by Siobhan Muir
Scott cupped my face and rubbed them with his thumbs. “I believe you and I want you. And I’ll do sex your way anytime you want it, darlin’. You deserve pleasure. I get it from givin’ it to you.”
I sighed, closing my eyes against the tears threatening to fall. “I have to be on top, Scott. I can’t be under you, and you can’t take me from behind. It makes me panic. I can’t do any rough or fast play. It triggers me into remembering that night. Hell, I’m not even good at letting someone else undress me. I’m really broken.”
“You’re not broken.” He shook his head. “You’re special and you know yourself better than any of the rest of these assholes around here. Even me.” He stepped back and tilted his head. “Tell you what. Why don’t you take your clothes off again and lie down on the bed? I’d like to run my hands over you. You can watch me the whole time and tell me what feels good and what doesn’t, and we’ll go from there. Okay?”
I stared at him for a few moments trying to figure out if he was teasing me or not. Who was this guy? What happened to the cocky biker dude?
“You want me to take my clothes off?” At least I understood that much.
“Yeah. And lay on the bed. I’ll lie next to you and we’ll take it one step at a time.” He took another step back and gestured to his bed.
I narrowed my eyes, trying to determine if he was kidding. But his expression remained patient and compassionate, something I never expected out of a guy with the moniker “Scott Free.” I blinked and slid my capris off again, trying not to blush while his gaze perused my body. Why the hell am I feeling shy now? I shoved the unease down deep and crawled onto the bed, settling where he’d been just a few minutes before.
“Comfy?” Scott grinned as he settled on the bed beside me.
“Kinda. I feel a little weird.”
He nodded. “We’ll just have to build up the good vibes again. I want you to see me so nothing’s a surprise. From what you’ve told me, you’ve had enough surprises to last a lifetime. So here’s what I’m gonna do.” He raised his hand to stroke my midline without touching my breasts. “I’m gonna tell you what I’m doin’ while I’m doing it so you can see and feel it at the same time. And if I do something you don’t like, you can tell me.” His hand stopped above my mound. “Sound good?”
I couldn’t help the smirk. “Feels good, too.”
“Hell yeah. Let’s get this foreplay started.” He returned his hand to my collar bones while the other popped his head up. “Your body is fuckin’ gorgeous, Oriana. I love how soft your skin is.” He trailed his fingers around the curves of my breasts, first the left one then the right.
His touches remained light and sensual, igniting some long-buried arousal I hadn’t experienced in years. He watched me watching him, his expression both focused and hopeful. I didn’t want to let him down anymore than he wanted to hurt me. The question was, could I relax and enjoy it enough for us both to get our wishes?
I swallowed hard. “I’m sure you’ve touched a lot of soft-skinned women.” I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. This wasn’t about comparison or his past. This was supposed to be about pleasure, but my asshole analytical side wouldn’t let it rest.
“Maybe. I don’t really remember. None of them are as important as you right now.”
Nice words, but I wondered if he’d forget me just as quickly as he did the others. My arousal cooled and disappointment settled into my gut.
“Hey, where did you go?” He skimmed his fingers up to my face and turned my head toward him.
“Nowhere. I’m still here, just ordinary me. Your current interest.”
His eyebrows went up. “My current interest?”
“Yeah, one in a long line of forgettable women you’ve enjoyed.” I shrugged. “I get it. I’m no one special, just the one woman who didn’t fall at your feet when you gave her the ‘come hither’ look.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Scott laid his hand over my heart and met my gaze squarely. “You’re not “just one in a long line” of women. I’m not claiming to be a monk, but contrary to popular belief I don’t screw just anyone.” He gave a rueful laugh. “But here’s what’s good about that. I have a lot of experience, so you’re not getting a lover who’s an overexcited teenager with no skill. I also know when I see someone worth all my attention and effort. You’re definitely that kind of woman.”
“You’re just saying that because I sucked your cock.”
“No, but that sure was a helluva bonus. You’re definitely one of the most talented cocksuckers I know.” He winked.
