Loving the Beast (Skye Warren) (A) (8 page)

“You want me to be rough, is that it?” His words were soft against her cheek.

“Yes,” she managed.

“You want to see what I’m really like when I don’t hold back.”

“
Yes.
”

“Because you still don’t know me.” His words sounded more sad than offended. “You still think there’s going to be something sweet and loving. That I can just give you a spanking on the soft part of your ass, like this is a
game
, and I’ll be able to stop there.”

She shivered. “Show me then.”

His hand tightened in her hair. “It’s not a fucking game.”

He bent his head and licked at her throat. Then he bit her, teeth scraping along her jaw as she cried out to the moon. Her hands fumbled for his shoulders, his arms, trying to hold on.

“No,” he said coldly. “You don’t get to hug me and cuddle me, not when you want me to
fuck
you. Not when you want me to show you the real me.”

He dragged her by her hair in one hand, and her upper arm in the other, to a tree. Then he pushed her against it, face first. He positioned her arms around the tree as if she were a doll, making her hug the tree. He undid her jeans and yanked them down to her knees, using them like a rope, tying her still. And he shoved her shirt and bra up, exposing her skin to the air and the tree.

“Like that,” he said, a hardness in his voice she didn’t understand. “You stay just like that no matter what I do to you. And when I’m done, your breasts will be red and raw, and I won’t even have touched them. Understand?”

She whimpered, aroused and nervous and somehow floating. It
was
freeing for him to speak to her this way, for him to hurt her like this. It was freeing not to know what would happen next.

What happened next was a blunt finger pressing inside her pussy from behind. She gasped, her mouth open against the tree.

“Wet,” he murmured. “Are you always this wet? Do you walk around all day during class or work with your pussy slick as a waterfall? Or is that just for me, every fucking time?”

She shuddered. “For you,” she said, her voice high and thin. “It’s for you.”

Then his fingers were at her mouth. “Taste yourself,” he demanded.

Before she had a chance to respond, to even think about saying no, he pushed inside. She sucked on his fingers obediently, licking her juices off his coarse skin. When he was satisfied, he removed his hand. Then his heat was at her back, his cock nudging her entrance.

“You want me to scare you,” he whispered. “That way you can walk away tomorrow for what happened today.”

Dark realization washed over her. He thought she was doing this because she wanted out. He thought she was using his sexuality—his pain—against him. “No,” she cried.

“Yes,” he gritted out, thrust inside her. The fullness shocked her, and she lifted up on her toes, trying to escape. Her breasts shoved against the bark of the tree, making her whimper. There was no escape, only invasion, only pain. Only the knowledge that he was finally letting her in.

“Blake.
Blake.
”

“I shouldn’t touch you when you’re like this, when it’s going to be the last fucking time, but I can’t help it. You pushed me and pushed me, and now you’re getting it. How does it feel, baby? How does the bark feel on your skin? How does my dick feel in your cunt?” As if to punctuate his words, he slipped his hand around and pinched her clit—hard. “This is what I want to do to you, all the fucking time. This is how it would be if I didn’t hold back. Fucking you, using you, tearing you up.”

He pulled back and thrust inside, and she couldn’t deny that she was being fucked and used. It even felt like being torn, rent into two parts from the inside, his cock so deep and thick inside her.

“I never want this to end,” she gasped.

“You will,” he promised.

And then he sped up, moving quickly as he thrust, his cock pulling far out only to slam back inside, her breasts bouncing against the rough curve of the tree, her cries echoing around the clearing and over the city.

“Tell me what she said to you,” he gritted out. “Tell me why you’re hurting.”

And it hurt more than the bark, more than his cock, to answer him. “She said I wasn’t good enough for you. That I was trash. That I would always be trash.”

“Fuck,” he growled, sounding savage. Like he could rip her apart. “That’s not fucking true.”

“I know,” she sobbed, but she didn’t know, not really. And it was hard to talk with him still fucking her, not as fast as before, but still enough that each word rode on a breath, choppy and short. Because as hard as it was to talk like this, it was the only way she
could
talk. “But I thought… I didn’t know… God, we’re so different, Blake.”

