Faces Of Evil: Traceless Part 18

He didn't have to elaborate... she knew. Dammit. She knew what they did to young guys in a place like that. Especially one as handsome as Clint.

"You had a thing for me back then." He hissed the words, his mouth only centimeters from her temple when she turned away, couldn't bear to look anymore. "No matter how you denied it publicly, you did; I know you did."

"Yes." Why lie? There had been too many lies.

"How do you like me now, Emily?" He seized her chin and forced her to look at him.

Tears crowded behind her eyes, made her feel stupid and helpless. What did she say to that? That even now, with his fingers biting brutally into her flesh, she wanted him to make her feel the way she used to? He wasn't the only one who'd lost the ability to feel.

"You're the one thing," he said with such cruelty that she flinched, "that helped me survive all those years alone in that h.e.l.lhole."

Her heart shuddered at the realization that he had every reason to hate her, probably wished she were dead for what she'd done. How could she blame him?

"Every single night I told myself I would live another day just to make sure I could come back here and prove that you were wrong. To make all the people who put me there look at what they had done to me."

He didn't understand. She had suffered, but not the way he had. 'Then make me pay," she urged, her voice a pitiful warble when she wanted to sound strong. "But you'll be wasting the effort. My life ended that night the same as Heather's did..." She stared straight into those silver slits of fury. "The same as yours did."

She watched the battle play out on his face. He wanted her to comprehend the pain he had felt, even if it hurt her. But he wanted something else more. The realization took her breath away... awakened years of suppressed hunger. When his gaze dropped to her lips and his breath hitched, she knew for sure. Her whole being felt a kind of relief at the idea that this part she could make right. This was something she could do.

Slowly, knowing he would bolt at any sudden moves, she reached up and touched his face... touched that scar that had marred the stark beauty of it, shivered at the stubble that shadowed the lean hollows of his jaws. He flinched but didn't draw away. She tiptoed but still wasn't tall enough, so she hung her fingers on the back of his neck and pulled his head down. She pressed her lips to his. His did not yield, making her uncertain of herself, but only for a second. She kissed him until his resistance faded and his lips softened just the tiniest bit. She'd been so afraid she wouldn't know how to do this right, but his slow surrender gave her courage.

His arms went around her in a brutal hold. She didn't fight him, no matter that fear had joined the mix of wild sensations whirling inside her. She had earned whatever punishment he chose to levy.

The fingers of one hand delved into her hair, held her head still while his mouth plundered hers. That inkling of fear vanished, gave way to the more forceful, hotter feelings of desire and need.

She wanted Clint Austin.

Maybe on some level she had always wanted him. And maybe her friends were right; maybe she had waited for him. G.o.d knew she'd never wanted anyone else... had never even been kissed by another man. Her body melted against his, desperate for the contact.

As if he'd suddenly come to his senses, he set her away. "Go." The single word was ragged with need, torn with uncertainty.

She had stood back and denied her feelings as a foolish young girl; she would not make the same mistake as a grown woman. "No."

Surprise flickered beyond the rage and need. His nostrils flared. As much as she wanted to make him feel again... this wasn't just for him. She'd waited a long time for this. A trickle of uncertainty undermined her determination. What if she did something wrong? What if the novels she'd read and instinct alone weren't enough to guide her?

Not giving herself time for any more second thoughts, she backed up a couple of steps and reached for the b.u.t.tons of her blouse. This part she knew how to do. Slowly, she released each one, shrugged the fabric free, then let it drop to the ground. The longing that flashed in his eyes stoked hers to a full blaze. She kicked off her sandals, reached behind her, and lowered the zipper of her skirt. It dropped around her ankles and she stepped out of the rumpled ring it made.

She wanted him to look at her exactly this way... as if he could eat her alive. It was all she'd dreamed of at one time. She would listen to Heather's stories about how it was between her and Keith, and Emily would fantasize about Clint doing those same things to her. The thought of his mouth on her skin had made her shiver; it did the same now. She released the front hook of the demibra she wore and allowed it to glide down and off. Only her panties remained.

