Sarah's Seduction (2 page)

Lora Leigh

Sarah’s Seduction

10

His hand moved from between her thighs. He wanted to draw the panties from her hips, show her caution and tenderness. The sound of fabric tearing shocked his dazed senses but did little to cool the fever raging through his blood. The widening of her eyes, the glitter of excitement in them shocked him further. His sweet, shy Sarah liked having her panties ripped from her? What else, he wondered, would she like as well?

* * * * *

Sarah cringed inwardly from the excitement that flared through her body like a burst of heat as Brock ripped the panties from her hips. His face was a portrait in sensuality, his gray-blue eyes dark and hungry, intent. She could see the need in his expression, the rapid loss of control working through his body, and it thrilled her. Her hand clenched at his shoulder, sun bronzed and hard from the tense muscles beneath as he stared down at her. His eyes were locked with hers, watching her, intent on her. Thick, black lashes were lowered over his eyes; his black hair was mussed about his face from her fingers.

“I want you, Sarah.” His voice was hard, determined. “If we’re going to stop this, now is the time to do it, baby. I may not be able to later.”

His voice was incredibly gentle, at odds with the hard sensuality in his expression. His hand smoothed over her shoulder, her breast. Sarah arched in his arms, hearing the involuntary whimper that issued from her throat. His hands were so warm, they felt so good.

“Brock.” She arched against him, feeling the heated length of his cock against her thigh, his hand as it smoothed over her body, setting up an electrical firestorm of need that she had no defenses against.

“Sarah, I need you so bad.” His face buried in her neck, his lips tasting her skin like a man more than starved. Let me have you, Sarah. Please, let me have you.”

His voice was tormented, his body tense.

Sarah moved against him, unable to halt her body’s response to his plea. As his lips moved over her cheek, then took hers in a kiss that destroyed any objections she may have had, she could do no more than give into him.

Her lips opened to him, her tongue twining with his as he moved against her, pressing the hard length of his shaft against her thigh as he groaned into her lips. Her hands clenched at his shoulders as his chest rasped the tender tips of her breasts her neck arching as desperate kisses ran across her jaw, her neck. He licked his way to her breasts, but didn’t stop there.

His hands roamed over her body as she tossed beneath alternate stinging nips and fiercely hot licks to her flesh. Each touch sent her spiraling higher, her fears of his possession overshadowed by the electric currents of arousal pulsing through her body now.

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His lips moved to her abdomen, tongue stroking, then teeth nipping as she tossed against him. His touch moved lower then, his hands spreading her thighs as he went between them.

His head was moving below her hips, his breathing a hard, rumbling groan as he moved lower, then lower.

“Brock?” Sarah stilled, forcing her eyes opened, her breath catching at the hungry look on his face.

“I’m going to eat you like candy, Sarah,” he whispered, his voice deep, dark. “Just liked I’ve dreamed of for months now.”

His head moved, lowered, his hands arching her closer as his tongue swiped through the curl shrouded, slick folds of her cunt. Sarah cried out, her fingers clenching in the blankets as he did just as he promised her. He ate her. Every inch was stroked, licked, sucked. His tongue pushed inside her pussy with a slow, even stroke, drawing yet more of the thick liquid from her pulsing center. Sarah was insane with arousal now. She bucked against him, pleading for more, desperate to still the raging fires burning through her body. Each second she could feel her body tightening further, reaching higher. She shuddered, gasping, begging. Then his lips enclosed her swollen clit, suckling lightly as his finger sank shallowly inside the humid depths of her throbbing pussy.

Sarah felt herself exploding, coming apart. Her eyes flew open, her first sight that of the doorway at the far side of the room and Brock’s twin, Sam as he turned from them. In an instant she saw his arousal, his assurance, and Sarah knew the rumors about the August men were true.

She stiffened, fear washing over her, the hot slide of depraved excitement flaring inside her.

“No,” she cried out desperately as Brock rose over her, pushing between her thighs, his cock stroking over her moist cunt lips as he positioned himself.

“Sarah?” He was breathing hard, fighting for control when her hands went to his shoulders.

