Sarah flinched at the fury, the indescribable pain in his expression. There was no shame, no sense of having done wrong, just acceptance, and an aching fury mixed with it. And pain. Dear God, the pain she could see radiating in his body, in his heart. He stared down at her, so tense, so wary. Expecting another blow. Expecting disgust. She could see it in his face, in his tormented eyes.
“Don’t, Brock.” She couldn’t bear this. Couldn’t bear to humble him, only to turn him away later. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t give him what he wanted.
“We swore to each other, we wouldn’t let him make us hate. So we shared willingly, everything, no matter how angry it made that bastard. When he held the whip at Sam’s back, Cade and I touched each other, we fucked each other, no matter how much we hated it. Then we did the same to Sam, knowing it was the only way to survive. Knowing we loved each other enough to get through it. But it hurt us, Sarah. It scarred us. When we came out of there, there was no sense of affection, of closeness left in us. Despite it all, he had taken it from us. We were alone inside and it was slowly killing all of us.”
“Please, Brock.” Her stomach was tight, nausea building inside her at the thought of such pain, such incredible abuse.
“For a long time, we weren’t even sexual,” he continued as though he hadn’t heard her. “Then Cade brought home a woman. A prostitute he said would help us get it back. We were so fucking young. He was barely twenty, Sam and I were only eighteen. But as we started touching her, sharing her, it brought it back, Sarah. We were close again. Without pain, without fear, with no shame, we were together again. We survived, we could fuck a woman and enjoy it, and we were brothers again. I don’t understand it. I can’t ask you to. But it’s something we’ve had to have to survive.”
No, it didn’t make sense. They should have been warped, broken men, instead they were sexual, smiling, productive men. Sarah shook her head. It didn’t make sense, but she understood.
“I can’t—” She shook her head.
“Sarah, I want you, not just for a few nights.” He laid his hands on her shoulders, his eyes meeting hers in the reflective glass of the mirror. “I don’t want to let you go.”
She trembled under his touch.
“It’s wrong,” she whispered. “If you love someone, you don’t share them.”
“I know it’s hard for you,” he said gently, his eyes incredibly sad. “I don’t blame you, baby, not at all. All I’m asking you for right now, is to be with me. Just me, Sarah. Give me a chance.”
“A chance to convince me?” Her laughter was nearly hysterical.
God, he didn’t know. She could never let him know. If it would wipe the memories and the pain from his eyes she would fuck whoever he wanted her to and never regret it. How could anyone be so cruel, so soulless as to torture anyone in such a terrible manner.
“To seduce you. To show you how good we can be, how much I need you. The rest will come in time.” He rubbed his chin against her hair, his hands moving slowly against her back, pressing her close.
“You’ll still fuck Marly.” She knew he would. She wanted to cry when she saw the knowledge in his eyes.
“Marly is a part of my brother. I love her, as surely as I love him. I can’t stop that, Sarah. Don’t ask me to. If Cade needs me, if he needs that to still his demons, then I will. I won’t refuse him. Don’t hurt me by demanding that I do.” He was vulnerable and she had never imagined he could be. She didn’t like the power it gave her, or her inability to use it.
“How are you different from Mark?” she asked him, confused by his obvious need for her, and yet his need for Marly as well. “You’ll be having sex with another woman, Brock. Just like he did.”
“I’m different Sarah, because I offer you everything I am. Inside and out,” he pleaded with her to understand. It was in his eyes, the throb of his voice. “I don’t just offer myself, but my brothers, their love for me, given to you. Their only aim in life to provide for you, to care for you, just as we do with Marly. Just that, Sarah. That’s all. All we are and all the love we have left in us.”
Sarah wanted to cry. She wanted to reach into his soul and wipe away the loneliness, the ache, the torment he had endured and replace it with laughter. Had he laughed, in all the years she had known him? Had she ever seen laughter in his eyes? Amusement. Self-mockery. But never laughter. Never joy. Did he even know what joy truly was?
