His Every Desire (10 page)

He smirked a little at the thought. It wasn’t impossible. There had been other odd things.

Emery sighed and he turned his gaze back to her, stroking one hand up and down her arm. Pressing his lips to her shoulder, he whispered, “I love you…”

The soft murmur that escaped her had him stiffening. He wasn’t ready to tell her that just yet. Not when she was awake.

She arched and pushed back against him, stretching as she started to wake up. The ripe feel of her ass against him had him groaning. He rocked against her, pushing against her until the soft cheeks of her ass cuddled around his dick. She hummed, a soft little purring sound of pleasure as he stroked his hand up her side, cupping her breast and pinching the nipple gently as he lowered his head, scraping his teeth along the soft pad of flesh on her shoulder.

“Mornin’…” she murmured sleepily.

“So, Tracy’s gone,” he whispered. “And Emery…is Emery afraid of anything?”

She slid a look at him over her shoulder, her lids still heavy with sleep. “Depends on what you have in mind.”

“I want to take you…like this…” he rasped, rising to his knees, tugging her onto hers. He pushed inside, watching as her spine stiffened. If she told him to stop…I can stop. For her…I can…

But fuck, she was tight. Staring down, he watched as he pumped back inside her, slowly, fighting the tight, resistant grip of her flesh. “I want to fuck you…I don’t want to have to worry about looking in your eyes and seeing fear. I want to make you scream, and I don’t want to be gentle.”

“Joel,” she whimpered, and she shivered as he pushed back inside her. The tissues of her pussy were slicker, the scent of her sexual cream rising to flood his head.

Splaying his hands wide across the dip in her spine, he jerked her back against him, forgetting the gentleness, the care he had always used with her. Plunging his cock inside the snug, wet well of her pussy, he groaned as she clenched around him.

She sobbed as he pounded against her, hearing the slap his hips against the round curve of her ass. Using his thumbs, he spread the cheeks of her ass apart, eying the dark rose of her anus greedily. He’d never touched her there, not even the softest caress—that wasn’t a gentle way to take a woman, and she had needed gentle care.

But the hungry cries exploding from her mouth made him hot, made him careless and he licked his finger, probing the tight pucker, watching as he slowly breached the tight muscles.

She stilled, her head dropping low to the mattress as her arms collapsed. “Joel…?” she whimpered.

“Shh. This doesn’t hurt…fuck me, you’re so damn hot and tight…” the muscles of her sheath clutched at him as he screwed his finger slowly inside her ass.

“Joel…” her voice was still soft and nervous, but her body was pushing back against him, eagerly, hungrily.

He added a second finger and she yelped, her body going still as she stretched around the added penetration. “I want to fuck this ass of yours, baby…fuck it until you beg me to stop, until you beg me not to.”

As he spoke, he rotated his fingers and that was when she climaxed, a hot rush of fluid soaked his cock so that as he pulled out, there was a wet sucking sound.

He thrust to the hilt, and flooded the wet depths of her pussy with his semen, holding her hips tightly to him as he rolled his pelvis against her ass. “Sweet…” he purred. The energy drained out of his body and he sank to the mattress, rolling to the side so she wouldn’t be pinned beneath him.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her back against him and nuzzled her neck, breathing in the warm, soft scent of her skin. “Damn it, I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

Emery’s body trembled, and her breath was coming hard and ragged. A little knot of worry started to form inside his gut as she remained silent. He hadn’t hurt her—but had he scared her?

Then her hand slid up, covering the one resting on her midriff. Their fingers laced as a soft sigh escaped her. The tension inside him slowly dissolved as she cuddled back against him.

“Missed you, too, Joel. I’ve felt empty since the last time I saw you.” She made another one of those soft little humming sighs, as she cuddled deeper into the pillow.

Within moments, she was asleep and Joel was left holding her against him, his mind working busily. In the silence of the room, he pressed his face against her hair and grimaced.

He still had to tell her about her husband.

* * * * *

Shoving a hand through her hair, Emery watched with sleepy eyes as Joel walked back down the drive.

