Fighting for Us: A Small Town Family Romance (The Bailey Brothers Book 2)

by Claire Kingsley

  Licking my lips, I stroked him a few times. His abs flexed and he looked down between us. His steel-hard cock was thick in my hand, practically pulsing with need. I loved the rush of pleasure it gave me to make him feel good. To hear the primal growls my touch could elicit.

  I stroked harder, squeezing the shaft. He grunted, his breath coming faster. Lightly dragging my fingertips down his torso, I lowered myself to my knees in front of him. Flicked my tongue across the tip of his cock to taste him.

  He groaned again and gave my hair an appreciative caress. My lips curled in a little smile. Meeting his eyes—I wanted him to watch this—I took the tip in my mouth.

  The smooth skin tasted clean, just a hint of his arousal hitting my tongue. His eyes were fixed on me, his dark brow furrowing deeply. The sharp lines of muscle leading down to his hips stood out and his thighs flexed with tension.

  Holding the base, I drew him in deeper, letting the tip slide across the roof of my mouth. He growled, the intensity never leaving his face. When I pulled out again, I used my tongue to toy with him, tracing the ridge around the tip.

  “Fuck, I love you,” he said.

  In answer, I plunged down on him, taking him as deep as I could. His thickness made it a challenge, but I’d never been a quitter. Settling into a rhythm, I drew him in and out, caressing him with my tongue as I sucked his cock.

  His hips started to jerk and his hand fisted tight in my hair. His growls were deep and desperately arousing. As much as I was enjoying the way this made him let go, my inner walls trembled with desire.

  He thrust hard into my mouth, then pulled back. “Fuck. Sorry.”

  God, I loved how strangled and breathless his voice sounded. In reply, I met his eyes again and kept going, moving his thickness in and out of my mouth. He watched with undisguised lust, still jerking his hips. His cock thickened and his breathing grew ragged.

  So often, he stopped me here. Threw me on the bed and buried himself inside me—which I loved. But this time, I wanted to finish him like this, on my knees and vulnerable.

  He started to say something, but I cut him off with a deep plunge. His voice broke into a rough growl. I could feel his control slipping, his guardedness falling away. I kept going, my rhythm relentless, determined to make him come.

  “Fuck,” he said again. “Please.”

  Nothing he’d said to me had ever been sexier. My jaw started to ache, but I didn’t care. Cupping his balls with my other hand, I kept plunging down on his cock. He was close. I could feel it. His body tensed and he grunted with each thrust, holding my hair in a tight fist.

  With his eyes locked on mine and his jaw clenched tight, he gritted out the words. “I’m coming.”

  Feeling triumphant, I welcomed his release. His hand gripped my hair and he growled while his cock pulsed between my lips. The hot liquid hit the back of my throat as he watched, like he needed to not just feel this, but see it too.

  When he finished, he released his grip on my hair. I let his cock slip from my mouth and quickly swallowed. He stared at me, breathing hard, his expression finally softening.

  “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

  Biting my bottom lip, I stood. “Did that feel good?”

  His only answer was another deep growl as he manhandled me onto the bed. Without a word, he pushed my legs open and attacked my pussy like a hungry predator.

  The feel of his tongue was so abrupt on my already sensitive clit, I gasped and arched my back. He was merciless, licking me with expert precision, lapping up my arousal into his mouth. His deep groans vibrated through my entire body. In almost no time at all, I was racing toward climax.

  He slipped a finger inside me and I almost came undone. I writhed against the sheets and slid my hands through his hair. He devoured me like a man starving, groaning as if I was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

  We’d learned everything we knew on each other, so every skill he possessed was perfectly attuned to me. He was an expert. Sliding in a second finger, he focused his tongue right on my sensitive bundle of nerves. I closed my eyes, lost in sensation. In the heat building in my core, the exquisite pressure rising to a breaking point.

  His voracious assault on my clit intensified. I couldn’t think, couldn’t see. All I could do was feel. My eyes closed and I threw my head back, succumbing to the dizzying combination of pressure and friction.

