ed his cock from his pants. Tried. Failed. I wanted it.
“It’s going to go like this, Red. Either you do as I say and get on my dick right now, or when I get better, I’m going to tie you to my bed, cane your ass slowly over hours as you cry and scream for me to stop. I’ll record the whole thing and make you watch it as I fuck your mouth, your pussy, your ass; do whatever I want.” His smirk grew. “And I can tell you want that. I see your pulse rising, your skin flushing. I know what I just said turns you on. And I promise you’ll get it. All of it. The difference, though, is that if you disobey me right now, I won’t let you come then or for an entire week after.” He stroked his cock, his palm sliding against the soft skin as he spoke. “It’s up to you. I’m going to fuck you either way. You don’t have a say in that. But do you want to come?”
I couldn’t look away from him as the threat hung in the air. He would do all those things. The set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes promised me he would. My pussy was already wet just from the way he said it, from the violence I knew churned inside him. Yes, I wanted it, and no, not coming for a week did not sound like a good deal.
Rising, I shucked my jeans and panties. He followed each movement, a satisfied grin replacing the smirk.
“You’re an asshole.” I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it on the floor.
“Water is wet. Just like your cunt.” He ran his hand down my ass as I pressed one knee onto the couch. “Mount up, cowgirl.”
“If this kills you, you have no one to blame but yourself.”
“Noted.” He dug his fingertips into my hips and situated me so I straddled him.
He groaned when I sat on his cock, pinning it between us.
“Are you okay?” I glanced to the bandage over his chest.
“No, I’m not okay.” He rocked against me, his cock sliding across my slick skin and creating a buzz in my clit. “Not until I’m inside you.”
I gripped the couch’s arm behind his head and rubbed my pussy up and down against his hard shaft. He grabbed my left breast and squeezed. Wrapping one hand around my neck, he pulled me down until he could claim my other nipple between his teeth. He bit me, and I gasped and stopped moving.
“Don’t stop.” A vicious smack on my ass put me into motion again.
I rode him, my arousal spiraling out of control as he sucked and bit my breasts. He slapped my ass again, the sting like a splash of lighter fluid on a fire. I leaned away from him, and he let me go.
“I can’t wait.” He pressed his thumb under his cock and pointed it toward me.
I lifted my left knee to line him up with my entrance. When I slid down on him, his thick cock touching me in all the right places, a shudder of pleasure rocketed through me. I stretched for him, adjusting as he cupped my breasts with his large palms.
My rhythm started slow, my hips testing the bounds of how deep he could go.
“Faster. Fuck me.” His gritty voice was accompanied by another hard slap on my ass, then another.
“Garrett.” I moved faster, keeping him deep and rubbing my clit against him with each stroke.
Another hard slap ripped a cry from me.
“Yes.” He hit me again. “Fuck yes.”
I kept riding him, his strikes crossing the wires on the ticking time bomb of pleasure and pain. His name coated my tongue, and I moaned when he wrapped his palm around my throat and squeezed. Again, he hit the sore spot on my ass, but I didn’t stop. Instead, I chased my orgasm with reckless abandon. I could see it ahead, just outside my vision, taunting me.
“Fucking hell.” He groaned. “Goddamn.”
I dug my nails into the couch as filthy words poured from his mouth. Each one like another euphoric slap on my skin.
“I knew you wanted it the moment I saw you.” He twisted my nipple, then slapped my breast.
I jerked at the pain, but wanted more. Always more. “Yes.” I purred past his palm as my pussy tensed and he hit my breast again.
“Tell me you wanted it.”
“I did. Yes.” Just saying the words was like a shot of heroin in my veins.
He thrust up, his cock hitting my spot, and moved his hand back to slap my ass. “Mine from the start.”
I quaked, my muscles dancing to the dark music he played.
“Whose cunt am I fucking?” His grip on my neck tightened. Smack.
“Yours.” I squeaked past the pressure at my throat.
“I bet you want me to come in your slippery cunt, don’t you?”Smack.
“Yes.” I met his wild eyes. “Please.”
“Fuck.” He squeezed my throat, and all air stopped.
I kept riding him, my release hovering on the edge of a knife. My throat burned as I increased my pace, getting every bit of friction between us. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I flirted with unconsciousness. I was almost gone when he released my neck, and my orgasm burst through my body like a firework.
I screamed as I came. High, frothy waves of pleasure rolled over me. Garrett grunted and surged up, embedding himself completely inside me as my toes curled and my mind blanked.
