Cooper's Fall (8 page)

Now, his adventurous little virgin was running her lips over his neck, his chest. Her lips covered the flat discs of his nipples, one at a time, sucked and licked and, fuck him, burned him alive.

Then she was going down. Licking. Kissing. The closer she got to the thick shaft of his cock, the more he felt her distress. Her need. She wanted to go down on him. He could feel it, or hell, maybe he just wanted it that damned bad.

She paused, her breath washing over the head of his cock as she lifted her eyes to him.

“Help me,” she breathed, her breathing hard and rough now, the need in her eyes brushing him with heat.

“Oh, baby,” he growled, pushing up on the pillows, reclining back. “Just love it with your mouth. A dick is pretty damned easy to please. Suck it, lick it, let it know it’s loved, and it will perform all night for you.”

That little dimple again. It flashed at her cheek.

“I love it a lot,” she breathed, dipped her head and licked over the heavy crown. “A whole lot, Ethan.”

God, help him. She made love to his cock. With a little encouragement here and there, and a whole lot of gut-torn moans from him. He was tortured. Paying for his sins in the worse way.

This sweet little virgin was sucking his soul out of the head of his cock and he was loving every second of it.

“Yeah, baby, suck it deep.” His hands bunched in the long corkscrew curls of her hair. “Christ. Yeah. Suck it like that.” She tucked the head against the roof of her mouth, worked her tongue beneath it, played with the curved ball that pierced the foreskin, as he told her and he almost lost it.

Her hands stroked, caressed. She knew the rudiments, and what she knew, she learned how to work. She loved his cock like chocolate, and he was dying from it. She licked, sucked, moaned around it. She played with the piercing beneath the head the same way he wanted to play with hers. With torturous pleasure. Until he knew, one more touch and he was going to lose it. He was going to fill her mouth when he wanted nothing more than to fill her hot little pussy again.

He lifted her away from him, pushing her back on the bed despite her erotic struggles. She was panting, breathing heavily. And when he jerked her hips forward and laid his lips to her clit, she froze.

She tasted of sweet hot woman, and himself. He wasn’t a man
who normally got into the taste of himself on a woman, but with this woman, hell, however he could get his lips on that hard little clit, then he was all for it.

And the taste of them together, damn, it shouldn’t be exciting. It shouldn’t make his dick harder. But it did. And the feel of her response ripped through his senses.

Sarah bent her knees, unashamedly parting her thighs and allowing Ethan access to her intimate flesh. What he was doing was threatening to destroy her. He was playing with the little ball at the end of the curved metal piercing the hood of her clit, rolling his tongue over it, stroking it against the little bundle of nerves.

Sarah found herself so lost in the pleasure, the spiraling, the incredible hot sensations, that she could do nothing more than writhe and moan beneath him.

It was so good. Better than her dreams.

He was rolling the hard little gold ball against his tongue and stroking her clit at the same time. He sucked both in his mouth, laved around it. Sensations piled inside her. Her heart raced. Blood thundered through her veins. She felt herself—inside and out—twisting with hot licks of such incredible pleasure that she could only cry out against it.

“Easy does it, baby.” Calloused hands gripped her hips, held her in place against the bed. “Just let it feel good, Sair. That’s my girl.” He kissed her. Kissed her clit. Flicked his tongue over it. “So damned pretty. Just let me play a minute and then you can come all over me, baby. Just a minute.”

She didn’t want to wait a minute. Sarah whimpered out against the pleasure, her hands threading into his hair, pulling at it, trying to drag him closer.

“Come on, Sair,” he whispered devilishly. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come.” Her head thrashed on the bed.

“Tell me how to make you come, baby. Come on, tell Cooper how to make you feel good.”

“Ethan,” she panted, a protest and a cry of need. “Oh God, Ethan, suck my clit. Suck it. Let me come.”

He sucked, he lapped, but he only threw her higher, made the pleasure hotter, brighter, the need like jagged forks of electricity racing over her flesh. His tongue played with the little ring and gold ball piercing her clit. He sucked and loved it.

He teased her. Tormented her. Left her sweating, pleading, and when he began to suckle her, firmly, rapidly, his tongue playing over the little gold ball above her clit, she exploded.

She flew. She felt herself melt and went willingly into the rainbow of explosive, torrential heat.

The hard thrust of his cock inside her, the feel of his cock ring stroking her flesh, dragging over it, left her shaking, arching. Crying. And sent another orgasm crashing through her.

“Yes!”

“Fuck, Sair.” He dragged her closer as he knelt over her, his hips thrusting.

The pleasure-pain. The stretching burn. The exacting, incredible ecstasy of this. How had she waited? How had she stood back from him for so long, knowing instinctively, to her soul, what being with him would mean?

Her arms wrapped around his neck, her nails bit into his flesh. She lifted and raised, cried his name, and then felt herself unraveling again.

It was too much. The pleasure. It was like dying inside and being reborn. It was like being filled with life.

Above her, inside her, she felt Ethan’s release. Deep, hard spurts of his semen filling her and her breath caught at the realization that
once again, he hadn’t worn a condom. Hadn’t one of his friends laughingly said that all his women complained because no matter how protected or safe they were, Ethan always wore latex?

Until her.

Until now.

