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CHAPTER TWO

Sarah was surprised. She had expected him to want to leave. She didn’t expect him to walk her back to the table and help her back into her chair. Then he sat in his and surprised her once again.

Brock moved, chair and all until he was crowding her into the corner. One arm went behind her back, the other to the table as he leaned forward, blocking her from view of the other bar patrons. She felt enclosed, sheltered and warm as he surrounded her. At the same time she could feel excitement gathering, pooling, making her cunt slick and hot.

“How terrified are you, Sarah?” He whispered the words at her cheek now, staring into her eyes as an involuntary whimper issued from her throat. Her nipples hardened beneath her new dress, her breasts swelling, straining the fragile buttons that held the bodice together. His gaze dropped to the rapid rise and fall, then returned slowly to her eyes. That single, hungry look electrified her. She wanted to beg him to kiss her, stroke her, fuck her until she couldn’t move.

“You should be outlawed,” she told him desperately as the hand that rested on the table moved to encase hers.

His long fingers caressed the sensitive skin of her wrist as the hand at her back began to rub several inches of her spine slowly. She wanted to arch against him, like a cat begging to be rubbed.

“How scared are you, Sarah?” He repeated his question, his expression intent as he watched her. “And be very certain that you tell the truth this time.”

Her chest tightened at his warning. He still wanted her. She could see it in his darkening eyes, feel it in the heat radiating off his body. Just like before. He enclosed them in his sexual need, his determination to have her. His hunger for her.

“Not scared enough,” she admitted desperately. “But scared, Brock. Real scared.”

She wouldn’t lie to him this time. Not now, not while she needed him like this. Like a hunger, an obsession that stole her breath. His hand rose to her neck, beneath the soft fall of her hair, cupping the back of her head as he urged her to look into his eyes once again.

“I won’t stop this time, Sarah,” he told her gently, but the expression on his face was savage. “Do you understand me? If I get your panties off again, I’ll fuck you, no matter how hard you cry. I won’t have the control to let you go.”

She had cried before. As he rose over her, his erection nudging the slick heat between her thighs, she had begged him to let her go as she pushed against his chest, fighting to be free. She remembered how hard he fought for control. The head of his

cock had buried inside her before he jerked away, cursing her, raging at her as she scrambled to her feet, jerked her dress on and stumbled from his room.

“I won’t beg you to stop.” That was all she could promise. His jaw clenched, satisfaction flaring in his eyes. His hand went from the table to her thigh. She jerked in startled awareness as it moved slowly beneath her dress. A test?

She swallowed hard, her chest suddenly tight, her breathing harsh as his fingers inched up her thigh. She looked into the crowd nervously, wondering who could see.

“No one can see what I’m doing, Sarah,” he promised her, his voice husky, throbbing with passion.

A test? A passionate form of torture to see how serious she actually was? With Brock, anything was possible. She knew his sexual excesses were whispered of, much as the demons of old once were. Hushed whispers, as though speaking them clearly would bring them to life. He, like his two brothers, was Madison’s favorite topic of gossip.

“Would you care if they did?” She blinked, her lips parting to fight for breath as those diabolical fingers inched forward.

They were hot on her skin, the slight friction making her muscles clench with the need for more. She would never get enough of his touch and she knew it.

“I would only care if another man actually saw what is mine now, Sarah,” he told her ruthlessly. “Make no mistake. You run into the arms of another man to escape me again, even that ineffectual husband of yours, and blood will be shed.”

She shivered. She swallowed tightly. Blinking up at him she tried to make sense of the possessive light filling his suddenly darkened gaze. This wasn’t right, she thought. One night. That was all she wanted. She needed closure to the memory that haunted her day and night. She couldn’t handle more. She wouldn’t allow it to become more. She would have protested his statement, but as her mouth opened and she felt his fingers moving closer to the throbbing center of her body, her eyes widened. They were a bit calloused, warm. They drew intriguing designs above her knee, then upward to her thigh. His thumb rubbed in silky circles, causing her breath to catch on a low moan as his fingers reached the edge of her panties. Her blood thundered with excitement, with the forbidden.

