Murmur (Pierce Securities Book 5)

by Anne Conley

  “No. I get it. You were here to make me feel safe. Your job is done. I’m safe. The bad guy is gone now.” She stared at her trembling hands.

  Quinten suddenly felt about six inches tall. She was so effective with her protective mechanisms. They’d served her well her entire life, why would now be any different?

  “Don’t push me away, Valerie. I won’t go.” He stepped toward her, intent on wrapping her in his embrace until she listened, but she put her hand on his chest, a barrier he wouldn’t breach. He’d never forced a woman in his life, and he wasn’t going to start now.

  “It can’t be the way it was. You can’t live here. You have a life. Other jobs.” She said the word “jobs” like it stuck in her throat. Something bitter to taste coming out of her mouth.

  Quinten had no words. She thought she was just a job to him? What was he to her?

  “Is that really what you think? That I do this with every woman I help? That you’re no different from the others?” How could she? The determined tilt of her chin said she believed every word she was saying. Because to believe anything otherwise would be dangerous to her. She was trying to prove something.

  “How can I be different from the others? Uglier?” She ripped at her face, clawing it, leaving red welts on her pale skin, even as her voice took on an animalistic quality.

  “Stop it! What the hell are you trying to prove? That you can’t be hurt? To prove that, do you have to try to hurt me? Is that it?” He was crowding her in the kitchen, backing her up against the island so she couldn’t escape him. Quinten used his bulk to cage her in, capturing her wrists in his hands and pulling them behind her back so she couldn’t hurt herself anymore.

  “You’re fucking beautiful to me, and I should be the only one who matters.” Lowering his face so she couldn’t help but look at him, he saw her swallow thickly, licking her lips in the process. “Because you fucking matter to me.” With that declaration, he let loose of her hands and claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss, her pliant lips opening to him on a whimper. Their tongues tangled, even as she pushed at him, tugging his shirt. She clutched the fabric in a death grip, not letting loose. When she broke the kiss, it broke his heart. Valerie pushed him back with a grunt, and he saw it.

  That kiss had put him in his place.

  Quinten was madder than he’d ever been. He knew it was ridiculous. If she didn’t want to be with him, then he needed to move on.

  He knew that but was powerless to adhere to it.

  Quinten couldn’t let her go without a fight, and he was a man of action. He intended to fight dirty.

  “You think this is done just because you say it is? That you’re not going to be hurt just because you push me away?” Quinten was breathing ragged breaths that ripped from his chest with each exhale. “I got news for you, Sweetheart. You’re it for me. I’ve slept with a few women in my life, but none of them, not one of them, made me fall in love with them like you did. I didn’t even have to fucking try.” He raked his hand through his hair, pacing in the kitchen, not willing to leave her. The desperation bled through his voice, and he hated it, but he had to make her see. Understand.

  She looked at the floor, unwilling to meet his eyes. Valerie stared at his feet as they paced back and forth across her tiles, as if counting each one he stepped on.

  “You can’t love me.” When she finally spoke, it was barely a whisper, but he heard it, and he stopped in his tracks.

  “Who the hell ever told you that you were unlovable?” His voice cracked. “Christ, Val. I’m eating out of your fucking hand here. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.”

  When her eyes rose to his face, he shuddered at the determination he saw. It scared him. She was fighting him as hard as she could on this, and what he’d seen about Valerie was that she was a fighter, and she used tactics he’d never seen before. He fought with his fists, she fought with her brain. To survive.

  “If you’ll do what I tell you to, then leave.”

  Her words punched him in the gut, all the air whooshing out of him.

  “I can’t do that,” Quinten murmured.

  Valerie snapped. “What the hell do I want your love for? Huh? Argyle loved me so hard, he did this!” She pulled and stretched at her face, emphasizing the red welts she’d left earlier. “Elliot fucking loved me enough to try to kill me! Why do I need your love, Quinten?” She spat the words at him, and he saw the truth. She loved him back but was afraid of what that meant.

