Tease Me (Teased and Broken Book 1) (19 page)

You fucking should be.

“Besides,” he continued. “Our grounds are really beautiful. I wanted us to take a walk around them like old times; let’s walk to the old lighthouse, drink, eat and talk shit. If you really want to go after that, sure, all right, I’ll make reservations for us somewhere. I just want to say goodbye to this place.”
 

He shivered.
 

“What’s wrong?” I asked. My heart was breaking for his sentimentality, his thoughtfulness, but mostly for his stupidity. We needed to leave here NOW. But he was speaking to me in that tone I knew too well that invited no further discussion.
 

“I don’t think we’ll come back here for a while,” he muttered bitterly, his eyes flashed to mine. “Not until I kill that fucker anyway.”

My mouth fell open. “What?”
 

“If that is what it takes to protect you, then that is what I’m prepared to do.” Brett was shaking as he gripped the picnic basket, and took my hand. “That is what I have done for my country.”

I frowned, thinking back to the tear gas bombs, how expertly Brett had held his own against the Cellrager army. “You did what for your country?”

“Afghanistan,” Brett murmured softly. “I did a short stint there Elena in special forces. I didn’t last long. It was…” His voice fell away, he was breathing hard. “Something I have tried to forget.”

“Why have you never told me about this before?” I asked gently, awestruck at this different side to my artist fiancé - all this time, this whole other life, he had never shared with me.
 

“Because I wanted to forget,” he sighed. “And when I met you, you filled up my mind and heart. There was no space for any of that shit any more. You helped me forget.” Tears were glittering in his brown eyes. “But I haven’t forgotten how to kill. And I will kill Thornton Darko if I must. I don’t want to do that. Don’t get me wrong. Life is precious. I don’t take it lightly. But that fucker clearly needs to die. He is rotten to the core.”

I was speechless at his revelation. I had so many questions. All I said eventually after a long stretch of silence was, “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here. I will listen.”

He brushed the top of my head with a kiss. “Thanks, El.”

There was so much I wanted to
tell
him, but this beautiful picnic he had planned for us, this bidding of goodbye to our home, to the mostly happy memories we had built here, I refused to ruin it just yet with the awful resolve I had come to in my panicked drive back to the house.

I had resolved to leave Brett, and go into hiding for a while. Apparently, I was a freaking lightning rod for attracting Thorn; better I was away from Brett at least until that shit got sorted out. I would also explain to Thorn that I was no longer with Brett. Hopefully that would spare him. He would freak the fuck out of course, and never let me go. But I owed him an explanation. Maybe a letter. Yes. I would do that. I would give it to Aaron to give to him later when I was well and truly hidden from him. Something told me with Brett’s specialist skill set I was really going to have to go off the grid to not be found by him. I was so delusional. Thorn had been right. I would go on feeding them wouldn’t I? My delusions.

It was the perfect blue sky afternoon. Not a fucking cloud in sight, and yet, I saw it so clearly because it was so startling against all that beautiful wash of blue. A raven, blacker than midnight, flew across the sky.
 

Twenty Five

“I have always wanted to paint you naked.”

I moaned against Brett’s lips as he covered my eyes with a blindfold. My voice had trembled over the word 'don’t’ but I didn’t speak it. He was too happy and playful. Our picnic at the lighthouse had been magical, full of wine, beautiful gourmet food, and insanely good conversation and kisses. Oh wow!
Those
kisses. We had slowly but surely maddened and worked ourselves up, but hadn’t resolved that insane tension… yet. I suspected that was to come. I was just pissed off that Brett had decided that had to be now. In his studio, I wanted to get the fuck out of this place. It was all I could do to not to run screaming when I had seen the lone raven flying across that beautiful sky hours ago.
 

“So you choose to paint a picture of me naked… now?” I asked. “When the cab will be here in, what, at least half an hour to collect us?”

Brett’s breath hushed over my lips; I felt his gaze on me, I couldn’t see it, but I could feel its fierce longing and admiration. “I am not painting a picture of you El, I am painting
you
,” he murmured, and I jolted with sudden pleasure as a brush tip skimmed over my nipple.
 

“Oh,” I breathed. “Wow. That is… I can hardly wait to
see
what you do with.” I ran my hands down my body in the way I knew drove him quietly insane. “This canvas.”

Brett groaned. “Do that again, please, it is helping my inspiration.”

“If you think it will help your focus, for sure,” I smirked, and walked my fingers down to my thigh and slid my hand ever so slowly up to meet my pussy and cupped it and bucked slightly against my palm, biting my lip and throwing my head back and groaning urgently.
 

I heard jeans unzipping.
 

I straightened. “What happened to the painting?”

“I will paint you,” I heard Brett say gruffly. “I just thought it was only fair I am naked as well when I do it.”

I shivered in excitement and anticipation. “Well, don’t poke my eye out with that thing ok?”

He laughed. “You tease me.”

“Always,” I whispered and then shook my head. I shouldn’t have said that. It reminded me of someone. I didn’t want to be reminded of that someone right now. Shit. I focused myself.

I heard fiddling with his supplies; he was panting slightly, which caused my pulse to climb a little. Holy shit. This was impossibly hot. His shadow fell over me, and the brush was back rubbing over my other nipple. “Your right breast was giving me the evil eye for ignoring her so I had to remedy the situation,” he explained.
 

I tried not to laugh, and only nodded.
 

“Stand,” Brett ordered.

Confused, I stood and then blushed in understanding when I felt the brush flicking against my ass. Ah, Brett, he was an unapologetic ass man. It felt amazing what he was doing with that brush, though.
 

