by Lora Leigh
She rose up, curling her legs under her as he knelt in front of her. Her hands lifted, palms stroking along his chest, down the hard, rippling abs as her lips pressed to his hip.
She needed. Needed to love him. This one night. Enough to last forever.
She gripped the hard length of his cock, smoothed her hands over the shaft as she watched the little pearl of liquid that formed at the slit.
Her tongue touched it, tasted it. And she wanted more. She let her mouth cover the broad crest, her tongue finding the little bar piercing beneath the head, playing with it as she sucked at the crown.
“Hell, Sair.” His hands burrowed in her hair, pulling, caressing the strands. “So pretty. So sweet.”
She stared up at him, caught and held by his gaze. Oh God. Oh God. He was staring at her in a way she never thought he would. As though, almost as if, maybe, he cared for her?
She whimpered, her mouth filled with him, her hunger for him suddenly ravenous. She had to have him. All of him. Touch him. Learn him. Her fingers stroked the shaft; her palm moved to the tight weight of his balls and she caressed him there as well.
His shoulders looked massive from where she sat. His arms were bunched. The snake tattoo rippled across his bicep, moved, flexed, its red eyes piercing the dim light of the room.
The sight of it brought her a sense of security, not a sense of fear.
“Christ. Yeah. Suck me, Sair. Hell. Your mouth is so fucking sweet. Damn you. Tight and hot and so damned sweet.”
He was blunt, explicit, and she loved it. She needed it. Her suckling strokes became deeper as she took him to her throat, moaned, and let her hands pump his shaft.
Evidently she was doing well.
“Hell. I love fucking your mouth,” he bit out as the crown of his cock throbbed, seeming to swell thicker against her tongue.
His hands pulled at her hair, just enough. It sent flashes of pleasure racing through her scalp, down her spine.
“Oh yeah, suck it like that,” he groaned as she took him deep, her tongue tucking against the piercing and rolling over it. “Damn, Sair. You make me hard enough to fucking cut glass with my dick.” He growled the words. They rumbled from his chest, filled her senses.
She wanted to taste him, all of him.
“The hell you’re gonna make me blow this fast.”
She gripped his hips as he pulled back.
“Ethan, wait.”
“Like hell.” He pushed her back.
Before she could recover he was over her, kissing her, taking her mouth with deep plunges of his tongue. Licking and tasting her before his lips moved to her breasts.
He sucked her nipples, flicked the little rings, then tucked them back around the hard peaks. The pressure around them was heated, agonizing with pleasure.
“I love your body. So sweet and curved. Sexy as hell.”
His lips moved down her stomach, kissing, licking. Sarah felt herself dissolving, losing all thoughts of everything but Ethan’s touch. His lips, his tongue.
“Ethan! Oh yes. Yes, lick me there. Right there.” Her hips arched, her fingers tangled in his hair, holding his head to her as his tongue stroked around her clit. He kissed it, licked around it again. Never truly touching it. Only coming close. So close.
Her legs fell farther apart, need burning inside her. She could feel her juices falling from her, heating her further, preparing her for him. Just for him. She needed him.
“Please. Please. Oh, Ethan. It’s so good.”
“I love your pussy,” he growled. “Sweet, sweet Sair. Sweet all the hell over.”
He sucked her clit into his mouth then and gave her what she needed. Rapture blazed through her. Ecstasy blazed before her eyes in rainbow hues of exploding melting color.
And he didn’t wait. He didn’t give her time to come down from the high. He rose over her, clasping her face in his hands as his cock pressed into her pussy.
“Look at me, Sair.”
She struggled to open her eyes as her legs lifted to clasp his hips.
“Baby,” he groaned, touching his forehead to hers, staring down at her as he eased inside her. Slow and easy. “I love you, Sair.”
She stilled, blinked. She couldn’t have heard him correctly.
“What?” Her voice trembled, hope surged through her.
“I love you, Sair. My sweet little Sair. My heart. I love you.”
He pushed in deeper, stealing her breath. Her arms wrapped around his neck as pleasure turned to something brighter, hotter.