She was desperate to escape. She had to leave, get out of here before he possessed her forever. Because God help her, she would never find the strength to deny him anything he wanted otherwise.

“No,” she cried out again, mortifying tears brimming from her eyes, fear shaking her body as the thick, bulging head lodged at the entrance of her cunt.

“God, baby. Sarah.” His voice was a cry of pain, a desperate dark plea that shook her to soul. “Please, Sarah. Don’t do this.”

“Let me go.” She couldn’t control her cries, the soul shocking pain and fear that assaulted her now. “I can’t. I won’t, Brock. I won’t do it. Please don’t make me. Promise me you won’t.”

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All he would have to do was ask her. She knew it. The flare of added arousal she had felt at the sight of Sam had shown her that.

“No, Sarah.” He dropped his head, his expression tortured, tormented. “Don’t do this.”

She pressed at his shoulders, fighting to escape not just Brock, but also the dark needs rising inside herself. She was sobbing now, unable to stop the fear that overshadowed her arousal.

“God damn.” His curse was fierce, angry as the head of his cock parted her, throbbed at her entrance. “Son of a bitch.”

He jerked away from her. His curses sizzled the room, his fury was a like a beast, wild untamed.

“Go, damn you! Get the fuck out of here!” he yelled at her, his expression so angry, so dark and so filled with pain that Sarah couldn’t bear the sight of it. She jerked her dress from the floor as she jumped from the bed, stumbling in her haste, barely catching herself from falling. She struggled into it, crying, shaking as she rushed for the door.

“You’ll be back, Sarah,” he bit out as she rushed from the room. “I swear to God, I won’t let you go.”

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CHAPTER ONE

Six years later

The bar was crowded, the music pulsing. The crush of bodies on the dance floor moved in a strange synchronization that amazed Sarah. After nearly a full hour hiding in the shadows, she was still in awe of the limber bodies on the floor. When she wasn’t watching the man she had come to find, that is. She sat in the corner, nursing a warm bottle of beer, her gaze flickering from the dancers to the object of her lust who stood a good twenty feet away from her.

Tall and well muscled, he exuded testosterone. A perfect male in his prime, his muscular body shown off to perfection in the snug jeans he wore, and the gray striped, cotton dress shirt. A wide leather belt circled his slim hips and hard stomach. Propped against one of the wide, wooden posts that separated the dance floor and the table area, his casual position shouted confidence. The position he assumed was mouth-wateringly sexy. All that hard muscle lounging comfortably, arms crossed over a wide muscular chest, long, masculine legs crossed at the ankle, leading to muscled thighs that framed a more than impressive male bulge. She swallowed tightly. She knew exactly how impressive that bulge actually was.

Turning her gaze from him, Sarah remembered years ago, a stolen night, hard, hot kisses in the silence of his room, and the thick, hard erection beneath those well-worn jeans. It made her body heat alarmingly, remembering his touch. His hands, work roughened on her sensitive young breasts, between her thighs. His fingers sliding through thick moisture, his voice humming with approval as his fingers penetrated, then stopped at the evidence of her innocence.

Then his mouth. Her eyes closed as she remembered that hot, seductive mouth and the fear that washed over her as he threw her into her first and only orgasm. He had lapped at the rush of moisture, holding her hips still as his tongue dipped into her vagina, penetrating her, eating her decadently. His mouth had been hot, his tongue voracious, the sounds of his pleasure vibrating against her clit in a manner that had her crying out in bliss over and over again.

She had opened her eyes then and behind him she had seen the identical version of the man whose tongue had lapped so desperately at her flesh. Brock’s twin, Sam. He had been turning away, but Sarah had seen a look, an assurance in his eyes that terrified her.

You’ll be back, Sarah. I won’t let you go!
The memory of his last words to her six years before whispered through her mind.

