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In no time at all, I’m aching again. My dick throbs, fuller and angrier than ever, a lightning rod for the turmoil storming my soul.
Please, Christ, make it go away.
When I turn, face her, and fix my eyes on that pale face surrounded in cinnamon, please just let this be done.
Of course, it never is. A growl deepens in my throat, and I push her against the wall, taking both her little hands in mine.
“What do you want, darling? It’s bedtime.”
If only it were that simple. The beast part of me pulsing between my legs doesn’t know what sleep even means. It begs me to do the unthinkable, turns her into a distracting piece of sex before my eyes.
“I’m apologizing, asshole. Can’t you just take it?” There’s a real angst in her eyes tonight, hot and frustrated.
I shouldn’t stare. Shouldn’t let it deepen the madness ripping through my system, the new sick urges I can’t ignore.
It wants me to fuck this out, whatever this is. And I want to bad, use her body to pull it out of me, fill her soft young cunt until I’m twitching, spent, purified.
“What apology?” I have to ask again, wondering if I’ve lost the capacity for making sense of words. “I’m the one who’s been a cock tonight. You deserve better, Red. Go to sleep. I’ll reign it in and do better tomorrow. Give you my word.”
Every last alarm in my wilting sanity blasts full volume. It’s my last chance to walk away, but her little hands squeeze mine, lacing her soft, skinny fingers through my calloused paws.
“Stop. You blame yourself constantly, Marshal. It isn’t healthy.” She pauses. “Obviously, there are reasons you act this way. Reasons why you’re holding so much anger.” She pushes closer, coming through the wall I’ve formed with my arms. Goddamn, her touch diffuses me. “No one should be this alone. I’m not asking for secrets. I just want to know you.”
This. Girl.
This woman. She’s up close and personal with every demon crawling in my skin, and she’s still clueless what she’s getting herself into.
My hands fall to her wrists again, tighter than before. Our gaze is locked. “Sadie, fuck…why won’t you go? Why won’t you listen?”
“Because I’m sick of watching you hurt,” she whispers. Balmy wetness fills her eyes. They’re wide, dilated, prickling every nerve in my body. “And maybe, just maybe, I think there’s more than a raging asshole under the surface. A man who shouldn’t have to be alone.”
I throw my head back, pinching my jaw. The plea oozing through my teeth comes out forced. “Step away, Red. Last chance. Go, now, before we both do something we’ll fucking regret.”
Of course, she doesn’t listen. Her soft hands move up my arms and then wrap around my back. They glide upward, criss-crossing under my shirt, trying to peel it off my body.
“I’m done with regrets,” she whispers, less than an inch from my face.
It’s the last sentence I hear before something soft and wet and wonderful lands on my lips. Her taste is in my mouth again, full and lush, but I don’t savor it.
I become a wild animal breaking its chain. I reach for her body, crush her against the wall, and take everything my dick has wanted for weeks while she’s paraded around my house. My tongue plows into hers, rough and possessive, and the moan I get back says more.
Fuck.
Regrets? There will be plenty, but there’s too much inertia to stop.
After I’ve owned the spitfire tongue that’s left my head a ruin, I’m grabbing the rest. I’m owning it.
I’m going to fuck the everlasting hell out of Sadie Kelley until one of us walks away broken.
7
Cascade (Sadie)
A thousand suns light me up. Except their heat, their energy, their power was never this deliciously masculine.
Kissing Marshal freely is an out-of-body experience. Having his hands trawling my curves defies description.
I’m not in Kansas anymore, or heck, not even Port Eagle, Iowa.
I’m in his hands. I’m on his tongue. Undone, piece by piece, reduced to the sharp hum anchored in my thighs, the incessant craving.
“Marshal!” His name is one more slurred moan once he breaks for air. “Jesus.”
“No,” he rumbles, grabbing my chin, touching his forehead to mine. The edge of his stubble grazes my cheek, seductive and rough. I’m scared and excited to find out what it’ll feel like between my legs. “Leave him the fuck out of it, Red. We’re already balls deep in blasphemy.”
I’m so flushed I’m shaking. This is wrong on so many levels, but he isn’t.
My hand slides back in his. Those baby blues cemented in his head pin me down, a hunger more like a wild animal’s than a man’s lapping to get out. “You. Bed. Right the fuck now.”
I remember not to squeal at the last second. My feet are off the ground and I’m thrown over his shoulder. His footsteps race the furious tempo of my own heart as he carries me down the hall.