“I love you, Ethan Cooper,” she cried out, arching as he took more of her. “Oh God, I love you.”
He plunged deep. The hard, forceful stroke took her breath, gave her what she needed, a pleasure so rich, so destructive, nothing existed but them. No Sarah. No Ethan. Just together.
He pumped inside her, holding her to him, his lips covered hers, his kiss filled her. His groans met her cries, and when ecstasy exploded between them, she felt the sweet, blistering intensity. He filled her as she surrounded him. His release spurted inside her, mixing with hers as it flowed around them.
Sweat-dampened and sated, they collapsed in each other’s arms.
“My woman.” He pulled her against him, tipped her head up, and almost glared down at her. “You won’t leave me, Sair. Do you hear me?”
She had run for so long, did she know anything else?
“Trust me, Sair.” His thumb brushed her lips, his voice crooned, seductive, commanding. “Trust me to protect what belongs to me.”
Did she have any other choice?
“I love you,” she whispered.
“Trust me, Sair.”
“I trust you.” With her life, but more important, with her heart.
He dragged the comforter over them.
“Damn. Maybe I can fucking sleep now.” He sighed. “You’ve kept me awake, Sair, missing you.”
“I missed you, Ethan,” she whispered, relaxing against him. “I missed you.”
And she hadn’t slept.
She slept now. Deep, dreamless. Held in his arms, where he protected her, even from the nightmares.
chapter 8
cooper stared at the bank of monitors over the desk, his arms crossed over his chest, the fingers of one hand stroking at the stubble over his jaw.
He’d forgotten to shave that morning and hadn’t realized it until he saw the red abrasions on Sarah’s sensitive skin. Now there wasn’t going to be time to shave.
He watched the two men who eased up to the bar, their faces deliberately turned away so as not to allow the camera to get a clear shot. There was a third man behind them: a larger man, a ball cap pulled down over his brow.
Interesting.
They were talking to Jake as he poured drinks. Cooper watched as Jake shook his head at the two in front, then moved down the bar to serve several other customers.
One of the men looked up at the camera from beneath his lashes and Cooper’s eyes narrowed. There was something about that look that he recognized. It wasn’t the man, he didn’t know the man, but the look itself. A sense of familiarity he couldn’t place.
Grimacing, he turned and moved quickly to the bed.
“Sair.” He leaned over his sleeping lover, kissed her cheek, felt her arms lift lazily and twine around his neck.
“Hm. Come back to bed,” she mumbled, trying to burrow back under the covers.
“Sair, we have trouble, baby.”
Her eyes opened immediately. Her arms slid from around his neck and she rolled out of the bed. Her response was too quick, too ingrained. Cooper felt his chest tighten at the knowledge that she had been forced to run too many times in her young life.
Wild, loose ringlets fell around her as she moved through the room, searching for her clothes now.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as she hurriedly put on her bra and panties.
She was picking up her jeans as he pulled his T-shirt back on and glanced back to the monitors. At that moment, a red light lit
up and a low buzz filled the room.
“What’s that?” Sair jerked on her blouse despite the alarm that filled her face.
“That’s trouble.” Cooper felt his body go on alert. He shoved his socked feet into his boots and strode to the closet at the side of the room.
There, he jerked out the automatic military-issue rifle, snapped the clip in efficiently, and shoved two extra ammo clips into the band of his jeans.
The door behind the bar had just been breached, and Jake or one of his bouncers hadn’t opened it willingly. He moved back to the monitors.
“Do you recognize them?” He pointed to the men moving through the short hall that led to the stairs.
Sair moved to the monitors, pulling on her sandals as she stared at the three men who kept their faces deliberately turned away from the cameras.
She shook her head. “The big guy in the back looks familiar, but I can’t see his face for his ball cap.”
Cooper heard the fear in her voice, felt it.
“How do we get out of here?” she whispered.
Cooper stared at the three men. Jake was in the lead, his expression furious as he glanced at the hidden cameras as they passed.
But he wasn’t giving any signals. Nothing to indicate an attack. Cooper watched his face carefully as he led the men to the stairs. Nothing. Not a flicker of an eyelash, not a tightening of his lips.