Her body ached—the muscles in her thighs pulled with every damn move, and her pussy felt raw and sore. It was the best she could remember feeling in a very, very long time. As he slid into the car, he flashed her that slow smile that was uniquely his own, his dark eyes holding a promise.

When he drove away, she slowly closed the door, resting her back against it as she leaned her head back, closing her eyes. Hot tears rolled from beneath her eyelids—the emotions she’d fought to keep under control while Joel was there were breaking free, and before she knew it, a sob ripped from her throat.

It was relief. It was joy…and fear.

There was something Joel wasn’t telling her.

From the beginning, he had coddled her, protected her, done his damnedest to keep anything from hurting her. Hiding her from the reality that had been her life for so long. And he was still hiding her from reality.

She could see it in his eyes. There was something he wasn’t telling her—something that had him worried.

Emery knew Joel. If he was worried, then damn it, she ought to be terrified.

* * * * *

His steps were heavy as he stumbled into the small efficiency apartment where he’d been staying for the past few weeks.

Joel hadn’t had a sound sleep since beginning his search, and for a while, he’d run on pure energy and fear, while Tracy—no, she was Emery now—had seemed to slip farther and farther away from him. Even as his body had begged for sleep, he had resisted, doing little more than catching a few hours a night. Fear had kept him moving—once he found her, once he caught up with her and knew she was safe, then he could sleep.

Last night, the thrill of having her close had been too new, and his emotions too raw for him to sleep. Joel hadn’t slept even for ten minutes as he lay cuddled around her in the bed.

Hadn’t slept, although his body had ached with exhaustion. Couldn’t think clearly, although there was nothing more he needed to do.

That was why he had kissed her softly after she woke up and told her he had to get some stuff done.

Not stuff. He needed sleep. He needed the distance to think. To make phone calls…couldn’t think around her.

Now he was exhausted. Collapsing onto the bed face first, he fell into a deep, heavy sleep, unaware of the soft, hazy white form that watched him.

Joel fell into a dream, the same dream that had haunted him for months. Ever since he’d come out of prison and wondered where in the hell his woman had gone.

Tracy Grainger had just fallen off the face of the earth—he’d damned near gone insane searching for her.

He’d exhausted his leads and gone through hundreds of thousands of dollars trying to track her down. She had slipped from town to town, always using cash, never leaving any sign of herself behind.

He had focused the car she’d bought as his only lead.

Emery Hughes had a birth certificate, a work history that seemed solid, but she hadn’t existed until that day eighteen months ago when she left the office of an attorney who specialized in helping abused women escape from a dangerous past.

The dream was the same, always the same. He walked into the posh apartment where he’d found his sister all those years ago, but instead of Carly lying on the floor, naked, beaten, the evidence of a rape still on her thighs, it was Tracy…Emery.

And not as he was so used to seeing her, with that short, sophisticated coif of pale blonde hair and a thin exotic face. No.

It was her as he’d seen her earlier, with thick waves of mink brown, her mouth lush and full in the soft curves of her face.

Closing his eyes, he flopped back on the bed, pressing his palms against them. He had to keep her safe.

You will…

His hands fell away and he sat up, scowling at the pale misty form hovering on the chair by his bed. Carly’s ghost had come to him that very first day after she’d died.

Grainger’s men had been watching her apartment and when he had gone in there, they’d seen him. They’d called Grainger, apparently, because as Carly had whispered in his ear Run, Grainger had been driving to the apartment. Joel, called Marc then, had slid out the window to the balcony and monkeyed down to the balcony below, working his way down ten stories, sweating and scared to death. As he’d hit the street, he had heard the voice shouting overhead and he’d looked up, seeing one of the men he’d seen with Grainger before.

He’d taken off running. At the intersection ahead, he’d seen Grainger’s black Porsche as it came flying around the corner and Joel had ducked down the alley to his left, running for his life.

And Carly had continued to whisper to him.

He didn’t actually see her form for a long time, but her ghost was with him almost constantly as he grew up. She’d been taking care of him for so long—even after she’d moved away from home. Mama had been too busy getting laid or getting high…

They’d killed Mama, too.

