Sixty Nine (Payne Brothers Romance Book 4)

by Sosie Frost

  Varius had snuck a stuffed alpaca into her stash. She rolled over and clutched it tightest of all.

  He led me to the living room, saying nothing until her door was closed and my eyes met his.

  “Are you okay?” He gently caressed my cheeks with both hands. “Glory—”

  The softness of his touch, the goddamned compassion in it, wound me even tighter. I chopped his hands away. Almost instinctively.

  Defensively.

  And I had no idea who I hated more—Andre…or myself.

  Varius released me without protest. Like the bastard actually cared or understood.

  “You didn’t tell me he was in town,” he said.

  My gut still churned. “He’s not supposed to be in town.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  I would never answer that question again. “He’s lucky I didn’t hurt him.”

  “He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”

  Said the minister.

  Just what Butterpond needed. A failing pageant. No alcohol.

  A preacher in jail for murder.

  He reached for me once more, and it killed me that I flinched. I shook my head.

  “You’re such an idiot,” I said.

  Varius frowned, the expression so confused, hurt, or goddamned naïve I couldn’t understand how this man functioned in a normal society.

  And maybe he couldn’t.

  Maybe that was his secret.

  The reason he could be a holy man instead of a worthless, hopeless sinner like the rest of us.

  “What the hell were you doing out there?” My voice rose too loudly, too quickly. He rubbed his swollen knuckles. They probably hurt him. Good. He needed to learn the lesson. “Why the fuck did you hit him?”

  “I was defending you.”

  “You punched him in the face!”

  “He grabbed you.”

  “You, above everyone else in this town, can’t go hitting people!”

  Varius never got angry. I hated that. Hated his reserve. Hated how he could stay so calm.

  So fucking honest. So goddamned perfect that even he didn’t understand his own worth.

  “What would you have me do?” he asked. “He came after you. You had the baby.”

  One step too far. “Leave Lulu out of this. I know how to defend my child. And I’ll do anything, until my last fucking breath, to keep her safe. You get me?”

  “You shouldn’t have to defend her.”

  “And neither should you!”

  I ran my hands through my hair, tearing at the curls. It didn’t help. My scalp still hurt from where Andre had grabbed, and it only reminded me more of that humiliation. That failure.

  Since when did I need someone to protect me?

  Since when did someone like me get stuck in such bullshit situations?

  I was tough. I was strong. I’d been smart.

  So why couldn’t I get away from the worst decision of my life?

  First Andre…

  Now Varius.

  “Glory, it’s not your fault.”

  I ignored him. Andre was exactly my fault. I’d gotten myself into trouble. Problem was, I couldn’t get back out. And that was fine. I could deal. I’d handle it like I’d handled it before, no matter how far I needed to run.

  But Varius? He couldn’t run from this. No matter how much he fought, how badly he denied it, or how fervently he prayed it away, he couldn’t lose his soul.

  But he could lose his people.

  “You just attacked a man in front of the entire congregation,” I said. “They watched their minister lay out a man twice his weight with a single punch.”

  Varius smirked. “Think I don’t know how to throw a fist?”

  “Thought you’d be smarter than that.”

  “Would you rather I let some lowlife threaten you, push you around while you’re holding your child?”

  “Yes.”

  His expression darkened. “Then you must have no respect for me at all.”

  Hell no. I had all the respect in the world for him. That’s what made this so freaking hard.

  I took a breath only for it to lodge in my chest. “V, I’ve spent my life dealing with men like Andre. Bastards and cheats, abusers and sinners. I will not let a good man go bad defending my honor…or whatever honor is left.”

  “I wasn’t going to let him hurt you,” he said. “If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else in town jumping in to help. I’d rather throw the punch, take the sins, and ice my damned hand than let anyone else suffer.” He paused. “Besides, do you think anyone else would be free to walk after assaulting a man in public? Like you said, being the minister comes with perks.”

