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His hand smoothed over her rear, hard and warm, his fingers running slowly down the crack, pausing at the tight pucker lower, then dipping quickly into the heated, slick crease of her female channel. Marly cried out, her head falling back on his chest as his finger pushed forward slowly. He gathered the slick essence, massaging it from her crease back to her tight little rear then back again. She was so wet, so slick and hot he had her lubricated quickly.
“You don’t know me, Marly,” he growled at her ear. “Not like this. Not sexually. No matter what you’ve heard, no matter what you think, you don’t know.”
His finger rasped over the pucker again, slick and hot as he drew the moisture from her cunt.
“I’m hard and thick, baby, and all I want in this world right now is to hear you scream in pleasure as I slide my cock up your tight little ass. I’ll take you there. Do you know that? Are you ready for it?”
She flattened her hands against the wall; her back arching as his fingertip slid in then retreated.
“I want you. However you want me, Cade. Wherever you want me.” Her head tossed. She knew he would want this. Knew it was a favorite sexual practice of his.
Marly’s heart was thundering in her chest, her breathing ragged, almost a cry as he kept moving, lubricating both areas slowly.
“Take a deep breath,” he commanded harshly. “Now.”
She breathed in deep. She knew how to do this, made certain her body would be ready for it when he wanted it. But still, her eyes flew open, her mouth opening on a gasp, then a cry as his finger slid deeply into her anus. She heard him moan harshly behind her as her muscles eased around him, accepting him, then gripping tight.
It was so good. She couldn’t stop the need to push back against him, or the strangled cry as the fingers of his other hand moved to her clit. She was on fire. So hot, so ready for him, she didn’t know if she could survive it.
“Who’s fucked your ass, Marly?” There was fury ringing in his voice now. “That little prick upstairs?”
She shook her head, unable to speak as she felt him pull back, then add another digit.
“Who?” He growled.
She shook her head again, gasping as he pushed deep now.
“Tight. So damned tight.” His voice was tortured, ringing with lust now.
He thrust inside her again, causing her to cry out at the pleasure, to buck in his arms and to need.
Cade stilled behind her. His fingers were lodged deep, then sliding smoothly away from her, leaving her aching, almost begging for more. She cried out in protest, on the edge of oblivion and gasping to fly into it. And he was denying her. Again, he was denying her.
“I don’t like this game you’re playing with me,” he accused her roughly, his mouth at her ear, low and furious. “Stop it Marly. Stop it now, before I do something else we’ll both end up regretting.”
He jerked her dress down, and she felt him turning away from her. She stayed where she was, hiding her disappointment and her tears.
“I have work to do.” He turned to his heel heading for the door. “Change your clothes dammit. You’re making my cowboys crazy. I’ll end up having to kill one of them.”
Chapter Eight
It must be the night for nightmares. Cade heard Brock’s strangled scream. Seconds later the other man’s bedroom door slammed and he stalked down the hall. Dressed, heading for the night. They all headed for the night after the nightmares. The darkness, the shadows, hiding from the demons that stalked them continually.
He breathed deeply, tired. He stared at the ceiling, feeling the familiar weight of grief and guilt that tore through his belly every time the twins suffered from the dreams. He didn’t know how to ease the pain. Didn’t know how to ease the grief. He carried his own, and only found oblivion in sex. In the hard driving edge of lust, sweat and ragged cries. There was no solace to be found in the night. The wide-open spaces did nothing to ease the confinement of a locked cage, the helplessness of being totally at another person’s mercy.
He rose from the bed and dressed, knowing he would never sleep until he made certain Brock still held to his sanity. It was a fine line, holding onto something they had lost for precious months, long ago.
The night was dark, moonless. Cade stepped onto the porch, smelling the acrid bite of tobacco from the shadows to his right. The demon glow of a lit cigarette flared in the darkness, a sharp exhale, a strangled gasp as a man fought for control.
“You okay?” Cade leaned against the porch post, still several feet from the shadow-darkened form.
“Fine.” Brock’s voice was hard, tight.
“It’s over Brock.” Cade didn’t know how to reassure him. How to make it better. “We have to get past it.”
There was a broken growl of cynical laughter. Like an animal, a dying creature fighting to accept. Cade clenched his teeth against the fury that sound brought.
“Get past it huh?” The cigarette tip flared again. “So tell me brother, are you past it yet?”