Another growl, this one wordless and animalistic. “That’s where you’re wrong. We’re the same, you and me. I’ll fucking make us the same.”

It seemed impossible that it could work, that he could somehow fuck them into the same person. But that was how it felt, his cock impaling her, the incredible wet friction between their bodies fusing them together.

His other hand slapped her ass, the sound resounding in the stillness. “Moan,” he said, guttural. “I want to hear you.”

So she let herself moan—and also talk and babble and cry against that cry, hugging it and being hugged by Blake, even while he brutally fucked her. There were words and apologies and explanations. There were garbled sounds even she couldn’t make out. And then there was only a steady litany. “I love you I love you I love you.”

His hips jerked roughly as he came, and it was the feel of him coming, his hips gripping her hips, surely leaving bruises, a hot gush of seed deep inside, that made her come too. She rocked her hips, humping the tree, as her orgasm slammed into her.

He rode the last of the pulses with languid patience, letting her pulse and spasm around his cock, feeling his seed slide down on him. When she had finished and slumped against the tree, he gently pulled away. He righted his clothes, and then hers, and then placed a kiss on her nape.

“Thank you for telling me.”

She smiled into the dark, her face half hidden by the tree. “Thank you for fucking me.”

“It’s bullshit, you know. The idea that we’re so different. That you’re not good enough.” He turned her around and leaned her back against the tree, letting her rest against it but looking her right in the eye. “When I look at you, I see everything I want to be.”

She let her eyes fall shut as he kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

“Love you too, baby.” He ran a finger over the curve of her breast. “Are you sore?”

Her breasts would be tender for days. She loved it. “As awful as this day was, it might be worth it for the tree sex.”

He laughed softly. “You know, there are a lot of trees on the property back home.”

“We should probably draw a map. For surveying purposes.”

“Mhmm. We wouldn’t want to miss one.”

Chapter Eight

B
LAKE PARKED ON
the broken, twisted driveway. As he stepped outside, he took in the smell of gasoline overlaid with something sweet—chocolate. With the peeling paint and broken step, it was grim. Hard to imagine a young Erin bounding home from school with a backpack slung over her shoulder and a cheeky grin on her face. This wasn’t a place that inspired smiles.

But that’s what Sophia was doing when she opened the door—smiling. She had a huge smile on her face as she embraced her daughter.

“Mama, I missed you so much.”

Sophia turned to him, and he was shocked to see tears in her eyes.

Then Sophia collected him in a hug. Somehow it happened exactly like that despite her being shorter and smaller—he found himself embraced and even squished by her. After a beat of surprise, he hugged her back. Erin looked at them with tears in her brown eyes—so like her mother’s—and he knew this was how they both looked when they were happy.

His voice was surprisingly thick when he said, “It’s good to see you, Mrs. Raider.”

In his life he’d been a son and a boyfriend and a fiancé. But he had never been hugged, only hugged, until Erin. And her mother.

“You don’t know how much I worried about Erin,” she said. “She is so strong, too strong. I worried she wouldn’t let anyone in.”

It felt like she was giving him her blessing, and it was a gift. He was grateful when she didn’t make him respond, just nodded as if something had been decided there in that dingy hallway.

He picked up their bags and followed both women inside.

In the bright light of the kitchen, Sophia gasped. “Erin, what happened to your face?”

Guilt raced through him because across her jaw was a raw, red mark from the tree. Apparently his own scars couldn’t shock Mrs. Raider, but the evidence of their sex would need to be explained.

A pink blush covered Erin’s cheeks. “We took a detour to a hiking spot Blake knew. I ended up face-first in a tree.” She sent Blake a secret smile. “Clumsy.”

Sophia seemed to consider her daughter. After a moment, she relaxed. “I’ll get some ointment. It doesn’t look too deep, but just to be sure. Meanwhile both of you have a seat. And have some cookies.”

He and Erin obediently sat at the small kitchen table where a plate of warm cookies sat waiting for them.

She grinned at him as she took one. “Busted.”

He blinked. The sex? “Your mom didn’t know.”

