Dare You to Run (12 page)

She shivered, feeling exposed. He sat there on his haunches, between her legs, stroking the insides of her thighs.

“I do like it,” he said bluntly. “Seeing you like this … knowing you're mine.”

Maybe she should have taken offense, but it would have been a lie. Her pride might have raised a protest if her belly wasn't knotted with anticipation.

He stroked her from knee to upper thigh and back toward her knees. A slow, long stroke that made her clit twist. She was so desperate for contact with that little bundle of nerve endings, so needy for one firm touch to end the torment.

“I've thought about it…” He started moving his hands back toward her core, slowly, so slowly it made her lift off the bed.

He smiled, his lips parting to give her a glimpse of his teeth. “Thought about it enough to make me a prick.” He'd made it to the very top of her inner thighs, where her skin was intensely sensitive, the folds of her sex tingling with the need to be next.

“I wanted to smell you.” He leaned down and she shied away.

She heard him make a soft sound as he pushed her bottom back onto the surface of the bed with an open-handed grip on both of her thighs. He held her there, spread wide as he lowered his head until his face was a bare inch above her sex.

“Vitus.” She had no idea exactly what she was pleading for. Release? Yes, but what form? It was all a twisted, bubbling mess inside her.

He looked up her body to lock gazes with her.

“I want to do so many things to you …
Princess
.”

She jerked, the first contact nearly sending her into climax.

“And I want to watch you fight to control yourself.” He found her slit, his fingers slipping easily into the folds because she was so wet. “You always fight to control yourself….. Why?” he demanded.

She couldn't think. He was stroking her slit but never moving all the way to the top where her clit was throbbing intensely. He would get just a hairbreadth from it, the little bundle of nerves would tighten, taking her right to the edge of climax, before he trailed his fingers down to the opening of her body, rimming her in a delicate, slow motion that made her shake.

“Because … because … oh damn you, Vitus! Stop fucking with me!”

He chuckled, leaning down and pinning her against the bed with his body. She was snarling at him, bucking against the restraint, and the beast held her there as he thrust two thick fingers up into her.

“I'm not fucking you yet, Princess. You'll know when I get my cock into you.”

“You know damn well what the hell I meant,” she insisted with another attempt to buck him off her. For one second she was free of him, and it was a moment full of torment because that was the last thing she wanted, to be without him. It felt like he'd been ripped away, the sting of the parting making her whimper.

“I wanted to hear that sound out of you too, even if I'm a fucking Neanderthal to say so.”

She felt the touch of his breath against her wet folds a second before he claimed her clit between his lips. She twisted, clawing at the bedding as he pressed her thighs apart and sucked her off with hard, slow motions of his lips. Nothing delicate, no. He ate her out. It took only a few moments before she was groaning, the pleasure so deep inside her, all she could do was utter a sound that came up from the most primitive part of her soul. She felt like she was dropped back onto the bed, a gasping heap of useless muscles as she basked in the glow of satisfaction. It was just so intense, her brain wasn't capable of thinking.

There was a soft sound of fabric as Vitus shucked his boots and pants, and then he was smoothing his hands along her quivering limbs again, rubbing her like a mare that had just finished running. Easing the ache from her muscles and replacing it with soft enjoyment. He was there surrounding her, controlling her, anticipating the way she'd twist when his touch became overwhelming. Allowing her to move just enough away from him to ease that tension before coming at her from a different angle. He knew her too well, or maybe she didn't understand herself. She didn't know, all that she did know was that she needed him inside her. She wasn't satisfied, not by a long shot. He'd only taken the edge off her desperation.

“Now.” Her voice was a husky croak, her lips dry as she tried to pull him to her.

“Yeah … now,” he agreed, rolling her onto her back and pinning her down with his weight.

She whimpered as his cock touched her. So hard, so much of everything she'd been hungry for since the last time she'd seen him. She was wet and eager, but he wanted her at his mercy. She sensed it, felt it in the way he spread her wide and took a long moment to consider her waiting for him before he pressed his length into her body.

She let out a sound that was guttural. She was tight, as tight as the first time, but that didn't stop her back arching as she tried to take more of him. His cock was splitting her, stretching her open again, pain zipping through her like the sting of hot spice. It stung but thrilled at the same time. Still, it wasn't enough.

“Stop treating me … like a … princess.”

She got her wish when he came down on top of her, pinning her wrists to the sheets and pumping against her until she felt his balls smacking against her bottom.

“I want”—he grunted and drew in a breath that hissed out of him as he shook above her—“I want to take … my time.”

But his body was shaking with the effort of holding back. She was lifting to meet him, caught completely in the need to finish what they were doing. She was rushing toward the zenith, no more will to do anything else. She was a bubbling cauldron of need, and he was what she needed.

“More,” she insisted, her voice cracking like a whip. “More!”

He reached beneath her and gripped her bottom, lifting her up so that he could drive himself deeper, ride her harder.

“Yes!”

Damascus had no idea who actually said it, because the word felt like it was ripped from her soul. She was straining toward him, groaning as she took what he thrust into her. Caught up in the motion of their bodies slapping against each other. When her orgasm hit, she felt like a house that was having every one of its windows shattered in a single second. There was only the feeling of being ripped apart and flung in a thousand different directions all at once. Her core gripped around his cock, pulling from it what her flesh craved.

He snarled as his cock pumped a measure of hot seed that set off a deeper ripple of satisfaction inside her. There was no coming back from it and she didn't want to. She surrendered completely and let the wave tumble her into blackness.

*   *   *

She'd changed.

If Vitus hadn't already noticed the difference maturity had bred in her, getting a glimpse of her bare body without passion clouding his judgment certainly did.