“Oh,” I murmured as trailed the brush tip between my cheeks gently up and down, the friction was outstanding. I heard him replace a brush and take up another, then he was gently painting me. I felt the cool, wet texture of the paint it as he swept it deliberately at the curve of my bottom right near, he came close to my aching centre, but no closer, he kept working, I felt my lower half shudder appreciatively. “That feels outstanding,” I barely got out for my breathing, my face felt like it was aflame.
 

“Your ass is so fucking beautiful,” Brett murmured against my neck. “I could paint it all day.”

“Well that would be some kind of sweet torture,” I sighed happily.

 
“How so?” he breathed, returning to my ass with a dry brush, and tickling the entrance of my anus with it, as a hand rubbed over my right cheek and squeezed gently.
 

“Ah, cheating!” I panted. Damn, he better not move that brush!

“Finger painting.” He poked and swirled a finger against the skin to demonstrate his point. I loved him so much.
 

“About this sweet torture?” he prompted me again.

“I would need relief. I could not endure too much of-” My eyes widened when he increased the tempo of the flick of the brush at my quivering entrance, and increased the pressure. “
That
.”

“Who knew having your ass painted could be so dangerous.” He sounded amused, I heard the gorgeous smile in his voice.
 

“Brett,” I whimpered.
 

“Yes?”
 

“Fuck me now.”

He laughed, and the brush left my ass. “I don’t think so. I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

I heard him come round to my front.

“Do you want me to sit?” I whispered, shivering in anticipation for the sensation of the lash and stroke of that brush executed so skillfully by his insanely talented hands.
 

“Standing is perfectly fine.” His lips brushed against my mouth, and then he was rubbing a brush over my pussy, starting gently at the lips. I felt my thighs involuntarily part for him, giving even greater access.
 

“Exquisite,” he groaned, and flicked the bristles, concentrating on the outside of my lips only.
 

I felt a tremor pass through my body, and my hips jutted slightly. I was going to start making some very ugly sounds soon as I gave myself over to the heat pooling in my belly and the rapture Brett had started between my legs. “Fuck.” I bit my lip hard. “Oh.” My eyes rolled back in my head as I rocked gently against the exquisite sweet torture of the flick and rub of those bristles.
 

“Brett…” My hands were in his hair, fisting, pulling urgently. “Please.”

“You are very distracting.” Brett sounded very pleased with himself. “Oh, and you got my brush all wet.” I could almost see him pouting. “Let me go replace it with another.” I heard him get up. “I’ll be right back, wait here. You are going to
love
this!”
 

My heart was pounding as I awaited him, I heard him out the back of the studio, rifling around, and then silence.
 

“Brett?” I called out.
 

I heard him come back into the room.
 

His shadow fell over me. It felt taller and darker somehow, but then again, the light was different in here now as the afternoon marched toward dusk. I wriggled beneath the blistering heat I felt in that gaze upon me.
 

Sweet Jesus, the anticipation was killing me.

“Brett?” I asked again, and I ran my tongue over my lips.
 

And then his mouth was on mine. His lips caressed ever so gently, his teeth even nipped playfully at my bottom lip, and then he slanted his mouth hungrily over mine, and I felt the cold press of a ring against my chin as that mouth devastated me.

I felt everything clench inside of me all at once, like my body was clamping down, no admittance it screamed. Not Brett kissing me. Thornton.
 

“No!” I shoved him from me and ripped the blindfold off.
 

Thorn towered over me; he was now wearing that mask, and his dark green eyes stared straight through me. “Where’s Brett?” I shouted. My gaze raced toward the back of the studio, and I saw him lying on the ground, his head twisted at an odd angle, blood trickling from a gash in his forehead.

“What have you done?”
 

Thorn said nothing and gripped me roughly by the elbow, then he started dragging me out of the studio.
 

“No!” I wailed, I threw punches, I fought dirty, I kicked, I scratched, I tried to bite, but he blocked my every attempt to lay my violence upon him. Finally, I kneed him in the balls, and gained a momentary advantage, able to launch away from him, and toward Brett lying there like a broken toy on the ground. But he was too far away from me. “Help him!” I begged.

Thorn’s eyes flicked from Brett to me, and back again. “There isn’t time, I am so sorry, Elena,” his gloved hand gripped the back of my neck and pulled me backwards. “You must come with me
now
, it isn’t safe.”

“Let me go!” I screamed, digging my heels into the floorboards - fuck me, that hurt.

“Now!” Thorn insisted. He sounded terrified, he grunted and scooped me up in his huge arms, and cradled me, crushing me against his chest, I felt his heart pounding as he ran out of the studio, and it exploded into flame behind us.

I lost my mind.
 

“Brett!” I was tumbling out of Thorn’s arms and crawling toward the burning structure, but the blistering heat and smoke choked and dazed me. “Please, baby, please be ok,” I wailed.

“We must go,” Thorn said quietly behind me. “They’re here. It isn’t safe for you. If you want to live, come with me.” He didn’t await my response, he simply grabbed me by the hair and yanked me to my feet. The shock and pain of it startled me for a moment, and then I heard myself ask the question he
still
hadn’t answered. I asked it over and over again.
 

“What have you done?”

THRILL ME

Book 2 in the Teased and Broken Series

THRILL ME
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TEASE ME
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THRILL ME
 
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“I’m afraid of you Elena,” Thorn’s gaze fell from mine. “I’m afraid of what they will make me do.”
The mask was a frustrating barrier between us.
 

I reached up.
He stayed my hand, dark green eyes lifting to my mouth. “Please,” his voice cracked. “Don’t touch me.”
“Who are they Thorn?” I pressed, frustrated. Who was he running from? And was this all in my dark demonic rock star’s troubled mind?
He bowed, lowering his masked head, and pressed it to my chest.