“Easy now.” He gripped her thigh, tugging at it as he urged her to scoot down on the seat marginally.

“Brock.” Her small protest was one of feminine fear. She was riding an edge, close to the barrier of common sense and insanity where her lust for this man was concerned. It terrified her to think of the lengths she would go to, this one night, to fulfill the fantasy of him possessing her body.

“I just want to touch you, Sarah,” he whispered at her ear. “That’s all, just touch. I promise not to embarrass you.”

She moved forward, his hand stopping her as her buttocks neared the edge. Satisfaction glittered in his gaze as the hand behind her urged her to settle against the back of the chair. Sarah looked up at him wanting to beg him not to do this. Not here, where everyone could see.

“No one can see, Sarah,” he promised her. “Just sit here a minute, that’s all.”

His fingers moved again to the edge of her panties, burrowing under them, touching the soft curls that shielded the hot, wet folds of her feminine flesh. Sarah’s eyes fluttered.

“Watch me, Sarah,” the order was rough, growling in intensity. “Don’t close your eyes. Watch me.

Her eyes met his. A gasping moan escaped her throat. His dark face was set in lines of concentrated desire, the edge of his control reflected in the dark depths of his pupils. She felt his fingers, coated now with the creamy essence of her need. Her moisture lay thick and hot along the lips of her cunt as it flowed from the hot depths of her vagina.

“Damn, you’re wet,” he growled. “How much wetter can you get, darlin’?”

Sarah knew she could get much wetter. She did often, thinking about his touch, his kisses. When her fingers stole to her hot flesh, she dreamed of Brock, his touch, his possession, and she got much wetter.

“Brock, please—” she pleaded, snared by his eyes, by the fingers entering the narrow cleft he caressed.

Was he punishing her? Would he tease her here, then leave her as she had left him, begging for more?

“I’m going to fuck you, Sarah,” he told her as his fingers moved slowly over the drenched lips of her quivering cunt. “But I won’t be left begging again, do you understand me?”

She wasn’t able to answer. Her eyes widened, she gasped, moaned. Where she was empty, she was suddenly filled, stretched, long broad fingers were testing her, plunging deep as the hand at the back of her neck kept it from falling back in ecstasy.

“I wish you could see how pretty you are, trying to hide what I’m doing, all flushed and shy and aroused.” His fingers moved deeper, spreading her, testing the tight, inner recess of her body.

“Brock,” she gasped his name, unable to say more as her flesh clenched over his fingers, drenching them further.

“So wet and ready for me.” A smile tipped his hard lips. She whimpered in need as his fingers retreated, pulling away from her, leaving her gasping, nearly begging him for more. Then slowly, his movements teasing, taunting, he filled her once again. Her nails bit into his arm, her heart raced out of control, making breathing more than difficult. Small whimpering moans escaped her throat, helpless desire flooding her system, washing over his fingers to drench the silk of her

panties. Each time he retreated she felt empty, where she had been filled before. Achingly aware of the brief moments where the edge of release taunted her, made her reach, yearn for more. Then she was filled again, pushed ever close to the mind consuming moment where she knew her body would explode into a pleasure so intense, so violent it would shatter her sanity for those brief moments.

“Will you leave with me, Sarah?” he asked her softly. “Right now. We’ll leave. Go wherever you want. But when we get there, I’m going to rip those panties off you and thrust so hard inside that tight, wet pussy that you’ll scream out your orgasm.”

Her vagina spasmed. Sarah felt the betraying muscles clench in hunger at the vivid images that hit her brain. Brock, rising over her, the thick expanse of his erection pounding into her. She fought for breath. She was so close to orgasm right now that she could feel her cunt grasping in an anguished plea for it. Her juices trickled over his fingers, making her inner body slick, accessible to whatever he desired to do to her.