“Oh God! You just sucked the life out of me.” He collapsed beside her and once again dragged her across his chest. “Go to sleep, you little wildcat. I’ll feed us later. We’ll have to eat before I can giddyap and go again.”

His hands were on her back. Stroking her, easing her. He was holding her. Sarah let her lashes drift closed; she let the weariness set it. Just for a minute, she told herself. She would get up in a minute. Because she didn’t want to wake up in his arms, screaming in pain.

Sometimes, the nightmares were as brutal as the past itself had been.

“What did you find out?”

Cooper stood on the deck, cell phone in hand, a bottle of beer in the other as he watched the kitchen. Evening was darkening over the house, and Sarah was still sleeping. And Cooper wanted answers.

“You’re not gonna believe this shit,” Jake, his bartender, stated in surprise. “Man, when I finally tracked that little girl down and cut through all the bullshit, I ’bout flipped my wig.”

“Fine, now flip mine,” Cooper ordered him.

Jake sighed. Cooper could almost see him running his hand over his bald head as he sat back in the leather chair of the office of the bar.

“Remember that Italian mafia guy? Oh, ’bout eight years ago. Suddenly turned himself over to the Italian authorities, spilled his
guts and his evidence on all the families, which caused that split through the crime families?”

“Federico or something like that,” Cooper nodded.

“Well, man, get a load of this. What the news services didn’t get an earful of is what I found out when I contacted a few friends over there at the embassy. Seems ole Giovanni Federico, alias Gio the Giant, had a pretty little sixteen-year-old daughter who was kidnapped when she slipped out to meet with a rival’s son. She was taken, held for Gio’s good behavior as they set through Italy killing off some of his strongest allies. Each time good old Gio tried to get back his baby girl, they sent him a video. A video of this tiny little teenager held down, naked from the waist up, a razor blade slicing across her breasts. The old man was going insane. Turned to the authorities. Promised them everything, but they had to get his daughter, like pronto.”

Cooper lowered his head and closed his eyes. The scars across Sair’s chest. Fuck.

“Okay, so get this. From what my embassy buds say, they rescued the girl quick enough, turned her over to her daddy for a few days, then Daddy was arrested, too. Whole big trial. Threw him in prison, yada yada. We know all that. Well, six months later, little Sarita Federico was killed in a car bombing that took out three more of Old Man Federico’s rivals. Or so the reports say. Start digging, and you find out that six months later, Sarah Fox immigrates from Italy by way of our good ally, Australia. Arrives with her uncle, Martin Corelli. Martin takes a security-guard job in Los Angeles, and little Sarah Fox is taking college classes. They move again a year later to Dallas. Sarah Fox goes into computer programming and graphics, and good old Martin is playing security guard again. Until four years ago. Martin dies. I talked to the coroner. He remembers the case, not because the death was anything less than
natural, but because the dudes who collected the body were Italian. One grieving little mother dressed in black and a big tall somber young boy who managed only scattered English. They were accompanied, our coroner swears, by the Secret Service, who flashed some pretty impressive ID. The boy with the mother asks if old Corelli had other friends or family. Coroner says no, then asks the boy, How did you know he was here? The boy states, A call from a friend. Nothing more. End of story, everyone goes away. Six months later, you acquire a new neighbor. Miss Sarah Fox.”

Cooper could hear the “but.” It was there. Tightening in his gut.

“So?” He said carefully, glaring at the boards of the deck now.

“So, we met Corelli,” Jake informed him. “Me and you, while we were in Dallas a few years back during leave. We were carousing the bars that week. Remember?”

Cooper had to sit down. Fuck, he remembered. “He just called himself Martin.”

“Righto,” Jake ground out. “We all drank, had us some laughs, and the dude gets up to leave, says he has to meet his niece and walk her home from nearby. Then when we left and those thugs tried to jump us outside the bar, he was there with that switchblade like hell on fire.”

“And said one day he’d take a favor in turn for the help,” Cooper sighed. “That one day, if he died, he’d send me the only thing that meant anything to him. And I was to protect it.” They’d been drunker than hell, Cooper remembered that. He’d laughed, told Martin he’d protect his firstborn son in exchange. And Martin had told him that what he had was much more important than his firstborn son.

“Well, here’s some more good info,” Jake snorted. “Corelli was here in Simsburg a few months before he died. I just got some info when I was talking to the Realtor who sold her that little house. Corelli arrived for two nights with his niece Sarah Fox. When the
Realtor asked why they were looking in Simsburg, Miss Fox told her they knew someone in town.”

“There was a girl there that night,” Cooper mused. “After the fight. She got off the bus on the corner while we were leaning against that bar laughing our asses off.”

He remembered it now, as though it were yesterday. Blue eyes in the night, the small figure, her coat hood pulled over her head. Her face had been hidden by the hood, but she’d held keys in her hand. He remembered the glitter of those keys, one sharp point held between her fingers, a laptop bag looped over her neck.

She’d been wary. On guard. But he remembered feeling her gaze go over him.

Son of a bitch.

“Corelli was her guardian. And she came here because of me.”

“Actually, Martin was my uncle. And yes, I came here because I couldn’t forget you.”

His head jerked up at the sound of her voice. How the fuck had she managed to slip into the kitchen without him knowing?