Shadow of Sin (The Martin Family)

by Kincade, Parker

He put his mouth close to her ear. “If I take you, you’ll be mine to do with as I please. You’ll be wet.” He ground his hips against her stomach. “And you’ll beg.”

  Sweet mercy. Samantha groaned at the feel of him against her. The rigid length of his erection left no doubt he was ready to play.

  “I don’t beg,” she breathed. But oh, she wanted to.

  He loosened his grip. “No matter. You were out with another man tonight, and I don’t play sloppy seconds.”

  “Bastard.” She snorted and shoved him off. “I’d have to have firsts … first. Thanks to you, I haven’t had a man —”

  She clamped her mouth shut, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d cock-blocked her over the last year with his hovering. “And just because I like sex doesn’t make me a whore, or a bad person. Jesus, when a man likes sex, it’s as normal as breathing. But when a woman likes sex, well, that’s another story entirely.”

  Although the fact that she wanted to have sex with him right now said a lot about how fucked up her head was.

  “I’ve never called you a slut.”

  “No, you don’t need to. Your snide remarks and comments about how I dress tell the story for you.”

  He scowled. “You should go to bed.” He pointed at the T-shirt he’d brought in with him. “You can sleep in that.”

  “Now you’re telling me what I can sleep in?”

  He shoved his hands through his hair, a deep rumble emanating from his chest. “I don’t care what you sleep in, Samantha.” His voice was firm, harsh. “I thought it’d be more comfortable than what you’re wearing.”

  It was nice that he’d thought about her comfort, but she wasn’t so easily swayed. “A few hours of sleep, then I’m going home.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “You can’t keep me here against my will.”

  “I’m not fighting with you about this.”

  “This is fighting? I thought we were talking.” With them, the two were interchangeable, so it was hard to tell.

  He snorted. “Go to bed, Samantha.”

  Gladly.

  “Go to hell, Caleb.” She grabbed the whiskey bottle and slammed the door on her way out.

  Chapter 3

  Samantha pulled her shirt over her head and let it drop to the floor. Her boots and jeans were the next to go.

  Her body felt alive, her skin prickling with sensitivity, anticipation. The memory of Caleb’s hands as he tended to her fired her blood in a way no other man had.

  She slipped into Caleb’s T-shirt. Soft and gray, with USMC in faded color across the front, it fell almost to her knees. She brought the neckline to her nose and breathed in. It smelled of him, spicy and male. And did nothing to help her raging libido.

  Sleep would be a long time coming if she didn’t do something to relieve the pressure that had started to build the moment Caleb grabbed her at the bar.

  She was so sick of him bossing her around, as if he knew better than she did about her own life. Caleb didn’t know a goddamned thing about her, yet he’d judged her at every turn. It bothered her more than she’d care to admit. She didn’t help the situation when she pushed his buttons, but hell-fire and damnation, he pissed her off. Who did he think he was? Her father? Caleb could act like a jerk sometimes, but he was no match for Thomas Quinn. Samantha’s father had made controlling people an art form.

  Growing up with that man had taught Samantha two things. First, she needed to get out at her earliest opportunity—which she had done—and second, no man would ever control her again.

  Caleb didn’t have any right to stop her from doing whatever she wanted. Even if that meant hooking up to relieve a little stress. It was her life. Samantha loved sex, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d been tested regularly. She’d never had sex without a condom. And she hadn’t been laid in months. At least by anything not battery operated. That Caleb insinuated she was reckless chapped her ass.

  That he’d unknowingly turned her on chapped her ass even more.

  Samantha shimmied out of her panties and crawled across the bed. She kept Caleb’s shirt on, since he would be the star of her masturbation show tonight. She always conjured sexual inspiration when she got herself off. She’d had virtual sex with models and actors … even with the hottie at the coffee shop around the corner from her office. Okay, coffee shop stud was in the room at the time, but he’d not touched her so he counted. But of late, harsh emerald eyes haunted her every time she touched herself.