The tension visibly building in him made her unashamed of her near nakedness, gave her the courage to take a moment to simply admire the man. She liked what she was doing to him. He was breathless, that innate s.e.xual energy humming from his powerful body. She'd been right; he was bigger than before. Those broad shoulders, bare in deference to the muggy heat this morning, had filled out with hard, lean muscle. His stomach looked equally rigid and gorgeously rippled, making her sweat, and she hadn't even touched that part of him yet. The faded jeans clung to the lean lines of his narrow hips and long legs. She looked at his crotch; he was aroused and it showed. That he studied her b.r.e.a.s.t.s so conscientiously made her quiver in antic.i.p.ation, made her hot skin feel too tight.

When he continued to stand perfectly still, she moved toward him. He watched her, his eyes guarded as if he expected a battle. She smiled, unexpectedly thrilled at her power over him. In her mind he'd always been the one with the power. When she stood as close as possible, she inhaled deeply, loving the earthy sweet smell of his damp skin. It was so d.a.m.ned hot in here, but it felt so good.

She walked all the way around him, touched each scar on his back with her fingers first, then with her lips. He shuddered each time her mouth landed against his skin. The salty taste and smooth texture made her hunger for more. Made her body vibrate with need. When she came around in front of him again, the desperation in his eyes was different. It wasn't about the past... it was about now... about her.

Then she knew exactly what she wanted. To prove she could make him feel again. To prove she could feel again. To finally know what it was to be a woman in every sense of the word. Her fingers closed on the snap of his jeans. Her heart thumped hard, making her light-headed and clumsy. A simple b.u.t.ton shouldn't have been so difficult to dislodge.

He touched her. Finally. He closed his hand over one breast. She gasped, felt the tingle in her stomach and lower, much lower. It felt so good. She renewed her efforts to open his jeans. Had to touch him there. She wanted to know every part of him ... to taste and smell him ... all of him. She was like a kid at Christmas, couldn't wait to see what came next.

Pushing her hand away from his fly, he dropped to his knees. She cried out when his mouth closed over that same breast he'd measured with urgent fingers. His mouth was equally urgent; he sucked hard. Her fingers delved into his hair, needing to encourage him. Silky, thick hair, but her senses could not stay focused on one place. The feel of his tongue on her nipple, of his lips curved around her... had her tingling all over. He kissed his way to the other breast, giving it the same treatment as the first. She watched, unable to take her eyes off the way he looked, the sculpted features of his face.

He clamped one arm around her waist to hold her steady against his chest, pulled her legs around him, and lowered her to the ground, coming down on top of her. The friction and weight of his chest against the damp flesh he'd tormented with his mouth had her desperate for more. His fingers tangled in her panties, ripped them from her body. She trembled, felt herself moisten in antic.i.p.ation of what came next. She denied the tiny flare of fear vying for her attention.

Just when she thought the tension could go no higher, his gaze collided with hers. The tortured look she saw there made her want to cry... made her want to cradle him against her body, inside her body, until the pain and emptiness were gone.

She had to touch his face. He shuddered and hesitation edged into his stark gaze. He went up on all fours, taking his weight off her, pulling away.

No way. She twisted her fingers in his hair and jerked his face down to hers. "I started this; you'll finish it."

His lips flatted with a determination of his own. Good. Maybe if he was p.i.s.sed off, he'd do what she wanted him to.

He manacled her wrist, yanked her hand from his hair, but ensured their lips remained no more than a scarce whisper apart. "Make me," he growled.

