Sarah's Seduction (30 page)

He came with a shout. His body jerked, his semen exploding from the tip with hard, hot jets into her mouth. His hands clenched in her hair, his back arched and her name was a harsh, brutal shout of satisfaction.

Lora Leigh

Sarah’s Seduction

172

CHAPTER THIRTY

Brock and Cade were sitting on the patio that evening when Sam returned from the hospital. He walked onto the sheltered concrete area, a fifth of whisky in his hand, his face haggard.

The vine-draped iron and wood enclosure provided a measure of protection from anyone with a binocular or rifle scopes, but as Brock looked into his brother’s eyes, he realized there were other ways to kill a man.

Sam sat down heavily in a padded chair, staring up at the vine-covered opening as though the pattern of greenery twisting about the thick wooden beams required concentration to decipher. He lowered his head long enough to bring the bottle to his mouth, drink deep and grimace, then go back to the perusal.

“How’s she doing?” Cade’s voice was as haunted as Sam’s eyes. Sam shrugged. “Tara says she fine. She won’t see me. She won’t talk to me.”

Brock took a deep breath. Rick returned earlier, rage glittering in his eyes when he reported her injuries. She had been tied and gagged, the clothes cut from her body. Then the knife had sliced small, hairline cuts into her thighs and the flesh of her genitals. As far as pain went, it was tolerable. The mental and psychological damage was great though. The bastard had recounted how Sam had been similarly cut and the abuses he had suffered through. She had been warned she would suffer the same if she came back to the ranch. She had been told that she was paying for the lust Sam felt for her.

They hadn’t even known Sam was attracted to her. Had no idea their brother had been slowly courting her, seducing her. The woman was a damned wildcat. Or at least, she had been.

Sam was alone. Isolated in silence and liquor, staring into the evening sky as though searching for answers. There was no laughter in him now, no wise-assed comments, no sense of joy. The very qualities Cade and Brock had sacrificed everything they were at one time, to preserve a part of, had been snatched away as though it had never existed.

Sam took another long pull on the liquor. His body was tense, wired. He almost vibrated with the rage and pain swirling inside him.

“Don’t get drunk, Sam,” Brock warned him quietly.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Sam asked him, his tone unconcerned, cool. Brock glanced at Cade.

“Sam—”

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“I want your woman, Brock.” Sam looked in his eyes and Brock almost winced at the shattered look there. “I need her.”

Brock shook his head, he wouldn’t tolerate Sam touching her while he was like this.

“You should have gone to her before now.”

Sarah would accept him, Brock knew. She was slowly accustoming herself to Cade’s touch. Brock knew she would grow used to Sam’s as well. The idea of it. Once, she had warned him, only once. And only for him. But he saw the excitement in her eyes, the same excitement he felt at the thought of it.

“I frighten her.” Sam lifted the bottle, his glance surprised as though he should have drank more, or hadn’t drank enough. Brock wasn’t certain which. “I don’t blame her for being frightened.”

Brock frowned.

“What do you need, Sam?” he asked him carefully.

Sam swallowed tight, grimacing.

“Fuck it,” he growled. “I need to leave her the fuck alone.”

He tipped the bottle to his lips, the amber liquid draining further. He breathed in harshly when he lowered the bottle.

“Have you ever wondered what we’re doing to them?” Sam finally asked quietly.

“Don’t, Sam.” Cade’s voice was dark, rough. “We don’t hurt them. We love them.”

Sam shook his head. He wiped his hand wearily over his face, leaning forward in the chair, staring at the floor now.

“She likes the pain doesn’t she, Brock?” Sam didn’t look at his brother. They all knew Sarah liked the edge of pain. Cade had discovered that earlier, Brock had known it since the first. There was no disguising her screams, her pleas in the dead of night, the sound of his hand slapping her ass.

“Sam, you don’t have to ask my permission.” Brock felt helpless, uncertain of what his brother needed.

“You would,” Sam whispered.

Surprise flared in Brock’s chest. Sam’s head raised, his gaze tortured, glittered with agony, haunted with the past.

Brock shrugged. He glanced at Cade, feeling as uncertain as his other brother looked.

“Sam—” Cade started to speak, his voice low, vibrating with concern.