“Yes.” The betraying sigh was so filled with longing that Sarah knew she would writhe in shame later.

His eyes narrowed, his own breathing rough now as he watched her.

“Where?” he asked her, his voice hard as his fingers slowly pulled completely from her, then plunged home forcibly.

Sarah bit her lip, fighting a scream of pure, electrified sensation. Her hands gripped the edge of the table in desperation, her thighs quivered with the hot flash of impending release. She gasped, whimpered. Tears came to her eyes as the pulsating demand for more had her almost begging. She wanted to beg. She wanted to plead with him, here, now.

“My house.” She saw the surprise flare in his eyes. “My bed.”

He smiled slow and sure, approval reflecting in his expression. His fingers pulled free of her body with a slow, regretful motion. He carefully tucked the silk of her panties back over her protesting cunt, watching her intently as he did so. He stood to his feet; a slow, graceful movement that made her breath catch in her throat. Then he was holding his hand out to her, watching her carefully. She placed her hand in his, allowing him to draw her to her feet, then lead her slowly from the bar and into the starry night.

His hand rode low on her back, never breaking contact with her. His broad chest brushed against her as they walked, she had never been so aware of another man’s body next to her. Even years ago, he had done this to her. Made her frighteningly aware of her femininity, her weakness and his strength.

“Did you bring your car?” he asked her as he led her into the dark parking lot. He kept his hand at her back, moving her to the jeep with the trademark August Ranch logo on the side.

“No. Cab.” She could barely speak; the need pulsed so heavy in her body. When they moved to the side of the jeep, she gasped harshly as he suddenly turned her, pressing her into the side of the vehicle.

“Six years,” he bit out, lifting her against him as his head lowered. “Six fucking years, Sarah.”

His voice was tormented, his lips were hot, hard as they covered hers, his tongue sinking into her mouth as he wedged his erection hard against the soft pad of her cunt. Sarah’s self-control was never at its best with Brock. She cried into his kiss, her hands locking desperately into his hair as she fed on his passion. Their tongues twined together, licking at each other, groaning in their need. He ground his pelvis against her, his cock a hard, throbbing heat beneath the jeans that separated them.

“I could take you here,” he growled. “I should.”

His lips and teeth were nipping at her jaw, then her neck.

“I should rip those panties from you and fuck you now before you have a chance to beg me not to.” His voice was rough, hungry. Sarah had never heard such a sensual sound in her life.

She moved against him, her head falling back as his lips went to the neckline of her dress, caressing the swollen mounds of her breasts. She didn’t care. He could take her anywhere he wanted to, it didn’t matter as long as she got his cock inside her, deep, hard, sating the hunger that had tormented her for so long.

“So soft, Sarah.” His raspy voice was a low, agonized groan. “So soft and sweet. God baby, if you’re not serious about this, tell me now. Tell me, Sarah, because I don’t know if I can stop later.”

He raised his head to stare down at her, the dark, gray-blue eyes were heavy lidded, his face shadowed, his breathing rough.

Sarah raised her hand to touch his lips, feeling the exciting warmth, the swollen curves that tempted her as nothing else could.

“Take me home, Brock,” she whispered. “Take me home to my bed. I want you there with me, all night.”

The silence of the night was filled with nothing now but their harsh breaths, their needs.

“I won’t let you go tonight,” he growled. “All night, Sarah. I’ll keep my cock buried in you all night long.”

She took a deep, hard breath. “The night is moving fast, Brock. If we waste any more time, that won’t be for long.”

He moved fast. He jerked the door to the jeep open and helped her quickly inside before closing her door carefully and moving quickly to his own. The jeep started and within seconds he was pulling quickly from the driveway. Heavy intent lined his expression, tautened his powerful body. They rode in silence, and as each minute drew them closer to her house, Sarah realized the ache in her body only grew. Grew until it was a hunger, a need, something she was terrified she would never be free of.