eyes or those that overflowed to run down her cheeks.
“I love all of you,” she tried to reassure him. “You haven’t done anything. Nothing is your fault.”
“Why not tell him what you did, Zoey?”
Dawg jerked around, dragging her behind him as his big body blocked hers from the sight of the man stepping from the tree line.
