The Other Brother (Snow and Ash Book 3) (12 page)

This time when he lowers his head, I know not to expect tenderness. He sticks his tongue in my pussy and laps at my juices. He draws up, and all I feel is his tongue spreading my folds. I bite my lip as he catches my clit. He moves his tongue like a cat at a saucer of milk, and oh God! It feels so good. I throw my head back and let out a moan. My legs shake as I raise myself to meet him. I’m breathing so hard I think I’ll faint, but I won’t. I can’t. I need this, I need—

He pulls away and I cry out. My hips arch to catch him, and he smacks my pussy. Not too hard, just enough to send jolts of sensation all the way to the tips of my breasts, to the soles of my feet.

“Please!” I’m close. So close.

“You will learn to obey me,” he says, a savage glint in his eye.

“Yes.” Anything, I’ll do anything, just please finish what you started.

He crouches over me and takes the tip of one breast into his mouth. He gives a gentle suck, sending my belly fluttering.

“No matter what you feel, you will not come until I give you permission. Do you understand?” He presses a kiss just below my ear, and I curve into him, only to find him gone. I’m so on fire. For Kent, the man, the monster. I manage a nod.

He crouches between my legs, and I tingle at the feel of his hot breath. I want to latch my legs around him and pull him to me, to grind my clit against his face. I shake with the effort it takes to control myself.

He laves me in a slow, sensuous massage that is wicked and so incredibly good. When he pushes his finger inside me, I cry out.

“You do not have my permission,” he warns and gives my clit a flick.

“I’m not,” I pant. “Oh God.”

This seems to drive him wild, because he eats my pussy like he’s starving for it. Beads of sweat drip between my breasts, down the small of my back, along my temples as he tortures me to the brink of insanity.

He pushes a second finger into me. I grunt with the effort it takes not to convulse all around him. Continuing to finger me, he lifts himself up and suckles my breasts. I’m especially sensitive there, and soon I’m rocking against him like a shameless whore.

“Is this good?” he asks, and then he clamps over my clit and sucks.

My cry is almost a scream. “Stop! Oh God, I’m going to come!”

“Hold it,” he says sternly. “You will hold it, do you hear me?”

“Yes,” I gasp. Every breath is a cry for mercy. I’m shaking so hard I think I’ll collapse.

When he slips in the third finger, I feel an uncomfortable spreading between my legs. I wince and purse my lips.

“Does this hurt?” he asks.

“A little,” I admit.

“I’m going to push you further. It’s going to hurt a little more. Will you stay still for me?”

Those eyes of his burn into me and sear my soul. I nod, never breaking his gaze. A fourth finger breaks through, and I blink rapidly, gritting my teeth at the discomfort.

He bends, teases my pussy, lick after delicious suck, teeth grazing what should never be touched by flesh, and soon I’m panting again. He pushes his knuckles past my barrier. “It hurts. It hurts!”

“You promised me. Don’t you dare back down now.”

I gasp. I try to relax myself, to settle back against the floor and submit my body to his touch.

“Good girl. That’s it.” He leans forward and licks me. Again. A rhythmic tapping like Morse code, and something about the combination of pleasure and pain brings me to a new high. I let out a rugged keening cry, desperate for release, desperate for what only he can give me. I can’t take it. It’s too much.

“You can come.” He sucks my clit with expert lips, and I explode. Gut-wrenching cries rip from me as I convulse all around his fingers. I clench my thighs and buck my hips against him, and even then he’s not finished with me. With a pop he pushes farther, farther, and I realize all I can see is his wrist.

He captures my gaze, and I feel his fingers curl into a fist. It’s the most terrifying, exquisite thing I’ve ever felt. I’m full to bursting, stretched beyond anything I imagined possible.

“Is this okay?”

His gentleness, his concern sends me to new heights. I’m floating on a bed of ecstasy where only Kent and I exist. “Yes.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

I shudder. “No. Never.”

“I can feel you twitching all around me.” The triumph in his voice is unmistakable.

With a groan I clench him harder as another wave hits me.

I’m lying on the floor, hands over my head, breasts hardened to peaks, with a man’s hand clenched inside my cunt. I can’t find it in me to be embarrassed. He shifts position, causing his fist to move, and this sets me off again. He kisses me, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue, man to woman.

