Chapter 13 #2
His powerful hand curled over her hip, securing her as he set his shaft at her slick entrance and slowly, determinedly penetrated her. As she stretched around the solid, thick intrusion, her body shook with shivers of need.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he growled.
Her head was spinning. He was rougher this time—securing her where he wanted her—taking her as he wanted. And the sensation filled her soul as thoroughly as his cock was filling her body. This—this was what she wanted. Her hands closed into fists as he thrust in harder.
His chest slid against her back as he reached to one side and flipped on the controls.
Body sprays came on. One upper spray hit her in her chest, another her low stomach.
He leaned forward, his shaft surging in deeper as he shut down the upper spray and adjusted the lower to a fine fierce spray…
and pointed it downward right at her widely spread pussy.
When it struck her exposed clit, she jerked.
His chuckle was a subterranean rumble in her ear. “There’s a good spot.”
“Atticus, no.” She struggled to free her hands, to cover herself. The water pounded at her flesh, tingling and biting in a hundred droplets, and then he gripped her hips, withdrew his cock, and slammed into her.
“Oh. God.” Sensations assailed her, inside and outside.
“And she does swear, after all.” He was laughing as he hammered her hard and fast, and the water teased her clit unmercifully.
Her body gathered, pressure building. And then unstoppable as the ocean, the orgasm rolled through her, incredible spasm after spasm, shaking her violently.
Too, too much pleasure. Her leg buckled; Atticus tightened the arm around her waist.
“Very nice, darlin’,” he said in her ear in his deep, sexy voice. “You almost sent me over with that one.”
But she hadn’t, and he was still long and thick inside her as he slowed to a gentle thrusting. His hand curved over her clit, protecting her from the spray.
Why hadn’t he turned the water off?
But he unhurriedly slid in and out, nibbled on her neck, using one hand to play with her breasts. Taking his time and openly enjoying her.
She loved it, both that he’d taken the time to make her come, but to know that he’d use her for his own enjoyment was so, so satisfying.
As he played and as his dick made slow circular motions, her arousal kicked in again. Her nipples puckered; her insides clenched around him. As the exquisite torment continued, she whined in protest.
He nipped her neck in warning.
When she didn’t speak, he murmured, “There’s a good girl.” Holding her steady, he reached forward to rotate the spray head to a brutal pounding pulse…and removed his hand from her clit.
The thrumming jets hit right on the spot, sending her to her tiptoes. “Nooo.”
He gripped her hips and held her right there. Holding her implacably, he started thrusting harder, deeper, not slowing as she tightened, as her clit engorged, as she hovered on the precipice.
“No, no, no—” Her neck arched back as her muscles drew taut, driving her over the crest. Her whole body spasmed with the relentless pleasure. On and on…
His powerful hands squeezed her hips, and he growled his pleasure as he came. The pulsing sensation so deep inside her was devastatingly intimate, as if they had been joined in every level possible.
As her heart rate slowed, her muscles seemed to be melting. She sagged in his grip.
“Easy, sweetling.” He nuzzled her cheek, anchoring her with an arm around her waist. She could feel the thud of his heart against her back, the heat of his body against hers as he ripped open the Velcro to free her restraints.
Pulling free, he turned her and wrapped her in his arms. As he ran his hands over her ever so gently, he kissed her, deep and long. “Now that was what I call an appetizer.”
An hour later, at his wide kitchen table, Atticus smiled over at Gin.
The little submissive had dressed again after their…
shower…but her long hair still lay in tangles, the red glints reappearing as it dried.
The dazed expression she’d worn through most of the meal had given him an inordinate sense of gratification.
Damn, he loved the way she reacted to bondage. To him. His dick gave a twitch of agreement.
“What are you looking at?” She gave him a quizzical glance.
You. “This was great,” Atticus said as he set his plate to one side. He’d somehow plowed his way through the chops, baked potato, salad, as well as a glass of wine. And he felt back to normal. “Thank you for cooking.”
“My pleasure.”
When he picked up his dishes, he realized she’d also emptied the sink, done the dishes, and scoured the kitchen to a gleaming brightness. “And for cleaning. You must have worked your ass off.”
“You’re welcome.” Her lips turned up in her quirky smile. “You may call me a full-service guest.”
“Cleaning and fucking and cooking? I’d say so.”
“I hadn’t realized I’d done so much.” A line creased her forehead, and she looked around the clean kitchen as if she didn’t recognize it. Her expression turned almost frightened before becoming unreadable. “I should get home.”
“Why?” Now what had set her off? He hated to admit he didn’t totally understand her yet. Hadn’t had the chance to get to know her past, and she wasn’t exactly spilling all her deets to him. Wary woman. He rotated the wine glass in his hand and considered her. “Does it bother you that we fucked?”
She looked startled. Then again, the little Southerner didn’t throw the fuck word around a lot. Or talk about the act itself.
“Um. No. Actually, no.”
“Well, then.” She couldn’t possibly think he was using her for sex. Surely he’d made clear he wanted more.
He watched as her gaze flitted over the table, the room, anywhere but him. Something contracted in his gut. “Gin, I’d like you to spend the night. Is that a problem?”
“I… No. Yes.” She gave him a frustrated look and buried her face in her hands with a muffled, “Ack.”
Well, damn, wasn’t she a mess of contradictions? He walked around the table.
Before he reached her, she rose. “I think it’s time I got back.”