“Ew, shut up!” I smacked his chest with the flat of my hand, but I couldn’t help the laughter boiling up. “I don’t think that’s something I’d put on my resume.”
“You better not. I don’t want to share that talent with any other guy.” His gaze settled into deep, erotic intensity. “That’s a skill I want to keep all to myself.”
I smirked. “You know I’ll need lots of practice to keep myself in top condition.”
He grinned. “Hell yeah. I’m always available for your workouts.”
I laughed and he resumed his stroking of my body with his fingers. He slid them across my belly and along my thigh, making me shiver. I’d never had a guy take the time to do anything more than grope, like selecting a ripe avocado. But Scott seemed to be sensing the textures and forms of my skin. I hadn’t expected that kind of sensitivity in a man like him, but I quickly revised my opinion.
When he came back up the inside of my leg, he skirted past the overgrown wedge of pubic hair on my mound. I used to keep it well trimmed so it wouldn’t show outside of a bathing suit, but after my assault, it didn’t seem worth it anymore. I squirmed with discomfort and his gaze snapped to mine.
“Too much?”
I shook my head with a grimace. “No, I’m just not satisfied with my body.”
“Why?” He seemed genuinely perplexed. “It’s beautiful. I can tell you’re strong because there’s muscle here.” He grasped my thigh and squeezed gently. “And here.” He moved his hand to my biceps. “And here.” He trailed his fingers over my belly down to my mound.
“I’m not exactly ripped, Scott.” I wriggled at his touches and his hand slipped into my hair. I gasped, but he didn’t try to cop a feel.
“You don’t have to be ‘ripped’ to be strong. And I prefer my women to have curves rather than skin-covered skeletons.” He still hadn’t moved his hand. “You are feminine and curvy and beautiful.” He shifted to his knees over my body, his cock and balls hanging between his thighs as he pushed my legs apart. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get a better view of your pussy. That okay with you?”
I thought having a large man crouched over me would scare me, but Scott’s gentleness and attention to my needs had dissolved my fears. I nodded and he settled belly-down on the bed between my legs. His shoulders barely fit between them even when he drew his arms under my thighs to wrap around my hips.
“Ah, much better.” He grinned up at me before he inhaled deeply. “Damn, you smell good. Sweet and tangy, like a ripe apricot.” He licked his lips. “My all-time favorite summer fruit.”
“Apricots?”
“Oh yeah.” He sighed as he closed his eyes, his face filling with blissful delight. “Sweet enough to make it addicting, but just enough tang to keep it interesting and refreshing. Like you.” He met her gaze. “You’re sharp like the tang of the apricot, but full of heart and strength to bring out the sweetness.” He swept his thumbs through my pubic hair, his gaze hot as he met mine. “Will you let me taste you to see if I’m right?”
His thumbs kept massaging my mound as he waited for me to make a decision, a warm, patient expression on his face. My heart melted in that moment. I suspected he would stop if I told him no, but I craved human touch, particularly of the sexual variety. It helped that I wanted him to do naughty things to me, but I wanted Scott in particular. He was far more than his rough exterior.
Glory, I lo—
&nbs
p; I shut the thought down fast before it made me panic. It was too early for such emotions and now wasn’t the time. Dredging my voice from somewhere deep in my chest, I nodded.
“Please, Scott. Taste me.”
The smile curling his lips was heart-stopping.
Without a word, he dipped his head and kissed my nether lips with exquisite tenderness. I’d never been pleasured between the legs with the same gentleness. All the guys I’d been with before either ate me like a dog gorging itself or avoided my pussy altogether. But Scott took his time, licking and kissing my pussy lips, and I melted onto the bed.
Pleasure surged through me and my orgasm built at lightning speed. It had been so long since someone made an effort to please me, my body had no stamina against his sensual determination. I expected his touches to remind me of the night in the broom closet, but the two events didn’t remotely compare. Though Scott wrapped his arms around my hips, I didn’t feel held down at all. When he stroked my breasts while his tongue lapped at my pussy, I felt cherished and valued rather than taken.
