Hard Ride (10 page)

Chapter Twenty Five

Despite his words, Houston was holding on to his sanity by a very thin thread. He was desperate to slam into her welcome body, to possess her, mark her in the only way he could. But something also said he had to be the one in charge, instincts ringing against need. She’d left her mark, and he had to do the same to her psyche.

He kept her on the razor’s edge, walking the fine line between need and release. Bringing her close, but never allowing her to reach the peak they sought.

He sensed when it was almost too much, when her body would start shutting down instead, and with hands on either side of her head, he pushed his hips between her thighs, letting the head of his cock slide between the swollen, saturated lips of her clenching pussy. He found her opening, lowered his upper body onto his elbows, and pushed until the head of his throbbing cock was inside the silky channel.

“You belong only to me.” He gave a hard thrust, pushing as far as he could.
He stopped, letting his head drop, resting against her neck. Her body clenched around him, and he gritted his teeth, pulling back until only the head remained inside. “Repeat it back to me,” he growled.

Her hips moved side to side, trying to push further onto him, “I’m yours, only yours. Please, Houston.”

He accommodated her, sliding a little further in. “I’m yours, Hellcat. Repeat it.”

Her hips thrust upwards, and he moved
not allowing her to have what she wanted.

“Repeat it!”

“You’re mine, only mine.”

He pushed in as far as he could, feeling her womb tap the head of his cock. He let the ancient rhythm take over, slamming hard, gripping her shoulders to hold her in place. The sounds of skin against skin, her begging, the smell of their mingled arousal, slamming into her as hard as he could, and their climax became imminent.

His balls tightened, the muscles at the small of his tensed almost to the point of pain, and the orgasm exploded as his seed bathed the entrance to her womb. As it tapped its own ecstasy against the head
of his cock, he yelled.

He lost all control, the muscles in his back pulling his spine, hips flexing,
cumming so hard he was sure consciousness was no longer an option.

*

His body limp atop hers, he slowly realized he was probably not helping her breathe. He rose onto his elbows, seeing the throbbing in her neck was fast, her breathing labored, but every muscle in her body lax.

He nuzzled her collarbone, gently thrusting, enjoying the mingled wetness
, the feel of her. It had been mind blowing, although his back was starting to burn from her nail marks, and he wasn’t going to think about how much it would hurt from the bites she’d marked him with.

One of her hands started to idly draw light circles on his shoulder, “Houston?”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“What does this mean?”

“That we are kind of twisted and kinky, and it was the best sex of my life.”

She chuckled. “I’ll go with that.”

He separated their bodies, hating the instant feeling of being incomplete when he did. He stood on shaky legs, stumbled into the bathroom. Grabbing two washcloths, cleaning himself off, though he wanted to keep it, liking their mingled scent. He ran the other washcloth under hot water, and went to wash her off.

He stood next to the bed, hesitating. Her legs were still open, knees bent, and he could see his mark on her thighs, his seed dripping slowly. He might not be right in the head, but he wanted it to stay there, to let everyone know she was his.
Shrugging off the notion, he gently cleaned her off, noticing her groggy look. He took the cloth into the bathroom, setting it on the tub to be picked up later, and joined her in bed.

She was on her side, breathing regular, deep and slow. He spooned, arm around her waist, the other under the pillow.

She was his, and had said so. But something niggled his memory.

Had he yelled “I love you”? Damn, he hoped not.

Chapter Twenty Six

The delicious soreness brought Katie to consciousness in slow degrees. She felt every mark, enjoying the throbbing from Houston’s lack of control. She stretched, feeling massive arms holding her in place, a hot body at her back.
A girl couldn’t wake up better than this,
the thought floated through her mind.

The arm around her waist tightened, pulling her closer to the hulking male behind her, and she grinned at the morning wood poking her ass cheeks. She might just have to take advantage.