  Ripples of pleasure burst through my body as I tumbled over the edge. The orgasm swept through me, my inner muscles spasming around his fingers. He slowed his pace, so attuned to me and what I loved, that he naturally rode out the waves of climax with me, drawing it out until I was practically panting.

  I relaxed against the sheets, my eyes still closed, the heady rush of euphoria consuming me. He crawled up the bed and scooped me next to him, tucking me against his body. I nestled in close, relishing the warmth of his skin and his intoxicating scent.

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice dreamy and soft. “That was amazing.”

  He kissed my ear, then my neck. “Thank you. I still need to fuck you, though.”

  Letting my eyes flutter open, I giggled. His cock was hardening again. He pressed it into my ass, as if to prove his point.

  “Do you need a minute?” he asked, his voice low in my ear.

  “No.”

  Without wasting any time, he rolled me onto my back and climbed on top of me. I didn’t know how he was ready again so fast, but I certainly didn’t mind.

  Coming in my mouth hadn’t diminished his intensity. If anything, it had only served to whet his appetite for more. His thrusts were powerful and relentless, his grip on me tight.

  “God, I love fucking you,” he growled into my ear.

  “Don’t you dare stop.”

  “No?” He thrust himself in deeper. “You like this cock, don’t you baby?”

  All I could do was whimper breathlessly.

  Another low groan rumbled in his chest. “Your pussy feels so good.”

  My fingers dug into the tense muscle in his back and my inner walls tightened around his cock.

  “Fuck yes, beautiful. I love this pussy. I’m going to come in you so fucking hard.”

  The combination of his thick cock pounding me in an unrelenting rhythm and his low growly voice murmuring in my ear was almost too much to bear. I held on, drawing my knees up to take him in deeper.

  “Harder,” I managed to get out.

  “Tell me.”

  “Fuck me harder.”

  He groaned again, and with one hand gripping my hip, he drove into me. Every thrust was like magic, drawing me toward another climax. He was rough and hard, fucking me like he finally knew I wouldn’t break.

  My second orgasm of the night was different. Instead of quick and intense, the pulses rolled through me like slow waves. They were deep, stimulating places I’d never felt before, overwhelming my senses.

  Asher’s body tensed, his muscles flexing, and he buried himself inside me as he started to come. Long, low groans accompanied his climax, and his hips thrust his cock in deep with each pulse. The way he throbbed inside me felt almost as good as my own orgasm. I held him tight while he came, the last tremors of my climax making me tremble.

  He relaxed, keeping just enough tension in his arms so he wouldn’t crush me beneath him. I kept my arms around his back, not ready to let go. The connection between us was so deep and profound, I needed this moment. Needed him to stay inside me, sated and motionless.

  As if he could read my mind and knew exactly what I needed, he held there, breathing into my neck. He nuzzled his nose against my skin and placed soft kisses near my ear and across my cheek. Our heartbeats were in sync, our bodies warm and satisfied. I held him tight for a long moment, for the first time no longer grieving for what we’d missed.

  Now, I was simply hopeful for everything that was to come.

  37

  Asher

  Although it wasn’t very late, Grace and I didn’t bother getting out of b
ed. She lay tucked against me with her head on my shoulder and one arm draped over my chest. I traced idle shapes on her skin with my fingertips, only half-awake. I was warm and sated, more relaxed than I’d been in days.

  By her slow, even breathing, I could tell she’d fallen asleep. A part of me wanted to talk to her. That hot coal of anger still smoldered inside me, a red and black mass that could flare at any moment. Levi had stoked it, but for now, its heat had been tempered. I’d let her sleep.

  I was dimly aware of the creak of metal. A thin, hard surface below me. The darkness was so thick, I couldn’t see clearly. Vague shapes, nothing more. I turned my head, trying to make sense of my surroundings.

  Bars. I was back in a cage.

  Fuck.

