And it’s fucking amazing.
He’s savage as he wrenches the offending clothes off me. When I’m naked before him, he takes a moment to drink me in and remove his pants before climbing on top of me. He’s powerful, all muscle and sinew.
He’s sexy, the kind of powerful that’s not honed in the gym, but perhaps from something more intense, like calisthenics.
His hands feel huge as they capture mine. Palm to palm, I surrender to his lips as he plunders my mouth and lifts my hands over my head in a helpless position that’s too sexy. I can’t even breathe, I’m just pinned under him, desperate for more, more, more. His teeth close over my lower lip and I whimper as he pulls back a bit.
Then, he’s positioned against me, the tip of him persuading my body to open for him. I tilt my hips, every bit of me hungry to feel him again. I’ve wanted this since we did it last. Every dream has been him, fucking me.
And this primal, rough side of him is so much more sexy than the sweet fantasy I’d had.
Suddenly, the world shifts and I find myself on top.
I cry out as he fills me. I want to ease off, but his hands find my hips and hold me prisoner. I look down at him, shocked at the dark fury and raw desire in his eyes. He releases me to grab the free sheet on my bed. I watch, unsure what he’s about to do as he brings it behind my ass and grabs it in both hands.
Then he pulls me forward, both arms flexing as he fills me so far I feel like I’m going to split. It’s painful, but so damn amazing at the same time, I’m conflicted.
“Hold on,” he growls, nudging his chin at the heavy wooden headboard at the top of my bed. I grab it, aware it puts my chest on display, but helps me balance so much better. Then, he’s moving me. The sheet holds my ass prisoner and he’s merciless as he hauls me forward and lets me rock back.
But the sensations! The pressure on my clit is unbearable and shoves me headlong toward orgasm, while my body adjusts to how deep he is, how hard, how unforgiving. There’s nothing sweet about this. This isn’t lovemaking. This is raw, angry sex, and it’s fucking amazing.
His whole body works like a rower as he moves me and I just hold on, glad for the support. Every pull makes my tits bounce, and I see him smile a small, cruel smile as he studies me.
Everything works in tandem as he forces my body to act as he wants it. And I watch him, startled by all of it. It feels too good. It’s too rough. He’s such a bastard.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper, feeling my body creeping closer to the brink of orgasm. Why had I ever thought that sweet and gentle was sexy? Why had I never considered angry fucking to be the hottest thing ever?
“You’re going to come,” he growls, his intense ice blue eyes raging like fire as he captures me in his stare. The challenge is enough to balance me somewhere between wanting to do as he says and not doing so just to spite him.
But screw spiting him, I’m going to enjoy this. Every last pulsing, wet, incredible second of it. And that means an orgasm. One more intense than any masturbation session has brought me. Something more breathtaking and earth-shattering than I’ve ever reached myself.
“Emma,” He says, bringing me back to him, to this moment he’s creating in my heart and soul, “I need you to come, now.”
And, as if my body was simply waiting for this order from him, everything comes together and explodes outward in an impossible exposition of pleasure. The clenching of my core aches throughout my whole being and the way my body shudders is beyond my control.
And through it, he’s watching me, his face tightly controlled as my world falls to pieces and washes away in waves of destruction. But it’s beautiful. He seems to swell in me as the pulsing of my pussy clamps down on him, holding him tightly, embracing him like I’m both trying to expel him and hold him hostage.
How has he managed to have such an impact on my life? Why am I here, riding the incredible cock of a man who has done everything in his power to destroy my life? And why is it so devastatingly amazing?
As the pleasure begins to fade to a warmth that’s soothing and begs me to rest, he gathers me into his chest and holds me tightly.
And I can’t help myself. “Don’t worry, I’m still clean,” I murmur as his arms lock around me.
“And still on the pill?” he says. I lift my head from where I’m listening to his slowing heart. There’s a twinkle in his eyes, a humor that’s alien. But it’s humor.