Wiggling forward, and rolling over, she stopped. In sleep, he looked innocent, sweet. Taking the time to look over every inch of the nude man in her bed, she noticed faded scars running across his chest, the thick ropy scar running from under his arm and to his back, and the marks she’d left. With slow movements, she took the sheet and pushed it off. The whisper of a moan floated through the room, and she was startled to realize it was her reaction to his body. Well defined, but not hulking, muscles. Lightly tanned skin, tight over the muscles, with imperfections she found charming. A heavy skeleton, and while he had a light dusting of hair on his thighs, he wasn’t overly hairy. She liked the fact he manscaped. Pulling pubic hair out of her teeth after a great blow job kind of ruined the moment.

She ran a finger over his scars, counting twenty two, some ragged, others precise, but not surgical. Her Houston was a fighter, and had the badges of honor. She liked the warrior side. A vague memory of his reaction to her being assaulted in the office came forward, and she reveled in it. He might be civilized, but he was also a barbarian when necessary.

“Do you need to know where I earned the scars?” his voice, already a nice baritone, was rough from sleep.

“No.” She slid a hand across his hip. “I have other things in mind.”

“I like how you think,” he reached for her. “Sore this morning?”

Nodding, “Yes, but don’t think that’s going to stop us.” She gripped him, squeezing before sliding her hand up and down the silky skin tight over the steel rod underneath. “Roll on your back.”

He obeyed.

She rubbed her palm across the glistening tip, watching as his head kicked back, sweat beading on his forehead. He was beautiful in his passion. Scooting lower on the bed, she maneuvered between his thighs, nipping his inner thighs lightly, getting her shoulders under his knees.

He raised onto his elbows, eyes almost glowing as he watched her every move. Holding the eye contact, she lowered to the mattress, and took his balls into her mouth, using her tongue against the sensitive skin, raking her teeth lightly, sucking gently.

“God, Hellcat, that’s …” he gasped when she sucked hard while rolling one ball against her tongue.

Letting go, she raised one hand, pushing against his g-spot, licking the underside of his throbbing erection. Raising on her elbows, keeping his knees on her shoulders, she grinned. Gripping him and squeezing at the base with the other hand, she wrapped her tongue around the head, rolling it, licking, nibbling. His entire body tensed, the six pack abs in stark relief, his eyes wide, she sucked his cock into her mouth, raking her teeth on the downward stroke, until her mouth met her hand. Pushing and moving her hand in a circular motion in the area behind his sack, and sucking hard, she hummed “America the Beautiful” against the head. He groaned a mix of pain and pleasure, eyes rolling back, and he shoved a hand into her hair, grabbing a handful and twisting.

“Don’t stop,” he panted.

Not that she had plans to.

Easing back, she teased a little more, moving up and down, lightly stroking. She felt the head swell, and his hips thrust against her mouth. She loved the play of his muscles, enjoyed the feeling of power from taking him to the point of no control.

Pushing against his g-spot, rubbing her thumb across the tightened skin on his balls, she sucked him down, until her mouth was against his skin, humming, running her tongue against the underside, and relished every shudder, yell, moan, the sight of his head thrashing as wave after wave of pleasure rolling through his body. She swallowed it all, and couldn’t wait for when it was possible to do it again.

Gently letting him go, she sucked on her teeth, gave him her best shit eating grin, winked at his glazed expression and quipped, “Good morning, Houston.”

“Uh-huh.”

Laughing, she rolled to the side of the bed, grabbed her canes, and tottered into the bathroom.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you wake your man.

*

Breakfast was waiting when they made it downstairs, Houston carrying her. She was getting addicted to the being carried around like a queen thing. She couldn’t help grinning at everyone as they passed. Winks were passed around, and Katie ate it up.

“Ms. Parker, your accountant, Mike, called. Said the bank called about checks that were issued recently,” Heather placed
a filled plate on the table.

“Thanks, going to head to the office today. I want to check a few things, will talk to him then.” She reached for the butter.

“No, you’re not. You don’t need to go anywhere until we know exactly what is happening, I’ll go and look. I have to make sure it’s safe.” Houston’s voice echoed in the quiet dining room.

Katie caught the looks of surprise around the table, but ignored them. Pushing the plate away, rested her forearms on the table, leaned in, and spoke very low, “I’m sorry. I think I may have misunderstood, Houston. Did you just order me to stay here like a good little girl while you rush off to play Mr. Hero?”