“Fucking shit.” He grunted and then groaned low as his hips pistoned into me, his cock kicking with each spurt.
He emptied inside me as I quaked, unable to control my movements as aftershocks shot through me like jolts of electricity. With a final groan, he relaxed down onto the couch and pulled me to his chest.
I collapsed on top of him and sucked air into my lungs. He wrapped his arms around my back and pressed us together, his rapid heartbeat almost matching mine. I should have asked if he was okay, if his lung hurt, if I needed to move off his chest. Instead, I sank into him, let him hold me as lightness took over my limbs. I snuggled closer as he stroked my back.
We lay together for a while, long enough for me to blink away the bliss and realize that I’d wantonly fucked a man who’d been in the hospital just a few days earlier.
I sat up and peeked at his bandage. It was still clean.
“Red, you have no idea how badly I needed that.” He stretched his arms up and tucked his hands behind his head—the picture of masculine satisfaction.
He winced as I stood, his semi sliding out of me.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” I called over my shoulder as I hurried to the bathroom.
“You loved it!” he yelled back as I cleaned myself up.
I took some tissue and a small tumbler of water back to him. “I may have enjoyed it.” I rubbed my ass. “That’s sore, though.”
He let out a breath, and his eyelids began to droop. “I love it when you wear my marks.” Reaching out, he ran his fingertips down the side of my breast. “Beautiful cherry red.”
“Drink this. You need to stay hydrated.” I tipped the water to his lips.
He took a few swallows, then gently pushed my hand away. “I’m good, just tired.”
“Rest.” I kissed him and smoothed the tape around the gauze on his chest. “You overdid it.”
“I want to overdo it again, soon.” His eyes closed. “I’ll be ready to go in an hour, tops, and that’s only because I’m injured.”
“Sure.” I brushed his hair away from his forehead as he slipped into slumber.
As soon as I was certain he was out, I dressed and headed to the foyer. My pack waited next to the door. I pulled on my socks and boots, then tucked my pistol at my back before pulling on a heavy coat. With one last glance toward the living room, I took a deep breath and eased the door open.
I’d be back before he woke. The meds I slipped into his water would make sure of it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I SPED INTO THE WOODS, putting far too much faith in the ATV and my helmet. Sapling branches smacked against me as the wheels ate up the rough terrain. I was on a deadline. My shoulder ached with each rough jolt, but my curiosity wouldn’t be denied. Garrett had another week of bed rest before he’d be able to do any riding, and there was no way he’d let me go alone. My need to investigate had intensified each day un
til I devised a plan—one that Garrett would be pissed about as soon as he figured out what I’d done.
The frigid air was still, giving no push back as I hurtled toward the biggest discovery of my search. The grave filled my thoughts. What was it doing out there, who dug it, and who was in it? My heart told me I’d find my father there, but I maintained an odd little sliver of hope. Like a splinter in my grief. Maybe it wasn’t him.
I focused on my path, following the trail we’d blazed a week before, then splitting off toward the shack. Digging the grave would take half an hour. I counted on safety for that short window of time. Even if the shooter had seen me leave the house, he’d have to have wings to make it to the spot of woods near the shack in time to do any damage.
Hunkering down, I picked my way through the undergrowth, aiming for patches of sun and avoiding marshy areas. The smell of damp earth clung to my nose as I rushed through the crystalline air and bitter cold. My thoughts flitted back to Garrett asleep in the house. I’d locked all the doors and made sure he’d be comfortable. Assuring myself that he wouldn’t be too mad when I got back home safe, I turned my attention to the thicket up ahead.
Heading to the left, I veered among the dark tree trunks until I found the opening in the twisted vines. I powered inside, my wheels following the faded tire tracks I’d left before. I pulled to the right, away from the shack, and toward the dig site. After about ten more minutes of riding, I slowed as I approached the dented ground, the dead limbs hiding nothing from my trained eye.
I rolled about ten feet from the depression and killed my engine. Then, I pulled off my helmet and listened. Minutes passed as my breath fogged in my face, and the tips of my ears began to ache from the cold. No sound, no breeze, just the infrequent sound of a woodpecker in a distant part of the forest. Satisfied, I slung my leg over the ATV and walked to the indentation. Dusky green moss crept along one side, covered here and there with brown leaf litter. One corner had a deeper depression—maybe due to normal settling or perhaps an animal trying to get at whatever lay beneath the ground.