His ragged breathing beat a tattoo against the nape of her neck. His hands dipped lower, his inner arms rubbing against her hips. He smoothed his long fingers back up against the fabric of her shorts and they moved into the small of her back, then down over her ass. She was concealing nothing.
“Step forward. Put your arms straight out and your palms flat against the wall. Lean your chest into the wall. That’s it. Spread your legs.”
He put a denim-clad knee between her bare thighs and nudged them wider. “That’s it. Don’t move or I’ll have to cuff you.” He reached down to slide his fingers around her ankles and up her calves. It was pointless. Pointless. Her legs were bare, nothing concealed. He grazed the back of her knees.
She was trembling, her breathing shallow, her heart pounding. She couldn’t take any more.
He ran his hands up the back of her thighs and his fingertips again searched the roundness of her buttocks, then along the center crease. Long strokes. She tensed, wanting him to move faster, to get it over with.
“I said, don’t move.”
Her head was spinning. “Fuck.”
“I’m not finished. Be quiet.”
His orders thrilled her, but the unmistakable power that he could hold her captive with only his touch also alarmed her. She never had thought that she would let a man dominate her. Never. But she liked it. Damn, she loved it from him.
He stepped closer so that her buttocks nestled against his pelvis. His heat and the unforgiving hardness of his body were unbearable. Leah pushed her hips back, grinding against him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and gripped her like a vise, forcing her still. With a groan, he ordered, “Don’t. Move.”
After a moment, Marc passed both hands along her hipbones down to the V in her shorts. She was moist, hot, and throbbing at her core.
His fingers probed at her, explored her, manipulated her until she couldn’t help the whimper that escaped.
“Shh.”
“I can’t…”
“Are you going to force me to keep you quiet?”
“Yes… yes!”
He slid his damp fingers from her shorts and grasped her wrists. Pulling her arms over her head, he pinned them against the wall once again, and with a twist, turned her to face him. Before she could say anything, he crushed his lips against hers, ravishing her mouth. The kiss was painful with her injuries, but she didn’t want him to stop. The pain made the pleasure sharper. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down until the flesh almost broke. He let out a sound that sent shockwaves crashing to her lower body.
She lost all strength until the only thing holding her up was his knee between her thighs and the firm grip on her wrists. He pulled back slightly when she ground her wet heat against his thigh.
“I think you’re concealing, I’m going to have to strip search you.”
“Please…”
He hesitated. “Please what?”
“Don’t…stop.”
“Is that one sentence or two?”
“Ah…”
“Is that: Don’t stop?” He pressed her wrists tighter against the wall. “Or… Don’t. Stop.”
“I…”
He thrust against her. “Which is it? The first or the second.”
“The first… the first! Don’t stop.”
He released her arms and she quickly wrapped them around his neck, trying to bring him closer. He wasn’t near enough. She needed him so much closer. Instead he peeled her arms from him and stepped back.
She felt suddenly empty. Alone.
“Take your clothes off.”
Another fierce shiver ran through her. She swallowed hard. The light was so inadequate she couldn’t read his expression.
She wore a button-down sleeveless blouse and she was tempted to just rip the thing open, buttons be damned. Instead, she slowly freed each one out of its prison.
Suddenly, an LED tactical flashlight was shining on her fingers as they moved. He held the small flashlight in his mouth as he unfastened his jeans, kicked off his boots, and stripped the denim from his long legs. The beam steadied on her as she pulled the shirt from her shorts, letting it slide over her shoulders.
“Turn around. I want to do the rest.”
When she again faced the wall, he unfastened her bra, slipping it down her arms. He reached around, cupping her breasts, brushing the pads of his thumbs over both hard nubs. The nerves in her tight nipples had a direct line to her core, making her slicker, wetter, hotter.
Pulling at her shorts, he popped the button, ripped down the zipper, pushed the fabric over her hips, along with her panties. He squatted behind her, slowly sliding the cloth and his fingers over her thighs, her calves, her ankles before lifting each foot, removing her sneakers and then the clothes. Removing the flashlight from his mouth, Marc placed it on a nearby counter, so it’s bright narrow beam shined on them.
His palm pressed her wrists, still stretched above her head, harder against the wall. Nipping down her spine, when he reached the base, he licked all the way back up. He sucked at the skin at the back of her neck, just above her little tattoo.
He reached around to grasp her throat. Tight enough that she could feel it. Loose enough for her to breathe.
Trapped. Her hands, her throat, her body pinned, she fought the instinct to struggle, to free herself. She closed her eyes and concentrated on tamping down the panic as his fingers gripped harder.
“I could crush your throat,” he rasped.
“You won’t,” she whispered, her throat muscles working under his fingers.
Her life was in his hands. He had all of the power.
“No, I won’t. But I’m going to take you from behind,” he said against her ear.
“Yes,” she hissed.
“Keep your hands flat against the wall.” He released her wrists and she pressed her palms against the wall, shoulder length apart. He hooked his arm around her hips and pulled her back. “Keep your hands where they are.”
Her arms were stretched to their limit, slightly above her head, her ass pressed out toward him, her feet wider than hip distance.