  “You can’t put me in the same cage with those monsters. You know I’m not going to hurt you. It’s impossible for me to do that.”

  She chewed on her lip, digesting that information. Maybe she couldn’t see how crazy about her he was. Did she really believe he felt the same way as Argyle? Or heaven forbid, Elliot? When she next looked at him, she had tears in her eyes.

  “Is this about the sex? We did have some good sex.” She took the step that put them together and reached for his chest. He covered her hand with his, even as he shook his head no. “You can fuck me once more before you leave.”

  Hearing those words come out of her mouth only served to remind him of how Argyle had treated her, like a two-penny whore. No wonder she was scared of love, if that’s the only love she’d ever known.

  “Princess, if I fuck you tonight, you’re mine. There’s no way I’m leaving. You’ll be stuck with me forever because I’ll ruin you for others.” He hated to use such language with her, but the words flowed unbidden. It was the wrong tactic, and he knew it even as he heard the words coming from his own mouth. He couldn’t stop his lips from peeling back from his teeth, and she flinched as she looked at him. “Ruined.”

  Knowing he’d just fucked up any chance he’d ever had with her, he dipped his head for one last kiss, knowing it would be the last time he tasted her.

  She said nothing, allowing him to invade her space, and he made a conscious decision to take what he wanted and give her what she needed. No holding back.

  He filled his nose with her scent. Quinten towered over Valerie, and she met his gaze, every bit as angry as he was. But he saw more in her eyes. She was scared and hurt. But she was the one tossing him out, wasn’t she? Everything he thought they’d had was being thrown away, like yesterday’s garbage. Yes, she’d used him for her own purposes, to make her feel something she thought she’d lost. Quinten had thought he was more than that to her, but apparently he was wrong. She was like all the others, just using him for her own issues.

  He was finished thinking. She made it clear where she stood with him. He acted purely on instinct.

  His fingers sank into her hips as he pulled her against his body. She let out a whimper as he murmured, “I won’t ever be done with you,” right before his lips clashed with hers.

  It was hungry, demanding, seeking everything he needed from her—acceptance of him and herself, his desires, his wants, him. Yet, she still yielded. And it killed him.

  He ripped her sweater from her body and spun her around, pressing against her back, attacking her shoulders with his mouth as he yanked her hair back to gain better access. Grinding his hard-on into her backside, a guttural groan left his mouth. “Not by a long shot.” If she wanted a fuck, that’s what he would give her.

  Valerie was trembling under his hands, making him grip her harder. His unshaven beard rasped against the sensitive flesh on her neck and shoulders as she gripped the counter. Quinten released the button on her jeans and pulled, hearing a ripping noise, even as she helped him get them off. One arm went around the front of her, plunging into her bra to squeeze her breast.

  She was done with him. She made it clear he couldn’t stay. But he’d told her if they did this he couldn’t leave. It wouldn’t be possible for him. She’d said earlier that he wouldn’t break her, but he was trying.

  He wanted her ruined.

  He shoved her down so her delectable ass was pointing up at him. Sinking his fingers into her, he murmured, “Doesn’t feel like you’re done with me, either. This p
retty little pussy’s so wet for me, Val.” He put his fingers near her mouth, and she sucked them into it with a moan, swirling her tongue around them. He dropped to his knees, pulling her ass to his face and gripping her quivering thighs as he tasted her, sinking his tongue into the depths of her folds. She moaned into the countertop, and he tasted the release of juices on his tongue as he lapped at her glistening womanhood. When he got to her clit, he paid special attention to the erect nub, relishing the jump and gasp as she squirmed to get away.

  “Oh, God, please…” She was begging him, but for the wrong thing. He was going to do this, but he needed more from her. He wasn’t just a fuck, and she’d do well to remember that. He’d make sure she couldn’t forget.

  “Please, what? Do you want to come? If I do this, I’m not leaving. You understand that, don’t you, Princess?”