  The comforter’s soft suede a seduction against her already sensitive skin, Samantha turned over onto her back and propped herself on the pillows. Her breath hitched as she eased her legs apart, the cool air of the room a sharp contrast to the fire in her sex.

  She tugged at the shirt, exposing her belly and one breast. Her stomach fluttered as she teased her fingertips along the soft curve. Moving lower, she traced a circle around her navel, stopping a moment to toy with her belly ring. As her right hand traveled further down, tickling over her hip, her left hand cupped her breast. She avoided her nipple, caressing only to the edge of the peaked skin, not ready to allow herself further pleasure. Caleb said he liked to take his time, well, so did she. The longer she made it last, the more intense her orgasm would be. And she needed it to be as intense as possible if she was going to get any sleep.

  Curling her back, she left her breast and moved both hands to her legs. Moisture leaked from her pussy as she spread her fingers and moved along the curves of her knees. In her minds eye, large, calloused hands took over, abrading the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. Strong, thick fingers teased her slit, spread her swollen lips apart to expose her clitoris. Samantha’s hips jerked as a nail flicked over the tortured bud.

  Overwhelmed with sensation, her groan echoed in the empty room. Unable to resist any longer, she snaked a hand back to her breast and pinched her nipple hard, sending sparks of pleasure directly to her core. Planting both feet on the bed, she pushed into the finger now entering her slick opening. The finger swirled, collecting her juices before slipping back and circling the tight ring of her anus. Her legs shook, vibrated with need, as the finger pushed in, breaching her ass.

  Caleb.

  She imagined his finger working inside her, stretching her, preparing her to take him. If he fucked like he fought, he’d be magnificent. Fierce and determined. He’d take total control. He’d command her submission and she’d give it … after he’d earned it, of course.

  Damn, she wished she had her vibrator.

  Using her other hand, she pushed two fingers deep into her pussy. Emerald eyes stared at her from behind her closed lids. Caleb’s blond waves were longer now that he wasn’t enlisted. Samantha itched to run her fingers through the mass of sunshine, but her hands were a little busy at the moment. Virtual Caleb’s mouth opened; his tongue peeked out and caressed his lower lip. His lids grew heavy as a smile toyed at the corners of his mouth, as if he could taste her. She wanted him to taste her. Everywhere.

  The sound of slick flesh met her ears as she pumped faster, using the heel of her hand to increase the pressure where she needed it most. Her wrist cramped and her side ached, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

  Perspiration dampened her skin. Her toes curled into the comforter as pleasure overrode any coherent thought. Her ass clenched around the finger that teased there, dueling with the fingers in her pussy for the right to her orgasm.

  “Caleb.” Unable to hold her knees up, Samantha let them fall to the side, spreading herself wider. Her body felt light, euphoric as the telltale signs of her orgasm surged through her veins. Her muscles pulled tight, contracting hard enough to bring her shoulders off the pillows as she screamed and her body erupted, shattering into a thousand pieces and fluttering about the room. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. All she could do was pray at some point she’d be able to breathe again. And walk. Walking was important, wasn’t it?

  A husky chuckle in her head made her smile. Virtual Caleb was happy wi
th her performance. Drawing air into her lungs, Samantha tried to ease her racing heartbeat. Her body was slow to respond. She should be happy, ecstatic even. As self-induced orgasms go, that one ranked way up there. Instead, she felt … alone.

  Samantha rolled onto her side and pushed from the bed, fighting back tears. She was a fool. Pining for a man who didn’t want her. Didn’t even like her.

  She put her ear against the adjoining door to the bathroom and was relieved there was no sound coming from the other side. Her mind may have been in turmoil, but her body was blissfully unaware of the conflict. Her limbs were heavy and weak as she cleaned up and prepared for bed. She’d be able to sleep, out of sheer exhaustion if nothing else.

  For now, it would have to be enough.

  * * *

  God hates me.

  That was Caleb’s only explanation for the particular brand of hell he was in.

  He drained his second beer and contemplated switching to something a little stronger. Jesus, did the woman have to be so loud?