He slid his cock between her buttocks, stroking his length up and down between the cheeks. When he’d said from behind, she hadn’t thought he may mean something else. She opened her mouth to protest, but he separated her plump lips with his fingers, stroked her sensitive clit, and plunged a finger deep inside. She clenched around him and when he slid a second finger in, she groaned.
She was so wet, so ready, that two fingers weren’t enough. She needed more. “Fuck me.”
“Shh. My time not yours.”
She wanted to scream No! No, she couldn’t wait. Now!
His fingers fucked her, his thumb brushed her clit, and she whimpered. She dropped her forehead onto her extended bicep and tilted her hips.
His fingers were suddenly gone and she felt an immense sense of loss. But only until he dropped to his knees behind her and his mouth continued her delicious torture. The exploration of his tongue, his lips, his fingers, drove her senseless. Her only thought was the extreme pleasure between her legs.
“You’re almost there.”
“Yes.”
He curved his fingers, stroking her spot, while his mouth sucked hard on her swollen nub.
She tensed, her toes curling, and she exploded out from her center.
“Yes, that’s it, baby. Let it go. I want you to drench me.”
And then he was gone again. But back quickly, his latex-encased cock brushing against her entrance. In one way there was relief, in another disappointment. They may have to explore the other option at another time.
But for right now, he was going to drive deep and fill her.
She was slick for him. Ready. She couldn’t see his face, she was blind to his actions. The crown of his cock was right there, teasing. And then he smacked her ass cheek hard, the sound filling the room, the sting making her jump at the same time he seated himself deep within her.
&n
bsp; An unintelligible sound escaped her, ending with a long, ragged hiss.
He pumped wildly at first, but then he slowed and controlled his pace. Since she was still leaning toward the wall, her breasts hung away from her body, her nipples diamond hard. They swung with each stroke until he caught them in his hands, squeezing. He kneaded the flesh, making her eyes roll back.
He bit the nape of her neck, his breathing labored against her heated skin. She cried out. Not for him to stop, but to continue.
His hard length stroke her insides as he twisted her nipples.
“You like that.”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to mark you as mine.” He moved his mouth to her shoulder and sank his teeth into her again, this time harder. She could imagine the teeth marks left behind, the bruise that would appear tomorrow. A mark that would remind her of him for days.
She shuddered as he gently kissed the same spot.
“You’re mine.”
She sighed, “Yes.” Yes, she was his at this moment. She didn’t want to think beyond that.
“I can feel you grabbing me tight, drawing me deeper. Getting wetter.”
With a hand to her hair, he pulled the long strands, making her gasp. No one had ever pulled her hair before. No one. But holy shit, it was amazing as adrenaline shot through her.
“You’re so fucking wet for me.”
His other hand clamped down on her hip and he used it for leverage to keep her still, his pelvis pounding against the flesh of her ass. Harder and harder, until he had nowhere left to go. She wanted him impossibly deeper, couldn’t get enough. Listening to the rhythmic slap of their skin, she closed her eyes.
As the seed of an orgasm planted in her core, she blew out a breath. It grew within her until it matured and she jerked against Marc, wailing as her climax rooted down to her toes, and swept back up through her arms, all the way to her fingertips.
Marc cursed, thrusting one more time as he released forcefully. The strong pulsations at the root of his cock made her cry out once again.
He dropped his forehead in between her shoulder blades, his panting hot and damp on her skin. She wasn’t breathing any easier either. Her chest rose and fell as she sucked air. She finally lowered her arms and rubbed at the tingling. Her shoulders and arms would be sore tomorrow. What she didn’t mind was the soreness she’d have between her legs.
He stepped away from her and dumped the condom in the trash. Just wait until his sister-in-law discovered that prize when she opened the lid next time.
She watched him as he moved around gathering his clothes. His muscles moved like thick ropes under his skin, the ridges in his abs rippled as he bent over. His lean, but strong thighs flexed. His biceps popped. And she could fuck him all over again, right there in the dimly lit bakery. She couldn’t get enough of his body, strongly built but still graceful.
And his skills… She needed to get her mind off of what he could do with his fingers, his lips, his tongue, his cock. She turned away from him, searching the dark corners for her clothes. “How did you know where I was?”
“I stopped in at the house. Pop told me you went out on your own. And it was getting dark.”
“It wasn’t dark yet and the farm is safe.”
“Leah, there’s coyotes out there.”
“You’re more dangerous than a coyote,” she said with a little grin.
“I bite.”
Her grin widened. “That you do.” She touched the tender spot where he had bitten her.
“Sorry about that. I got carried away. Luckily your clothes will cover it.”
“Unless I’m walking around in a towel.”
His Adam’s apple bounced and his eyebrows shot up. “You shouldn’t be walking around in a towel in front of my Pop.”
“But in front of your mom it’s okay?” she teased. “What should I tell her if she asks? That her son marked me as his?”
Panic pass over his face. He dropped his gaze to yank his jeans on. After he fastened them, he brushed a hand over his short hair. “How ‘bout wearing a robe?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Do you?”
“No,” he huffed.