  There was movement and I tried to jump to my feet. My hands balled into fists, but unseen pressure held me down. My legs were lead weights, my arms useless. I couldn’t move. My chest heaved as I thrashed against the invisible bonds crushing me to the ground. The bars were gone, but I still couldn’t move, as if a dozen hands held me, pinning me to the cold, hard floor.

  A hand clamped to my forehead, forcing me to watch. I saw a body curled inward, arms and legs tucked close to protect himself from the worst of the beating. Legs kicked him over and over, their merciless blows landing on the helpless form. I could hear the cries of pain. Feel every bruise as it bloomed across his body. Every rib being cracked, every blood vessel broken.

  The pressure holding me threatened to crush the air from my lungs. I had to get up. Had to get free. I had to help him before they—

  “Asher.”

  Released from the grip of the unseen hands, I shot up, completely disoriented. Something touched me and I reacted before I’d even opened my eyes. My elbow cracked backward, connecting with something hard.

  The sharp scream of pain woke me completely. The room came into sudden focus. Grace’s room. No bars. No inmates. No one holding me down. But I’d just—

  Oh fuck. Oh god, no.

  I whipped around to find Grace holding her face, her legs pulled up as if to shield the rest of her body.

  “Oh my god, Grace. What did I do?”

  Her eyes were squeezed shut, her hands cupping her nose.

  “Did I hurt you?” I could hardly grind out the words.

  Without opening her eyes, or moving her hands away from her face, she nodded.

  My chest broke wide open. I felt like I was going to die right here at her feet. I carefully reached out, but I was terrified to touch her.

  Fuck. What had I done?

  She took shuddering breaths, like she was trying to get a hold of herself. It took me another second to realize I was doing nothing, just staring at her like I was fucking helpless.

  “Hang on, baby. I’ll be right back.”

  My hands shook as I got out of bed and hurried to the kitchen. I grabbed towels out of a drawer and an ice pack from her freezer.

  Her eyes were open when I got back. She sat cross-legged on the bed, the sheet in her lap, still covering her face with her hands.

  There was blood everywhere.

  She seemed to notice it at the same time I did. With a gasp, she moved her hands out to look at them. Blood streamed down her nose, over her lips, dripping from her chin. Her hands were smeared with it and red drops had splattered over the sheets.

  “Oh god,” she said.

  With horror pouring through me, I handed her a towel. I wanted to help, wanted to fix this, but I was too afraid to touch her.

  Because I’d done this. She was bleeding everywhere because of me.

  “Grace, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

  She gingerly held a towel up to her face. Her eyes were already red-rimmed and bloodshot. “I think you were having a nightmare.” Her voice was muffled by the towel. “I tried to wake you.”

  “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

  She shifted the towel to wipe the blood beneath her nose and winced, sucking in a sharp breath. “Holy shit, that hurts.”

  Sick with the realization of what I’d done, I did my best to help her clean up. Eventually the bleeding stopped. Without a lot of conscious thought, I stripped the sheets and bedding and replaced it while she went to the bathroom. When she came back, she put on her pajamas, then got back in bed. I wrapped the ice in a towel and handed it to her.

  I couldn’t bring myself to touch her.

  She leaned her head back against the headboard and took a deep breath. “I think I’m okay.”

  Nothing about this was okay. I’d had a stupid fucking nightmare and when she’d tried to wake me, I’d elbowed her in the nose.

  “It might be broken.” The necessity of those words gutted me, but I said them anyway.

  She nodded. “I know. Nothing we can do right now.”

  “Grace, I’m so sorry. I…”

  I had no idea what to say. How could I apologize? I felt like I was still in a nightmare. I’d hit her. I’d made her bleed.

  “Asher, don’t do that.” She lowered the ice. “Don’t. It was an accident.”

  It had been an accident. She was right. But that didn’t matter—didn’t change anything. I’d still done it. She’d been trying to help, and I’d—

  “I need to get some air.”

  “Don’t go.” She reached for me. “Asher, please. Come to bed.”

