"Make love," she corrected in a small voice.

He stopped and raised his head. Unreasonable anger tore into him. This was the twenty-first f.u.c.king century. b.i.t.c.hes, even young b.i.t.c.hes, couldn't be stupid enough to believe in all that romance bulls.h.i.t? Even Cinda-f.u.c.king-rella, here. She couldn't be that innocent not to recognize a man like him didn't "make love".

"You wanna make love?" he sneered.

Not innocent. f.u.c.king moronic because she nodded and added, "with you."

Her fingers slipped through his hair and her touch jolted through him. He hissed in air, another ent.i.ty he couldn't name entering the battle between his d.i.c.k and his conscience. She licked her lips and he groaned, bending his head to slant his mouth over hers. He delved into her hot recesses and brushed his fingers through her p.u.s.s.y curls. Her legs parted, allowing him to thumb her c.l.i.t, tease her slick slit.

He nipped her earlobe. "I ain't makin' love to you or no b.i.t.c.h, Megan," he breathed, inserting a finger into her tight p.u.s.s.y but going only so far. "You want me? Then we f.u.c.kin'. I'm gonna eat your p.u.s.s.y until you come. Get you nice and wet." He tore open her shirt and licked her nipple. "Then I'm gonna bury my d.i.c.k in you. No condom. No nothin'. Ain't never had a virgin before. Ain't gonna ruin it with no c.u.m catcher." She let out a sob but rolled her hips against his thumb and finger. He kissed her belly and continued to manipulate her. "When I come, I'm gonna fill your p.u.s.s.y up." Jesus. G.o.d. The thought had him rock hard and his b.a.l.l.s were aching. He nosed her p.u.s.s.y, slid his tongue along her seam. "I put my kid in you-" He lapped her, digging his fingers into her hips. G.o.d, she was f.u.c.king delicious, sweet and musky. Her juices, a fountain of desire, was warm and wet, a temptation greater than Christopher had ever known. Her breath hitched and he tongued her faster. She grinded against his mouth, pulling at his hair, her legs trembling, her body jerking against him as she came hard.

He dragged himself up her body and kissed her again, driving his tongue into her mouth. Wrapping her in his arms, he rolled them until he lay on his back and she rested on top of him, her hair a golden curtain around them.

"You like the taste of your p.u.s.s.y on my mouth?" he asked when he pulled his mouth away from hers. She didn't answer and he drew her lips to his again, giving her another deep kiss. "Do you?" he growled.

"Yes," she whispered.

He palmed his c.o.c.k. "Suck my d.i.c.k," he ordered, pushing at her shoulders. "Ain't gonna take long. He's already c.o.c.ked and loaded."

Confusion dented her glazed pa.s.sion. Instead of explaining, he urged her down. When her mouth wrapped around his d.i.c.k head, Christopher moaned. "Suck," he breathed.

She started a soft sucking motion and he twisted his hands in her hair. He pumped his hips, his muscles tightening. c.u.m exploded from him and into her mouth. He held her head in place, his entire body jerking with the force of his o.r.g.a.s.m.

Wetness slid down his c.o.c.k and pooled on his b.a.l.l.s and pubic hair. Breathing hard, he lifted his head to see what the f.u.c.k was going on.

"Swallow, Megan," he growled, pulling his d.i.c.k out of her mouth and frowning at the c.u.m sliding down her chin.

She licked a bead of c.u.m from her lips and Christopher's c.o.c.k jumped. Her eyes were wide and bright, her features resembling someone who'd lost a best friend.

He wasn't going to regret this. He wasn't. She was just another b.i.t.c.h who he'd licked and then had her suck him off.

Tears slipped out of her eyes, silvery tracks in the moonlit room. Christopher knuckled them away. f.u.c.k. What the f.u.c.k was he doing? Her step f.u.c.khead had molested her and he, Christopher, was d.a.m.n near raping her. But he wanted her so f.u.c.king bad and, now, he'd had a taste of her sweetness. Only, her inexperienced mouth wasn't the part of her he wanted.