“Forget it.” Sam fell back in the chair and drank again. He was taking long, hard pulls of the liquor. Sam had never been much of a drinker, so it worried them both that he was hitting the bottle so hard now.

“I want to forget,” Sam whispered, staring at the leafy ceiling once again. His voice was agonized. It seared their brains, their souls with the memories. Brock shook his head, his fists clenching, unable to look at his twin. He could feel his rage, Lora Leigh

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Sam’s rage, beating at his heart. The bond they had shared when they were younger had been nearly destroyed in those nightmare months. Now, Brock only knew it again during sex, or during the overwhelming grief that often gripped Sam.

“That’s enough.” Cade came to his feet, his voice hard, final. “We can’t change it and we can’t forget. And there’s no sense in allowing the bastard to win. We survived, Sam, it’s better than many would have done.”

Cade turned his back on them. He propped his shoulder against the patio support, his head lowered. Brock took a deep, hard breath.

“Where’s your woman, Brock?” Sam asked him, his voice easing into a low, slow, drawl after drinking heavily from the bottle once again.

“You don’t touch my woman drunk, Sam. You know we don’t do that. Sarah can’t ease this demon and I won’t make her try.”

The demon, rage. Rage so all-consuming, so bitter and soul-worn that Brock knew Sam would never find the softness within himself to touch Sarah with any tender emotion. He wouldn’t allow his brother’s demons to destroy the fragile balance they were building within their home. The pleasure Sarah received from their touch could be tainted for all time if Sam took her in anger.

“I wasn’t going to fuck her.” Sam rose slowly to his feet now, his shoulders slumped, his voice broken. “Just wanted to make sure I stayed out of her way. I know I’m not fit for a whore, let alone a good woman.”

Brock had a feeling Sam wasn’t talking about just while he was drunk.

“Sam.” He came to his feet as his brother stumbled to the study doors.

“I’m heading to bed, Brock.” Sam waved his hand back. “Maybe I can sleep it off.”

There was a better chance of the nightmare leaving him screaming in broken rage. Brock glanced at Cade, who was now watching the weaving twin as he entered the study. Absolute worry creased his face, pain wearied it.

“She meant something to him. More than just a friend.” Cade sighed deeply. “Fuck. He should have told us. We would have tried to protect her.”

Brock thought of the redhead wildcat sister of Tara Glaston. She wouldn’t have accepted protection. She was too busy trying to give it. He sighed wearily, shaking his head at the pain and grief that surrounded Sam now. It would ease, when the three of them came together with Sarah. It always did. It didn’t make sense and hell, a psychiatrist would have a field day with them. But it worked for them. They had survived and they were still a part of each other. That was all that mattered. They had won. The Monster had lost. Or had he?

Lora Leigh

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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The house was quiet, the television set at low sound in consideration for Sarah who sat at the far side of the family room, engrossed in a book. Television had never been her thing.

The men were in their normal loungewear, sweatpants and bare chests and feet. Marly was dressed in one of Cade’s long shirts and dozed comfortably. Sarah wore one of the nightshirts she preferred. It went past her knees and was loose enough to allow for the lack of a bra. Not that wearing one did any good in this household. The men here thought they were made to hide. Every one she owned had disappeared. She didn’t know how long she had sat there, and paid no attention when Sam walked into the room. She definitely took notice when he went to his knees before her though.

Sarah looked up, blinking, her heart pounding at the sheer, undiluted agony in his eyes.

“I need—” He swallowed tightly, regret and remorse thick in his voice. Sarah’s eyes went to Brock. He was watching his brother closely. When his eyes met hers, there was in a plea in them. Her breath stuttered in her chest. Sam needed. He needed her. His only connection to his twin. Just as Marly was his only connection to Cade.

He lifted the book from her hand, carefully marking her page then laying it on the table beside her. Sarah trembled. She had never seen lust in a man’s eyes like she saw in Sam’s. No love, no affection, only lust, tortured and desperate. Brock was sitting on the couch now and she saw his thick erection tenting his sweat pants. There was the love she needed. Love and approval shining bright and pure in his eyes. She looked at Sam, watching as his hands went to her legs, curled in the chair, tucked beneath the nightshirt. He gripped her knees, pulling them from their bent position until her feet were flat on the floor, one leg on each side of him. Her hands fluttered, then settled on the chair arm, gripping it desperately as his hands went to her thighs and began smoothing the shirt up them. She could feet her body warming, arousal building. She didn’t want it to, she still couldn’t believe it could happen, but it did. And Sam looked so much like Brock that it was easy to allow herself to slip into the desire he needed.