  Even in his darkest moments he was impossibly righteous. “You’re either the greatest man in the world or the biggest fool.”

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  “By anyone in particular, or just in your own head?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “You realize what they’re going to be saying now?”

  “Again—does it matter?”

  Yes.

  And the fact that he didn’t see it, refused to admit it, proved the secret was absolutely terrible.

  “V, we’re in the public eye now,” I said. “Everyone knows about us.”

  “They should know how I feel about you.”

  I frowned. “They’re coming up to me in the church and at the stores, shaking my hand. Hugging me. Thanking me because they think I’ve saved you.”

  “You did.”

  I’d saved nothing. All I did was make everything worse. “What will it look like—when some ghetto ass druggie from Ironfield wrecks the town’s perfect Light Up Night? When they see your supposed savior is little more than some sad, movie-of-the-week sob story with a baby on her hip and an abusive asshole in her past?” I sighed. “Add in the stripping? They’re going to hate me, and they’ll hate you too.”

  “Not true.”

  “I’m no good for you, V. The sooner you realize that, the better.”

  “Glory, you are the only thing that is good for me.”

  “Stop saying that.” I pushed him away. “It’s sexy in bed, and it’s a compliment that any other woman would love to hear, but now I’m starting to think that you believe it. Really believe it.”

  “I do.”

  “Then I have no idea if you’re noble, righteous, or just an idiot,” I said. “You can’t even hear yourself. You don’t see me for who I am. I’m not an angel. I am a terrified single mother who strips to feed her child and had to abandon her entire life to escape an asshole with a bad temper and big fists.”

  Varius pulled me close. I knew better than to get lost in the stormy darkness of his eyes, to melt into the strength of his embrace, and to allow that perfect fantasy to hide us once again.

  But I was tired.

  I was scared.

  And his voice whispered sweet promises that soothed my soul.

  “You’re an amazing mother,” he whispered. “An amazing woman. The most beautiful angel without a halo…” His words murmured into kisses. “I don’t know how you escaped Heaven to find me, but you’re the only reason I have a shred of faith left in myself, in this world, in…”

  This man was my only weakness, but it didn’t feel foolish to be blessed by his kindness and forgiven with his kisses.

  My trembling faded, my lips parted, and I flicked my tongue against his to silence the raging protests tearing at my soul.

  I didn’t want to talk anymore. Didn’t want to remember the past and worry about the future. All we needed was a moment, a night, to do what we did best. Seeking comfort beyond pageants and gossip, ministries and mistakes, secrets and lies.

  I pushed him onto the couch. Awkward. Frustrated. I pitched my shirt over my shoulders and ignored the bra. My jeans kicked off as quickly as I could peel the denim from my skin.

  It wasn’t sensual. I’d lost that perfect grace and confidence in an urgent, desperate rush. But i
t didn’t matter. Varius breathed a sharp, thrilled breath as the black lace of my panties revealed to him.

  So many men had seen me without my clothes, but each time I bared myself to Varius, it was like the first time. As if no one else knew my secrets, fantasized about my curves, or tasted my sweetness.

  I didn’t deserve him.

  He leaned back as I straddled his legs.

  “Glory,” Varius whispered. “What are you…”

  “Fuck me.” The command was a whimper. “Make love to me. I don’t care how you do it, but I need you inside of me. Now.”

  Once, it might have shocked me to whisper such terrible, nasty promises to a minister. But now? I had so much more to say, so many thoughts and urges that frightened me more than our sins. Words that could tear my heart apart and lose my soul forever.

  What I felt wasn’t a secret, not to him or to me.

  He must have known.

  He must have felt the same way.

  But it was Heaven’s mercy that he didn’t say the words.

  What would happen when I finally admitted it to this man? How badly would I ruin him, his life, his ministry? He said I’d saved him, but I only lured him further from what would actually grant him peace.

  As long as he was with me, Varius would never heal. And neither would I. Because the truth hurt more than any words, fists, or memories.