“What if I can’t give you what you need, Brock?” she questioned desperately, agonizingly. Fantasizing was one thing. Reality was another. “What makes you think I can share you, let alone let you share me?”
“Because you’re curious, aroused,” he accused her, though his voice was gentle, understanding. “That’s why you ran six years ago, Sarah. That’s what scared you so damned bad. Sam told me he was there. That you saw him. You were afraid you wanted it, so you ran and married Tate to escape it.”
“No!” He was lying. She didn’t. Had she?
Sarah moved away from him, needing distance between him and the vibration of needs, arousal and pain emanating from him.
“You did, Sarah.” He stalked her slowly from the room. “Lie to me if you have to. I don’t blame you. What I’m asking has to be hell on a woman. But don’t lie to yourself. Not now. Not after all this time. The thought of it arouses you. Just as it does me. Admit it.”
“Stop.” She shook her head desperately, ignoring the ache between her thighs, the plea in his voice. “That’s not what I want.”
He jerked her to him, his body drawn tight, pulsing with demand, pressing his erection into her stomach as he bent her head back.
“Don’t you?” he growled, his mouth going to her neck, his teeth rasping roughly, making her body shudder with longing. “We could seduce you, Sarah. No one would force you, no one would ask more than you could give.”
“I won’t do it.” Her voice was weak, her body wilting against his as his hands pushed under the bikini bottoms, dragging her against him, pressing her crotch against his straining arousal as he ground himself against her.
“Then I won’t force you.” He shook his head, staring down at her, his eyes so heartbreaking in their sadness, were also tender. Aroused for her, wanting her. Fighting to reassure her. “But I won’t let you go either, Sarah. I can’t. Don’t you understand, baby? You stand between me and the darkness. You always have. Your taste, your touch. All of it. I’ve lived for it for six years. I can’t stop now.”
Her skin was too sensitive, her body too aroused. When his lips took hers, his hands guiding hers to the front of his jeans, she had no resistance left. She was quaking inside, a fury of desire racing through her system, making her crazy for him. Crazy to have him buried hard and deep inside her. Her hands released the metal buttons, then pushed the material desperately from his thighs, dragging his underwear with them, going to her knees, hunger invading her.
She wanted his cock filling her mouth. She wanted to taste him, clean and hard, his need for her in the hard pulse of his flesh. She was desperate to taste him, hungry for the hard jets of semen he would reward her caress with.
“Son of a bitch.” His rough groan followed the swipe of her tongue over the swollen head of his cock.
His hands clenched in her hair, pushing the length of his erection toward her mouth. Sarah wrapped her hand as far around the base as her fingers would allow. There was still an impressive amount of flesh left uncircled. One hand gripped his hip and she stared up at him, mesmerized by the demonic need reflected in his eyes. She licked him again, slow, her tongue curling around the thickly flared tip of pulsing flesh.
He growled at her. The sound rumbled from his chest as his teeth clenched, his jaw bunching in his effort to control the raging desire arching between them.
Sarah opened her mouth, watching his eyes, moaning as slowly, so slowly she enclosed the hot, demanding head of his cock in the moist heat of her mouth. His hips jerked, his chest rising and falling harshly, his breath rasping in the dim light of the
room as she slowly, so slowly allowed the hard length to sink into her mouth.
“Sarah.” His voice was rough, demanding.
He tore his shirt off. Buttons flew, muscles rippled as he shrugged it from his shoulders then his hands returned to her hair, bunched masses of it in his fingers, his hips moving with short, controlled thrusts against her lips.
He filled her mouth, stretching her lips over it, pulsing against her tongue. He tasted of male heat and a shade of musk, hot passion and overwhelming demand, and she loved it. She licked the underside of his cock, hearing him groan, watching his eyes droop sexily as she moved back and forth, allowing him to fuck the shallow depths of her mouth as she sucked at the head timidly. She had never done this before, refused to allow Mark’s fickle flesh in her mouth. But she wanted to devour Brock. She wanted to keep his rigid cock against her tongue forever. And at the same time, she wanted to suck him until she heard his harsh shout of surrender and felt the hard jet of his seed filling her mouth, shooting down her throat.
