The Callahan's: Secret Sins Part 34

His hands moved from her waist once again, pushing her shirt up, cupping her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as his thumbs raked over the lace covering them.

Shards of sensation tore from those swollen tips to the engorged bud of her c.l.i.t. Her womb clenched, her juices spilled to her panties as she forced her lashes open, staring into the drowsy, l.u.s.t-filled expression on Archer's face.

As their gazes locked, she moved her hands from his hair, watching as surprise flickered in his gaze when she reached behind her back and released the catch of her bra.

Immediately his hands pushed beneath the loosened cups, his thumbs and forefingers gripping her nipples and tugging at them with an erotic pleasure-pain that had her p.u.s.s.y melting in wicked hunger.

Arms lifting, she pulled the shirt as well as the bra from her body and tossed them to the floor.

"Oh G.o.d-Archer."

Every muscle in her body clenched and threatened to explode in rapture as a hot, hungry mouth surrounded the painfully tight tip of a nipple and sucked it inside.

His cheeks hollowed as he drew on the swollen bud, his gaze still holding hers, locked with it, the too-responsive tips of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s gloried in every touch.

The one buried in Archer's mouth was in such agonizing pleasure she was certain she couldn't bear it much longer. Her p.u.s.s.y spilled its sensual wetness, her v.a.g.i.n.a clenching at the emptiness there, aching to be filled.

"Take it off." Tugging at his shirt as she made the demand and ground herself against his c.o.c.k, she swore she was close, so close to the rapture of release that she could almost touch it, almost allow her body to slide into it. If only she knew how.

"Unb.u.t.ton it," he ordered, his lips and sucking mouth moving from one nipple to the next.

Sucking the matching, pebble-hard tip into his mouth, one hand captured hers and pulled it to the b.u.t.tons of his shirt.

Anna moaned, knowing she would never manage to control her fingers enough to get his shirt unb.u.t.toned.

She didn't even try.

As his teeth surrounded her nipple and nipped, Anna gripped the edges of his shirt and pulled.

b.u.t.tons popped and flew across the room. The ping of the little discs. .h.i.tting the floor was forgotten as he released her nipple from his teeth and immediately surrounded the nipple again, suckling at it strongly. Devouring it. Eating at the tip as though nothing mattered but ensuring he sated the hunger for the taste of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Oh yes," she panted, the painful pleasure that attacked her nipple streaking to her p.u.s.s.y. "Archer, please. Oh please, yes."

Her hips shifted, ground, rode the ridge of his c.o.c.k as she searched hungrily for release.

It had to be there, just over the edge- Perspiration began to gather on her flesh, her cries becoming more ragged as her head tipped back on her shoulders. His hands at her back, he pulled her closer.

His tongue lashed at her nipple, his teeth rasped it. His thumb and forefinger gripped its twin, rolled it, tugged at it, sending increased fingers of lightning-fast sensation to crash into her womb and surround her c.l.i.t.

Thighs tense, Archer dropped his hands to her hips, guiding the desperate movement of her p.u.s.s.y against the thick erection beneath his jeans. The clothing that separated them was a painful friction and agonizing pleasure.

Heat and nearing ecstasy began to gather into increasingly tight swirls of growing sensation. Anna could barely breathe as so many, too many sensations began to fill her at once.

The suckling of her increasingly sensitive nipples, one, then the other, then back again. The lash of his tongue against the tortured peaks, the thumb and forefinger of one hand returning to the other nipple to torture it with those growing circles of blistering heat and nearing release.

Her womb spasmed, her p.u.s.s.y clenched. Her c.l.i.t tightened further, throbbing, expanding, sensation surging, striking against it with each lash of sensation as he pressed silk and denim against the steadily sensitized bundle of nerves.

She was tortured, her body strung tight as she fought for the center of sensation, searching desperately for the edge where she dropped off into sheer sensation and ecstasy.

It was close- It was so close- Muted mewls of desperation sounded around her. She knew they were hers, knew she would wince at the begging, pleading sound of them later.

Then one hard male hand grabbed the side of her a.s.s, as Archer's hips moved faster against her, dry f.u.c.king her with heavy strokes until those gathering, tightening swirls of ecstatic sensation seemed to rupture inside her.

Her body imploded with a pleasure so violent it seemed to shred through her.

Her c.l.i.toris expanded, then exploded like a sun going supernova, tore through her, and flung her into a climax that rocked her body and almost, just almost, touched that center of her being she had placed in lockdown deep inside her soul.

Her nails dug into Archer's shoulder as his lips released her nipple and buried in her neck. He tensed beneath her, a muted male groan rumbling against the curve of her neck and shoulder.

Holding her close, his body so tight, so hard it was like iron against her, Archer kept her poised within the exploding heart of the ecstasy surrounding her.

One arm was clamped behind her back, the other clenched in the curve of her rear as her sensitized nipples raked against his chest with each breath she took.

The sensual rapture held her, suspended in its grip as the world stopped around her. The swirling sensations began to slow, to ease. The violence of her release echoing weaker, then weaker still until she was left trembling against him, little shudders of her climax echoing through her until she was left slumped against him, wasted- The pleasure, the exacting explosion of release, still left her strangely aching for more.

Beneath her, Archer's c.o.c.k was still iron-hard, throbbing. He'd eased the painful, aching need torturing her, but he hadn't- "I'm sorry," she said, as his hand stroked down her back.