  I wasn’t in love with Varius—I was in love with the man he should have been.

  And until the moment he accepted who he was, all we had was fantasy.

  Me, his Angel.

  Him, the man of my dreams.

  The tears threatened to fall as I freed his cock from his pants. Already hard. Eager. Monstrous. Everything about this man was masculine and sensual, a mystery to be deciphered and a pleasure to be taken.

  But this time, I didn’t want to seduce him. Didn’t want to make sense of what we were or what we could be. I ripped away my panties, settled over him, and impaled myself on his thickness as a punishment to my own damned desire.

  I expected it to hurt. Wanted it to hurt. Hoped my body wouldn’t be ready to take a man of his size.

  But there’d never be a moment when I wasn’t ready for Varius.

  He slipped eagerly within me. I groaned, voice thick with pleasure and despair. He filled me to the core and more, blinding me with his thickness, until my every thought fixated on the pulsing invasion inside of me.

  Why did he feel so perfect? Why could I not get enough of arms around me, cock inside of me, and my whispered name on his lips? Every time we made love, allowed ourselves this perfect escape, it did nothing but corrupt a wonderful moment between two lovers.

  What we had was wrong, and I would punish myself in pleasure for it until we finally realized the damage we’d caused and pain we’d endure.

  I rose over him, my strokes furious as I strained my body to take all of him. He hissed a thrilled, delirious gasp, and it only forced me harder, faster, rougher.

  I fucked myself.

  I hated myself.

  I destroyed myself.

  And all the while, he confessed every pleasure in a grunted whisper.

  “Glory…” His voice soothed the confusion rending me apart. “Easy. There’s no rush.”

  Of course there was. We’d always have to rush now, to hurry, to fit in as many whispers and promises from now until the day of our own reckoning.

  And it’d be soon. So very soon.

  He wrapped his arms around me, slowing my impaling strokes. His strength was greater than mine. I collapsed against his chest as he eased my frustrated, raging movements. With a whisper, a kiss, a loving touch, he moved me from his lap and settled us on the couch.

  I rested beneath him, his body over mine, never once removing his cock from my tightness. His kisses drove the air from me, and I mewed in helpless desire.

  “Don’t rush a single minute of this…” Varius would drive me insane, his pace matching the methodical promise of his words. He burrowed inside me all-too-gently. “We’ll enjoy this. I know just what you need.”

  How? He didn’t even know what he needed, and he had no idea what was best for me.

  We’d trapped ourselves in our own little world, a sensual fantasy that delivered only lies and corrupted the sanctity of what we had.

  And when I parted my lips to breathe the truth of it, he silenced my protests with kisses and kept every last secret for himself.

  Another denial. Another perfectly foolish night in his arms.

  I hated the pleasure, but it’s so easily overwhelmed me. It blossomed from my core with an unrepentant intensity so damning I clawed at him, pulled him close, and clung to his strength like he was the only man in the world who could save me from everything this ecstasy would ruin.

  We came together. His heat flooding inside me, my gasp whispering his name.

  Encouraging him. Encouraging this.

  And the worst part?

  This love was the perfect way to lose our imperfect souls.

  15

  Varius

  It wasn’t my first trip into a den of sin, but I played the part well.

  The strip club’s debauchery and feral lust still shocked me, but this establishment lacked a certain elegance.

  The woman dancing was in her thirties, but most of the plastic rebuilding her body was far younger. The music pounded too loudly, the lights flickered too dimly, and the dancer on stage half-heartedly shook what the Lord had blessed. She grabbed the money from overweight, chain-smoking men without cracking a smile.

  Still, the lady did it naked, and it compensated for a lack of charm and poise.

  But I wasn’t without sin either. And the first stone had been cast long ago, mostly in the form of a collapsed roof and destroyed chapel. I didn’t mean to judge the dancer who sold herself to entertain my brothers and me, but she was nothing compared to the woman back home.