“There, baby,” he whispered as her tongue stroked just under the head of his swollen flesh. “Right there, sugar, tongue it. Let your tongue rub it real good.”
She flattened her tongue, keeping the firm suction of her mouth in place as he bared his teeth in a grimace of raw pleasure. She kept her eyes firmly locked with his, drawing back, seeing his eyes flare as she balanced the tip of his cock on her tongue, then slowly swallowed as much of his length as her mouth would allow. All the while she kept her tongue on the underside, rubbing, rasping against the sensitive area that seemed to bring him such pleasure.
“Oh, yeah, Sarah,” he growled, his voice rough and low. “There you go, sugar, make it feel real good. So damned good, baby.”
His voice was like an aphrodisiac, spreading through her body, drenching the flesh between her thighs, making her burn with the desire to please him.
She drew on him slow and easy, then fast and hard, eliciting strangled gasps from his heaving chest, causing his hands to clench in her hair until she was moaning with the sensuous tug of pleasure/pain it brought.
“You like that?” He could barely breathe as he groaned the words, tugging slowly at her hair again.
Sarah could barely keep her eyes open, the sharp bursts of pleasure were so intense.
“Yeah, you like that don’t you, baby?” His smile was strained as he thrust against her mouth, his hands then pulling slowly at her hair, drawing her head closer, his cock nearly to her throat before he pulled back.
Sarah was burning alive. She could feel the wet, flaming need drenching her thighs, swelling her breasts. She was empty, tortured with the ache of her body, and the need, overwhelming, making her insane to feel his cum spurting into her mouth. She needed it. She wanted to taste him so bad she felt starved for it. At the same time, the sharp tugs at her hair, something she had always found painful before, had her nearly climaxing with the forbidden sensations.
“Suck me harder, Sarah,” he whispered deeply, his hands clenching deeper in her hair now, pulling her closer, releasing her, closer again, the tempo increasing as his cock seemed to swell, pulse, heat within her mouth. “Harder, baby. Suck me harder.”
She tightened her mouth on him, moaning as he pulled her hair harder, his hips pushing, pulling back, penetrating her mouth with quick, hard thrusts.
“Son of a bitch. I’m going to cum in your mouth, Sarah. You have to stop if that’s not what you want.” The thrusts increased. Short. Hard. As deep as the hands gripping his cock would allow. “God. Damn, baby. I’m going to cum.”
Once. Twice, he thrust harder, then he moaned, low and hard as Sarah felt his erection tighten, jerk, then the fierce, hot jets of his creamy semen began to shoot into the back of her mouth, flowing down her throat as she fought to swallow every erotic drop of the hot seed he spurted into her.
She was gasping, moaning around his jerking flesh as his hands pulled at her hair, released, pulled, like a cat digging its claws in pleasure into her scalp. The sensation was so arousing she hovered on the edge of climax from it.
“Damn you.” His voice was harsh as he dragged her from the floor, pushing her onto the couch as he came over her. “Did you like that, Sarah? Did the pain make it better, baby? Hotter?”
Sarah shook her head, wanting to deny the charge, but unable to as he jerked her thighs apart, kneeling between them as he stared down at her.
“Tell me you like it, Sarah. No lies, baby. I won’t let you lie to me about this.” He leaned over her, his lips within inches of hers as his eyes dared her to deny him. “Tell me you liked it.”
“Yes,” she gasped out, her hands clenching his forearms, her hips rising in desperate need as his still-hard cock kissed at her wet folds. “I liked it, Brock. I liked it. Please.”
“Please what?” He dragged his hips against hers, his erection lodging in the open lips dying to embrace it. “Please what, Sarah?”
“Please fuck me,” she begged harshly, fighting to take him, furious that he would edge away, denying her the feel of him inside her.
“Is that all you want, Sarah?” He pierced the tight slit, just as he had that night so long ago, only the head of his cock penetrating her. “How do you want it, baby? Slow and gentle—” He pushed into her, separating her grasping flesh inch by slow inch, then retreating with the same excruciating manner. “Or hard and fast?”