He shot out of bed and yanked his jeans on. Club problems, hours of drinking, s.e.xual frustration combined with his dilemma over Megan. If he said anything more, it would come out all wrong. He didn't even know what the f.u.c.k he should say. Instead, he leveled a glare at her, grabbed his bottle, and sauntered out of the room.

Chapter 16.

Meggie hadn't seen Christopher in three days. Not since they'd made out in his bed and she'd waged a war between his words and his actions. Her body-his skill-had won out. Then he'd left without a word.

She told herself she was happy, that she didn't need to see him or want to see him for that matter. For the most part, she remained in the bedroom. She'd figured out how to work his stereo system even though the empty iPod dock made her long for the iPad she'd left behind. She tried to focus on the novels Christopher had bought for her, but every time she heard footsteps she remembered hiding beneath the bed while the place had been shot up. On the heels of waiting for gunfire to explode around her, she always expected Christopher to burst into the room. Or try to, since she'd locked the door the morning after he was released from the hospital and left in such a snit.

Her small luxury was having a bathroom at her disposal. Being able to take showers and wash her hair. She couldn't stand wearing the same dirty clothes she'd had on since forever, so she rummaged through Christopher's drawers and found T-shirts to wear to bed and during the day, along with drawstring pants that she had to roll up a gazillion times. She used twine she found at the bottom of his closet to tie around the waist. As for bra and panties...she went without.

Yesterday, she'd gone out into the main room for dinner. At first, she'd gotten a few stares, but they left her alone. Feeling isolated, she'd gone to Christopher's office. Maybe, there, she could find peace, feel closer to her father-and Christopher. She decided to do the same thing today. Once she finished eating, though, she'd snoop a little and see what Christopher kept in the desk drawers. He had to have a record somewhere of her father's final resting place. She should've looked yesterday. But she'd worried someone would find her. That was still a possibility this evening, she knew, one she was willing to risk because she'd sat in Christopher's office for over an hour yesterday, just to feel close to him and her father.

Fixing a cheese sandwich and grabbing a soda, she mumbled greetings on her way toward the office. She noticed the light on and couldn't stop the goofy grin. Christopher had returned. He was the only one allowed to go into that office. She swore she'd confess that she'd gone in his office, knowing she wasn't supposed to.

Balancing her plate on top of the can, she pushed open the door. The food and drink slipped out of her hands and her greeting died on her lips, her stomach sinking to her toes. Christopher leaned over Kiera, bent over the desk, both of them naked. They looked up and Meggie stepped back, mute, frozen, her heart twisting in her chest.

Her gaze dropped to Christopher's erect p.e.n.i.s. A condom covered him but he was still huge, long and thick, and not nearly satisfied. He stared at her, his expression hard. Meggie's stomach turned and tears rushed to her eyes.

"Would you get out so he can finish doing me?" Kiera snapped, tweaking her nipples. She twisted around and kissed Christopher, the meeting of their tongues very visible.

Christopher chuckled and pulled away from her. "Wait a minute," he murmured. Unashamed in his nudity, he sauntered toward Meggie, sidestepping her lost supper. Grabbing her by the arms, he backed her out of the room and slammed the door in her face.

Meggie swiped at her tears then ran to Christopher's room. The time had come for her to leave and forget about the conversation she'd had with Digger.

Christopher bought time with Kiera by cleaning up the mess Megan had made. What the f.u.c.k had she been doing in his office any-f.u.c.king-way? Just half an hour ago, he'd been ready to f.u.c.k Kiera into oblivion. Now? Not so much.

Kiera sidled up to him, reaching for his d.i.c.k. He pushed her away, deciding his healing wounds had him f.u.c.king delirious. But he felt tangled inside, furious with Kiera for her accusations against Megan while he waged a war to do right by Megan. And doing right meant keeping his d.i.c.k out of her. He pulled the condom off and discarded it. "Get dressed, babe."

Her eyes widened and her mouth tightened. "Are you s.h.i.tting me?" she asked.

"No." He grabbed his jeans and put them on. He'd lost most of his erection, but he still took care with the zipper.

She planted a kiss in the bridge of his shoulder. A tall girl, the top of her head reached his nose. She slipped her hands in his pants, gripping his c.o.c.k. "Come on," she breathed, nipping his nipple.