  Quinten froze as he heard his own words. He was such an asshole. He was using sex to manipulate her, just like Argyle. Never mind he wasn’t like that asshole in the least, but his dick was telling him he just needed inside her.

  He straightened, removing his mouth from her pussy, trying to distance himself from her. He needed to leave before he caused more damage.

  Then, her next words made him freeze.

  “Yes, please. Make me come. Love me. Don’t leave.” She spoke on a sob, a gut-wrenching cry that tore at his heart. “Don’t ever leave.” Her eyes were closed as she cried out, naked and vulnerable over the countertop.

  “Look at me, Princess,” he demanded, and she opened her eyes, the clear pools of green swimming with tears. “Do you need me like I need you?” He had to know this wasn’t him being an asshole. He had to hear from her mouth that she felt the same way.

  “Oh, God… Quinten. Of course I do. I’ve been a slave to you since the first time you walked through that door.”

  He stifled the triumphant roar that threatened to break out of his chest, instead murmuring sweet words as he pressed behind her again. She may call it fucking, but he was going to love on his woman.

  The rest of the night.

  Returning to his position on his knees behind her, he resumed his tongue tickle on her clit, teasing her mercilessly until she cried out.

  Sliding one finger inside her, he felt the tell-tale quiver of her walls that came right before the pulsing of her climax. Then he withdrew and slid his finger into the puckered rosebud above, feeling her completely fall apart. She screamed her release, and he lapped up the sweet nectar coating her folds before standing. It was the most beautiful sound in the world.

  She was limp, with a vague smile on her face, and the picture before him made his cock jump. Quinten made quick work of releasing it from its confines.

  It took both hands to feed his cock into her from this angle. Holy Christ was she tight. She was whimpering and squirming underneath him, but he wasn’t letting her up. Valerie needed this. She needed to know no other man would ever make her feel this good.

  Ever.

  He got the head of his cock in and pushed a little further before pulling it out. Quinten felt her trying to accept him, but her slick heat was a tight glove, massaging him even as he forced himself in. It took some more pushing and pulling, each time bringing forth a new moan from her. He pulled her hair again, exposing her neck for him to lean over and bite, raking his stubble across the flesh. She tightened around him, her inner muscles spasming, and he let out a feral groan of his own. She was so tight it almost hurt, but he was going to persevere in this.

  When he pushed himself all the way in, her walls started pulsing around him, squeezing his dick, massaging it, and he held his breath against the stars he saw. His vision grayed around the edges, so he withdrew, watching himself covered in her juices before slamming back into her and withdrawing again.

  “Oh, God. Please…” There she was again. Begging him.

  “What do you want, Val?” He was surprised at how calm his voice was, considering his insides were raging.

  “More.”

  He slammed back into her, pleased as she gasped with the invasion. Withdraw. Slam. Whimper. Withdraw.

  “Harder, Quinten.” Valerie was sobbing at him, clawing at the countertop, unable to reach anything, her arms spread wide. “Faster.” He grabbed her wrists and pulled them behind her back, holding them in one hand.

  “As you wish.”

  He pounded into Valerie, balls slapping her clit with each thrust into her, and the noises that took over the kitchen were animalistic, flesh on flesh. Sweat broke out on his face and dripped onto her back as he pistoned in and out of her. Goose bumps broke across her back, and she whimpered—an incoherent muttering that only spurred him to go faster.

  When she climaxed again, she clamped her insides down on him, and Quinten was powerless to maintain control. He slammed once more inside her and held himself there while he sprayed hot jets of cum all over her womb.

  She sank down on weakened knees, and Quinten saw something that gave him pause.

  Her reflection.

  Valerie’s shoulder leaned against the wine cooler, its black glass exterior polished to a mirror finish. He saw her face clearly reflected on the surface, beautiful, with her eyes closed as she gathered herself from her orgasm.

  “Valerie,” he whispered.

  Long lashes fluttered as she poured out great green pools onto him with her gaze. “Look at how beautiful you are.” With a soft smile on his face, he pointed to the surface of the wine fridge.