“Oh my glory, Scott. Oh, oh, oooohhhh!”
My words devolved into little more than sounds as my orgasm crashed over me. Scott hummed his approval as I moaned and writhed, the vibrations sending sweet aftershocks rolling through my body. I whimpered and shook, reveling in the elusive pleasure of my release. I wanted it to last forever, to be strong enough to override the memories of my rape. I wanted to imprint it on my psyche so it would be the first memory I accessed when I thought of sex.
Scott gently lowered my legs and crawled up the bed to lie beside me. He kissed the side of my head and gathered me into his arms, pulling me close.
“Shh, I got you. You’re safe, darlin’.”
I didn’t understand the necessity for his words until I realized my face had grown wet. Tears flooded out of my eyes and down my cheeks without my express okay. Why the hell was I crying?
The question made me analyze the emotions thundering through me. Pleasure, no question, but also amazement, gratitude, relief, and fear. Fear that I’d need more of this kind of pleasure. Fear that Scott would hold it over me as a means to control me and my actions. I’d become his “old lady”, his property. Nothing more than a possession to be thrown away when I was no longer interesting or useful.
“Hey, why are you crying?” He rose up to meet my gaze. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
I shook my head, trying to find words to explain the myriad of thoughts and feelings. But they wouldn’t come and the tears wouldn’t stop. I let go of the effort to find coherency and turned my face to his chest, wetting his skin with my sorrow.
He didn’t ask any more questions. He held me in his arms providing comfort without restriction and let me sob into his chest. I’d never experienced the perfect blending of release and comfort before in my life, and it allowed me to relax for the first time in two years. The last thing I remembered was the scent of masculine safety surrounding me as I fell asleep.
Chapter Nine
Scott
“I want to know the mudfucker Oriana Hunter worked for when she was with the FBI.” I pushed my way into Neo’s lair and crossed my arms over her chest.
“Hello to you, too, Scott.” Neo’s dry voice reached my ears though he didn’t turn around from his terminal. “What’s this about now?”
“She told me what happened to her and by whom.” My voice was little more than a snarl. “I want to know who he is, where he lives, who he pretends to fuck, what he ate for breakfast the last three days, and the times he takes a shit. I want him now.”
Neo sighed. “You know she worked for the FBI, right?”
“Yeah, and?”
“And you take out one of them, you get the entire Federal Bureau of Intimidation breathing down your neck.”
I scowled. “I can’t believe you’d let a rapey asshole go like this.”
Neo’s expression darkened. “I’m not letting it go, just putting it on the back burner until we get shit figured out.”
My anger remained, but I took a mental step back. “You’re talking about Roy.”
“Yeah, shit doesn’t add up.” Neo turned back to his monitors, clicking on a few things. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t go cellphone free while in Denver, but he didn’t take the one we have on file. He either turned it off for the whole weekend or left it in the hotel room with Melrose, and that doesn’t make any sense.”
I frowned as he pulled up a map of Denver with some pretty light blue lines showing the path of Roy’s phone. I don’t know why Neo picked that color for him. I’d expect shit brown or maybe a dirt gray to represent the jackass, but the blue definitely stood out. The lines ran from our location, squiggled around a little in Fort Collins then made a straight shot to Denver where it stopped. The second line started in Longmont when he turned the phone back on.
“Did he say who he’d been meeting with?” I rubbed my chin as a new idea took form. It was farfetched and so thin as to be anorexic, but there were hints of truth I’d been ignoring.
Neo shrugged. “Yeah, he said he had contracts down there he needed to iron out. But here’s the thing. I hacked into security cameras around the usual places he’s gone in the past and he never showed up there. Loki sent Attila down to check them out and ask around, but no one had seen him.”
Attila was a guy who looked just like a Hungarian barbarian. He even wore hides of various animals he’d killed and skinned. Most were things like deer, elk, and antelope, but he definitely had one coyote hide he sometimes wore as a hat over his long dread-locked hair. If anyone embodied the “badass biker” persona, it was Attila.