She shook her head, fighting the betraying weakness that she had assailed her then as well. She took a long drink of the beer, grimacing at the warm taste. What the hell Lora Leigh

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was she doing here? What made her think she was any braver now than she had been then? That she was any more accepting. What made her think he would even want to touch her now, an older version of that scared little girl, helpless in the face of her own passions and the fears that made her run? She had been eighteen, Brock had just celebrated his twenty-fifth birthday. Six years. She sighed. He was more handsome at thirty-one than he had been when he was younger. More handsome and decidedly more dangerous.

“Hello, Sarah.” She froze at the sound of that dark, male voice. There was no mistaking the rough timber of it, the dark intoxication of hearing it roughen with lust. The breath stilled in her chest, birds wings, not butterflies, beat at her stomach. She felt the wet evidence of her desire for this man pulse from between her thighs. Sarah swallowed past her nerves and allowed her eyes to rove over his masculine form. Up. Up. Past the thickened bulge, noticeably larger now, over the flat abdomen and wide chest, up to the dark, blue-gray eyes that watched her with arousal. The muscles in her stomach bunched, tightened. Fingers of arousal danced over her breasts, teased her inner thighs. She felt her breathing deepen as lust lanced through her body. It was like a mild electrical shock being sent through her entire system. It had been years since she had allowed herself to be anywhere near him. She had avoided any place he could be, went the other way if she saw him coming. She had avoided him for so long that it became a habit. A need. She knew if she was in his company for longer than a second, then she would be begging him to fuck her. It amazed her that he had approached her now. Amazed and terrified her.

“Hi, Brock. It’s been a while.” She tilted her beer in a small, courageous gesture before tipping it to her lips and taking a long drink. False courage. She needed it badly. She wasn’t normally a bold person, or a forward one. She had always been the one hugging the corners at parties, reluctant to step out. How she managed to get up enough nerve to come to the bar in the first place, she wasn’t certain. It had been an impulsive move to take this one night for herself. Just one night. A night to remember, to hug close to her during the long, lonely nights to come.

“Have a cold one.” He set a chilled bottle in front her, then swinging a leg over the back of the chair, sat down across from her.

The graceful male movement had her breath catching in her throat. The loose limbed straddle, the shrug of his shoulder, the wry tilt of his lips. Not quite a smile, but the hint that it could be if he could get past the shadows that lurked in his eyes. Sarah slid the empty bottle over and picked up the cold one. She lifted it to her lips and sipped. The bitter bite wasn’t pleasant, but she knew the much-needed salve to her nerves would be welcome when it hit. When breaking out of one’s shell, one needed to do it right.

“Thanks.” Her eyes flickered to his, then back to the bottle. He had only grown more handsome in the past six years. Where she had just grown older. His face, strongboned and cut into firm, determined lines, showed a man who knew a little too much Lora Leigh

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and had seen more than his share of pain. His dark hair was overly long, brushing the collar of his white shirt. It was black, glistening like midnight silk and tempted her hands to run through it.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.”
Six years.
The thought strained at her nerves. The secluded corner gained them a measure of quiet from the band at the front of the room, keeping him from having to yell at her. His voice was still raised though, the husky timber stroking over her.

She looked into his eyes; saw the measuring, considering look there. He would push her. But he still wanted her. God, so much had changed in six years. Why hadn’t the desire that pulsed between them dissipated as well?

She shook her head, glancing quickly at him, then back to the bottle as she shrugged, biting her lower lip enough to make it smart.

“I’ve been busy.” Stupid was more like it.

She squelched the flare of anger. Mark, her ex-husband, had kept her home, convincing her that was where a good wife stayed. The truth was, his cheating was so extensive he had been terrified someone would finally tell her. No one had to tell her what a fool she was. She knew the first week they were married. A completely blind, misguided, stupid fool. Strangely enough, she wasn’t hurt in the least, just embarrassed. Embarrassed, humiliated and totally ashamed. Three progressions that left a taste more bitter than the beer in her mouth.

“So, you aren’t busy anymore?” There was a thread of amusement in his voice, a question that went beyond the words.

Her gaze met his. She read the speculation, the sexual intent they contained. She held the look for long seconds before her gaze lowered. Her fingers picked at the paper on the front of the bottle for a minute before she shook her head.