Okay. She would. This wasn't some unfamiliar foreign language... this was as natural as breathing. The last of her inhibitions fled as she yanked her hand free of his hold and wrenched his fly open the rest of the way. He groaned. Using her hands and then her bare feet, she shoved the worn, soft denim over his hips. With no briefs in the way, his full erection brushed against her inner thigh. She gasped, suffered another instant of uncertainty. In spite of that trepidation, the heat of his arousal ignited a new ache, this one deep within her womb. He didn't move a muscle even as she lifted her hips in antic.i.p.ation. She arched upward, rubbed against that solid erection, just barely endured the sweet fiery shock of contact without screaming from the pleasure of it. She'd never known anything could feel so wonderful.

He still didn't move... but it cost him. The price was etched in the stony features of his face.

She was this close to shattering into a million needy pieces at nothing more than the feel of him against her skin. She would be d.a.m.ned if she would fall apart alone. With a fort.i.tude she hadn't known existed, she braced one hand on his shoulder and closed the other around his erection; longing speared through her at the feel of smooth, hot skin stretched taut over hardened muscle. For a moment or two she lost herself to exploring the size and sleekness of him. She lifted her hips again, guiding that hard tip to the spot that burned so insistently. When he didn't thrust, she did, forcing him inside, but only a mere inch. She made a sound too desperate to describe at the exquisite pressure of initial penetration, however shallow. She panted, felt herself stretching to accommodate him. She wanted more.

She clasped his shoulders more tightly, with both hands now, tried to lift her hips higher, but he shifted his own, keeping her from achieving her goal. "Just do it," she urged. "I know you want to." The charge of sensations rushing through her was too much. She needed to hurry.

He stared into her eyes, his cold as ice. "I told you I stopped feeling anything a long time ago."

"Liar." The truth was written in the harsh lines of his face, in the tension vibrating in his hard body. She squeezed that inch nestled snugly inside her.

A guttural sound ripped past his lips.

"You feel that," she challenged. His nostrils flared and something besides the fury burned in his eyes. And in that moment of distraction, she surged upward, going high on her tiptoes. She cried out at the sweet-stinging pleasure.

He caught his breath.

"I know you felt that." She tried to sound smug, but her voice quivered. Her body shuddered with the need to move... to feel the friction of him sliding in and out of her in that ancient rhythm that was printed on their very DNA.

He remained perfectly still. She gritted her teeth to hold steady. The muscles of her legs screamed in protest of the awkward position. But she didn't know any other way to do this, and dammit, she was winning... his entire body trembled violently with his efforts to hold back. That he resisted only made her more determined. G.o.d, she needed desperately to move.

"Why?" he demanded.

That single, guttural word made her heart pound harder.

She wet her lips, searched those gray eyes so cluttered with confusion and need... a need he wanted to deny. "Because I want you." Her body hummed with that truth. She needed him... needed to feel this.

His face lined with renewed determination. "I won't do it. Not like this."

He tried to move away, but she stopped him. "This is what I want," she challenged. "If you won't do it, I will."

Then she moved. Up and down, just an inch, then two. Even that little bit felt amazing, made her muscles clench hungrily. She held on to his shoulders... let her body guide her. When she could bear it, she took more of him, each time losing her breath all over again. Biting her lip against the unbearable pleasure, she lowered her hips until nothing but the very tip remained inside those tight, pulsing muscles on fire for more of him. Then she surged upward again, taking as much of him as he would allow. Again. And again. Until the movements were no longer conscious... just instinct... the momentum increasing as her body rushed toward climax. Her first. She hadn't known it could be like this. She was remotely aware of his rigid hold starting to crumble. Felt his resistance faltering. But his denial no longer mattered. Her fingers dug into his shoulders... her body arched higher, took in more of him, when she'd thought for sure she'd reached her limit. And then she couldn't think anymore. She could only feel herself flying apart with the brilliant sensations of sheer rapture.

She collapsed oh the cool dirt, breaking the contact of their bodies. For long seconds she couldn't open her eyes. When she did, the first thing she saw was him watching her melt after having come undone... the cost of restraint devastating his face, thawing the ice in his eyes, and revealing the uncertainty. His damp, rock-hard p.e.n.i.s still pulsed with need against her thigh.

