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She threw the coffee cup at him instead, barely missing his head and turned to rush from the room. Sam caught her in the doorway, his arms wrapping around her, his head bending to her ear as she stood in frozen surprise at the feel of his erection at her back.
Sarah stilled. She felt heat rock her body, felt her vagina tremble in awareness of his arousal for her. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she protested silently. She wasn’t supposed to want another man. No other should arouse her, no other should draw her. She loved Brock. Knew she did, deep in her soul. Just as she knew how desperately Brock needed exactly what she was feeling.
She stifled a moan. The images Brock had painted in her mind rushed over her. Sam and Cade touching her, taking as he watched, reveling in her cries of pleasure. She bit her lip, fighting the wickedness, the depravity of the desire.
“He told you he would do this, didn’t he, Sarah? Did Brock lie to you?” he asked her softly, compassionately.
“No,” she whispered, knowing he had told her of the complicated relationship he shared
with his family. Knowing he had begged her to come back to the ranch that day, if not for her own safety, then so she could understand the implications of that relationship. He had known, she realized, that he would be fucking Marly when he returned without her.
She couldn’t halt the whimper that escaped her throat. But not of pain as it should have been. The insidious tendril of curiosity that weaved through her body had her pussy tightening, weeping in shameful anticipation of pleasure.
“It’s hard as hell to accept,” Sam whispered, his warm breath caressing her neck as he leaned closer. “Hard to make love all tidy and easy on the heart when dealing with this. I know that, Sarah, and so does Brock and Cade. Brock would cut out his own heart before he would betray you. But you have to understand, this isn’t a betrayal of you. It’s an acceptance of his brothers.”
Sam’s lips were at her neck, whispering over her flesh as he spoke. One hand was flat against her abdomen, the other just under her heaving breast. Sarah could feel her breasts swelling, her nipples hardening. The fire wasn’t as intense, as white hot and brilliant as it was with Brock, but it was there just the same.
She shivered as his tongue touched her neck. He licked her softly and Sarah found she couldn’t halt the small moan that escaped her throat.
“Let me go, Sam.” She swallowed tightly. She shouldn’t let him touch her. Shouldn’t think of what Brock was doing now, of what he wanted her to do. She knew, knew to the bottom of her soul that if she fucked Sam, he wouldn’t care. He would find pride, pleasure in the act. He would look at her, his eyes glowing with warmth, with lust at the knowledge. That thought seemed to fuel her own heat. She felt the warm cream of her arousal sliding delicately from her vagina, coating the lips of her cunt.
“Your heart is beating out of control, Sarah,” he told her softly. “You can’t tell me that if I touched your pussy it wouldn’t be wet and hot.”
She fought for breath. Why had Brock done this? Why was he pushing her this way? Why was she letting him?
“I asked you to let me go,” she gasped, feeling his fingers flex at her stomach.
“Is your pussy wet, Sarah?” he asked her, his warm breath caressing her ear. “Do you see what Marly feels when we touch her?”
Sarah fought to breathe. Her chest was rising and falling with harsh breaths, her flesh weakening. She fought the insidious arousal. She wasn’t this weak, this vulnerable. She couldn’t allow herself to be.
“Let me go before I kick your ass, Sam August,” she bit out then, her nails biting into his arms where she gripped them. The words were tough, the voice behind it weak as his teeth scraped her neck.
“I won’t take you without Brock here, Sarah,” he promised her, then a strangled cry erupted from her throat as he took one hard nipple between his fingers, pressuring it firmly.
Fire lanced from her breast to her womb, tightening her stomach. It was the edge of pain, she told herself desperately. That was what sent that erotic thrill heaving through her body, made her cunt spasm, her juice to spill along the thick curls there. The edge of pain was all it took. Her vagina trembled, pleaded for surrender.
“Stop,” she whispered pleadingly. “Please stop, Sam.”
“He’s not just fucking his brother’s lover, Sarah,” his voice was gentle, but the words cut at her like a knife. “He’s reassuring his brother. He’s giving him a hug. He’s promising him he’ll be careful. He’s shedding tears for Cade’s sacrifices for him. Do you understand that?”
The pain of the act Brock was committing was suddenly gone, replaced by the agonizing lance of grief. The reminder of the pain, the scars inflicted on his soul. Not just his soul. Cade’s, Sam’s. And now hers as well.
“I understand.” She whispered, trembling, terrified of the emotions, the arousal pulsing through her body.”
He released her slowly. Sarah took a hard, relieved breath, then moved quickly from the room. Away from Brock’s brother, away from his grief and his lust. But she knew she couldn’t forget it. She couldn’t escape it. The silky slide of her own arousal on her thighs would ensure that.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Your brother does not belong in my house.” Sarah’s surprising greeting was his welcome into the house that evening.
Brock paused for a moment, seeing the agitation in her body, the shade of guilt in her eyes and hid his smile. His heart swelled with emotion as he watched her, the way her gaze held that shade of remembered pleasure, arousal. There was a curiosity in her expression that he knew she was unaware of. It made his cock swell, throb.
“Neither does Tate, but I hear he made a nuisance of himself anyway,” Brock told her, carrying the intimate purchases he had made earlier to the counter. “Why didn’t you leave the door locked after I left?”
She shrugged. “He has the key. I never changed the locks.”
Brock stared at her in surprise. For a moment, he couldn’t actually believe she had said that.