The curtains were open a bare inch. Moonlight was shining onto the bed, bathing Damascus in a yellow glow. She was too thin. Her breastbone showed clearly and her breasts were no longer the plump handfuls he recalled.

His lips twitched up as he recalled just how sensitive those mounds still were. The sound she made when he cupped them replayed across his memory like a favorite song.

But it wasn't enough to distract him from noting all the details of her body. Her arms were defined now. It was the sort of thing a person only got one way, through resistance training. Diet alone wasn't enough, neither was cardio. She'd been doing push-ups and pull-ups at the very least and often. The definition went down to her wrists. He looked at her abs. They were flat and there was a faint outline of three ridges. His gaze swept lower to her legs where he found further evidence of an intense training program. One he knew her father wouldn't have approved of.

At least not the Jeb Ryland he knew. The man was a throwback conservative. One who didn't like to see females in pants much less exerting themselves through exercise.

What are you doing Damascus?

Hell, that was the question tonight and it applied to more than just the condition of her body. The entire situation needed an explanation. But he was loathe to get to the part where he forced himself to go after it. Her scent was still filling his senses, the moonlight washing over something he'd seen in his dreams a thousand times, only this time, it was real. She stirred, a little sound escaping her lips that hit him like a double shot of whisky, instantly dulling his wits, tempting him with the promise of ecstasy if he'd just surrender to the mindlessness of her effect.

Tempting.

Too much so, really.

The toll the last three years had taken on his emotions had left thick scars, ones that her presence soothed. It was a balm he hadn't realized he'd been yearning for, and he frankly didn't give a shit about anything else beyond indulging himself in the opportunity to be free from pain.

Except for the fact that she'd taken a huge risk in coming to him tonight.

Why?

As much as he wanted to sink back down onto the bed and enjoy holding her, he couldn't sleep while there was something going on, something dire enough to send her into the city on her own. That could have cost her dearly, and he knew she understood the risks.

Which led him back to asking why.

He picked up his cell and sent a text to Saxon.

*   *   *

“If you're tailing Damascus … you've lost her.”

“Fuck.”

Vitus stared at the screen, not wanting to believe the confirmation. But it was there, and he let out a soft exclamation of profanity.

*   *   *

“Told you.”

Vitus jumped. Damascus indulged herself in a brief moment of victory, because Vitus wasn't a man you got the jump on very often. She did make sure she didn't move until he'd focused on her completely. Once he had, she drew herself up, cringing a bit as her abdomen muscles protested. It was just enough of blunt reality to recall her to the purpose of her visit. Her father's face flashed through her mind, chilling her blood.

“Your brother needs to back off,” she said as she rolled off the bed and picked up her underwear, desperate to avoid eye contact.

“Why?” It was a short, clipped word, but she didn't trust for a second that Vitus was anywhere as calm as he sounded. She felt him watching her, trying to dissect her motions and get at her reasoning.

Which she couldn't allow to happen. So she pulled on her panties and put on her bra, scooping up the bills she could see and stuffing them into one side of it.

“Just do it Vitus. There isn't any reason for you to be trailing me, and it was really hard to get over here to tell you that.”

He'd pulled his jeans on and buttoned the fly. No zippers for him, the sound was something he wouldn't take a risk on. Even on civilian ground, just a tiny detail but one that made him the man he was.

The man she couldn't resist.

“Where is the dragonfly?” he asked.

“I left it in the library. That will be where your brother is sitting outside of right now. Don't bother to deny it. I'm on to him.”

Vitus looked back at his phone. It took him half a minute to decode Saxon's location. He cussed again, and she started to smile in triumph.

“It was a damn stupid risk you took, Damascus.” He cut into her moment of victory.

He was tying his boots but watching her as he did.

“I told you, I am not a child.” She left the bedroom, going back into the front room to get her dress.

Vitus caught her the moment the garment fluttered into place. “Then don't act like a stupid kid by going solo. Your father has a lot of enemies, men who will happily cut pieces off of you to send to him.”

A dark memory tried to crawl out of the pit she'd locked it in, like the claws of a dragon appearing on the rim of a wall. She shuddered, recalling the way light reflected off the polished blade of a knife when it was being brandished just inches from her face.

“I know.” She pulled her arm free and forced her attention on to the matter at hand, slamming a lid down on her memories with the force of determination. “Get your brother off my tail so I can get on with—” She was saying too much. He always had that effect on her. Her thoughts just spilled out of her mouth because she trusted him. Well, for his own good, she had to stop.

“Get on with what?” Vitus demanded as he pulled his shirt on. “Dating Carl Davis?”

She fought to contain the cringe that tightened her muscles.

“I don't have to explain myself to you.” Couldn't, actually.

His expression hardened. “So what was this exactly? A last celebration of your free will? A little rebellion screw before you get down to the business of making Daddy's dream match for you a reality?”

His words hurt. As in, the pain was nearly unbearable. She was hugging herself to keep her feelings inside, biting her lip to stop all the denial she wanted to spit in his face.

He snorted when she didn't answer. He grabbed a gun from a hiding place behind the sofa and shoved it into his belt at his back.

“Fine. Glad to be of service. Nice to know I rank higher than what you think you'll be getting from Davis.” He ripped a jacket off a hook by the door and yanked it open. “Since you seem to be finished, let me get you home before I have to put my neck on the line again to rescue you.”

*   *   *

Her classmates looked at her strangely as she joined them on the way out of the lab, but one thing a level-five classified lab training class was good for was teaching everyone to not question what was happening around them. That little word “classified” had a magical way of sealing lips, since all of her fellow soon-to-be doctors were heading for the same high-risk sort of research. She was bone weary and emotionally drained, but her father's security men didn't notice anything out of place.

Idiots.