Heather's Gift (20 page)

“Stay still.” He moved, flipping her to her stomach on the bed. Before she could struggle away, do more than bring her knees up, he was there. His hands gripped her wrists, stretching them out until he could restrain first one, then the other to the heavy posts of his bed with the leather restraints he had obviously brought back to his room.

The long straps with their wrist cuffs were secured quickly, her strangled screams of outrage doing little to deter him as he moved to her feet. Excitement raced through her body, though she fought him, kicking out at him, fighting to keep him from restraining her legs as well. She wouldn’t submit. She wouldn’t give in. Despite her halfhearted struggles, he managed to clip the leather restraints on her ankles and attach them to the footboard posts.

Then his hand went between her thighs. She cried out as his fingers slid through the folds of her pussy, gathering the thick cream that flowed from her vagina. Proof that she was aroused; that what he was doing was more exciting than anything she had known in her life.

There was only enough slack in the straps that restrained her ankles to allow her to lift her hips. She pressed closer to the mattress though, struggling to evade his fingers as she heard his breathing, harsh and heavy behind her. Lora Leigh

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“I told you, stay away after the nightmares, Heather.” His voice was broken, gasping as he bent over her. “I warned you, and you came anyway.”

“Let me go, Sam.” She jerked as she felt his cock nudge between her thighs. “You won’t get what you want this way.”

“Won’t I?” His lips were at her ear, his breathing heavy, hot as they moved to her neck.

She fought the insidious pleasure as he kissed the sensitive flesh between her shoulder and her neck.

“I need you.” He licked her skin, his hand smoothing up her side, caressing the curves of her breasts. “I need you, Heather. More than you know.”

Her eyes followed his arm as he reached to the side of her, widening as he grabbed the tube of lubrication from the bed table.

“Sam.” She fought the restraints then, knowing what was coming, suddenly nervous, wary of her ability to accept the invasion. As he moved back, his free hand slid over her back, the curve of her ass, then inward, closer, moving inexorably toward the entrance to her anus. Lora Leigh

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Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sam was riding the edge of sanity and he knew it. As always, the nightmares, foggy and uncertain, left him grasping, fighting for something to hold onto, something to fight back the demons haunting him. And suddenly, in the midst of the nightmare, there was Heather. Smelling of romance and desire, soft and satin, warm, tempting him further than his fragile control could bear.

He stared down at her, watching her ass flex as she fought the restraints, hearing her whispered cries, knowing arousal filled them. He could smell her heat like a midnight rain, feel it flowing from her tight little pussy below. But he needed more right now. He needed something darker, more erotic, an acceptance, a submission that came from only one act.

He flipped open the cap of the lubrication and smeared a large amount across his fingers. Then with his other hand separated the cheeks of her ass as he widened his knees, forcing them under her thighs, forcing her to lift the soft curves of her rear closer to him.

He stared at the little entrance in surprise. It was reddened, loosened marginally, showing evidence of having recently been stretched for more than a few slight seconds. She had been wearing a plug. He swallowed tightly. Dear God, had she worn it earlier and he hadn’t noticed?

He watched, entranced, as his own fingers moved for the flexing entrance.

“Sam…” Her wail was one of reluctant arousal as the cooling gel touched the heated area.

“So pretty.” His own voice was guttural, his lust barely leashed as he fought to prepare her with gentleness.

Had she moved away from him, had she done anything other than moan his name and press back against his invading fingers, then he could have stopped, could have halted the spiraling loss of control surging through him. But he could only watch, tortured, as he pressed two fingers against the little rosebud. It opened, spreading reluctantly as she bucked against him as though to draw away, gasping, crying out his name.

His cock was thick, hard, throbbing in increased demand as she writhed beneath his touch.