  A few years ago, I would never have imagined myself agreeing to join a bachelor party, let alone falling in love with a stripper.

  Time made fools of us all, and misery provided our only comfort.

  Fortunately, Glory offered me hope.

  My brothers claimed a table near the stage. For the night, the fight had been forgotten, the past forgiven, and Rem once more accepted into our family.

  Rem glanced at the woman, frowned, and made the biggest mistake of the evening before he was even completely drunk.

  “Nah…” He shrugged his shoulders. “Cassi’s got better tits.”

  Tidus patted his shoulder and dug his fingers in a little too hard. Rem swore, apologized, and offered to pay for the next round.

  “Swear to God…” Tidus warned Rem with a smack to his head. “If you mention anything sexual about my baby sister…”

  “Sorry, sorry.” Rem sheepishly grinned. “Won’t bring it up.”

  “Watch the naked lady, you idiot.” Tidus sunk into the chair beside him, pointed, and scowled again. “But not too goddamned hard. You’re still marrying my sister.”

  Julian warily ordered a beer and stared deep into the mug like it was the eight hours of sleep he so desperately needed. Wouldn’t have known a naked woman grinded on the stage only a few feet from him.

  “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, Rem,” he said. “Admire the pretty lady, we kick your ass for cheating on Cas. Keep talking about our sister naked, and we’ll have bigger problems. Choose wisely.”

  Quint tossed back a shot, though none of us knew how he’s scored the whiskey or the topless bartender’s number so quickly. “He’s here to have fun. Does it matter if he goes home and bangs Cas?”

  All of us answered for him. “Yes.”

  Rem snickered. “All the more reason to get married. Then you can’t bitch at me anymore.”

  Marius didn’t fit in his chair, and his prosthetic nearly took the table with it as he swung into the seat. He grunted, raged at Rem, and got stuck between the stage and table. Didn’t help his mood.

  “
Shut up and drink your beer,” Marius said. “This is as close to family as you’re gonna get.”

  Rem nodded. “Threats and underlying hatred?”

  “That’s what family’s all about,” Julian said.

  Tidus whistled for a passing waitress, stole the beers she was bringing to another table, and stuck a twenty down her g-string. He passed the bottles to us and raised his in the air.

  “Payne family motto,” he said. “Here’s to black eyes, blacker hearts, and…”

  Julian smirked. “Black women?”

  Everyone toasted to that.

  Quint watched me drink, amused. “Now, V, don’t be alarmed. But this is what we in the secular world call a strip club.”

  Julian winked. “Bet you’ll see some things here you don’t like.”

  Little did they know.

  Marius snorted. “Hell, maybe he’ll find something he does.”

  “They won’t teach you this stuff in the Bible,” Tidus said.

  They would, but not like he’d ever read it to know. The man was probably my biggest mistake. Leaving the church had left him with no role model, even if I’d forced him to attend, drunk or sober, awake or asleep. At least when I’d preached, we knew where he was every Sunday at nine in the morning.

  I kept my mouth shut, sipping my beer as the dancer attempted to shimmy to a rap song only Glory could make interesting. The blonde had nothing on her. No hips. Fake breasts. Caked on make-up.

  Worst of all—no heart.

  Glory didn’t dance, she seduced. Every movement was practiced, perfected, and poised. The roll of her hips could break a man’s heart, and her booty was a miracle that deserved its own day of creation.

  She could dance to hell and back, and us mortals could only hope for a glance at sheer magic.

  Rem was on my side. “Don’t think V’s going to be corrupted much tonight.”

  I agreed. “I can handle myself. Don’t save souls anymore. I lose ‘em.”

  Julian had never believed it, and he challenged me on it every day. “Doesn’t seem that way, preacher. Looks like you’re finally living a little.”

  “Living a lot.” Tidus grinned. “Can’t blame you there, bro. Glory would drop God himself to his knees. He’s probably thinking twice about making a devil like her.”