Erin took a bite. “She knows.”

“No way.”

“I got my Trailblazer patch when I was eight. I’ve hiked all year round. I don’t run into trees. But don’t feel bad. She knew and she let you stay. That means you’re in.”

A warm, full feeling entered his chest. It didn’t help that the cookie tasted like sugar and heaven. This felt a little like he’d thought home should feel. And family. And a childhood he’d never had. In some ways he’d grown up privileged, and for that he felt both shame and gratitude. But in other ways, he’d never known until now the quiet, powerful contentedness of belonging.

*     *     *

E
RIN LAY AWAKE,
unable to sleep, even as Blake rumbled peacefully through a dream behind her. A few minutes later she gave up and carefully slipped out of his arms. She padded out of the bedroom to find her mother sitting on the sofa with a book open in her lap, eyes staring sightlessly in front of her.

She snapped her attention to Erin as she entered. “What’s wrong? Do you need something to eat?”

Erin laughed softly. “Definitely not. You stuffed both of us full of lasagna. And then cake.”

Her mother couldn’t hide her pleased look, almost smug. She enjoyed feeding people, and had especially liked the way Blake could pack it away. “I can give you the recipe.”

“The lasagna, yes. I don’t think I should bake that cake, not when Blake and I can eat almost the entire thing in one sitting.”

Her mother patted the cushion beside her. “Come sit then, if you’re having trouble sleeping.”

Erin sat down on the worn couch. She’d spent hours here, studying for a test or watching TV or reading quietly beside her mother. This couch was more her home than the city or the house ever had been. And so it gave her the strength to bring up the topic that had kept her awake.

“Mama, remember I told you that Blake is Senator Morris’s son.”

Her mother grew still. “Yes, I remember.”

“And I know you used to work for them once.”

“Yes.” The word came softer now. It sounded almost afraid, and Erin didn’t want to continue. She didn’t want to be the one to hurt her mother, but she couldn’t continue as if she didn’t know.

“Blake’s father told him that you two were… involved.”

A long silence with only the distant, muffled sound of a slamming car door to fill it. “That’s true,” her mother finally said. “I was young… not as young as you. But much more foolish than you.”

Erin frowned. “It’s not foolish to fall for someone, even if they’re not a good man. We can’t control who we love. You taught me that.”

“That’s right, but you should know, Jeb—Mr. Morris—was a good man. He just made a mistake. There’s a difference.”

“A mistake? He let you get thrown out. He didn’t defend you.”

“I didn’t mean that, sweetheart. I meant having an affair. He cheated on his wife. And even if he cared about me when he did it, that doesn’t make it right.”

Erin had a hard time sympathizing with the Ice Queen after their encounter, but she knew her mother was right. “I guess.”

“And I knew he was married too. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with him. I risked my job for that, and I lost it. I risked our family’s income and being able to care for you.” Her mother sighed, shaking her head. “Like I said, foolish.”

Erin took her hand. She knew how strong her mother was—cleaning houses was intense physical labor. And yet her mother’s hand felt small, almost frail. She squeezed. “I’m sorry for how it turned out, but I never would have wanted you to hold back, to
not
take a chance on love, just because you had me.”

“Now you understand why I worried for you. That you saw me as a role model, holding myself tight, afraid to be hurt. I feared you would do the same.”

In some ways Erin had done that. She’d blamed being busy with school and work for her lack of relationships. But she could have tried more, if she’d wanted to. She could have taken a chance on love, just like she’d told her mother. Even with Doug, she’d held herself back. It hadn’t been until Blake that she’d been able to do that. Seeing him every week and then every day, learning the kind of man he was. Knowing that he would always protect her.

And finally letting go.

Chapter Nine

“M
OVE,” THE MAN
shouted into his headset—telling the pilot to go.

Blake moved to jump out, but the man blocked him. The other man had fifty pounds on him, as well as more nights of sleep in the past 72 hours and more food and water. But Blake had the fucking determination, the certainty that he couldn’t, wouldn’t leave his teammate behind. His last one. The only man left. If it was anyone left on this rock, in this oven, it would be him.