He pulled her hands out of his pants and shoved her away. "Get f.u.c.kin' dressed, Kiera."

"You have something going on with...with-" She jerked her head in the direction of his door, the place where Meggie had stood frozen, hurt. Not that he gave a f.u.c.k. He just needed to smooth this over with her so she wouldn't be any trouble in the club. He'd hate to have to put her out.

"I'm givin' you two b.i.t.c.hes a f.u.c.kin' choice," he snarled. "You can be Megan's friend and look out for her or I'm barrin' you c.u.n.ts from ever settin' foot in here again."

Christopher saw the wheels in Kiera's head turning. She stared at him through her lashes, scheming. He wasn't having it.

"If you accept my offer and you backstab me, I'm gonna bury you two."

She blinked at his harsh tone. He ignored it.

"Meetin's goin' on here tomorrow. Megan needs to leave for a while." He'd called Zoann but she'd help only if Christopher agreed to turn in his patch. He'd offered to drop Megan off and walk out of her life if Zoann allowed Megan to move in with her. Christopher had promised to pay Zoann's mortgage as long as Meggie lived with her. He thought Zoann would be a good influence on her. He'd forgotten what a grudge holding b.i.t.c.h she could be. He'd hung up and decided to enlist Kiera and Ellen.

"Bar us? You don't mean that."

"The f.u.c.k I don't, Kiera. If you make Megan cry, hurt her pretendin' we more than we are, make her feel anythin' other than at ease and safe, you gonna be some sorry b.i.t.c.hes."

"Ellen said you had your nose shoved up that girl's p.u.s.s.y. I guess she was right."

"Whatever the f.u.c.k I have with that girl ain'tcha f.u.c.kin' business."

She sucked in a breath. "You really like her, don't you?"

He shrugged and went to his safe. The safe Snake knew about but left untouched. Christopher counted out some bills and handed them to Kiera. "Be here bright and early tomorrow. Bring her to the mall. She needs new clothes. Let her buy whatever the f.u.c.k she wants. I'm thinkin' about goin' to Long Beach. See my mother." But more importantly... "Get Megan the f.u.c.k away from here."

Kiera fisted her hand around the money, then kissed his lips and smiled at him. "Megan's a lucky girl. I just hope she can handle you."

Christopher laughed. "We'll see, won't we?"

Without speaking, Kiera began to dress, casting confused glances his way. Not only did she look bewildered, she also looked hurt. He wasn't about to deal with two emotional b.i.t.c.hes, so he folded his arms and waited until she left before making his way to his room.

He turned the k.n.o.b and found it locked. Scowling, he pounded on the door. "Open the f.u.c.kin' door, Megan."

She couldn't really think to lock him out of his own f.u.c.king room, could she? He lifted his fist to pound again when the door opened. While she stomped away, he stepped in and locked it behind him, staring at the books and magazines stacked on his bed. He recognized them as the ones he'd bought her the other night. Next to that was her backpack.

She swiped the back of her hand across each cheek. "I-I will be gone just as soon as I figure out what to d-do with my books and stuff." She sniffled.

"What were you doin' in my office?"

"I'm sick of being in here," she spat, her look shooting fiery daggers at him. "I sat in your office yesterday to eat. I-I didn't think there would be a problem doing the same thing today."

He stalked to her, pretending he didn't give a f.u.c.k to see her things spread out. "Obviously, you were wrong."

Her lower lip trembled. "Obviously, I was," she whispered.

"Where you goin'?"

She shrugged, then spun away from him. "I'll find someplace."

Her little a.s.s outlined his pants as she bent over. Cheeky little b.i.t.c.h, wearing his clothes without his permission. "Sit. I'm gonna shower. Don't f.u.c.kin' move. If I have to go lookin' for you, I think I'll beat you," he growled. He was angry he'd hurt her and angry he gave a f.u.c.k.

Twenty minutes later, a towel wrapped around his hips, he found Megan on the bed, arms crossed, glowering in his direction. Until she saw his state of undress. She turned red and lowered her lashes, but she didn't look away. Her gaze fastened to one particular part of him and that part jumped. He dropped his towel and her eyes widened. She licked her lips.

