5

CHAPTER FOUR

Brock couldn’t believe the ending to this night. He was hard, hurting, achingly aware of the quiet young woman sitting in the seat beside him, twisting her hands nervously as she sneaked long looks in his direction. He knew she was worried, confused. She didn’t understand why he was taking her back to the ranch and in the heat of the moment had agreed. He knew she now doubted that decision.

“There’s a motel up here on the right. About four or five miles,” she said hesitantly. Yep, definitely reconsidering. “You could just drop me off there.”

Oh yeah, he was really going to do that one, he thought sarcastically. He kept it to himself though. Sarah seemed to be riding the edge of panic right now, and he’d be damned if he could stand it if she started crying. The one time she had cried on him had broke what little had been left of his heart.

“Those beds are back breakers,” he growled. “When I get inside you, Sarah, I don’t want you sinking to the floor. I want you in place beneath me.”

He heard her breath catch. Her breasts rose sharply, whether in shock or arousal he wasn’t sure.

“This is so unreal.” She shook her head on a disgusted sigh. “I just don’t understand how this stuff always happens to me.”

Brock glanced over at her with a slight frown.

“You and your husband need to schedule better,” he grumped testily, wondering if he was insane.

What the hell was he doing messing with a married woman? They were trouble and jealous husbands could literally be a pain in the ass. Mark Tate wasn’t known for his intelligence anyway, especially in regards to keeping his little wife tucked away at home while he dallied with the local talent. But first chance Brock had, what had he done? He went for her. Now he had her and he would be damned if he would let her go back to that son of a bitch.

“He’s not my husband.” She surprised him by flashing him an angry look. “We’re divorced. And why don’t you have better sense than to be messing with a married woman?” She threw his thoughts in his face.

That flare of assertiveness, the flash of independence made his erection throb like a toothache beneath his pants. Damn, he bet she would be a firecracker in bed. Hell, he knew she would be. She had damned near burned him alive six years before. He hadn’t even penetrated her with his cock and he had felt as though he were holding live fire.

“It depends on who the married woman is,” he told her softly. He would have fucked her anytime, anywhere, no matter how many husbands she had. “You, Sarah

love, I would have had no resistance to, married or not. But remember the fact, I waited until you seemed receptive.”

“Receptive?” She questioned him incredulously. “I was not receptive. I was minding my own business—”

“You were eating me up with your eyes.” He grinned, remembering that shy, hungry look she had given him across the smoky bar.

“I was not,” she gasped, shocked.

When he looked over at her, her soft, golden brown eyes were widened in shock, her face pale in the dimly lit confines of the jeep. The silken sweep of honey gold hair was in disarray around her face, falling to her shoulders in tawny waves of splendor that begged him to reach out and touch.

“Oh yes, you were,” he growled, fighting the need to touch. “With those lashes lowered just so much, and your golden eyes begging me to fuck you. I’ve stayed away from you for years, just because you were married and didn’t seem willing. But you were more than willing tonight, baby.”

So willing the pulse of her release to his oral ministrations flowed soft and sweet into his hungry mouth. The taste was addictive. Like nectar. Like the sweetest honeyed drug. He had spent six years trying to forget her taste and he still awoke with the essence of it in his mouth, his cock throbbing in response to the memory of her heat.

“You’re insane.” Anger lined every curve of her body and vibrated in her soft voice.

“I refuse to go any further with you. Take me to the motel.”

Flushed with indignation, he could feel the waves of anger pouring off her. He couldn’t understand why she should be so angry. She wanted him. It was something he had waited on for a long time, so what was the problem?

“You’ll come back to the ranch with me—”

“I refuse to go to bed with you now,” she told him furiously. Frustration had him casting her a frowning look as one hand raked impatiently through his hair.

“Okay, so we’ll do it on a couch, the kitchen table, whatever. I’m adaptable.”

Actually, the thought of either place was more than satisfactory. As long as he could hold her to him and take her in the ways he had dreamed.

“Kitchen table?” He wanted to smile at the amazement in her voice, but he had a feeling that would just invoke her ire once again.

He looked over at her again, barely containing a groan at the reluctant fascination in her voice.

“Yeah. We have a pool table, too.” He grinned, wondering if she knew how pretty she was with that deep blush mounting her pale cheeks. Then a sudden thought hit him. “You are on the pill. Right?”

She shook her head. Disappointment raged through him. There was nothing he wanted more than to pound into Sarah until his cock exploded, filling her with his sperm.

“The motel,” she breathed out roughly. “Just take me to the motel, Brock.”

Brock frowned at the aroused rasp in her voice, versus the request. She wanted him, he knew she did. Why would that suddenly frighten her now?

“You don’t want to go to that motel, Sarah,” he told her gently. “You want to come home with me. Why not admit it?”

“Because. This is a mistake,” she whispered. “A terrible, awful mistake. I told you before, you’re way out of my league. I should have remembered that.”