“Come on, no one? What about the security cameras in front of the hotel? If we can see which way he went, we can get a clue where to look.” I rubbed my chin as a niggling truth tried to get my attention. What was it about Roy that set me off? Until Oriana had arrived, he’d been just another road mate, a guy part of the crew.
Until Oriana arrived.
I blinked. She’d shown up with Melrose and suddenly Roy found places to be that didn’t include the compound. Hell, even since he’d been back, he stayed away from the clubhouse at mealtimes and didn’t use the rec room that much when he used to be a fixture. What the hell?
“What if…what if he’s avoiding Numbers?”
Neo raised his eyebrows. “What?”
I rubbed my chin, the texture of the rough hairs helping me organize my thoughts. “What if he’s undercover FBI and he’s avoiding Oriana? That would explain why he took off almost as soon as she arrived and why he disappeared in Denver. Hell, it might even explain why he hooked up with Melrose since she was Oriana’s “friend.” If he’s undercover, he might need to avoid a disgraced agent.”
“Come on. We’d know if he was an undercover agent. Nobody’s that good, especially around Loki.”
I shrugged. “Maybe he had a great background put in place. And really, he didn’t have to do much but hang around, do what he’s told, and collect info. He didn’t start acting squirrelly until Oriana, a former FBI agent, was brought in. As I recall, he lit on out of here like his ass was on fire.” My gut told me I was right, or at least close, but I had no evidence.
“The problem is I can’t tell where he’s been unless we find his other phone, assuming he has one.”
I shook my head. “Nah, we got two ways to figure it out. Follow the security camera videos to see if we can track where he went, and introduce him to Oriana.”
Neo rubbed his own chin. “But if he’s FBI, what if he’s the guy who raped her?”
Oh shit. I hadn’t considered that. On the other hand, it would give me the opportunity to kick the shit out of both Roy the asshole and the monster who’d hurt Oriana all at once. But it was it worth it to make her face him again?
“There’s an easy way to figure that shit out.” I pointed at the screens. “Bring up the man who was her supervisor while she worked there. See if you can find his ID card or a picture of him. That’ll te
ll us if he’s Roy or not.”
Neo ground his teeth, but he brought up Oriana’s file. Before he opened it, he looked around his lair to make sure we were alone before tapping the keys to open the icon.
Oriana’s face and stats filled the screen. She’d taken a great ID photo in a smart blue suit with a v-necked white shirt underneath. Her hair had been pulled back behind her head and her startling hazel eyes stared boldly at the camera. She wore a Mona Lisa smile as if she knew something no one else did. Where did that woman go? When I’d met her, the bold smile had disappeared to be replaced by a wary, watchful mask that showed very little.
I need to help her find her Mona Lisa smile again.
“Here it is.” Neo’s voice interrupted my perusal of her image. “It says her supervisory agent was a guy named Dirk Hopkins.” His fingers flew over the keys and an image showed up on another monitor. “According to the website, he’s still an active agent.”
I scowled. “Oriana said he kept his job while she was chased out of hers.”
I studied the image of the man in front of me. He reminded me of a smooth, confident con-artist. His half-smile failed to reach the blue eyes and the clean-shaven cleft chin made me want to mar the masculine good-looks. The image projected a sense of what the All-American boy-next-door would look like if he grew up. Perfect, handsome, and unreproachable.
Except I know you’re a rapist.
“So he’s not Roy.” Roy had pale blue eyes and Teutonic features with a pinched mouth. “But it doesn’t mean Roy’s not undercover FBI. I think we need to find out where he went, at least as far as the cameras can tell us.”
“Yeah, well, that’s gonna take a while. It’s four a.m. Go get some sleep. Hell, go back to bed with Numbers. She gave you a helluva good ride, didn’t she?”
Actually, I’d given her one of the best orgasms and then made her cry. I wasn’t sure the crying was such a good thing, but she’d turned to me and fallen asleep in my arms. I counted that as a win.
“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”
