Broken (25 page)

She fought against the dream, fought to surface. It clung to her, like an anchor, trying to drag her back down.

A warm hand stroked down her side and desperately, she snuggled close to the hard, strong body that lay next to hers. Even in sleep, she recognized him. She breathed in his scent and sighed out his name.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. Comforted, she drifted back down into sleep and this time, if she dreamed at all, it wasn’t any sort of dream that she had to hide from.

Hours later, the phone chirped out a familiar tune as she drifted in the twilight place between dreams and waking. Wrapped in Quinn’s arms, she felt secure, safe, and loved.

The last thing she expected was to hear that synthesized little melody. It was enough to have her coming completely awake. She jerked up and stared across the room at the phone like it had suddenly turned into a monster.

“You okay?”

Even though her mind was racing, she looked at him and smiled. “Sure. Just wasn’t expecting any messages this early.”

Quinn glanced at the window. Already, vivid golden sunlight streamed in. It really wasn’t all that early, maybe a little before eight, but she couldn’t exactly tell him the truth, could she?

He canted a grin at her and caught a lock of her hair, tugging. “It’s not really what I’d call early, baby.”

“
Early
is a matter of opinion. Anything before ten is like the break of dawn,” she said, keeping her tone light. Then she shifted to the edge of the mattress and swung her legs over the side. Her muscles kept trying to knot up on her and she had to make a concentrated effort not to tense up as she reached for the phone.

She called up the lone message and read it.

The message consisted of one single word.

Her heart sank to her belly like a stone and her mind started to race.

Sara had all sorts of problems in her life.

She’d been working under the table and not paying any sort of taxes for two years.

She was living under an assumed name.

She couldn’t go home.

None of the people she loved in her life knew where she was. She hadn’t spoken to them since she’d started running.

She’d left behind unpaid bills. She’d left behind responsibilities.

She’d left behind her entire life—but none of that was what kept her up late at night worrying. None of that had anything to do with the message on her phone.

There was only one problem that would have her getting that message. Her hand wanted to shake. She didn’t let it. Quinn lay in the bed watching her, and even though she knew no more than a few seconds had passed, if she didn’t head back to the bed soon, as in the next second or two, he was going to ask questions. She didn’t want him asking questions.

She didn’t want to lie to him.

God, she was so tired of living a lie.

After she deleted the message, she laid the phone back on the table and turned back to him, giving him a look of practiced aggravation. “Text messages annoy the hell out of me—whatever happened to people just calling to talk to you?”

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Apparently her practiced look of aggravation wasn’t fooling him. She shrugged and said, “Yeah.”

He’d shifted, sitting up in the bed with his back braced against the headboard. His body, long, hard, and scarred, gleamed like gold next to the soft white sheets. He sat with one knee drawn up, an elbow resting on it.

He looked like a dream come to life.

Hell, he
was
a dream come to life. She just wished he could be
her
dream.

But that wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t happen and she couldn’t pretend otherwise. Not now. Not anymore.

With her gut clenching and knotting, smiling at him was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. She sauntered back to bed, acting like she didn’t have a care in the world, and inside, she thought that her heart just might be breaking.

Problems.
And just when she’d been ready to let herself start to hope.

There was no reason to figure out what the problems were. There was only one thing she could do.

She had to disappear . . . again.

Leave behind the life she’d started to make here.

Leave behind Quinn.

Sinking down on the bed, she settled next to him, lying with her head on his chest and blinking her eyes against tears that threatened to fall free. She couldn’t cry. Couldn’t cry. Couldn’t let him see . . .

“You sure everything’s okay?” Quinn asked, his voice soft and low.

“Ummm. Just tired. Might try to get a little more sleep before I head into work.”

He rubbed her neck, his fingers working the knotted muscles until they were soft as putty. “You didn’t sleep too well last night. Bad dreams?”

“I dunno. Maybe.” She didn’t always remember her dreams, but something had disturbed her—she remembered feeling that ugly, snaking fear, hot, vicious rage . . . and then Quinn. Everything else had faded and he was all that existed for her. “I don’t always remember when I have nightmares, but I definitely didn’t sleep well.”

“Then you should sleep some more.” He threaded a hand through her hair, stroking it back from her forehead.

“Maybe you could help me get back to sleep.” She glanced up at him and gave him a smile she didn’t feel. Laying a hand on his belly, she stroked down until she could close her fingers around his cock.

“Maybe.” His lids drooped low over his eyes. He rocked his hips upward and covered her hand with his, using his fingers to tighten her grasp. “You could probably talk me into trying, at least. If you ask real nice.”

Her heart was breaking.

She smiled at him, despite the ache in her chest, and wiggled down in the bed. She lowered her head, licked the head of his cock. Quinn jerked, his breath hissing out of him.

“How nice should I ask?” she whispered, opening her mouth and taking his penis inside, sucking lightly. She wanted more. Wanted everything. Needed to take it . . .
now
.

Desperation drove her as she shoved her hair back over her shoulder and looked up at Quinn, staring at him as she wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, held him steady. Their gazes locked as she licked him, from root to tip.

“How nice should I ask, Quinn?” she demanded, lifting her head up to stare at him once more.

“I think you’re asking just fine,” he muttered, sliding his hand into her hair and tugging her head back down.

The head of his cock nudged her lips and she opened her mouth, sucked him inside. Sucked him deep. He bumped into the back of her throat, but she didn’t stop until pain and the lack of air made her. Over and over again, until he was growling under his breath and swearing, his voice harsh and ragged.

“Enough, Sara.” He jerked on her hair, forced her to still. “Stop, okay?”