Brock didn’t approach Sam. He just sat on the couch watching, breathing heavily, entranced with the sight of another man preparing to pleasure his woman. Sarah allowed herself to relax in the chair, to lift her hips as Sam drew the shirt over them. Then he was pulling it from her body and tossing it aside. Lora Leigh

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“I know what you like,” Sam whispered as he leaned forward, his lips touching hers as she watched him, wide-eyed with shock and desire. “Will you let me give you what you need, Sarah?”

He whispered the words then licked her lips. Sarah’s eyelids fluttered, her breasts heaved with the need for air. She felt her thighs weakening, her cunt moistening, preparing her body for her lover’s brother.

His lips drifted over hers, his fight for control tightening his muscles, making his body tremble. She could feel the drive for domination in his body, his desperate fight to stay gentle, to touch her with tenderness in spite of the fury raging inside him. He didn’t want gentle, he didn’t want easy. She nipped his lip. Hard. Sam jerked, his eyes flaring with surprise.

“What’s the point, if it doesn’t help you?” she asked him. “I’m not Marly. I don’t need your love.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed.

“I could hurt you.” She could see the fear in his eyes that he would. Her hands rose from his shoulders, going to his thick hair and fisting in it tightly.

“And I could hurt you.”

She watched his eyes flare, his lust rising, but the shadows lessened. A hard smile tilted his face. He jerked her to him, his lips mashing down on hers, driving her lips into her teeth as his tongue speared into her mouth. And Brock was watching. Sarah gave herself to Sam, to the violence he was more than willing to spend on her body, her arousal deepening at the thought that Brock watched. That he approved. Sam groaned into her mouth as her nails pricked his scalp. His hands were at her back, his blunt nails scratching over her skin, his mouth eating at her, the violence of the kiss throwing them both into a maelstrom of pleasure. Sarah was breathing hard, rough, when Sam ended their kiss. There was a smear of blood on his lip where her teeth had nipped him. He licked over it experimentally, then grinned. A true grin. One filled with promise.

“Sarah?” Brock was standing beside the chair, concern marking his face, and he wasn’t alone.

Cade was there, his eyes narrowed on them both. Sarah was breathing roughly. Her breasts were swollen, her nipples hard, on fire with hunger. As she watched Brock, her eyes heavy lidded, she felt Sam’s mouth cover one of the turgid tips. She moaned harshly as she felt the edge of his teeth, a sharp nip, a rough lave of his tongue. She bucked against his him, her body catching fire as Brock’s eyes seemed to glitter with knowledge, with intent as he bent to her free breast. She screamed out with the searing sensations. Two mouths, equally hot, teeth equally sharp, hard male groans vibrating against her flesh as both breasts were tended to. It was too much. She didn’t know if she could handle more. Her head fell back, one hand burying in Brock’s hair, her fingers clenching tight and hard in the strands, the Lora Leigh

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other repeating the action in Sam’s. They were killing her. Their fingers plumped her flesh, mouths suckled hard, teeth nipped while tongues stroked. Sarah’s moans shocked even her. Deep and harsh, hungry.

A sense of movement had her eyes opening. Sam and Brock drew away from her as Cade pushed the central table out of the way and dragged the mattress from the futon couch in the corner of the room. Each man was naked now, cocks hard and throbbing, swollen with anticipation and lust.

“Are you sure, baby?” Brock bent, his tongue soothing her swollen lips. “Be sure it’s what you want, Sarah.”

She was breathing so hard it nearly hurt. Her hand fell to her heaving stomach, her fingers gliding slowly to the heated flesh between her thighs. Her fingers dipped into the valley of her cunt, sliding low, to the entrance of her vagina. There, they dipped into the narrow channel as each man watched in fascination. She lifted her hand, her fingers glistening with the slick essence of her want. She brought one finger to her lips, coating them with the glistening juice, then sucked her finger languidly.