“The pool table scared you?” he asked her roughly. “Damn, Sarah, it’s just a regular pool table. It’s not like there are handcuffs or restraints on it. You act like I was describing a torture chamber.”

He couldn’t get the thought of that out of his head. Sarah bent over, lying against green felt as he lodged every hard inch of his shaft inside her body. He shifted in the normally comfortable seat. He’d be lucky if they made it to the ranch yard, let alone into the house.

“God. This is just not a good idea,” she whispered, staring straight ahead. “Why won’t you just do as I ask? Just drop me at the motel.”

Brock’s hands clenched on the steering wheel as the blood pumping furiously between his thighs made his patience exceeds its fragile limits. Why wouldn’t he do as she asked? Because he had waited so long to fuck her that it felt like a lifetime.

“You want to know why I’m not listening to you?” he bit out from between clenched teeth as he swung the jeep to the side of the road. He pulled in behind an outcropping of boulders with a swerve of the wheel that had her gasping in surprise. The jeep rocked to a stop as Brock covered the distance between them, shoving her seat back, dropping the back to rest against the back seat, and ignoring her gasp of alarm as he kneed her thighs apart and rose over her. She stared up at him in shock as he jerked her dress to her waist. His hand covered her mound, his fingers sinking into hot, wet flesh as the other hand hurriedly released the straining erection from inside his jeans.

“This is why, damn you.” He took her hand, wrapping it around the silk encased steel of his cock as he groaned roughly. “This, Sarah. Hot and wild. Me buried inside you while you scream out in pleasure. I told you, I wouldn’t let you go again.”

His fingers plunged deep into her melting vagina, invoking a shattered cry of ecstasy as he filled her. She moaned, a whimpering little sound as his thumb raked her straining clit, making her shudder in his arms as her fingers caressed him. His cock tightened at her small, stroking motions. So untutored, so hesitant, shy as she stared up at him in dazed fascination. It drove him crazy. He wanted to replace that inexperience with knowledge. He wanted to be the one to teach her, the one to replace the hesitancy

with confidence and awareness. He wanted to steal her innocence, what little her exhusband had left her, and it disgusted him at the same time that it made him wild with lust.

She whimpered, a small sound of longing and confusion.

“I’ll take care of you, Sarah,” he swore to her, his fingers moving sensually inside her body as he leaned down to touch her lips. “Trust me. Let me take you to my home. I’ve waited so long for you, love.”

She jerked at his declaration, her thighs clenching on his hands as she fought to draw away from the seductive spell he was weaving around her.

“No.” His lips covered her, his fingers moving deeper, making her hotter, wetter. He needed to fuck her. To stake his claim on her here and now. To throw her into such pleasure that her climax drained her, left her unable to deny him. Unable to leave him. God help him if he lost her again. He couldn’t risk it, not yet. Not while the fire was burning him alive, making him insane, making his body hurt with the need to touch her, claim her, hear her screams of release echoing around him.

“Feel how good it is, Sarah,” he growled against her lips. “Tell me you want to go to that lonely motel room, rather than my warm bed. Tell me, and I’ll do it, Sarah. Do you want to be empty and alone, or filled and screaming as you come around my cock?”

* * * * *

Sarah stared up at Brock, feeling his fingers hard and thick inside her body, his erection hot and hard in her hand. She couldn’t even circle the broad length with her fingers. How full would he fill her? How hard could he make her scream in climax? The August men were rumored to be experienced, well-tutored lovers who could ride a woman well into the night. Mark had barely managed ten short minutes. She wanted him, but she was terrified of the strength of that wanting.

“Answer me, Sarah.” His fingers thrust lightly into her, her vagina spilling its liquid into his hand as he groaned above her.

“Yes,” she whispered, staring up at him, snared by his eyes, the intense sexual need in his expression. “I want to be filled and screaming. Please, Brock.”

Strangled and tortured, a groan ripped from his throat. His fingers pulled free of her body, but he replaced them with the broad head of his erection. Sarah stilled, her breath nearly suspended in her chest as she felt the burning tip move against her.

“I swore not yet,” he growled fiercely. “I was going to wait, Sarah. I swear I was.”

Sarah felt fire, lightning arching over her skin, between her thighs as the hard flesh began to invade her. Stretched, invaded, she gasped, her hips arching, the incredible sensations spreading through her as Brock slid deeper and deeper inside her body.

“Sarah.” Her name was a harsh groan that sounded torn from his lips. “Damn. You’re so tight. So tight, Sarah.”

His hand tore at the buttons of her dress, several ripping from their mooring as the edges spread. Then his lips were covering one hard-tipped mound, his mouth suckling her heatedly as he pushed the last few inches into her body. She wouldn’t survive it, Sarah thought. There was no way she would survive the lash of heat and need now searing her body.

That Brock August could do this to a woman didn’t surprise her. The fact that he had her beneath him, moaning in pleasure, astounded her though. Her, quiet, mousy Sarah, was making Brock August pant and whisper roughly as he pushed inside her. She tightened her muscles around him, crying out herself at the lash of pain

leasure the action invoked.