  She didn’t immediately turn her face, but when she did, she did it with closed eyes. Quinten rested his head on her shoulder, looking at the two of them in the mirrored surface. Side-by-side, they were a study in contrasts and similarities. He was dark, she was light. He was rough, she was smooth. He was bumpy, with his angular cheekbones and broken nose, she was scarred, with her tiny, barely perceptible mish mash of scars and the one long, jagged gash crossing her face.

  She still hadn’t looked. Valerie’s lashes rested on her cheekbones as a silent tear slipped out of the corner of her eye.

  “I see a fighter in the reflection, Val. A strong, really fucking beautiful fighter. And what I want more than anything else in the world is for that woman to fight for me.”

  There. He’d done it. Quinten had put his heart out there for Valerie to stomp all over it at will. But he’d be damned if he would take the words back. Her eyes flew open, but they didn’t look at her reflection. They stared at his.

  And the tears flowed. She didn’t even try to wipe them away or blink them back. Right here, right now, in this moment, he was seeing her. Just the way he always had. And she knew it.

  She was finished pushing him away.

  Quinten felt her ragged breath as she inhaled, then her eyes slowly moved over to her own reflection.

  Her elegant finger reached up and traced the scar before looking at him, her eyes questioning everything.

  “I love you, Valerie Dunaway.” He leaned over and did the one thing he wanted to do every time he saw this scar peeking out from under her mask. He kissed it, tracing it with his lips and tongue, tasting her salty tears. He brought them into his body, like a sacrament.

  She clutched his shoulders, holding him close as he worked over her face. He was worshiping her, but it was different from making love to her. These actions were all about acceptance, forgiveness, and asylum. He would shelter her. He would be her sanctuary.

  Valerie walked through her home, finding evidence of last night everywhere. Imogene was coming in special today just to help her erase the presence of the police officers, as well as Elliot, from her house. All of it. Quinten had ordered a company they used to come in and change the locks, and they would be here soon.

  If only the evidence in front of her didn’t contradict the dream-like quality of the entire thing. Like dreams, the burnt coffee in the bottom of the pot, the smashed couch cushions, the footsteps messing up the vacuum cleaner marks, all served as shards of memories. Her clothes in the kitchen where Quinten had stripp
ed them off and the tangled sheets were all fragments of a dream she couldn’t grasp upon waking. He’d kissed her before leaving today, promising to return this evening, but even still, she didn’t trust her memories.

  She remembered seeing herself. At first, all she’d seen was her face, sliced in half by a huge, ugly mark. It was surreal, like a comic book character illustrating the duality of human nature with some physical handicap. It was a tangible slice mark, proof of the two sides of Valerie Dunaway. The one side everyone knew about—the philanthropist, the do-gooder who built crafts for women who’d been abused. And the other side—the woman who was afraid to show herself in public because they wouldn’t find her worthy of her efforts.

  And then, as Quinten had kissed and licked that ugly scar like a delicacy, Valerie had realized something. He, too, had another side to his nature. On the surface, he was a rough, fierce fighter, willing to fight for what he thought was important. Under that was a sensitive soul, who listened to Rachmaninoff and classical guitar, made stained glass, and appreciated her birds.

  As he had moved across her face, showing her a love she couldn’t imagine, something had clicked inside her. Some part of her had reconciled the two pieces of Valerie so she could take steps to mend them and put them together.

  With Quinten.

  Of course, he wouldn’t stay. It was an infatuation right now. Sure, she’d meant everything she’d said to him when she’d told him she’d been a slave to him since he’d come in the door of her home. She thought she might actually love him. But he couldn’t feel the same. The side of Quinten Pierce that listened to classical guitar and appreciated her birds would only find another damsel in distress to heal, and he’d move on. She didn’t have anything to hold him here. But she would enjoy him while she could.

  Her mind wandered around the delicious possibilities as she picked up the clothes and put them in the laundry hamper before Imogene got there and found evidence of her debauchery.

  And what lovely debauchery it was.