“I think it’s time we talked.” He held his hand out to her, but she backed away as if he’d threatened her. What the hell? “Gin…”
“I’m so sorry, Atticus. I need to go home.” She wrapped her arms around herself.
Maybe if he knew her better, if she was his submissive, he’d be justified in pressing her.
Unfortunately, she’d made her position clear.
They were friends with benefits. Nothing more.
He paused, giving her a chance to change her mind, then shook his head in defeat.
“Get your things. I’ll fire up the truck. ”
A few minutes later, he slowed for the turn into the Mastersons’ spread.
“Not here. My car is at the lodge.” At his lifted brows, she added, “I was visiting Kallie. She took me with her when she went to feed the horses.”
Although Kallie helped out with chores when the other Mastersons were off in the mountains, she lived at Serenity Lodge with her husband, Jake. “Got it.”
Stepping on the gas, he continued up the mountain. The gray of the road darkened with his mood; the silence was a weight all its own.
He pulled into the Serenity Lodge parking area and got out.
Gin didn’t wait for him to open her door, but jumped out on her own. “I’m sorry, Atticus. You had a horrible day, and I’m… Instead I dragged you back out. I’m sorry.” Her gaze searched his face. “I hope you sleep all right and… Well. Good night.”
She headed for her ride.
Eager to get away from him? His mouth tightened. This was bullshit. He caught up, opened her car door, and gripped her arm carefully, but firmly. “Talk to me, Gin. I’m missing something here.”
Her gaze dropped to the beaten-down earth and the flattened weeds.
He let her think. He’d wait for fucking ever if need be. What the hell was going on inside her?
After a minute, she straightened her shoulders.
Her face was pale and strained as she stared at the trees.
Not him. Not a good sign. “Okay, it’s like this,” she said.
“I moved away from Louisiana to get away from…myself. No, to get away from the man I was seeing. He was… No, I was…” She bit her lip.
“The problem is how I let him—all men—use me. It’s something wrong in me, and I left because it was the only way I could think of to stop the way things were. ”
Atticus bit down on his molars until he could hear them grind in protest. Be a pleasure to meet the asshole who could make this gentle woman look so torn and lost. “So you moved here.”
“Exactly.” Her gaze finally met his. “I love it here, but I don’t want to get into…a relationship…with you. I don’t trust… No, I mean, I try too hard to… I’d do anything to—”
“What?” She didn’t trust him? The insult snapped his spine straight. Jesus Christ. “You think I’d use you?” His stepfather had used his mother. Abused her. “I didn’t ask you to cook or clean for me.”
“You don’t understand.” She shook her head. “I just don’t want to be the one giving all the time and—”
Coldness filled him. He opened his hand and released her arm. “We sure as hell wouldn’t want that to happen. Guess it’s best you cut this off now.”
Her hand rose as if she wanted to touch his face.
He stepped back. Too late. Jesus, he hadn’t even wanted her to cook, hadn’t invited her into his shower. And now she accused him of taking.
Gin felt despair filling her as the hurt expression in Atticus’s eyes changed to a bitter icy color. As if he saw a stranger. One he didn’t like.
He turned on his heel and strode back to his truck.
She stared after him, feeling the words battering at her closed throat, the memories swirling in her head. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Don’t leave. I’ll make everything pretty in the house.” But he’d walked away without looking back.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get the dry cleaning, Preston. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
Just don’t look at me as if I let you down.
Love me, please. Don’t leave me.
And here she was again, wanting to do anything, say anything, to persuade a man to stay. She swallowed the nausea, swallowed the words.
The truck door slammed. With a dull roar, the pickup exited the lot.
She stood, paralyzed, listening to the sound fade.
Gone.
A sob shuddered through her, and she gulped it down too.
This was for the best, for both of them.
She’d gotten too close to him and relapsed into her old patterns.
It certainly wasn’t his fault—this was all on her.
She knew better than to get involved with a man.
Any man. Because what happened? She turned into a doormat.
She couldn’t let herself fall into those patterns again.
But, she’d hurt him. Made him angry. Oh, she’d never meant to do that.
Everything in her told her to follow. To apologize. Atticus wasn’t Preston, wasn’t her father. In fact, he was so, so special. Which made her want even more to give him everything. Anything he wanted.
She mustn’t. She knew better.
“I’m not going to slave for a man,” she said aloud. Firmly. But she kept seeing the unhappy look in his eyes. The hurt. What had she done?
She took a step forward. She needed to explain.
No. She’d go right back to him and give up her entire being—that’s what would happen. What always happened.
But loving him would be worth it.
No. Her thinking was wrong. Girl, you are so screwed up. “No man is worth—”
“That what you think?” The harsh masculine voice snapped her head up. Becca and Logan stood beside Becca’s car.
Becca looked dismayed.
But her husband… Logan’s deadly expression rivaled the granite mountains behind him. His condemning gaze held Gin’s long enough to shrivel something inside her, and then he jerked his chin. “Beat it.”
The rest of his words remained unspoken, but clear. “You’re not worth it.”
Her breathing hitched painfully. Without looking at them again, she got into her car. Turned the key. Stepped on the gas pedal.
Branches scraped the passenger door.
Oh Atticus, I’m sorry. I hate this. Hate what I’ve done. Blinking the tears from her eyes, she found the gray concrete road, cold and barren, leading her back down the mountain.