Sarah screamed. Her body arched, her muscles quivering as he thrust hard, burying the full length of his cock into her desperate, achy flesh. She couldn’t control it. She couldn’t stop the bone tightening, muscle ripping pleasure from destroying her. She climaxed, exploding harshly, screaming his name as he began to pump hard and fast, slamming his flesh almost brutally into her as she pulsed around him. She melted, her juices flowed, her vagina rippling around his flesh until his own cries joined hers, his semen flooding the tight channel as he gave one last hard lunge into her body, and came with a shout of male pleasure.
He collapsed over her, dragging air into his lungs as though he had been deprived of it for too long, then turned and rolled over as he dragged Sarah over him. Like a sweat sheened, human blanket she lay limp and exhausted, her head pillowed on his chest as she fought to catch her breath. She had never known such intensity, such soul-destroying pleasure. She felt possessed, taken over by a creature of need that had no care for humility, no shame in her desire. A woman on the verge of destruction.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Why don’t you want me to stay?” Brock asked the question long minutes after she asked him to leave for the night.
Sprawled on the couch, naked, his body behind her, holding her against his broad chest, Sarah sighed.
“I need to think,” she whispered. And she did.
She needed to accustom herself to the decision she had made. Not about his brothers, but with him. She couldn’t deny Brock, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold out against what he needed. The only question was, could she ever forgive herself if she gave in.
She glanced back at her lover, the closed eyes, the thoughtful expression on his face as he considered her request.
“Do I get to come back?” She could hear his determination to never leave if she answered negatively.
Sarah took a deep breath, turning her eyes to the ceiling and studying it as though it held the answers to all her questions.
“Yes, in a day or two,” she whispered. “I can’t deny you anymore, Brock, but just you. I need time to think. I need to understand what I’m doing here.”
She felt his body tense, his arm move, his hand cupping her breast.
“You can’t decide this while I’m gone tomorrow?” he asked her softly. “I’ll leave in the morning, Sarah. Come back at night.” He wasn’t pleading, merely stating another alternative.
She shook her head.
“You’re asking a lot of me, Brock, is this so little to ask for?” She questioned him, keeping her voice quiet, reasonable.
A part of
her had calmed. As though Brock’s revelations earlier had stilled the agonizing thrust of betrayal that seared into her heart. She didn’t understand, but she needed to. She needed to think about it. She needed to be certain of this next step in her life. She needed to be certain she could handle the passion and the pain Brock would bring with him.
He sighed deeply. “I hate sleeping without you, Sarah,” he revealed with weary male patience.
She shook her head. Give a man sex he thinks is good and he’s a bigger baby than he was to begin with. Or at least more determined.
“You’re a big boy, Brock, you can handle it.” She smiled. “Just for a night or two.”
“One night,” he bargained. “That’s all I can handle, Sarah.”
She looked over at him as he opened his eyes, stretching, moving that large, muscular body until he was leaning over her, staring at her stubbornly.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’ll call you when I’m ready,” she told him firmly. “That’s my final word.”
“Then you better open your mouth and decide on another one,” he assured her softly. “I will not stay away from you for an undetermined amount of time. I won’t spend all this time getting past that prickly pride of yours again. Next time Sarah, I’ll just strip your damned clothes and take you. I won’t give you a choice.”
“You gave me a choice this time?” Mockery lay thick in her voice. “Why, Brock, I never noticed. Maybe your subtlety lacked something. I would work on that if I were you.”
She didn’t raise her voice, didn’t argue, didn’t demand, but she knew her tone was noted when his eyes flared with lust. What was this? Defy the man and instead of getting angry, he gets horny. It made no sense. At least not to Sarah. But she felt his cock rising, long and hard at her thigh, it’s heat tempting her to urge him into her one last time.
“I’m going to work on something all right but it won’t be the least bit subtle,” he warned her. “When I come back, Sarah, I’m going to work on broadening your horizons a bit.”