The last thing we need is to be the subject of an international manhunt.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Elijah
I’m in the shower when I hear someone behind me.
Steam clouds the glass, but I recognize the figure on the other side. Short stature, a wild mane of honey-colored hair. In some ways she looks ordinary. That doesn’t explain the instant pounding in my chest. The anticipation in my hard cock.
I open the door, revealing my naked body, the water streaming down. Her brown eyes are hungry as she takes me in. And then shocked.
“You’re hurt.”
I give a short laugh. “This is nothing.”
She reaches into the spray, touching her forefinger to the corner of my mouth. “It’s not nothing. You’re bleeding. Did Liam do this to you?”
“I asked him to.”
She shakes her head, not quite understanding.
That’s fine, because I don’t understand it either. I only know that I wanted Liam to do it. I wanted him to punish me for walking too damn close to the line. What I did to Holly was wrong, depraved. He was right to stop me.
“What are we going to do about the bounty on my head?”
“I’m going to see the lieutenant colonel.”
“You’re trying to protect me again.”
“The same way you do for London.”
That makes her smile, though it’s a sad one. “Do you think it’s kindness that makes us want to protect people? Or is it arrogance, thinking we can handle what they can’t?”
“I don’t know.” I put my head against her forehead. “You’re the one who’s good with words. The only thing I know is that I’m made for pain.”
“Made for pain?” She brushes a hand against the bruise on my stomach.
“Let me take your pain, sweetheart.” It’s the only thing I can give you. I don’t have it in me to love her, to promise some long-term commitment.
I don’t have anything to give her but the shelter of my body.
I expect her to reject the offer, to insist that she’s strong enough to carry her own pain. It’s a sign of how tired she must be, how scared, that she nods, her gaze never leaving mine.
She reaches for the hem of her shirt, and my blood pumps faster. Then it’s off her body, revealing the gentle bounce of her breasts. She goes to her skirt next, pushing down the white flowy fabric. She’s a feast for my eyes. Narrow waist, wide hips. Shapely legs.
And the beautiful thatch of brown hair at her core that calls to me.
She steps inside, and water droplets land on her breasts, her stomach. They catch on her eyelashes. Her hand reaches for me, but I turn her around. I want this to last, and if she touches me, I’ll spurt against her smooth body in a matter of minutes.
I cradle her head in my hands, and the trust she gives me is immediate, reclining back, letting me move her under the hot spray until her hair is soaked through. I should probably have something fancy in here with rosemary and lemon, instead of this plain shampoo. I pour a generous amount on my palm and smooth it across her hair, a dark brown now that it’s wet. Then I work my hands into the thick locks, gentle so I don’t pull, thorough so the foam works through. She moans as my hands work over her scalp, and I spend more time massaging her.
Then I rinse her hair, slowly, carefully, until it looks like silk again.
When I turn her back around, her lids are low. “You’re beautiful,” I tell her, which feels inadequate. I don’t know the right words for this ache in my chest. Beautiful only means her face and her body. Beauty means what’s on the surface, when it’s her whole self that radiates with comfort, with love. With a sense that I’ve found home.
Her lips curve in a small, sensual smile. This is the confident Holly. The one who never worries if men prefer her sister, the one who ignores the critics and the naysayers. This one knows her power. She’s fully herself. And I’m almost dropped to my knees in awe.
The baser instincts win out.
My cock aches with the urge to be inside her. Warm velvet. Slick friction.
She drops to her knees, and the sight of water trailing down her breasts makes me weak. “I want to finish what I started,” she says, her eyes a thousand feet deep. A well that I can fall into and never come out. “No interruptions this time.”
It’s with regret that I remember kneeling over, fucking her pretty face. It’s with regret and a deep vein of lust. “You don’t have to do that, Holly. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“Let me show you what I want,” she says, taking my cock in her fist. She’s still a little untried despite her bravado, her hand clumsy around my slick cock, uncertain and too gentle. Then she kisses the tip, and my eyes roll back in my head. God, it’s good.
“Fuck,” I say, unable to stop the words tumbling out of my mouth, the degradation I seem determined to heap upon her. “My cock filling your mouth, your lips stretched around me. That’s what I want to see. Take it deeper, sweetheart. Faster now.”
Her eyes go wide, but she tries so hard. She tries so hard, and that turns me on even as it makes me want to push her further. How far will I take this game?
When does it cross the line?
My hands come to rest on her head. “Stay still now. Let me fuck your face.”
She pauses, clearly uncertain. Then she nods.
“Good girl,” I say, my voice hoarse, and I’m already thrusting inside. Already pushing my cock into the warm well of her mouth, already lost to the insanity of desire.
I bump against the back of her throat, and she gags.
Fuck, but the sound of that turns me on. A normal man shouldn’t want to debase a woman he cares about. A normal man doesn’t need to get inside her throat more than he needs to breathe.
“I’m gonna go deep, okay? You can take it, can’t you?”
She doesn’t quite answer this time, but I push inside anyway. Past the pressure fighting me, past the entrance of her throat, until she’s gripping me like a sweet vise.
I hold there for one second, two, three, while tears leak down her cheeks.
When I pull out she gasps, sucking in air around my cock.
“You’re such a good girl. Such a brave girl,” I tell her, petting her hair. “I know it’s scary when I put my cock all the way down your throat, but you’re so strong for me.”
She coughs, spraying water against my stomach, and I want more of that. I want her gagging and choking on my dick. What’s wrong with me that I want that?
So I drag her to standing and lean her against the wall. She’s still panting, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as I kneel between her legs. I want her broken for me in every single way. I want her wet and sloppy and clenching hard because I made her come. I want the taste of her pussy ingrained so deep in my mind I remember it even when I’m asleep.
I hook one of her legs over my shoulder and rest her weight on me, so she won’t fall. Then I lean into her sex. That’s the only word for it. I lean. I press my face against her damp curls. I breathe in deep that beautiful feminine musk.
When I finally lick her pussy, I moan at the flavor. A few laps at her clit, and she’s rocking her hips, trying to get more contact, humping my face. Every kind of debasement turns me on, including this one. She begs me with her whimpers and her cries.