A slow burn percolated in his b.a.l.l.s and fanned out into every inch of his body. He'd warned her until he was blue as a f.u.c.king Smurf. Whatever starry-eyed s.h.i.t swirling in her head made her not believe his words. Why, he didn't have a f.u.c.king clue. He knew who the f.u.c.k he was better than anybody.

He'd try one more f.u.c.king time. Pulling the last shreds of decency from his soul, he walked to her and crouched in front of her, his manner casual, when all he wanted to do was throw her down and f.u.c.k her for hours. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"I ain't a f.u.c.kin' gentleman, Megan. The closest I've come is with you. Then you barge in my office in the middle of a down stroke. Runnin' away with those f.u.c.kin' blue eyes of yours filled with tears and s.h.i.t. All kinds of s.h.i.t I ain't supposed to recognize but I did anyway cuz I have f.u.c.kin' sisters." Even if he didn't, he'd still recognize Megan's hurt. She'd reached him that deeply. "Ain't ever recognized that s.h.i.t on any other girl but them. And now you." He stroked her soft cheek, stained pink, warm beneath his caress. She sighed and leaned into his touch. "I ain't gonna say this s.h.i.t but one f.u.c.kin' more time, so listen. You in my bed. If I sleep in here, we're f.u.c.kin'. Ain't no ifs or buts about it. So you think long about that before you answer me. If I leave, I'm gonna go f.u.c.k Kiera and-" The name Ellen died on his lips. Megan didn't need to be subjected to s.h.i.t that sordid. At the moment, Ellen just looked like a jealous b.i.t.c.h. "If I walk out, you ain't got s.h.i.t to say about who I f.u.c.k."

"Where have you been for the past three days?"

He frowned at her and dropped his hand. He'd been taking care of things, but he'd also gone to the cemetery and ordered a headstone for Boss. He didn't have a casket to put in the ground, but Megan needed a place to visit her daddy. If Outlaw could give her nothing else, he could give her that. Not that she had to know anything until the headstone was placed or what it had cost him to get a headstone for an empty grave when everyone knew who he was. Who Joseph Foy had been. "My whereabouts the past three days ain'tcha business."

Her shoulders drooped. f.u.c.k him, why did he have to notice every detail about her?

She cleared her throat. "So if we make lo-"

"f.u.c.k," he corrected, wrestling with his need to keep some distance and his desire to make her happy.

She looked away, her eyes watering again, then nodded. "That's all we'll do? I-I mean I-I can't be your girlfriend?"

"Old lady," he amended. Confusion knit her brow and he sighed. He'd never worked so hard for p.u.s.s.y. But he wanted her p.u.s.s.y. No doubt about it. "Around here you ain't a girlfriend. You an old lady. Don't matter how old you are. It's a term of respect."

"Oh."

"And, no, you wouldn't be my old lady."

She chewed on her lower lip. "What would I be?"

"Some a.s.s, I guess."

His answers wasn't making her so happy. Tough s.h.i.t. Her f.u.c.king questions wasn't making him happy. She wanted a relationship. Relationships meant obligations and obligations meant commitment.

She sucked in a breath and those d.a.m.nable eyes of hers, the eyes that saw past his outer sh.e.l.l, clouded. "Th-that means anybody could do that with me?"

That's what it should mean. a.s.s was a.s.s, pa.s.sed around from one brother to the next, as the mood hit. The thought of another f.u.c.ker touching Megan sent murderous fury through him. But he wouldn't tell that s.h.i.t to her. "Not if you don't want. You'll only be my a.s.s 'til we straighten s.h.i.t out."

"Would you still sleep with other ladies?"

Ladies, huh? "Probably." Not. b.i.t.c.hes were brutal. If he still d.i.c.ked other b.i.t.c.hes, they'd eat Megan alive and spit her out. She was too f.u.c.king nave and they'd attack her like a feral wolf pack. As it was, he'd have to put the word out to more than just Kiera and Ellen. Megan was f.u.c.king off-limits to all that catty bulls.h.i.t.