This strange euphoria refuses to leave me, and I gaze up at this miracle of a man. “I need you.”

He rocks his fist, and my eyelids flutter shut. I arch my neck, and he traces a trail of kisses along my collarbone. Is this how he trained those women? For there is no doubt in my mind now that Nico was right. I try to find jealousy, but all I feel is pride in a man so powerful he can drive my demons away.

When finally he begins his withdrawal, he teases my clit one final time, and another wave of sweet orgasm sweeps through me.

I lie just as he leaves me as the endorphins continue to sing through my nerves. I’m exhausted and raw and so completely satiated. He wraps my legs around his hips and buries his face in my neck. After several moments he braces himself on his elbows and smooths my hair back from my face. I smell myself on him.

“What did you and Nico talk about?”

This time I don’t hesitate. “He said you’re a Dominant and I hate sex. Then he laughed.”

His expression closes down. No more secrets though. “He said it was you that trained those girls they sent to Bluefield. The girls who will do anything.”

“He did.” It’s a comment, not a question.

“And then he said it was only time before I found myself tied up, bent over, and caned.”

Rage settles over his features, and—is that shame?

I place my hands on his chest. “I am not afraid of you.”

He sucks in his breath. “Do you believe him?”

I do a half shrug, half shake of my head. “Does it matter?”

“No.” He blinks and wipes his face on his shoulder. He sits back on his heels, and my legs release their grip.

There’s fear behind his bravado, I can tell. I reach for his hands, and he lets me place them over my breasts.

“You saved me. I’ll do anything for you.”

He strokes my face, and there it is. That reverence.

“Why can’t it just be us?” I muse. “Just you and me, and no one getting in our business.”
 

At last we get to our feet. I retreat to the bathroom, and when I emerge, I find him already in bed. He watches me as I cross the room. He seems to expect something.

I bite my lip. “May I sleep in the bed tonight?”

His face softens, even the scarred half. Wordlessly he nods, and I climb under the covers. He spoons me, captures me with his legs and arms until we are one.

I wake to lips, warm and insistent. Kent traces a trail of kisses down my neck, down my shoulder, leaving a tingly echo behind. I tilt my head, allowing him access. He brushes my hair aside and slides his lips to the juncture of my neck and shoulder and bites. I gasp. He’s gentle, but it sends a message directly to my core. He nuzzles below my ear, intoxicating me with need. Lips. Tongue. Teeth. It’s an endless assault on that one little stretch of skin. I sweat as I lean into him, willing him to continue. My breaths come hot and heavy as he grips my shoulder and intensifies his assault. When his cock presses against the small of my back, I glory in its hardness. He bites me again, there on the back of my shoulder, and a shudder rakes through me. I need him. I want him—anything he chooses to give me. I don’t even know what he’ll do to me, but I want to drown in it. When he grasps my breast, it eases the ache, but only for a moment. His hand caresses, sweeps across my breast, up my shoulder into my hair. He grabs a handful and tugs me where he wants me, and his lips suck, his teeth bite, and his tongue glides. My neck is his playground, and I am his slave. I tremble as my breasts ache for another pass, and there it is, his palm on my flesh, his fingers lightly tweaking. He seems to know exactly what I want next, what I need.

This is that thing I thought no man could ever give me. I thought myself so ruined that I’d never feel anything like this, and here I am, sighing, moaning, gasping at my husband’s touch. Kent did this. All I had to do was surrender. It frightens me, but I have no will. I let him take that from me, and I can never go back. I am his.

“Are you all right?” He kisses that tender place just below my ear.

“Yes.” It’s more of a gasp than a word. “I’m a little sore there.”

This is not a complaint. I capture the pain and hold it, regaining a little of the euphoria.

Again, he pulls my hair away from my face, and I turn for a kiss. I’ll die if he takes this from me. I’ve never felt so close to anyone. I can feel his heart beat, the brush of his heavy, scarred flesh against my cheek, and I feel at one with him.

He palms my stomach, grasps me to him with a sigh. “I have some things to attend to, but I’ll be home for dinner.”

Already I miss him. “Dinner?”

He guides me onto my back and runs a light, feathery kiss across my lips. “I have a meeting after that.”

