Dear God. One hand held her shoulders down as he straddled her legs, restraining them. Her h*ps were raised, the cheeks of her butt clenching, all cream and peach perfection. Well rounded, full globes of beauty.
“Stay still,” he growled as she bucked against him once again.
To reinforce the order, his hand landed firmly on one pale cheek, flushing the flesh marginally with a warning tap. She stilled, but he heard the hard catch of her breath, felt her body tremble.
“You have no idea what I want, Heather,” he bit out, his hand stroking over the silken flesh of her butt once again. “You think you’re ready for me. You think what you’ve heard about with Marly and Sarah is who I am, what you can expect. You’re wrong baby…very, very wrong.”
He smacked her ass again, just enough force to flush the other cheek and have her moaning, confused, fighting to separate the pleasure from the pain.
“Sam,” she moaned his name, her voice questioning, shocked.
“I want to tie you down,” he whispered, coming over her now, tucking his cloth-covered c**k into the crack of her ass. “I want to see you stretched out on my bed, leather restraints holding you in place while I show you pleasure you never imagined existed. Helpless. At my mercy. Screaming out for me while I take you places, Heather. Places you’ve never imagined existed.”
She wiggled against him, the cheeks of her rear flexing around the erection separating them.
“Yeah, tighten on me just like that, baby,” he whispered in her ear as he caught her wrists in his hand, shackling her to the couch with his strength. “That’s how you’ll tighten when I bury my c**k up your tight little ass. Just like that, Heather, while you scream, because you don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain.”
His free hand moved beneath her hips, forcing its way between her thighs as she bucked against him, panting, but not denying him. Damn her, she should have been screaming out in fear. Instead, heaven help him, his fingers found hot, slick moisture, thick syrupy need that collected in the narrow slit of her cunt.
“Sam, you’re a tease,” she accused him roughly, heatedly.
He stilled, his h*ps pressing hard into her.
“A tease?” He couldn’t believe she had said that.
“A damned tease,” she moaned. “Take those pants off and f**k me or get off me.”
He chuckled. “Do you think it’s that easy, Heather?” he asked her silkily, his fingers rasping over her swollen clit. She shuddered beneath him, her breath catching.
“Oh, you’re close.” He grinned at her neck, his teeth scraping the delicate skin there. “Poor baby. Can your toys do this for you, Heather?”
He gripped her cl*t between his thumb and forefinger, then delicately, with the utmost care, began a gentle milking motion on the sensitive little bud.
“Oh my God.” She jerked in his grip, an involuntary shudder so close to orgasm that he knew it would be torturous.
He continued the motion. Just enough pressure to make her crazy, never enough to make her cl**ax. He could feel her juices flowing now, knew her pu**y would be spasming in desperation.
“Get ready, baby,” he whispered, knowing the cl**ax, though intense and powerful, would only leave her hungry for more.
His fingers rasped her clit, milked, stroked. He felt her tense, her thighs tighten, her syrup flow, then her strangled cry shattered the silence of the game room as she bucked in his arms. Her h*ps twisted, grinding her cl*t harder against his fingers as the cl**ax ripped through her body.
She was struggling to breathe, trembling in the after effects of her release as he held her close, his hand
cupping the hot mound between her thighs.
“Listen to me,” he growled, his voice strained, desperate lust pumping hard and fast through his system.
“Listen to me well, Heather. When I take you, I won’t make allowances for your innocence, or your need for romance. I’m riding an edge that terrifies the f**k out of me. So there’s no way in hell it’s going to be easy for you. Stay the hell away from me, baby, or you could very well get hurt.”
He jumped away from her, stalking from the room and rushing up the stairs. He prayed she didn’t see the wet spot on his pants, the proof of his own cl**ax as she shattered beneath him. Something he had never done before. Something that scared him almost as badly as the nightmares awaiting him.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning dawned too bright and too damned early. Dressed in Levi shorts and a tank top that barely skimmed the low waistband of the shorts, Heather descended the stairs. The leather sneakers she wore made no sound on the carpeted steps, so it was easy to hear the sounds coming from the family room. She had learned to be certain she wasn’t walking in on an ill-timed moment where that room was concerned.
As she stepped into the entryway, she noticed the door was open and the sounds in the house were in the kitchen. Thankfully it wasn’t moans, but rather the low murmur of male voices. Which meant coffee was on. No one made coffee like the August brothers did.
Pushing the door open, she stopped and damned near turned around and left the room again. Sam stood by the counter with Brock and Sarah. Sarah was being held against Brock’s chest as Sam’s head was rising from what was obviously a lingering kiss.
Cade sat at the table watching them, his gaze sharp, clinical, as he watched Heather now.
“Mornin,’ Heather.” He lifted his coffee cup in a salute as Sam moved unselfconsciously and lifted a mug from the cabinet. Sarah and Brock moved to the table as Sam filled the mug and handed it to her.
“You guys are up early,” she commented, fighting her jealousy as she accepted the cup. “Where’s Marly?”
“Still sleeping.” Cade’s voice was a smooth hum of male satisfaction. Evidently all that moaning and groaning a few hours past had been coming from their room. The August men had too much damned testosterone, that was all there was to it.
“Drink your coffee.” Sam handed her the mug as he pressed her toward the table. “I’ll get you some sausage and biscuits.”
“Don’t you guys eat anything else in the mornings?” She frowned, wondering what they had against ham
and eggs and gravy, and her stomach pitched in hunger.
“That would require a cook,” Cade stated firmly. “I don’t want a cook or a housekeeper.”