Christopher stood and her eyes rounded at his fully erect c.o.c.k. He wondered what about his d.i.c.k fascinated her so much. But, then, she reached out a trembling hand to touch it and he really didn't give a f.u.c.k.

She stroked him, light and unsure. His d.i.c.k throbbed and her gaze flew to his, her little hand hovering just above his hardness. He grabbed her hand and wrapped it around his c.o.c.k, reveling in her fluttery touches, needing to get inside of her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and moved her onto her back. All the while his mouth ravished hers and he was moving over her to cover her with his body.

He'd never tasted a mouth as f.u.c.king sweet as hers. He delved his tongue in, sipping from her, devouring her. His hand moved down, felt the tie around his pants covering her pretty little a.s.s. He paused, glanced down at her clothes and shook his head. It wasn't as if she'd f.u.c.king need clothes for the rest of the night. Tomorrow, he'd get her some s.h.i.t.

He untied her makeshift belt and inserted his hand into the waistband, finding her bare. He supposed she hadn't been able to find underwear. Easy access. All the better for him.

She froze when his finger caressed her slit.

"What?"

"He liked his hands there," she said quietly.

He being her f.u.c.king stepfather. He'd deal with that f.u.c.ker. He rubbed her nose with his, using his forefinger to caress her with the barest touch.

He slid his finger over her again and she moaned.

"If you want me to stop all you gotta do is tell me, baby." He thrust his tongue back into her mouth and feasted upon her lips for a minute before pulling away. His finger had found her feminine folds. He wanted to sing a chorus of hallelujahs at how ready for him he found her. Wet, hot, and tight, her p.u.s.s.y was his own personal Promised Land. He hoped like f.u.c.k she didn't halt him. But he'd do whatever she wanted. "Like now. You want me to stop rubbing your p.u.s.s.y, just tell me." He twisted his thumb against her c.l.i.t as he breathed those words against her ear.

She whimpered.

He laughed and kissed her again, speeding up his moving finger, adding a second when her hands went to his hair and combed through his locks. He bared the lower half of her body and shoved the shirt she wore above her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, laying his hand against the flatness of her belly, nearly covering her. In contrast to his big, tanned, hand, her body was golden, perfect. He kissed around her belly b.u.t.ton, her pubic bone, her soft, blonde p.u.s.s.y hair before going to the inside of her thigh and licking the tender skin there. He spread her thighs wide and bent his head, tonguing her p.u.s.s.y in one, long slow lick. She moaned. He lifted her up to him, settling her a.s.s cheeks in his palms. He licked her, concentrating on her c.l.i.t, wanting her to come to make his pa.s.sage inside her easier. He glanced up and saw she'd lifted up on her elbows to watch him eating her. He surmised she saw his mouth consuming her sweet, pink flesh, his black hair dark against her champagne colored skin, his jaw with five o'clock shadow rough looking next to her golden curls.

She trembled against his tongue and arched up, her nipples hard points. He licked her through her o.r.g.a.s.m before kissing his way back up her body and removing the shirt she wore. His clothes had swallowed her, he thought as he took her mouth again, curling his tongue around hers, filling her mouth with her own sweet muskiness.

He rolled onto her, lost in the blueness of her eyes, determined to ignore the trust in them. He parted her thighs with his hips and settled himself between her legs, not losing the connection of their mouths. He pushed his c.o.c.k into her, not yet reaching her cherry. He went deeper and found the barrier. He swallowed, realizing he didn't want to hurt her. Unfortunately, to f.u.c.k her, he had to hurt her this time. If the thought of another man having his c.o.c.k in her didn't infuriate him, he'd get up now. But he had to be the one to do this. Couldn't imagine anyone else.

He spread her legs wider, kissed her deeper, and surged into her, burying himself fully inside of her. He caught her scream in his mouth, cursing to himself when her body stiffened beneath his. He groaned at the tight grip of her p.u.s.s.y around his d.i.c.k.

He tore his mouth from hers, breathing hard. "You gotta relax, Megan," he whispered, threading his hands with hers. "It ain't gonna stop hurtin' if you stay so tense."