“Nope,” I say, giving it right back. If he wants to play, I’ll play. “Some rich guy was plowing me, so I figured I’d get pregnant and trap him.”
“Well fuck,” he says, shifting a little bit to find a more comfortable position. “Someone should warn the poor bastard.”
I feel his lips rest on the top of my head as my body melts into him. And the sudden sense that all is well fills me. He’s not making a big deal of things. He let me tease him for his screw up. Hell, he poked fun at himself. Most guys would be total assholes if I pointed out their mistakes. Not him. He took it like a champ and even played right into more jokes.
Maybe he’s not so bad after all.
Chapter 29
Kieran
For the first time ever, I feel bad leaving. I want nothing more than to stay with Emma. I want to watch her sleep, listen to her dream, and wake her up with another round before feeding her a solid breakfast.
But I have to get home. I’m a father. I’ve got obligations.
But she’s so sweet right here, beside me, her breathing even and slow. She’s sleeping. Peacefully. Without issues to the rough encounter we’d had. The pain I’d put her through. Even now, I see the redness of her exposed hip where the sheet had dug in. It’ll be hours before those go away. Hell, with how pale she is, they might even bruise.
The stinging in my shoulder is achingly painful, and I glance down, seeing where she’d sunk her teeth into me when I’d gone too far and hurt her. The skin is bruised and red, but I’m not upset. She’d stood her ground. She’d let me rough her up, but not without some protest.
In her sleep, she shifts, murmuring something unintelligible. I glance around her room, loving the slight blue tint to the off-white walls, the sheer curtains, the warmth of her pale yellow comforter. The room is chilly, yet warm. It’s filled by her. Her scent, her presence, her soul.
It feels like home.
I rise from her side, hating myself as she curls into the warmth I’d left behind. Everything in me wants to stay. But I can’t.
Obligations.
And, for the first time, I’m disappointed that I can’t stay. But if Olivia were to come looking for me and I wasn’t there… I don’t want that. She’s in a vulnerable place. And she has to come first.
Of course my daughter comes first. What am I even thinking?
Quietly, I get dressed.
I slip out the door, then out of the house, careful not to wake her. In the truck, I sit a moment, looking up at her room.
When I turn over the engine and drive off, I see it; the glint of a dark car, sitting down the driveway. Before I can get close, it shoots off into the dark of the night, disappearing on the main road toward the freeway.
I give chase, wondering who the hell is sitting in her driveway, watching us. A sickening knot winds up in my gut. Whoever it is, they know what happened. They know she and I are sleeping together. They couldn’t not know; from their vantage point, they’d be able to see right into her bedroom window. Sure, they’d need binoculars, but why else would they be there?
But on the freeway, the car vanishes into the flow of traffic and speeds off so fast I can’t imagine they won’t get pulled over. Thinking smart, I decide to set up some cameras on her driveways and call up Beau, the bodyguard I put on Olivia.
“What’s up, boss?” he growls into the phone.
“I need you to keep an eye on an address. Ready?” I ask. When he agrees, I rattle off the info and breathe easy. Beau will keep me informed. And he’ll send over one of his trusted guys to keep an eye on her. She’ll ne
ver know it, Beau assures me, and I trust him.
Once I’m off the phone, I head toward home, trying to decide what I’m going to do with Emma.
I wake up to Olivia climbing into bed with me. “Good morning,” I tell her, and she smiles and kisses my cheek.
“Will you make me pancakes?” she whispers, her blue eyes on mine. She’s heartbreakingly sweet and I kiss her nose.
“Of course,” I whisper back before asking, “Why are we whispering?”
She shrugs and cuddles in close. I hold her for a little while until I hear he belly growling. “Let’s get you those pancakes before your stomach opens up and swallows the room,” I say and she giggles and leaps up to race to my door.
After I’ve made her favorite pancakes, chocolate chip and banana, we sit at the table.