“No, don’t fight me.” He followed her movements, watching, his mouth watering as his fingers sank into the tight—so fucking tight—depths of her anus. Lora Leigh

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She clenched on him, her muscles struggling to accept the intrusion as he pulled back, then pressed deeper. She thrashed, tightening on him, but taking him as he worked his fingers inside the searing heat of her ass. With his other hand, he clumsily smeared more of the lubricant from the tube over the thick length of his cock. When a long line of the thick, cool gel had been applied, he tossed the tube aside. He stroked the gel over his cock as he watched, never taking his eyes from the sight of her tender back entrance opening around his fingers as he slowly fucked her with them.

“Sam, you’re killing me.” She was panting for breath, her voice weak with arousal and stunning desire. She wanted him, wanted his possession. Just him. This wasn’t Marly or Sarah, who took him because of his brothers’ needs; this was Heather, who took him because of her own.

“Feel how good it is, Heather,” he whispered desperately. “Forbidden and hot, with just a touch of pain, just enough bite to let you know you’re alive, that you need.” He pushed his fingers deeper, watching as she accepted him, her body jerking as the pleasure rippled over it.

As he pulled back, he added a third finger. She cried out as he worked them inside her. Her ass tightened and he groaned, imagining the bite of the muscles around his cock as he took her. She jerked as though to move away from him, her hips thrashing, her thighs quivering as she fought him. But she took him. He fucked her slow and easy with his fingers, imagining, knowing the exquisite pleasure to come. Assured that she was ready, knowing if he had to wait a moment longer he would lose all sense of control, he pulled his fingers back, easing from her as his hands gripped her hips, holding her still as he knelt behind her.

“I need this,” he growled. “First this, Heather.” He cock nudged at her prepared opening.

“Why?” she cried out. “Tell me why, Sam.”

He shook his head, fighting the answer. He couldn’t answer her, couldn’t put the need to words. He watched instead. Watched as his erection pressed against the little hole, forcing it to flower open, to stretch to take the bulging head.

“Sam.” The fear in her voice suddenly stopped him. “Sam, please don’t hurt me.”

Oh God, no. No, don’t hurt me…
Sam shook his head, fighting the twisting nightmares that fought to release.

He stared at her, saw her tight hole easing open, stretching around him.

“I won’t hurt you,” he gasped. He couldn’t hurt her. If he hurt her, what was the point? He had to replace the horrific memories with pleasure, only then did they ease. Only then did he regain the control he needed so desperately.

“Sam, why?” She opened farther, and Sam grimaced as half the head buried inside her. She was hot, so damned hot and tight already that all he wanted to do was plow as deep and hard inside her as he could. The scars on the head and shaft of his cock did Lora Leigh

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little to dim the pleasure to be found in a hot, tight anus. The bite of the tight muscles on his flesh was exquisite, the sensations too shockingly arousing to be denied.

“Stop, baby.” He gripped her hip as she tried to jerk from him again. “Please, please, Heather. Stay still.”

“Why?” She managed to jerk to the side, escaping the invasion he had started.

“No.” He jerked her back, held her still as he pressed forward again. “God dammit, Heather, you want it. I know you do.”

“I want to know why.” Her back bowed as he pushed the flared head of his cock inside her ass with a desperate move of his hips.

He gritted his teeth, feeling his control slipping.

“Stop.” He smacked her ass as she jerked again, nearly tearing him free. He watched her muscles flex from the small stinging caress, heard her gasp of pleasure.

“Please God, Heather. Please. Take the pleasure, baby. Take it, so I can forget the pain.”

The words that left his mouth penetrated his brain. The shock of it destroyed any semblance of control he might have possessed. A ragged cry, fraught with pain and rage, billowed from his chest as he thrust inside her anus. Hard and deep. The instant heat, like fire on his cock, tightening around him, stroking him as she screamed out beneath him, fighting to accept the full, thick length of the cock buried in her tender depths.

Her back bowed, her head thrashing as the long tendrils of her hair rippled over her back.

“Sam…” He knew that husky sound, vibrant with the shocking pleasure/pain of his entrance.

Dark, primitive lust shot through his veins as she took him. Her scream was one of intense arousal. The point where everything is heightened, mingling and searing in its heat. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t contain himself or his need. He drew back, watching as his cock eased from her tightly stretched hole then thrust back hard and deep. Over and over. He watched her flesh stretch for him, heard her cries echoing around him and felt heaven and hell in her acceptance.