“I don’t have a lot of clothes yet. I don’t want to move a bunch of stuff when I find my own place. And I’ve never worn a robe anyway.”
His head spun toward her when she mentioned finding her own place. She wondered what that was about. But she was sure she’d find out sooner or later.
Scratching sounded at the rear door, along with a whimper. Leah scrambled to get dressed.
Then came a loud pounding. Ron Bryson’s voice was deep and demanding just like his son’s. “Are you guys in there?” The door handled rattled. “The spare key is missing.”
Marc looked at her, eyes wide, and mouthed the word fuck. His alarm was clearly visible, even in the low light. He pulled on his T-shirt while Leah frantically buttoned her top with shaking fingers.
“I know you’re in there Marcus William Bryson! Open the damn door.”
Marcus? Leah shot him a raised brow. He frowned, grabbing the flashlight to shut it off.
“I’ll be right out.”
“Don’t you come out here acting like you’re alone.”
“I’ll be right out, Pop!” He let out a searing curse.
Marc glanced at her and she gave the thumbs up. She had all her clothes back on.
He turned the deadbolt lock and ripped the door open, the both of them coming out like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Marc locked the back door of the bakery and slid the key back above the frame before facing his father.
Ron looked them both up and down. “What were you doing in there?”
Leah was glad it was now dark outside. The shadows were sure to hide the heat in her face.
“I was showing Leah the bakery.”
“With the lights off?”
“I had a flashlight.”
“Why didn’t you just turn on the lights?”
“Atmosphere.”
Ron looked at his son and just snorted. He eyeballed Leah. “Why’s her shirt all crooked?”
Marc’s gaze shot to her top and so did Leah’s. In the dark, she had not only missed a couple buttons, but the rest were misaligned.
Ron shook his head. “This is some SNAFU you’re in, Son. Does Max know what’s going on?”
Both Marc and Leah yelled, “No!” at the same time. They looked at each other and then back at Ron.
“None of his business,” Marc said more calmly.
“Oh, I doubt he’d think so, since he’s the chief and you’re his subordinates.” The older man shook his head again. “Better keep this from your Ma too. You know how she gets.”
“Pop, do us a solid and don’t say anything to either of them.”
Ron didn’t answer Marc, but instead started walking away. They ended up doing the walk of shame behind him. “Let me tell you what a good tracking dog this bumbling fool of yours is. He may just have a useful future...”
Chapter 9
Time for her to switch it up. Be in charge. Get back at him for driving her lust crazy. Those thoughts and more were what motivated her to sneak out of his parents’ house and hoof it over to his.
It had nothing to do with her own self-gratification. Nope. Not at all.
She always seemed hungry for him. Starving, really. Couldn’t ever get enough of him.
It’s said men think about sex several times a day. She was worse. And she needed to drive him from her mind.
Even though the sky was clear and the moon lit like a glowing nightlight, the darkness out in the country seemed endless. Occasionally an owl would hoot. And the yipping of some foxes came from somewhere out in the distance. But so far, no sign of any coyotes.
However, she was packing just in case. It would be stupid to walk by herself at night without any protection. She had borrowed one of Ron’s coats, as well as a large flashlight. Her pers
onal weapon, a Sig Sauer, fit perfectly in the pocket and, well, the coat just kept her warm since she was swimming in it.
When she finally broke through the trees at the north end of the Bryson’s farm, she could see Marc’s house, some of the windows lit up. After that walk, she was glad to see he was home. That or he just liked to waste electricity.
As she closed in on the house, she switched the flashlight off. Last thing she needed was for him to look out of the window and see a light bee-bopping around his property and him getting his shotgun.
At the front door, she kicked off her sneakers and removed her socks, tightening the coat around her. She slipped on the high heels she had carried with her. Setting the flashlight on the porch, she knocked. Loud enough to wake the dead. Or a sleeping man. Same thing.
Menace’s immature bark was deafening even through the door and so was his pounding paws. He left no doubt he was beelining toward the foyer. Then she heard a skid, scrambling, and a thump. Leah could picture him wiping out on Marc’s shiny wooden floors, crashing into the solid front door. That had to hurt.
She listened for a whimper, but there wasn’t any, and she was relieved. That puppy was the klutziest thing ever. She knocked again and her answer was claws scratching at the bottom of the door.
“You better not be ripping up my door, or you’ll end up as a throw rug.”
With no peep hole, Marc cracked it enough to eyeball her. Then swung it wide. And there he stood. Breathtakingly wrapped in only a towel, his hair damp. And what do you know, a shotgun leaning nearby. He reached down to keep the enthusiastic Mastiff from leaping on her. And his towel slipped. Just enough to reveal the top ridge of muscle that ran at an angle from the top of his hip to his groin. The one that looked good enough to eat.
“Leah,” he breathed, sounding surprised to see her.
Well, that wasn’t going to be the only surprise of the night, she thought.
“I didn’t come at a bad time, did I?”
“Uh.” He hitched the towel back up to his waist, keeping one hand securely on the knot. “I just got out of the shower.”
Brothers in Blue: Marc Page 10