I sigh my disappointment, and he grinds his cock against me. Oh God, if he’d only…

“When I get home,” he says, “I want you waiting for me.”

I blink my surrender and nod.

“Leave your hair down, but sweep it behind your shoulders. I don’t want those breasts hidden.”

Immediately, my nipples harden into peaks. “I will.”

“Kneel.” He presses a kiss at the base of my neck, marks another path to my shoulders. “Spread yourself and put your hands in the small of your back. Clasp your left wrist with your right hand.”

I’m so turned on I could cry. If only he’d touch me. There.

“Keep your chin up,” he continues, “but lower your eyes. Don’t worry about cramping up. It shouldn’t hurt like last night. That was punishment.”

Punishment. Heat scorches my cheeks. “What time do you want me?”

He cocks his head and digs his hand into my hair. Those eyes of his, so serious and so full of emotion. “I can’t tell you that. I don’t know.”

I bite my lip. I’m wet for him. I ache for him. I shake with need, and that’s a long time to wait. “Kent…”

“It would please me if I came home and found you waiting.”

I lose myself in his eyes, at the feel of his flesh pressed against mine and the promise of exquisite pleasure, of a connection I never dreamed possible.

I nod. “I’ll be here.”

~ ~ ~

“Puppy posture, drop the elbows.”

It’s just past lunchtime, and I’m with my yoga instructor. We’re in the middle of the apocalypse, and the Barrys have an actual instructor for me. The session is on the task list Kent wrote up. I was thinking it’d be a great thing to wake up and do, but Kent thought I’d like to relax after lunch. The list isn’t bad. He’s allowed for stuff I like as well as stuff he wants me to accomplish. He’s so thoughtful that way.

I can’t stop thinking about him. I know it’s not realistic but I want to be with him all the time. When I’m with him, it’s like nothing can upset me, hurt me, burden me… He takes everything away. What he did to me last night, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced. I’m so in love with him.

“Excuse me.”

I almost fall over.

“Sorry, ma’am,” says the soldier in the doorway. “Col. Barry would like you and the staff to remain indoors.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“There’s an armed party approaching from the west. Nothing we can’t handle, but just to be on the safe side…”

“Okay.” That place between my shoulder blades turns to lead. An armed party? Well, it’s not like this didn’t happen every other day in Knoxville.

“Do you want to continue, Mrs. Barry?” my redheaded instructor asks. He’s short and skinny, but he sure can bend.

“Yeah.” I roll my shoulders. “We might as well.”

An hour and a half later I’m reading Tom Jones in one of the smaller living rooms—or sitting rooms, I guess.It is the Biltmore House, so I guess formal terms apply. I never did read a lot after the ash fell. Mom and Dad made me study all the math, science, and history from the high school textbooks. Mom was an art history major in college, so she made sure I knew all about things like contrapposto and Etruscan burial boxes with statues of dead people lying on top. You’d think after the apocalypse they’d let me forget that stuff, but no. Tish had been premed at the University of Virginia. Mom wasn’t worried about her falling into stupidity.

Kind of weird, but no one ever put a piece of fiction in my hand until now. There’s an enormous library right here, and although I suspect most of it will be out-of-date or too boring to read, Kent says it has all the classics. I think he’s going to make me read the entire canon.

There’s a short rap on the door before it’s flung open. The burly soldier is thrust aside, and a girl with navy-blue eyes and long red hair strides into the room.

“Tish!” I drop my book and hop to my feet. “Oh my God! What are you doing here? How did you get here?”

My sister laughs and seizes me in a hug.

“Thought you got rid of me, did you?”

“You look amazing. How did you get here without wind burned cheeks? I’m so happy to see you!”

“And look at you, little sister.” Tish takes a step back and looks me up and down. “What on earth are you wearing?”

I clutch the neckline of my skintight cross-draped shirt. Is it too low-cut? It’s one of the outfits Kent laid out for me to wear today. When I put it on, I actually felt sexy for the first time in my life. The red brings color to my cheeks, and the material hugs my curves. It even has a little open-shoulder action going on. With the black leggings, the knee-high stiletto-heel boots, it’s more of a Tish-style outfit than anything I’d pick out for myself. Even my necklace screams bling.

“Does it look bad?”