Gazing up at him, she whispered, “I don’t wanna.”

Quinn shifted and sat up, reached between her thighs. Pumped two fingers inside her pussy and twisted his wrist. “Too bad. Ride me.”

He tried to tug her on top of him but Sara pulled away. She turned around and smiled at him over her shoulder. “Maybe I want you to ride
me . . .”

Quinn’s mouth went dry as she bent over, the graceful line of her back, the round, firm curve of her ass. He came to his knees and bent over her, pressing his lips to her spine. “I need to get another rubber,” he rasped.

“No, you don’t. Touch me, Quinn.”

His hands shook as he laid them on her hips. “This isn’t the best idea, darlin’.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes dark and unreadable. “I don’t care. I’m clean. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have ever touched me.”

“Other issues.”

Her lashes lowered over her eyes and then she shook her head. “Not so much an issue . . . bad timing.”

Not smart. Not smart at all.
But Quinn wasn’t overly concerned with being smart. He just wanted to get lost inside her. He used one hand to hold his cock steady as he pressed against her. She was slick, satiny wet, as she closed around him. She rocked back to take more and he had to use both hands to slow her down.

“Easy, darlin’.”

He squeezed the soft flesh of her rump, ran his thumb along the crevice between as he began to shaft her, keeping his pace slow and steady. She shivered as he touched her. Watching her with hooded eyes, he used a firmer touch, pressing his thumb against the tight pucker of her ass. Sara whimpered and pushed back. A high, startled cry escaped her lips as he pushed just the tip of his thumb inside the tight passage.

“Please . . .”

Quinn stilled. Then he bent over her and kissed her shoulder. “Please what?”

She pushed back demandingly against him and when he pressed harder against her, forcing just a little deeper inside, she sobbed and demanded, “That . . . please . . .”

He swore and pulled away. “Stay there.”

Quinn might not always be prepared for anything, but he was damn good at improvising. Sara kept a bottle of baby oil in her bathroom and he grabbed it, striding back to bed. His cock throbbed and his mouth was all but watering as he climbed back on the bed and knelt behind her.

He squeezed some of the baby oil out, used it to coat his fingers, and then he pressed his index finger against her anus. “Is that what you want, Sara?”

She groaned and rocked back, taking him inside. Gasping for air, she said, “Yes . . . oh, please . . . yes . . .”

“Just this, or more?” He twisted his finger and stroked, working the oil deeper inside, easing past the tight muscles.

“More.”

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded.

“Fuck me . . . right there. Please, Quinn.”

He grabbed the bottle of oil and with shaking hands, slicked it over his length, gritting his teeth against the near-torturous sensation of his hand gliding over his cock as he prepared himself.

“Tell me if I hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

Hell, he hoped not. He was clinging to what little remained of his self-control. Wrapping his hand around his cock, he braced the other low on her spine. Fitting the head to her entrance, he pressed against her. The soft, tight flesh yielded to him, flowering open around him.

She took it with a moan, bearing down on him.

When she started to stiffen, he stopped and pulled back, then once more started the slow, painfully erotic process all over again. Each time she started to tense up, he pulled back, and each time, he worked a little deeper inside her until she had taken all of him. Buried inside her, her ass pressed snug against his pelvis, Quinn squeezed his eyes closed and sucked in harsh, desperate gulps of air.

Sara shifted and then, between his thighs, he felt the light brush of her fingers over his balls. “Don’t,” he ordered through gritted teeth.

She did it again, wiggling a little more, and then she closed her fingers around his balls, tugging lightly.

“Damn it, Sara, stop.” Sweat popped out on his brow and he squeezed the soft flesh of her ass under his hands, tight, too tight, but damn it, he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe . . .

She tugged again and he growled. Using his weight, he bore her flat to the bed and started to shaft her, deep and hard.

Sara cried out, her voice sharp, a keening hungry sound. He gripped one hip in his hand, canted her a little higher. He braced his free hand by her head and she reached up, wrapped her fingers around his wrist, her nails biting deep into his flesh.

“Please . . . harder!”

Flesh slapped against flesh.

Harsh groans and whimpering cries filled the air.

A desperate need filled him, spurred by her hot, wild hunger. His balls burned, ached, chills raced down his spine, and the need to come was almost painful. But not . . . yet. Not yet . . . oh, fuck. Sara clenched around him and shuddered. She started to come and he swore, clenching his teeth as she tightened around him, milking his cock.

Unable to fight it, unable to resist another second, he climaxed, his cock jerking and pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside her ass. It lasted forever . . . every time he thought he was empty, she’d clench down around him again, and it was like it started all over.

Finally, he collapsed atop her, his muscles shaking so bad, he doubted he could even stand up. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he rolled to his side. She whimpered and snuggled back against him. He lay there with his chest against her sweat-slicked back. Both of them were still struggling to breathe. His cock twitched against her rump as she shuddered. Laying a hand on her hip, he kissed her shoulder.

She sighed and angled her head around, pressing her lips to his arm. “Quinn . . .”

“Yeah?”

When she didn’t answer, he managed to push up onto his elbow and peer down at her. “What?”

She smiled solemnly and murmured, “Nothing . . . I just like saying your name.” She wiggled around until they faced each other. “Lie down and hold me for a while.”

Man, he could hold her forever. He could lie there and listen to her sighing out his name forever. Wrapping her in his arms, he rested his chin on her head and murmured, “You okay?”

“Ummm. Ask me in a few hours. Might be able to figure out the answer then.”

A few hours wouldn’t work for him.

A few years wouldn’t be enough for him to untangle the knots she had him tied into. Assuming he was even inclined to try . . . which he wasn’t.