“Oh hell. Sarah. Don’t do that.” His lips were at her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin as he fought for control. “Don’t do that, baby, I won’t be able to hold on.”

Had he ever lost control sexually? She knew women who bemoaned over the fact that they could never make one of the August brothers lose control. She tightened around him further, her hips shifting as heat scalded her vagina, making her writhe in need beneath him.

His hips retracted then plunged harshly, and Sarah heard herself cry out as her flesh throbbed and pulsed around him. Sensation after sensation tore through her, making her arch closer to him, tighten further around him.

“Stay still, Sarah,” he begged her roughly, grinding his hips against her in short, involuntary jerks.

She couldn’t help it. The feeling was too intense, the need riding her like a demon intent on satisfaction.

“Make me scream,” she whispered, staring into his face as he rose above her. She was amazed at the husky sexuality in her voice. “Please, Brock. I’ve never screamed.”

His eyes widened. For a second, long and intense, he watched her in surprise.

“Never?” He growled the question as his body seemed to tense, bunch for action. His arm wrapped around her hips as he moved her back along the seat. The motion tore a cry from her. It made the flesh filling her shift, move, stroke and caress. She was desperate for more.

“Never,” she cried out roughly. “I want to scream. Just once, Brock.”

“Just once?” He levered over her, pulling back slowly. “No love, you’ll scream more than just once.”

A low, keening cry filled the interior of the jeep as he plunged hard inside her. Sarah felt her vagina stretch with a bit of protest, but that small edge of pain made her want more. Always more. And he didn’t stop with just one. One hand gripped her hip, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and his hips began a strong, rhythmic thrusting that had her arching and crying out. The tension in her grew, the fire and heat filling

her, stretching her on a rack of pleasure so torturous she began to fear insanity. She couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t. It was building harshly, always building, never releasing, never ending.

“Brock?” Fear was filling her now. It wouldn’t stop. The tension in her body was winding tighter and tighter, with no ease, no release. She strained against him, her head tossing, her hips fighting against his grip as they jerked in time to his hard thrusts. She could feel the invader, thick steel driving between her thighs over and over, making her body fill and gush with moisture but the tormenting grip of erotic fury never eased inside her.

“Soon, Sarah,” he gasped at her ear, his lips caressing the lobe as she fought against the steady pace. “Just let it go, baby. Don’t worry. Don’t fight it.”

“It’s killing me.” Her cry echoed around them, rising in intensity as the fire built in her body.

She couldn’t stand it. She wouldn’t survive it. She would die. It would kill her.

“Then it will kill us both.” He arched into her, his cock pummeling into her like a flesh and blood jackhammer intent on driving her past the edge of frenzy. The fierce impalement, the frenzy of lust and need made her gasp, cry out. The tension was winding tighter, fear threading through the haze of passion, making the sensations stronger, deeper. She wouldn’t survive it. She couldn’t survive it. Brock jerked her legs back, holding them now as he rose above her, his face a mask of furious intent as he slammed his cock repeatedly inside her. The sounds of wet flesh, gasping need, and Sarah’s pleas filled the interior of the jeep. She writhed beneath him, her cries rising in crescendo now as the building inferno began to engulf her. Fear edged her cries, her consciousness, but she couldn’t halt his thrusts, couldn’t halt her body’s reaction.

“Now, Sarah,” he cried out harshly, leaning over her, applying a pressure against her clit that sent her careening into insanity.

His pelvis stroked the ultra sensitive bud with one last hard thrust and Sarah felt herself dying. Exploding, lost in an inferno of sensation that threatened to destroy her. She heard someone screaming as she felt her flesh tighten around the pistoning cock painfully. Screaming, pleading as her body tightened to breaking point, arching so tight she feared she would break as wave after wave of shocking release tore through her body. It ripped through her vagina, burned past her stomach, and shredded her sanity as it wound over her, through her, seeming never-ending until finally, with one last brutal jerk of her body, she collapsed back to the seat, feeling the warm jet of Brock’s semen against the soft flesh of her lower stomach.

“The pill,” he gasped as he fell over her, breathing hard, sweat dripping from his face and hair as he fought to catch his breath. “Tomorrow, Sarah. Tomorrow you go on the pill. I want to come inside you, love.”

Sarah shuddered at the thought of it. Feeling him pulse inside her would kill her. And why would the pill matter? It took at least a week to be effective. Did he intend more than the few nights the other women in his life had received?

She shivered against him. Her eyes were closed, weariness stealing over her now. Her body was relaxed, the torturous needs of moments ago sated.

“Sleep, love,” she heard Brock whisper gently as he moved away from her. She felt him cleaning her stomach, running a soft cloth between her thighs to dry the cooling dampness there. Then her dress was lowered as he moved back to his own seat. The jeep started once again, the soft hum of the motor lulling Sarah further into sleep.