“Come here.” He gripped her arm and led her across the room. Slapping the side of his hand against the paneling, he stood back as the door eased open to reveal a narrow set of stairs leading down.
Coming up those stairs were Casey, Iron, and Turk. They were heavily armed, expressions set.
He pulled Sarah back as they filed into the room, the same moment a heavy knock sounded at the door.
“Jake didn’t say a word, didn’t even indicate trouble,” Turk growled almost soundlessly. “We didn’t know shit till we looked up and he was gone from the bar.”
“Hey Coop, I need to talk to you.” Jake knocked again as Cooper’s eyes narrowed.
“Ethan?” Distressed, frightened, Sarah stared back at him. “We can’t leave Jake out there with them.” Her hand touched her chest, rubbing against it as though it ached. Cooper felt almost a killing rage.
“Get in here.” He pushed her to the small landing behind the paneling.
“No.” Gripping his arm, fear brightening her eyes, she tried to tug him in after her. “Not without you. I won’t leave you here.”
“Dammit, Sair.”
“No. I won’t protect myself while you stand in front of a bullet for me. I won’t do it.”
“Sarita.”
Sarah froze at the sound of the voice, the name called through the door.
“Have your friend open the door for us, Sarita. I promise, there is no danger. Come, sweetheart. Let Pa-pa see your pretty face.”
Her gaze swung to the door as she felt emotions—fear, hope, longing—pouring through her. She shook her head, feeling the tears that built behind her eyes at that voice.
It wasn’t Pa-pa. It couldn’t be. He was dead. Uncle Martin had cried when he learned the news that Pa-pa was dead.
“No.” She shook her head and stared back up at Ethan in terror now. “It’s a trick. He’s dead. Uncle Martin knew he was dead. It’s not him.”
“Coop, it’s cool, man. They’re not armed,” Jake called out. “Let’s get this shit over with so I can go back to work, okay?”
“You get ready to run!” Ethan shoved his finger at her as he pushed her to the one called Casey. “Casey, if anything happens to her…”
“I’m dead meat and turned to sausage.” Casey nodded his shaggy head as he gripped her arm and pulled her back to the landing.
Sarah felt her chest erupting with pain, with fear. Her hands gripped Ethan’s arm, fear cascading through her as she felt herself shuddering, torn apart from the inside out.
“Sarita, little one. Pa-pa wants only to see his little angel. Would you deny me this?” the voice called from the other side of the door.
Sarah felt the tears that fell from her eyes. It sounded so much like Pa-pa. Her breathing hitched, the pain spearing through her heart like a double-edged sword.
“No. He’s dead,” she whispered, staring up at her lover, beseeching. “We have to leave, Ethan. Please.”
He touched her cheek with his fingertips. “I love you. Stay with Casey and let’s see what we have here.”
“No.” She reached out as he pulled back from her, fighting to follow him as Casey’s arm snagged around her waist and pulled her back.
“Don’t get him killed, girl,” Casey snapped quietly. “Let him do what he has to. Cooper doesn’t run. None of us do. We stand and fight, or we’re better off dead.”
No. No. She couldn’t do this. She knew what her father’s enemies were like, the cruelties, the absolute lack of mercy. She could feel the scars on her flesh like a fresh brand now, searing her with the memory of how they used a child to force her pa-pa to do as they wanted. Until he had secretly gone to the authorities, turned himself in, and made a deal that destroyed him as well as the other crime families that had struck against him.
Her pa-pa had saved her. But she had suffered for his crimes. A part of her hated what he had been before he died, but another part of her ached for the father she had known. Loving. Strong. So kind.
At least, to those he loved. To those he didn’t love, he had been a monster, not unlike those who had kidnapped her.
“Don’t distract him, girl,” Casey snarled at her ear as he pushed her behind him and Ethan, while Turk and Iron placed themselves at the door.
Ethan moved to the side while Turk and Iron flattened themselves against the wall on each side of the door.
“Ethan. Man. The bar is going to hell without me,” Jake called out.