Joel knew that, even though it had been made to look like an accident. When he’d tried to go home after running away from Grainger, Carly had whispered to him again. He’d gone home anyway…or tried to. And found ambulances and police cars surrounding the small, ratty apartment.

He’d disappeared after that.

Nobody was likely to notice another twelve-year-old punk on the streets of New York, and he’d done okay. When he was eighteen, he’d taken his the test for his GED and passed with flying colors, then joined the Army with one goal in mind.

To become a tough enough bastard to handle Vincent Grainger.

It had all been so simple. He could handle Grainger. Could kill him. Happily.

What wasn’t simple was Emery. How did he tell her that Grainger was awake?

How did he handle letting her know what he had done? Killing Grainger was one thing—and he would kill him.

But the things he had done to move closer to Grainger, that was different. He’d turned into a fucking criminal, barely a step above Grainger.

That was the part that wasn’t so simple.

Jerking his mind out of the past, he stared at Carly’s surreal form, hovering on the edge of the seat as though she was just sitting down for a break. “What’s wrong, Carly?” he asked tiredly.

She laughed. The sound was hollow, as though it came from some distant tunnel and it echoed. “Wrong? Why does something have to be wrong, Marc?”

“My name is Joel,” he said wearily. “Marc Baker is long gone, Sis.”

She sighed, and the sound was desolate. The room seemed to chill and Joel rubbed his arms. “Gone…just like me,” she said forlornly.

“Carly…”

“No. No. I’m fine. Hell, for the most part, I’m more than fine. I don’t have any bills, I don’t have to worry about gaining weight…granted, I can’t eat anything, but it’s not a bad trade-off.” She laughed softly. “I’m better off dead than I ever was alive. Too bad I had to leave you alone.”

Silence fell and Joel tried to figure out what in the hell to say, if there even was anything to say. Staring down at the sheet that covered his legs, he closed his hand around it, wishing that somebody had killed Grainger long, long ago.

“Are you going to tell her? You can’t just think she’ll blindly leave. She’s not the same woman she used to be.”

“I know that.”

“Then maybe you also know what you’re planning isn’t fair—it’s not right. Tell her. Tell her about Grainger. Tell her what you’ve done.”

No. “I can’t do that. She doesn’t need to know.” Hell—if she ever found out, he could lose her. And she wouldn’t find out. She wouldn’t want to be in the same state as Grainger, so when she found out he was awake, and Joel offered her a safe place, she’d leap on it.

“Don’t count on it.”

Joel snarled at her, “Damn it, will you stay out of my head?”

Carly sighed. “You’re setting her up as bait, baby. It’s not fair. And you haven’t even told her yet. When are you going to tell her—she’s in danger, damn it.”

“She’s safe,” Joel said flatly. “I’ll keep her safe.”

Starkly, Carly said, “She’s not safe. He thinks about her constantly, her and you. Even while he was in that damn coma, it ate at him. He wants you both dead. That hatred consumes him, just like your hatred of him consumes you. Don’t let it make you foolish, baby.”

* * * * *

Emery knew who was at the door even before she opened it. She’d been restless all day, haunted by thoughts of Joel, plagued by memories of times best forgotten, the years she’d spent in fear and humiliation, awaiting another blow from Vincent Grainger.

And…the day she had all but been given to Joel.

Given, as if she was just a belonging.

A possession. She had just been a toy for Vincent, some pretty little piece for him to show off to others. When she’d tried to run, he had always found her, always brought her back. The whispers, You’re mine…had left her shuddering and shaking in terror. How could those same words, coming from Joel, make her shake with need and blush with pleasure?

She was torn, though. Torn with the need to wrap herself around him…and the need to show herself she could stand on her own two feet. The first few months, when he hadn’t come after her, she had been shattered, and learning how to stand on her own had been damned near impossible. It had been his voice, a voice from the past, whispering to her from her memories that had given her the strength.

That strength was her own now.

If she relied on Joel now, was she giving up on herself?

With a spinning head, she opened the door and stood there, staring at the craggy lines of his face, those impossibly deep blue eyes. “Hey,” she said quietly.