He bent over her then; reason lost, only pleasure, only the white-hot heat of her ass gripping his cock meant anything. His hips moved as he powered his erection inside her, pushing through sensitive tissue, feeling it stretch, tighten to bite at the invader taking it so ruthlessly.

He was groaning as his thrusts became harder, quicker. He could hear Heather screaming beneath him, calling his name, begging, pushing back to him as he fucked her with hard, furious strokes. He throbbed, pulsed. Hurriedly he tucked his hand beneath her hips, his trembling fingers finding the hard, swollen knot of her clit as he began to deepen his strokes.

Her hips were jerking, fucking back at him as the soft syrup that flowed from her pussy coated his fingers and her clit. She was taking him, loving it, accepting it. Lust Lora Leigh

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clawed at his loins then, his scrotum tightening with the excitement, and as he stroked Heather’s clit, he felt the climax that tore unexpectedly through her body. A howl ripped from his throat as he gripped her hips, laid over her and began to fuck her with hard driving strokes. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t control the driving lust as it boiled through his cock. When his climax came, it was like white-hot death. Streaks of lightning tore through his cock, his body, as he buried himself one last time in the tight depths of her anus and felt his seed explode from the tip of his erection. Explosive pulse after pulse tore through his body as her anus tightened around him with each jetting release. Her muscles bit at his cock, milked it, sucked the seed from him until he could only lay against her, jerking at each whip of fiery pleasure, gasping for breath, and realizing each gasp came out as her name. Long moments later he found the strength to draw back, to watch in dazed pleasure as his still hard cock pulled out of her tender, well-fucked ass. The little hole was coated with his cream now. Her body holding it inside her, accepting him, a part of him held within her, at least for now.

She lay still against the mattress, her breathing labored, her small body quivering as he removed the wrist and ankle cuffs that had held her to the bed. His hands caressed the fragile wrists, stroking the skin that the padded cuffs had held prisoner. They were reddened slightly, proof that she had fought the restraints, fought to be free. Free of him? Or free to touch him? Bitterness seared his soul as he realized he was afraid to know the answer.

As she lay there, he moved to the bathroom, wetting a washrag and cleaning himself before wetting another and moving back into the bedroom. She still lay there, perspiration coating her body as he sat beside her. His hands were gentle as he cleaned her, his heart aching in regret as he glimpsed the slight bruises that now marred the cheeks of her rear, and her slender hips. He shook his head, fighting the rage that seemed to only build now. He rose from the bed, jerked his sweat pants on and rushed from the room. God help him, he’d hurt her. He had to have hurt her.

“Sam.” Her surprised, slightly angry voice followed him from the room. The husky confusion that filled his name called to him, drawing him to turn back, to return to her. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t face her, couldn’t face the possibility of hatred, the possibility that he had finally stepped over a line that had terrified him for years. Voices pounded in his head, the remembered scent of blood washing over him as his fists clenched and remnants of terror bit at the edges of his mind. He raced down the stairs, threw open the door and ignored the surprised voice of the bodyguard as he made his way into the night.

Lora Leigh

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Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Son of a bitch.” Heather came to her feet, jerking her robe from the floor and pushing her arms through it quickly as she heard the front door slam close. “I’ll kill him. I swear to God this time, I’ll just kill him myself.”

Anger surged through her, mixing with an arousal so desperate, so hot, that she could feel the juices from her cunt trickling to her thighs. He had left her again. Left her body raging, on fire, so damned hot she felt as though her pussy was blistered from the need.

She rushed for her bedroom, grabbed the gun from her dresser and then rushed out the door. She gritted her teeth as she met Cade and Brock in the hallway, barely dressed, their expressions concerned as they headed for the stairs.

“Heather.” Cade caught her arm as she rushed past him. “What the hell happened?”

His face was lined with grief, with pain. In his eyes she saw the same shadows, bleak and dark, that filled Sam’s.