“Are you going to marry Emma?” she asks, drizzling a little maple syrup on the side of the plate so she can dip a bite at a time in it.
Taken aback, I look at her in shock. “What makes you think that?” I ask.
She shrugs, focusing on cutting her pancakes with mathematical precision. “I’ve been doing really well in school.”
“I know, honey,” I say, wondering how to handle the abrupt change in conversation. Still, her improvement was incredible. “I’m proud of you.” She was no longer staring fights. Her grades had risen to nearly perfect, and even her teachers had been sending home notes that she was an absolute pleasure to have in class.
“Thanks!” She says, her face lighting up with pleasure.
“Do you want me to marry Emma?” I ask, and she refuses to look at me. My heart sinks a little, and I worry she’s not willing to talk to me. “This is a safe space,” I tell her, motioning to the table. No right or wrong answers,” I say, remembering the guidance of the family therapist. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I like her,” she says, “is that enough?” She seems puzzled by her feelings, and I decide to be honest with her.
“I’m not sure. I’m wondering the same thing. I like her, is it enough?”
She finally looks up at me, a smile on her face. And I realize it’s not the specifics that matter; she’s glad to know that, as an adult, I don’t have all the answers, either.
“I think so,” she says, and I dip my head in a bow to her thoughts.
It’s going to be hard. But now, with Olivia off to school and Sandy running errands, I have the house to myself. And I can make a call. A call I don’t want to make. One that will hurt. It will suck. But I have to do it.
Emma’s phone goes to voicemail; but I’m glad I can just talk to the machine.
“I’m sorry.” It’s a start. A good one, I think.
“I’m a terrible human being. I was going to marry you to get my hands on your ranch.” I take a breath, feeling lightheaded as I run a hand through my hair. I must be crazy. I’m giving her evidence, a recording of my voice to use against me.
“I screwed up, and I’m an asshole. I’m sorry.” It feels like punctuation now. But it’s not a lie. I really am sorry for even considering something so terrible. But Olivia made me realize something; I like her. It’s enough. I need to fix what I’ve broken if I want any chance of something more. And with Emma, it’ll be something real. Something right.
And as I speak, it gets easier. “I grew up with an abusive dad. He used to beat me, my mom, and both my brothers.”
“When he died, it created a rift between me and my brothers. Well, me and my family. Kyle thought it should have been me. And maybe he was right. I stood up to dad. I told him that I thought he was a shitty excuse for a human. That he was nothing more than a wife beating punk.” It hurts, even now, but I can’t quite tell her the one thing I should tell her. The one secret I’m keeping locked away in a box buried deep in my being. She doesn’t need to know.
No one needs to know.
“But that’s no excuse for what I did to you. What I was going to do to you,” I clarify. “I hope you can forgive me.”
As I hang up, I feel… free. Finally giving voice to the truth, owning up to how terrible I can be, is the most incredible feeling. And if Emma can see me at my worst and decide I’m worth something to her, well, then I’ll know.
Either way, I’ll know.
Chapter 30
Emma
I can’t believe I feel asleep on him. Still, it was gut wrenching to wake up and find that he’d slipped away at some point in the night. Not that I care all that much, of course. He can come and go. He has a life. A daughter. He can’t just stay forever, even after some amazing sex.
Besides, I have work to do. So much work to do.
I let Jenny and the colt out to pasture for some exercise and I realize the little colt doesn’t come up to me like he had to Olivia. That little girl had something special. The colt saw that. His fluffy coat was starting to come in glossy. His dark grey coloring, and grey eyes left him looking like an incoming storm.
In every way, he reminds me of the man and girl who’d come into my life around the same time he had. They were a storm. A force to be reckoned with. They simultaneously offered life and doom all at once, like a tornado bringing rain and damage.
“Hey, Storm!” I shout. Aside from a twitch of his tail, he doesn’t even acknowledge me. Jenny walks over, offering her head for some rubs even as the colt takes off the other direction, racing into the wind like he’s a mustang on the open plains.