Ethan frowned. Every damned thing Jake was saying was a clear sign that their visitors were unarmed and unthreatening.
He moved to the table, and hit the electronic code to unlock and unbar the door. He stood back, lifting his weapon to his shoulder, bracing it, his finger caressing the trigger.
“Jake?”
“Yeah, Coop?”
“You go back to the bar. If these boys are so nice and friendly, they don’t need you anymore, do they?”
Cooper glanced at the monitors and watched as Jake rolled his shoulders.
Jake stood in front of the other three at the landing of the stairs.
“Come on, Cooper,” Jake’s voice was irritated now. A sure sign he believed whatever crap these yahoos were giving him.
“Bring ’em on in, Jake,” Cooper drawled, watching as Turk and Iron got ready.
The door swung open slowly and Jake moved in, ahead of the others. Hands held carefully to their sides, the other three men moved in behind him.
Government. The two in the front were feds, and when Cooper glimpsed the one in the back, he knew who he was dealing with. Giovanni Fredrico.
“Sarita.” Fredrico pulled off the ball cap, his eyes on Sair as she stood still and silent in the entrance to the escape stairs.
He didn’t look as old as Cooper knew he was. Giovanni Fredrico was fifty years old, but looked ten years younger. His black hair had only a sprinkling of white at the temples. His eyes were like Sair’s, a pale blue, his skin swarthy, and he was staring at his daughter the way another man might stare at an angel.
Sarah had to fight the need to run to him. Gio the Giant, he was called. He was her pa-pa. At least, he had been, until she had learned what he was, who he was. Until she had learned he had been just as brutal, as cruel as the men who had kidnapped her.
As Ethan lowered his gun, she moved hesitantly from Casey. Skirting around the crowd now in the front part of the room, she moved slowly to Ethan. She couldn’t explain the reasons why, couldn’t explain why she needed to hold on to him, but the need was overwhelming. She felt as though the floor were rocking beneath her, as though the world was spinning.
&
nbsp; When his arm slid around her and he pulled her close to his side, it felt right. And as she stared back at Gio the Giant, she fought to find in him the man who had rocked her to sleep as a child, who had sung funny songs to her, who taught her to dance and how to play hopscotch.
“Sarita.” His face contorted painfully as the arms he had lifted out to her fell to his sides. “I have searched for you since you left Dallas. Two years I looked, after your cousin and aunt learned of Martin’s death. To bring you home.”
“I am home.” She held on to Ethan as though he were a lifeline.
She felt as though her heart were breaking in two. How she had loved her tall, strong pa-pa. Loved him so much that the news of his death, despite her anger at him, had nearly broken her. And now, to learn that that, too, was a lie …
He breathed in roughly, shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks in a move that was so very characteristic of him. He stared back at her, his face more lined than it had been, his eyes shadowed.
“Your brother, he is in California searching for you. He thought perhaps you had returned there.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to hear about her brother, either. Beauregard, named for an American friend, was his father’s son. Not the brother she had imagined him to be.
“Go away,” she whispered, feeling Ethan’s arms tighten around her.
“Sair,” Ethan whispered against her hair. “Let’s see what he wants.”
She shook her head and cried. “He wants forgiveness. Atonement. Isn’t that right, Gio?” She blinked back her tears at the pain that filled his face. “It’s the same thing Beau wants as well.”
“I want to know my little Sarita, my angel, is safe and happy,” Gio said heavily. “Forgiveness or atonement is not what I seek.”
“You knew before you came here.” She could feel the pain ripping at her, digging merciless claws into her chest. “You checked me out and you followed me, and you sent Beau to California. Why? Shall I tell you why?”
“Sarita,” he whispered as a man stricken with grief would have whispered.
“Why, Gio?” She clenched her fists and faced him, years of anger and pain exploding inside her, cascading through her like an avalanche of sorrow and fury. “You sent Beau to California so he wouldn’t kill? So he wouldn’t do as he swore when I was sixteen and kill any man who dared touch me? Well, I’m no longer sixteen. And I’m no longer Sarita.”