  “Can’t.” I felt like I was going to crawl out of my skin. “Keep the ice on it. I’ll be back.”

  She started to say something else, but I couldn’t stay. It felt like the walls were closing in on me, the invisible hands from my dream pushing me down. I knew if I closed my eyes for even a second, I’d be right back in the nightmare. Only this time, it would be Grace on the ground, and the one hurting her would be me.

  I scooped my clothes off the floor and stumbled out of her bedroom. Somehow, by the time I reached the front door, I was dressed. Everything was hazy, a maddening swirl of horror and raw guilt. It clawed at me, shredding me from the inside.

  The cold night air hardly registered. Neither did the fact that my feet were bare. I wandered outside with no idea where I was going, my head a mix of images from my nightmares, and the all-too-real sight of Grace bleeding all over her bed.

  It was worse than my worst fear. I’d been afraid I wasn’t safe, afraid the darkness inside me would hurt her. But never like this. I never would have thought I might injure her physically. Intentional or not, it had happened. I’d been so out of control, I’d probably broken her fucking nose.

  Everything I’d been telling myself had been a lie. That I could do this. I could make this work. I just needed time.

  I didn’t need time. I needed to be kept away from everyone. They probably should have stuck me with the murder charge. Kept me locked up forever. At least then I wouldn’t have been a danger to anyone except the pieces of shit who deserved my wrath.

  The urge to hit something filled my gut and made my chest tight. I was so fucking angry, and I had nowhere to put all this rage. Because I was angry at myself. Furious that I’d hurt her. That I was so fucking broken, I couldn’t even sleep safely beside her.

  I didn’t know how long I wandered. Hours, maybe, walking in circles around the streets of her neighborhood. The stars began to fade with the first hints of dawn before the chaos in my brain eased. My heart rate finally slowed and my breath wasn’t so ragged. Clarity, and at least a modicum of rationality, started to return.

  I still felt like I’d stabbed myself in the heart and was in danger of bleeding out, but at least I could think. I needed to get back and check on Grace. Hopefully she’d kept the ice on her nose for a while and gone back to sleep.

  As the rational part of me returned and panic retreated, I calmed myself by making a plan. I’d let her sleep, then take her to the doctor as soon as she was ready. I’d stay with her while she got it checked out. I’d get her whatever she needed to feel better. Clear my schedule so I could take care of her. And hope and pray that I hadn’t hurt her too badly.


  And that she could forgive me.

  After that? I didn’t know what I was going to do. How to deal with the fact that I’d lost control and hurt her.

  I quickened my pace, suddenly anxious to get back. Something pricked at my instincts, a sense of urgency filling me. It was different than panic. That was a vague sense of impending disaster, a feeling I couldn’t place, even though it was strong. This was different.

  And then I realized I smelled smoke in the air.

  I broke into a run and rounded the corner onto Grace’s street. A column of black smoke rose into the pre-dawn sky.

  Grace’s house was on fire.

  38

  Asher

  My feet pounded on the pavement as I sprinted toward her house. There was no haze of panic in my brain. My training was there. Everything was clear. In the seconds that it took to run to her house, I’d already visualized what I needed to do depending on what I found when I got there. I had one objective.

  Save her.

  I slowed when I got close and did a quick visual sweep of the front. No Grace. But a lot of smoke.

  Half her house was still unfinished. Did her smoke detectors work? Were there enough of them? I didn’t remember seeing one in her bedroom. The smoke could suffocate her before she had a chance to get out.

  I also didn’t have my phone.

  Fuck.

  The front door wasn’t hot but when I opened it, smoke billowed out. I crouched low to get beneath it. So far, it hadn’t filled the front room, but it wouldn’t take long. In the low light, I could make out the hazy gray, flowing across the ceiling like cloudy liquid.

  No alarms sounded. The house was eerily quiet except for the growing roar of flames.

  Smoke was filling the hallway. My eyes stung and I could taste it in the air.

  I had to get her out.