Heather's Gift (10 page)

She watched as he straightened. He did nothing to hide the erection beneath his sweat pants now. It was blatantly obvious.

“Oh baby, greedy will be the least of your problems,” he told her then, softly, dangerously.

Her heart sped up in excitement, the blood pounding through her veins as he began to advance on her.

“I’m a very greedy person, Sam. What about you?” She sat still, though the adrenaline racing through her body demanded action.

“I could be.” But he didn’t sound so sure. He didn’t look so sure. “But can you handle what you’re inviting, Heather?”

Could she? She sure as hell hoped so, because she knew she wanted it. Lora Leigh

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“Sam, I can handle anything you want to dish out.” Tara had always warned her that the day would come when her mouth would get her into more trouble than she could handle. Heather had a feeling that day had just arrived. Lora Leigh

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Chapter Thirteen

She had no idea how desperately he wanted her, Sam thought as he watched the deliberate provocation in her eyes. She was daring him as though it were a game, as though there would be no casualties, no pain involved. But there was, and he knew it. He faced it daily with Marly and Sarah. The knowledge of what they were doing to those beautiful, loving women destroyed his soul.

Yet, here she sat, daring him, as though the dare could be called back as easily as saying the words. She had been in the August household as a bodyguard long enough to catch the subtle hints of what defiance and a sexual challenge did to them. Sarah and Marly teasingly defied them on a daily level, keeping them focused on the here and now, rather than the past. And the challenges always fired their sexuality, their need to dominate sexually, to reaffirm their sensual control. He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the end of the pool table and watched her. Her green eyes were dark with arousal, her nipples peaked beneath the silk of the long gown and flimsy robe. He could see them clearly defined, hard little points tempting his hunger.

“Why are you still a virgin?” The question plagued him. He needed an answer, needed to know why she seemed so willing to give him what no other man had ever taken.

She propped her arm on the back of the couch, resting her head on her hand as she watched him curiously.

“I’ve never been with a man because I haven’t found one that could make me half as hot as a good erotica book and an even better toy.” It wasn’t the answer he expected. He closed his eyes briefly as though gathering his strength.

“Toy?” he asked softly, his body tightening, his cock jerking beneath his sweatpants as though trying to slice through the fabric to get to her.

“Toys, perhaps.” She shrugged, a grin tugging at her mouth. “Are you shocked, Sam? I told you I had a vibrator.”

“What kind of toys?” His imagination was killing him now. She shrugged, her slender shoulders rising, lifting her breasts against the material that covered them as she watched him with more amusement than the fear he thought she should feel.

“All kinds of toys, Sam,” she said softly. “I’m technically a virgin, not physically a virgin.”

His brows snapped into a frown. “You didn’t tell me that before,” he growled. Lora Leigh

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“Would it have made a difference?” she asked him, her voice husky. “What business of it yours, anyway? You made it pretty plain you had no intentions of going to bed with me.”

Sam could feel his body nearly trembling with excitement. His imagination was going wild, imagining her spread out on his bed, her legs open to him as she used one of the more unique dildos he could buy for her. Moving it in and out of her bare pussy, stroking herself, moaning…

“Fuck.” He drew in a hard breath, staring at her accusingly. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because you asked.” Her smile was a challenge in itself. His cock was so hard it hurt. Harder than he could ever remember it being in his life. His hands itched to touch her, his mouth watered with the need to taste her.

“Heather.” He closed his eyes, fighting his desires, his sexuality. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

His sexual appetites were raging now. She had thrown gas on a fire already burning nearly out of control. When she didn’t answer him, he opened his eyes. She watched him, equal parts innocence and seductress as he fought for control. Her lashes lowered over her eyes, a sexy, knowing move that broke his resolve. Before he could convince himself once again how disastrous the consequences could be, he moved to her. He glimpsed the surprise on her face an instant before he flipped her over on the couch, holding her down as he jerked the hem of her gown up over her bare ass.

Dear God. One hand held her shoulders down as he straddled her legs, restraining them. Her hips 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 clothcovered cock 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 Lora Leigh

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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 cock 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 hips pressing hard into her.

“A tease?” He couldn’t believe she had said that.

“A damned tease,” she moaned. “Take those pants off and fuck 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 clit 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 climax. He could feel her juices flowing now, knew her pussy would be spasming in desperation.

“Get ready, baby,” he whispered, knowing the climax, 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 hips twisted, grinding her clit harder against his fingers as the climax 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 fuck 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.”

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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 climax as she shattered beneath him. Something he had never done before. Something that scared him almost as badly as the nightmares awaiting him.

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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.”

“It would mean good meals,” she pointed out. “Something besides sandwiches and soup, or steaks and sausage biscuits.”

“We don’t have time to cook.” Cade shook his head.

Heather looked at Sarah. Why the hell weren’t she and Marly cooking?

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“Don’t look at me, I can barely boil soup. And Marly’s worse.” She laughed as she sat sideways in her chair, her back braced against Brock’s chest.

“What do you do when you get tired of soup, sandwiches and steaks?” She shook her head in bemusement. She felt as though she were starving to death.

“We go out.” Cade shrugged. “Usually, that is. Remind me to kill that bastard twice for the food we’re missing out on.”

Death iced his words. Heather turned to him slowly, seeing the cold, hard menace in his voice.

“You won’t kill anyone, Cade. We’ll catch him, and take him in. That simple.”

“Nice dream world you live in, Heather.” He leaned his elbows on the table and watched her mockingly. “Do you think I’ll let him live after I get my hands on him? He shot Sarah; he scarred you. He’ll die for it.”

She turned to Sam and saw the same cold purpose in his face, then in Brock’s as well.

“That’s murder, Cade,” she whispered.

“It won’t be the first one, Heather,” he stated as he stood to his feet. “And you know it.”

He moved around the table, then paused behind her. Before she could think, before she could jerk away, he leaned close, brushing a kiss across her cheek. “I have to go. I have plenty of work to do” Then he moved to Sarah, repeated the caress and left the room.

Heather caught the other woman’s worried glance as she looked to her for a reaction. A reaction she was saved from looking too deeply into as the back door opened.

“Company coming in, boys. Sarah, your brother’s on the warpath again.”

“Oh hell.” Sarah jumped to her feet and glanced at Brock then Sam. “Either one of you hits my brother today and I’ll hit you back.”

Heather blinked then turned to Sam. “Why would you hit her brother?”

Sam shrugged. “You’ll see when you meet him.”

* * * * *

Dillon Carlyle was gorgeous. With thick, dark brown hair that fell below his neck, and velvet green eyes in a dark complexion that was damned near perfect for a man. A strong jaw line, high cheekbones, and sensually firm lips, she bet he had no end of women falling over themselves to get to him.

At the moment, that gorgeous face was creased into a frown of anger though, and his six foot plus frame was tense as he faced the August men.

“Dammit, Cade, what the hell is going on? I come back from vacation to find out this stalker shit is still going on and no one thought to call me?” His deep voice boomed Lora Leigh

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through the entryway as the door slammed behind him. “The least you could have done was call me.”

Before anyone could stop him, his fist drew back and slammed forcefully into Brock’s jaw.