"You coward," she choked out between gasps for air.

The uncertainty vanished... replaced by a savage ferocity that stole what little oxygen she'd managed to drag into her lungs. His mouth closed over hers with punishing force. She shoved against his chest as fury exploded inside her. How dare he make her beg... make her practically m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.e using him and then have the nerve to kiss her so greedily like this. She shoved harder at him, used her knees to block his big body from coming down on her. But she wasn't nearly strong enough; he forced his way between her thighs.

"What's wrong?" he growled. "You waited all this time for me to pop your cherry, don't you want me to do the job right?"

Fear and hesitation nudged back into her senses. Screamed at her to get away... that he wanted to hurt her... to make her pay. She told herself she didn't care, but survival instinct kicked in and she sank her teeth into his lip.

He made a ferocious sound, jerked his mouth away from hers. He licked a trickle of blood from his bottom lip. "Afraid you'll get more than you bargained for?"

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d." She tried to slap him, but he was too fast. He caught her arm, rolled her over in one fluid motion, forcing her onto her stomach before he came down on her.

"Scared yet?" he murmured against her ear. "Don't you want it this way? Don't you want to know how it felt for me?" He ground his erection against her b.u.t.tocks; her body shuddered in antic.i.p.ation. "You thought I was such a tough guy, but I was just a scared little girl in that f.u.c.king prison."

Emotions twisted like a hurricane inside her. He wanted to scare her; that was the point. Wasn't working. Her need and the very desire he wanted to extinguish began to build all over again. She closed her eyes... tried to think of the right thing to say that would somehow make up for what he'd lost... that would soothe that tortured part of him.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. Her breath caught as much on the words as at the feel of him rubbing... stroking that sensitive flesh. Her body was frantic for more of him. Something electric flowed over her skin... vibrated through her muscles.

"Sorry isn't enough," he snapped viciously as the head of his p.e.n.i.s grazed the seam of her bottom more intimately, threateningly. Her body convulsed with forbidden pleasure, which he evidently took as fear, since he challenged, his voice cruel, "Say you don't want me and I'll stop right now."

He waited, held utterly still.

The feel of his weight... of his skin against hers made it impossible to think clearly. But there was one thing she knew with complete certainty. "I want you. All of you."

He thrust hard, fully inside her... not the way he'd threatened. She cried out his name as her v.a.g.i.n.al muscles clamped around his thick girth, increasing the already unbearable friction. Yes, she wanted him. Dammit. She wanted the contrasting texture of his powerful thighs rasping against her skin... the deep, stretching penetration of him filling her so completely. She didn't want it to stop... she needed it... felt consumed by his strength and power.

His hand pushed between her and the dirt, fingers splayed against her belly, pulled her more tightly to him, sending an arc of sheer pleasure-pain coursing through her as he went deeper still. His lips brushed her cheek as he ground his hips into her bottom. "Had enough?"

She shook her head, tried to open wider for him. He trembled, swore at his own weakness. He straightened, settled fully on to his knees, with her bent forward in front of him. He started to move. The incredible sensation was very nearly unbearable. She urged him on with frantic, whispered pleas until he lost control. The sounds of his desperation made her want to see... to watch him taking her this way and losing total control. His body flexed and contracted with each withdrawal and thrust. The muscles of his abdomen gleamed with sweat... his powerful hands held her hips firmly... his eyes were closed, leaving the whisper of dark lashes against his cheeks.

The desperation fueling each move played out on his face, made her yearn to touch him there even as his movements became more urgent, almost violent... and then she started to come again. The climax tightening her muscles encouraged him. He roared like a beast... rammed harder... until he couldn't hold out any longer. The ferocity of their synchronized release rendered her helpless and left her shivering with the intensity of the receding sensations.