“Tornado!” I call, less sure this time. He continues to ignore me as Jenny lips at my shirt, her need for attention endearing. From the fence, I slip onto her bare back, feeling her under me for the first time in a long time. This little lady has been my favorite for as long as I can remember.
I grip on, turning her with my legs and holding her mane. Dad would have killed me if he saw me like this, I an open pasture, riding without gear, without safety. But it’s the most freeing feeling in the world.
“After him!” I tell her, but she’s ahead of me. The ground flies under us and she catches up to her little colt. With a glance, he challenges us and speeds up. He’s not the clumsy little colt he was, no, he’s growing. His legs are longer, and he’s clearly been thriving in his pasture time with his momma.
He races us, the wind, the world as we streak through the pasture. When Jenny begins to slow, he looks over at her, then keeps going for a while after she slows a bit. And I remember what Olivia said.
“Warrior!” I shout, and he turns and begins to trot our direction. Jenny lifts her head and drops it, lifts and lowers several times as if agreeing with us. The little colt trots right up, nibbles my leg, then tears up a mouthful of grass and begins munching.
“Warrior,” I mumble, liking it.
With a sense of victory, I ease Jenny into walk to cool her off and finally slip off her back at the fence. In the barn, I pull out my phone and see I’ve missed a call.
From Kieran.
Dialing voicemail, I listen to every word, anger bubbling up in me. I was right. He was using me. Manipulating me.
He was going to marry me. What kind of human would do that to their child? To another human being? To themselves?
Then again, who would admit that?
Sure, he’d had a rough upbringing, and I feel bad for that. But he’s right, it doesn’t excuse it. But it does give me a bit of insight. Someone raised like that would become someone willing to do anything to succeed. Even evil things.
But he’d come clean. He’d told me the truth. And not because I’d caught him not because I’d cornered him. Not because he had too, or had taken things too far. No, it seemed like something had made him change his mind about how he was going at things.
He’d apologized.
He’d been painfully honest. He’d showed me the ugly thing he’d tried to do to me. And he hadn’t asked for anything.
And it feels like the ball is in my court. Like he’s letting me decide what happens next. And, as I think of Warrior in his pen, of Olivia telling me I’d be a good mom, of the hear
tbreaking raw honesty in his voicemail, I make a choice.
Dialing his number, I hold my breath as he answers.
“I have something for Olivia,” I say, and he sounds even and composed.
“Of course.”
We both fall silent, and as the second stretch on, it’s harder and harder to speak. “Um,” I say, “Would you consider going on a date with me?” I ask, and I hear him breathe out on the other end.
“It would be my pleasure.” He sounds relieved, and I want to laugh at him.
“By the way,” I say, “I’m pregnant.”
“Does the father know?” he asks dryly.
I can’t help but laugh. “Thank you for the voicemail,” I tell him, wanting him to know that it really meant something to me. “I deleted it.”
“I appreciate it,” he says, and I wonder if he’s holding something else back.
“Since I asked you out, am I setting up the date stuff?” I ask, amused. I’ve never asked someone out, nor have I seriously dated as an adult. There’s just no time. Or maybe that’s what I’ve been telling myself to keep heartbreak at bay.
“I’ll take care of everything,” he says, “with your permission.”
My heart melts at the implication that we’re partners, not that I’m just here to follow his orders. “I’d like that,” I say, warmth flooding my very soul.
We get off the phone, and I stand in the barn, feeling so very alone, yet happy. I walk over to Silver Charm and begin to talk to her as I get her ready for her stall to be mucked.
“So,” I tell her as she perks her ears and listens. “Dad used to talk to you all the time, and I know I’m just not as amazing as he was. But I’ve got something to tell you. There’s this guy…” I pick her hooves, brush her down, and tell her all about my problems and joys, and realize why dad did this all those years; the horses just listen.
Chapter 31
Capture Me Page 58