Through her peripheral vision, she noted everyone but Houston rose from the table and beat feet out the door. Houston, however, leaned back, crossed his arms over his massive chest, and gave her a hard look, “You can’t walk around the house, much less defend yourself against an attack. So, yes, I
am
telling you to stay here – for your own safety. I am capable of taking care of myself.”

Katie didn’t dare speak, the rage was too hot, the insult burned too much.
The words too close to orders her father gave her mother. Images of her mother folding in on herself, head bowed, not saying a word overtook her vision, and every muscle became tense, hot.

“And what, pray tell, makes you believe it is your right to do so?” she spoke barely above a whisper, words clipped.

She noted he held his breath, the slight widening of his eyes. She’d surprised him.

“Just because you are a good fuck does not give you rights over me, or any decision I make.” She stood, grabbed her canes and tottered out of the dining room, knowing if she said anymore, it would be words regretted later.

Chapter Twenty Seven

Houston stared after Katie’s retreating form, not sure what words would bring her back. What he needed to say to keep her home, safe. It had been automatic to give out orders, to fall easily into the military mindset. With her life on the line, he was going to take over and ensure she didn’t go through the pain of more injuries, physical or otherwise.

She wouldn’t admit it, but her uncle’s betrayal hit her hard. She might not remember the times in the hospital she’d cried, under the influence of drugs, unable to understand. Add in someone was
still
working it behind the scenes, and her sense of trust was shattered, possibly permanently. Could she not see all he wanted was to spare her more pain?

Standing, he took a deep breath, and stalked after her. She’d made it to the entertainment room, kicked back in a recliner, staring at the big white screen.
He needed to say something, just didn’t know what it was.

“Get out and leave me be, Houston. Now is not a good time to become the Neanderthal.” She didn’t look his way.

“Katie, it’s too dangerous. Whoever is the inside person has no qualms about using violence, surely you know that.” He sat to her right, turning in the recliner to face her.

Katie turned on him, face a mask of rage, “Really, Houston?” She pointed at her legs, waved at the scars on her face, pulled the t-shirt down to show the scars going across her collarbone. “I get it more than you do. I see what they are capable of every damn time I look in the mirror. But if I can get past it, so can you.” She fa
ced the blank screen. “You can’t stop me. I’m going to the office, and going to act like it is any other day.”

Houston shoved a hand through his hair, tugging a little on the ends.
It was not going as he envisioned. “Why won’t you let me protect you?”

“Protect me? What the fuck are you talking about?”

He met her gaze, flinching. It was hard, angry, and he saw the flicker of betrayal in the depths.

“Why can’t I take care of you? Protect you? I can do this, find out who is embezzling, keep you safe at home and away from the possibility …” he stood and paced in the aisle.

“What?” She pointed a finger at him, “Get over it, now. I did just fine for thirty years without you to hover over me, and I sure as hell don’t need you to start doing it now.” Picking up a cane, she threw it at his head, “Get out! I’ve had enough of overbearing men in my life, telling me what I can or can’t do, what I should or shouldn’t do, that I have to have a man to take care of me. Get out now!”

He ducked,
blinking at the show of violence. Deciding to let her cool down, he left, heading straight for his car parked in the massive garage. Pushing the button on the wall to open the garage door, he jumped into the new Challenger, and peeled out. Controlling his temper, he drove carefully out of the neighborhood, going straight for Hard Ride on the other side of town. Once on the highway, he released a little tension, pushing the car to over ninety.

Hard Ride
was home, in a way. Unlocking the door, the smell of gas and grease assailed him. They had one car currently being worked on, a nice 1947 Mercury, but it was the Judge, at the far end, that drew him.

It was in primer gray, ready to paint. The engine had to be replaced, along with the transmission, and he’d searched for two weeks to find replacement doors and trunk lid.
The dash replacement alone had taken a month. Standing next to the car, he ran a hand along the roof, marveling at the difference from when it’d been towed to the shop after the accident. The Judge just needed time, patience, the right work at the right time to get back to its normal bad ass self.

He stopped, staring at the car.

Damn, I am such an idiot.