  He let his head fall, the jolt of pain as his forehead hit the counter not enough to distract the raging hard-on demanding release from his jeans.

  The moans coming from the bedroom left no question as to what she was doing. Images of her naked and spread out on his spare bed filled his mind. Was she on her back or on her hands and knees? Did her pussy sport the same fire-red hair that adorned her head? Did she go fast or slow?

  Caleb bit down on his tongue. Hard. It was either that or strip off his jeans and come along with her. He was not going to jack off in the middle of his own kitchen.

  Was. Not.

  Jesus fuck, she was going to kill him. When they’d first met, she’d been too young, too pretty for her own good. His family had been grieving the loss of their parents and Caleb had just returned home, still recovering from his own wounds. Amanda wouldn’t speak to him; Alec and Brandon weren’t much better. Samantha—with her smart mouth and penchant for trouble—had been the key to his family’s recovery. Instead of being grateful to her for bringing them together, Caleb had resented her for doing something he’d been unable to do.

  The truth was, she’d intrigued him, made him hard when he’d had no business thinking about her, and that had pissed him off too. He’d actually tried to convince himself he didn’t like her. It hadn’t worked, but he’d treated her as if it had.

  Tonight had cured him of that particular ailment.

  Seeing her blood on her hands had been an event of the life altering variety. He’d fought the urge to touch her from the moment they’d gotten into the truck. But, as she’d slapped him away, he’d seen the shadows around her eyes, the frown lines around her mouth. She hadn’t fooled him for a second. She’d been hurt and scared, and too proud to admit it.

  He wanted to throttle her, hold her, protect her—all at the same time. He could deny it, but it wouldn’t change anything.

  He wanted her.

  The implications made his head spin. It’d be a colossal mistake to get involved with her. Samantha valued control as much as he did. Caleb had stopped resisting his dominant nature years ago. It was part of being a Marine. It was part of who he was.

  He was old enough to know his sexual boundaries and he’d had enough partners to know what he liked and what he didn’t. He didn’t feel the need to use restraints in the bedroom. He preferred to use his hands or his voice to hold a woman where he wanted her. It was much more satisfying to know the woman followed his command, while having the capability not too. He’d enjoyed using various sex toys with his partners, but he drew the line at anything that caused pain. He’d seen enough pain; he didn’t have any desire for it in his sex life.

  It wasn’t some manly, macho bullshit with him. His own pleasure came from the level of pleasure he gave his partner. And both were under his complete control.

  Control.

  Something Samantha would never give him.

  Caleb slid from his barstool and dug around in the cabinet until he found the bottle he sought. He poured a healthy dose into a glass and brought it to his lips. He couldn’t resist inhaling the delicious scent before he took a drink, hoping it would settle his nerves … and his libido.

  God, how long could one woman masturbate?

  When he’d promised it wouldn’t be a quick fuck, he’d only been trying to get a rise out of her. Give her back a little of the crazy she’d given him. Yet, from the sounds of it, she was the one getting satisfaction while he sat here with the erection from hell and drank from his favorite two hundred dollar bottle of scotch.

  Son of a bitch, that woman would be the death of him.

  He understood Samantha more than she knew. She used sex to release stress, Caleb used sex as an escape. Maybe that made him an asshole, but he’d never lied to the women he’d had sex with. He made it clear up front that he wasn’t interested in a relationship … and they’d come to him willingly.

  He didn’t judge Samantha for getting what she needed; it was her method of obtaining it that pissed him off. She trolled the bars as if she didn’t have any concern for her own personal safety.

  Caleb wouldn’t fool himself that he had any sort of tender feelings for her. No, his feelings at present were much more primitive. He wanted to storm into the bedroom and finish what she’d started. He wanted to fuck the shit out of her, exhaust her until she didn’t have the strength to fight with him. Because if she thought she was going home, she had another thing coming. She wasn’t getting out of his sight, or the sight of someone he trusted, until this mess was over.

  End of story.

