Vanquish (Deliver 2)

He shook her, and her head rolled on her shoulders.

“Stop fucking hitting me.” Her voice growled with grogginess, her hostile look lost through heavy blinks.

He supported her neck with a hand and softly traced her frowning lips. “When was the last time you smiled, Amber? A real smile?” Liv used to smile at him. When she was plotting his death.

Sitting on the counter, she glanced around the bathroom, orienting herself, as the tension in her body awakened beneath his fingers. When her startled gaze locked on the covered windows beyond the door, her shoulders relaxed, but her hands jumped to cover her tits and lap—and the dried come that coated her skin beautifully. Did she really think she could hide from him?

Gripping her wrists, he pinned them to the counter behind her and wedged his denim-clad hips between her thighs.

Strands of blond hair stuck to the tracks of dried tears on her face. Her brown eyes were so light beneath the glare of the vertical sconces they burned a golden hue. Even tinged pink from exhaustion, they radiated a blinding energy. Absolutely stunning.

Her brows pulled together as she regarded him. “My last smile?”

He nodded, and because her lips were so fucking tempting, he leaned in and kissed them. Just a tease of warm, gliding flesh.

She didn't kiss back but didn't pull away either as she spoke against his mouth. “You were on my porch and asked me if I was going to give you herpes.”

The race of his heart drummed in his ears. She'd smiled at that? He had made her smile?

She cleared her throat and put an inch between them. “I should thank you for wearing a condom, but I'm not feeling very thankful at the moment.”

Shifting her wrists to one hand and pressing them against her back, he opened the drawers beneath the vanity. “I'm clean of STDs, checked regularly. I'll show you the bloodwork later.” He leaned back and gave her a few moments to scan the contents of the drawers.

One held six shades of brown hair dye and multiple boxes of each. Her eyebrows and lashes were dark, but since her cunt was shaved and her roots didn't show, he wasn't sure which was closest to her natural color. A home STD test kit waited in the other drawer.

Fascinating how her eyes dismissed the test and instead studied the boxes of dye like they held all the mysteries of the world.

He bent his knees so their faces were level. “I'm going to release your arms. You are not to cover yourself.”

Her jerky nod didn't tear her eyes from the drawer. When he let go, her hands flew to her hair, her fingers dragging and catching on the tangled length. “You want to change the color.” Her combing fingers sped up, shaking and restless. “You don't like it blond?”

Jesus. Her question was unexpected, but he should’ve seen it coming. It was her nature to please. To please him. And fuck no, he didn't like the bleached-out look against her warm skin. He wanted it the same dark brown as Liv's. And his mother's. Which was way too fucked up to admit out loud, even for him. “You don't like it.”

Her eyes flashed to his, and her mouth formed a beautiful, gasping O. “I don't...” Her brows furrowed. Then her nostrils flared on an inhale, and her gaze hardened. “Why would you assume that?”

“You fuss with your hair like it's the bane of your existence.” He shifted forward, sharing her breaths. “What you really want is to be accepted the way you are.”

He'd pulled that last part out of his ass, but given the sharp jerk of her shoulders, he hadn't been off the mark.

“Which one is your natural color, Amber?” He tapped on the boxes.

“It'll take at least two boxes.” She pointed to the deep brown black. “That one.”

His mother's color.

He pretended his stomach didn't just drop to the floor as he gathered the packages. He didn't let her wear a towel as she bent over the sink. Didn't fluster her with questions as she silently rubbed the dye into her hair. But he couldn't stop his fingers from tracing the bumps along her arched spine and watching her skin prickle beneath his touch.

While the dye set on her hair, she peed on the test stick and let him take her blood and swab her mouth and pussy. When he told her to turn around so he could swab her rectum, she backed into the wall, her eyes round and fearful. “No. Please. That's...that's...just no.”

He stepped into her space, using his bulk to crowd her. “Ever had a dick in your ass?”

“No!” Her tone was furious and her eyes blazed, but her chin shifted subtly up then down.

He rested a forearm on the wall beside her head. “Did you know body language betrays a lie? For example, the liar might nod while denying she enjoys getting her ass stretched by a cock.”

A swallow bobbed in her throat as she stared up at him with glassy eyes. She licked her lips. “It's been two years. I'm clean...there.”

“Let's let the lab decide that. Turn around.”

“I'll do it myself.” A ragged whisper.

He glowered down at her, giving her an eternity of strained silence to contemplate the consequences if she continued to push him. With black dye smearing her forehead and her hair in a lump of wet mess on her head, she looked deliciously vulnerable. Her chin quivered for a breathless moment; then finally, she released her lungs and faced the wall.

Squatting behind her with the swab in hand, he pried her firm cheeks apart. She was so damned tense, and he refused to fight her. “Tell me about your autographed books.”

The muscles in her ass twitched and relaxed. “They're just signatures.”

“Personalized to other people. Widen your stance.”

After a stubborn moment, her feet shifted apart.

He caressed the crease between her thigh and cheek, thrilling in the responsive quiver. “How did you get them?”

“I bought them on Ebay. I like the stories. And the sentimental signatures. The little notes for other people. Normal people.”

Ah. “But you don't know them. They may very well be more fucked up than you and me combined.” He slid two fingers between her now slightly less tense cheeks, exposed the sweet little pucker of her anus, and swabbed.

Enough time had lapsed between preparing the test swabs, reading the instructions, and collecting the cultures. The color should be set. He patted her hip and stood. “Jump in the shower and rinse your hair whi

le I package up the samples.”

Still pressed against the wall, she looked over her shoulder at him with a strange expression on her face. Dark shadows bruised her eyes, her posture slumping. No doubt she was exhausted, hungry, and still working through her shock of the last couple hours.

He turned toward the vanity and listened to her footsteps shuffle to the shower.

Thirty minutes later, he stood behind her as she stared into the mirror. He'd used the hairdryer on her hair and let her keep the towel tied around her chest. Rich deep brown fell like a waterfall around her shoulders and curled damned near to her waist over the white terrycloth. The color highlighted the dark lashes fringing her eyes and illuminated the glow of her honey skin tone.

She was even more beautiful than his mother. Mesmerized, he couldn't look away. “What do you think?”

She glanced at his eyes reflected in the mirror, her fists clenched around the top edge of the towel. “What do you—?”

“No.” He gripped the counter's edge beside her hips and pressed his chest against her back, glaring at her. “I asked what you thought of it.”

A noise squeaked in her throat, and she took a long moment to study her reflection. “It's...me.”

His chest pinched. “And you outshine any ideal you try to cover yourself with.” Her jaw tightened but he didn't miss the catch in her breath. He placed a kiss on her shoulder. “Let's go eat.”

“Where's my robe?” Her hands flew between her legs, covering the gap in the towel with a fan of trembling fingers. “Dammit, Van. Eyes up here.” She bent forward, trying to further hide her cunt.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. This was such bullshit. Obviously, he wasn't getting through to her. Fine. He would just force her to show him what the problem was. He dug beneath the sink, removed a large handheld mirror and set it on the wide space of counter beside the sink. Then he patted the oval of reflective glass. “Hop up. Legs spread. Knees that way.” He pointed at the mirrored wall behind the vanity.

Her head instantly started shaking side to side.