She overflowed. Her sweet juice filled his mouth, making him drunk on her. He moved back, taking the plug and lubricant from the bed.
“How long since you used it?” He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had to see her take it. He had to see her filled with it.
“Yesterday,” she cried out as he began smearing the thick lubricant over the little hole, then placed the nozzle at her opening and squeezed.
She shivered and shook. She cried out as perspiration covered her skin. Then he carefully lubed the thick device, applied the head to her small opening. He pulled the cheeks of her ass carefully apart, watching with narrow-eyed wonder as she groaned in arousal, spreading to accept it, crying out in pleasure as the thick base lodged completely inside her.
“Marly.” His hands caressed the pale globes as he stared at the flared knob that kept it from entering her further. “Marly baby. You’re killing me.”
He turned her over on her back, staring in awe at the dazed pleasure on her face, the long, hard nipples flushed and needy. He raised himself over her, his lips covering one of those hard tips as her hands clasped his head and she cried out in pleasure.
His hand moved to her cunt, so wet and hot, massaging her clit as she thrust herself against him, nearly screaming as lust consumed her. Within seconds her body was shaking with her climax, surprisingly triggering his own as his erection rubbed against her thigh. The quick ejaculation surprised him, terrified him. He had never come so fast, so hot without the grip of a tight, female body.
He jerked away from her. He stared down at her spread thighs, the end of the plug clearly visible, her lips flowered open, her slit wet and slick. His pants were stained with his release, his hands shaking with need.
“Damn. Damn you.” He felt like a monster. He was a monster. This was Marly. His Marly. And he was taking her like the common whores he had used over the years.
His hands went through his hair in frustrated agony as she whispered his name. She still wanted. She still needed. Just as he did. It was killing him, this need.
“You’ve turned me into a monster, Marly,” he whispered, tortured. “Look at me, shaking to take you there, to take you anywhere. I raised you. Like my own, Marly. I raised you. This is wrong. It’s just wrong.”
He turned, stalking from her room, ignoring her cry of pain. He couldn’t stand it. He had to think, to figure out what he was doing, and how to stop it. If he could stop it. He had a terrible feeling it had just passed any limit where it could ever be halted.
Chapter Eleven
The next afternoon was just as unsettling as the previous one had been. With Cade stalking the house and ranch yards, his dark eyes watching Marly every chance he got. He was like an animal, ready to snap. He refused to smile at her; to even talk to her. He looked at her as though he didn’t even know her. It was enough to make her want to pack up and go back to school, but Sam was certain it meant she was making headway. He just had no idea of the previous night, and she couldn’t tell him. And Cade refused to hear her when she mentioned returning. But watching Sam now, Marly was certain her idea was the best course of action. He was going to get her killed.
Sam, Greg and her were going to end up stripped bare of flesh when Cade got finished with the tongue lashing he would surely inflict on them, Marly thought as she sat silently through lunch. Sam was his usual, ‘tactless’ self, acting on impulse and stirring waters better left alone. Marly had never imagined he would go so far. Especially not after yesterday’s debacle.
“Come on, Marly, surely you have a few boyfriends in college. You don’t spend all your time studying?” Sam pushed her; his eyes alight with mischief and a hidden message to lie if she had to. She knew that look. Sam was more than pissed with Cade. He was out for revenge.
Marly fought her grin, ignoring Cade’s brooding looks from the head of the table. She aimed him a look from beneath her lashes. Sam had spent hours teaching her how to do that in the mirror that morning. They had both decided to fight Cade’s fire with more of their own.
At first, Marly had been hesitant. Cade was enraged already, stomping around the house like a mad man. But upon reflection, and Sam’s insights into the stupidity of a male mind, she had reluctantly agreed to go along with him.
She shrugged slowly, shaking her head. There really weren’t any boyfriends.
Cade gave Greg an evil glare when she didn’t answer. Marly almost laughed out loud as Greg paled. He was terrified of Cade. They would all be lucky if he didn’t give the game up out of fear.
“You remember that one little creep you were so hot for a few years back?” Sam asked her with a frown.
Marly’s eyes widened as she almost choked on her food. There wasn’t anyone she was hot for. What was Sam doing now? She shook her head desperately to convince him to stop now.
“Yeah you do.” He leaned forward intently, frowning at her action. “What was his name? Let me think—” He narrowed his eyes intently. “Dillon wasn’t it? Dillon Carlyle? I thought it was him when I was talking to him yesterday.”
Oh Lord, no! Not Dillon. He was Madison County’s most revered playboy, even to this day. Marly didn’t choke on her food this time, but Cade seemed to wheeze as he gave her a furious glare.
“Damn good thing she didn’t tell me about it,” his voice was low and angry, his eyes hard as he glanced at her.
Sam seemed surprised.
“Damn, Cade. I told him he could come over tonight. He mentioned wanting to see her in town yesterday, so I told him to come on around.” Sam was frowning, distressed. Who knew he and Dillon were such pals? “Besides, I think Marly needs a break from you. See what it’s like to be treated right by someone who knows what a woman is.”
Cade laid his fork carefully on his plate as his gaze rose to meet Sam’s. The need for violence pulsed in the air around him. Thankfully, he chose to ignore the last remark.
“Are you crazy?” he asked him carefully. “Dillon is not fit company for Marly.”
“Dillon’s damned near as rich as you.” Sam began to tick off the man’s qualities on the fingers of one hand.