  Caleb drained his glass as the sounds from the bedroom grew more insistent.

  Amanda would be pissed if he had sex with her best friend. Brandon and Alec wouldn’t let him hear the end of it, either. He didn’t care how bad he wanted to shove his dick past those gorgeous lips of hers and have her suck him until he lost his mind. He wouldn’t do it.

  Because once wouldn’t be enough. Yet another realization he’d come to in the last hour.

  “Caleb,” Samantha cried out.

  His head snapped around, his gaze directed at the door to her room. Sweet fuck, she didn’t just…

  Oh yeah, he was in the worst kind of hell.

  Chapter 4

  Samantha bolted up in bed, her heart pounding. Her gaze roamed the room in panic, searching for something, anything, familiar. She put her face in her hands and took a deep breath as the memories of last night returned.

  Daylight was muted beyond the tempered windows and sheer curtains and for that, she was grateful. She couldn’t deal with the sun in her eyes right now. She reached for her phone to check the time. She’d only been asleep for a couple of hours.

  Samantha didn’t know why she’d woken so suddenly. It could’ve been the desert wasteland that was inside her mouth or … a noise pulled her gaze to the door. Or, it could have been that.

  She froze, feeling the deep, guttural shout in the pit of her stomach. What the —? The back of her neck itched with uncertainty, but in the end, her curiosity and the need to check on Caleb won out.

  She eased from the bed and slipped her panties on. She shivered as the silk hugged her pussy, reminding her of the incredible orgasm she’d had … as well as who she’d imagined giving her that release.

  She really should get out of here. Being in this close proximity to Caleb, when she’d been so long without a man between her thighs, was not a good thing. Every time she’d looked at Caleb, she’d wanted to run her hands over the scruff on his cheeks, nibble on the muscles that corded his neck, and have his firm, delectable lips on hers.

  Yeah, once she made sure he was okay, she was so out of here.

  Samantha crept from the room and came to an abrupt halt. Shades had been drawn, shrouding the room with a dimness she hadn’t expected. Soft light emanated from a lamp next to the couch, allowing her to see enough not to stub her toes on the furniture.

  She hadn’t taken much time to look around earlier,
but she’d admit the place had a comfortable, homey feel. Her fingers trailed across the back of the couch, its leather cool and soft. Nothing like its owner. There was nothing cool or soft about Caleb Martin. He was all hot temper and hard edges. Tough and unbending.

  A quick scan around and she spotted him in his room. Clad only in a pair of shorts, Caleb sat on the edge of his bed, his head cradled in his hands. Even from where she stood, she could see he was breathing hard. The wide expanse of his shoulders rose and fell with each inhalation.

  As if drawn by an invisible string, she padded closer.

  A sheen covered his tanned skin, giving him a glow in the warm light that streamed in from the windows. He had a bandage on his arm, reminding her that he’d not come out of their adventure unscathed any more than she had.

  He dragged his fingers through his hair with a frustrated growl, making her heart hurt for him.

  Had he had a nightmare? She’d heard most soldiers who’d seen combat suffered the affliction. She didn’t know the details of his service—she didn’t know the details of his life, period. What she did know about him wouldn’t fit in a paper cup. But, she’d seen the torment he tried so hard to hide.

  Torment she’d yearned to help alleviate, if only for a little while.

  Changing her course, Samantha went to the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge. She couldn’t walk away without doing something. He looked so lost. As alone as she’d felt earlier. No one should feel that alone.

  He’d never accept comfort. Not from her. He’d more likely tell her to fuck off than to accept anything from her. Better she turn the tables, make him think she was the one who needed comfort. She could suck up her pride. It was a small price to pay to help someone she cared about. And like it or not, she did care about him. Too much for her own good.

  “Caleb?”

  His chest rumbled. “What do you want, Samantha? You should be sleeping.”

  She approached him carefully, stopping to lean against the archway that served to separate his bedroom from the living room. The man really didn’t like to be closed in. She waved the water bottle at him. “So should you.”