One strong arm swept around her waist and pulled her up against his chest, sending his still-throbbing erection deeper inside her and stealing her ragged breath. Sitting back on his heels with her nestled in his lap, their bodies still intimately connected... he pressed his face into her hair and fought to catch his breath.

"I wanted to hurt you... and then I just wanted you."

The regret in those softly uttered words was a stark contrast to the way he'd spoken and acted moments ago. But there was nothing to regret. He hadn't given her anything she hadn't wanted... hadn't asked for. The feel of his powerful muscles supporting his weight as well as her own after such extensive physical exertion made her giddy.

She'd come here to tell him that she knew the truth... she hadn't meant for this to happen. Or maybe she had. Maybe she'd needed it... needed to give herself to him this way for reasons she would still be sorting years from now.

She'd made so many mistakes already... what if this was just another? The warm feelings that bonded her to him so fully started to fade. She hadn't considered any consequences for her... or for him. Hadn't thought her intentions through. She'd put him in prison and now she did this? Her parents were right; she did need help.

"I should go." She pushed his arm away and got up. The loss of contact, the feel of him sliding out of her body, was like losing a part of herself.

She grabbed her clothes, haphazardly jerked them on. When she finally looked up again, he'd tugged on his jeans without fastening the fly, leaving that heart-stopping vee that made her foolishly want him again.

"Emily." He reached out to her, his voice low, soft.

Allowing him to touch her right now with any sort of tenderness would be her second mistake of the day.

"I... have to go."

She'd been wrong. He wasn't a coward. She was.

She'd wanted him to take her that way... brutally, almost violently, to punish her. If he'd done the worst possible to her she wouldn't have cared. She'd goaded him into being cruel.

Maybe, just maybe, if he'd really hurt her, she could have lived with what she'd done to him. Instead, he'd made her love him, and that was the most unbearable pain of all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.

125 Carriage Avenue 10:00 a.m.

He was cheating on her again.

Misty Briggs was certain of it. She couldn't prove it yet, but she sensed it. She'd watched him. His wife had rushed off to church this morning with their two sons, but he was still home. She knew he wasn't sick, not physically anyway. He was up to something.

And she intended to find out what.

Misty had tried to stop the momentum this time. She'd given plenty of warnings. But no one would listen to her. People were going to be hurt again... just like before. It had to stop.

His fancy car rolled out of the garage. A Jaguar. Silver. Leather interior. Cost nearly a hundred grand. Several times over what her efficient little Maxima had cost. But all that money wouldn't buy his way into heaven.

Men like Keith Turner went to h.e.l.l.

She knew for sure because that was where her daddy had gone. Her mother had told her that every day of her life. Misty, she'd said, don't ever trust a man. Especially not a handsome one.

So she never had.

She tried to protect the people she cared about, but sometimes it seemed like she couldn't do enough.

After sliding the gearshift into Drive, she pushed her gla.s.ses up the bridge of her nose and followed the fancy Jaguar. Maybe if she could learn who he was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around with on the side, she would finally understand that he was bad for her. Bad. Bad. Bad.

He'd sure been bad for Heather Baker.

Misty slowed as she pa.s.sed the turn he'd taken in the quarry. Why would he go there? Didn't seem like the kind of place for a secret romantic rendezvous. But then, they could do it in that sw.a.n.ky car of his. She turned her car around the first chance she got and drove back to the gravel road that led deep into the limestone quarry. It was Sunday; the place-was closed. But that would be all the better. No one to disturb them.

She made the turn, took her time. She didn't want to run into him or whoever he'd come there to meet. Creeping along, she decided to take the fork in the road that would lead her around to the back side of the site, the delivery entrance. The road the dump trucks used. She hoped he hadn't made that same decision. Oh well, she'd take her chances. No one really ever thought anything about her skulking around. She was plain old Batty Briggs.

They just didn't know.

She was far brighter than even her princ.i.p.al suspected.

She knew how to get things done when no one else could.