"For what?" His head lifted, his lips pressing against her temple.

"You didn't-" She stopped, heat flushing her face as she felt and heard the chuckle that vibrated in his chest.

"Well, yeah, babe, I did," he admitted, abashed as she lifted her head to stare up at him.

She swallowed tightly. "You did?"

His grin was one of male bemus.e.m.e.nt. "h.e.l.l if I can explain it. Haven't done that since I was a d.a.m.ned teenager."

"Oh." She blinked back at him.

"Yeah. Oh," he teased her.

Anna wished she could smile so easily, wished she could find the laughter inside her that she used to find so easily whenever Archer was around.

"Come on, pretty girl. We've both had a h.e.l.l of a night and day. I think it's time we went to bed." Gripping her hips, he lifted her from him, steadying her until he rose to his feet as well.

Taking her hand, he led her through the house to the staircase and upstairs.

As they stepped into the bedroom, she suddenly broke away and rushed across the room.

"Oscar." Going to her knees beside the cat bed, she stroked the suddenly pitiful-acting feline with gentle strokes.

Oscar stared up at her as though he'd had bones broken from the attack the night before. And if Archer didn't know better, he would have sworn the cat actually gave a little moan rather than a purr.

"Poor baby," she said, avoiding the shaved area of his head where his cut had been checked at the vet. "Poor Oscar." She turned to Archer then. "He bit Amory, you know. Right on the inside of the thigh. It was all he could do to make Oscar stop attacking him."

She continued to rub the cat's fur, and he ate it up like cream, the little b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"Oscar did good," Archer agreed as he moved to her, gripped her arms, and lifted her to him. "Now forget the cat for a minute and come to bed with me, Anna. Let hold you, baby. Just for a little while before we have to fight the world again, let me hold you."

He wanted to hold her, and Anna admitted she needed to be held by him, comforted by him.

As he said, before they had to fight the world once again.

CHAPTER 22.

Elizabeth Haley was laid out and waiting. Strapped to the metal table, gagged, the drugs having worn off, and he couldn't kill her.

He'd known before having Anna Corbin-or rather Sarah Ann Callahan-abducted that he couldn't kill her. Knowing that, the moment Amory had located Elizabeth Haley, the woman whose name had been Ellen Mason, he'd had the other man abduct her and bring her to the small cabin in Aspen that he kept for just such occasions.

Unfortunately, so very unfortunately, there was another young woman there as well. One he hadn't ever imagined having to kill, not really. But betrayal was betrayal, and he couldn't allow it to go unpunished.

There were few things so frustrating, he thought as he paced the floor in front of the large monitor, as knowing the daughter a man trusted and loved could betray them to the point that his sweet, precious Amelia had attempted to destroy him.

Why had she done this?

Because he'd forced her away from Crowe Callahan's arms?

Or had she somehow learned the truth about her mother?

There was always that chance. She could have found the bas.e.m.e.nt room where her mother had been buried, the gravestone marking her grave and listing her crimes.

And all the inconsequential thoughts or questions in Corbin County weren't going to change the decision he had to make where she was concerned. Nor would it change the fate of the young woman he viewed now.

Staring at the screen, watching as Elizabeth struggled against the straps, he could feel his c.o.c.k hardening, antic.i.p.ation rising despite the circ.u.mstances, and resentment building.

How dare those f.u.c.king Callahans interfere in his fun? Every time he turned around in Corbin County now, they were locating yet another of his little hidden playhouses.

Not that they could possibly know who he was, but they were finding and destroying the secluded line cabins he and Amory often used for their fun and games.

It wasn't as though there were many ways to find recompense for everything he and his ancestors had been cheated of.

This one pleasure was all that was to be had for so many decades of searching.

Naked, young, and so very beautiful.

Finding Elizabeth hadn't been easy.

h.e.l.l, it had been d.a.m.ned hard because Crowe was real d.a.m.ned careful. Finding his lovers was an almost impossible task. Catching up with Elizabeth had been even harder, and he couldn't figure out why.

It was almost as though she had been aware danger stalked her and refused to back off. h.e.l.l, she had nearly managed to escape again. If he hadn't gone looking for her himself while Amory ensured Anna was released, then she would have escaped again.

"Are we sending her back?" Amory asked, his tone lazy and unconcerned as he tipped back in his chair and watched the monitor.

Amory didn't seem in the least concerned with the fact that they couldn't kill this girl either. At least, not at the moment.

Wayne had been set to enter her room and begin the fun himself when Amory had arrived with the news that word was sweeping Corbin County that Anna Corbin was actually Sarah Ann Callahan and Amory had been identified as her abductor.

"Do we have a choice?" he growled, knowing they didn't. "If we don't and she doesn't show up, then the governor will have the excuse he's looking for to take over that investigation."

He couldn't allow that to happen. "Carter Ferguson has a hard-on for us like it ain't n.o.body's business," he continued. "The last thing we need is the FBI and the state police on our a.s.ses. Dammit, Elizabeth Haley isn't even a resident of Corbin County. No one should have even known about her."

"True," Amory agreed. "But it's not every day two teams of U.S. Marshals are beating the d.a.m.ned bushes searching for one of our playthings either."

"Ferguson is fueling this," he snarled. "He just won't let it go."

"Yeah, that's what happens when you rape and murder a man's daughter. They just get all out of sorts and want to kill ya."

Sliding a sideways look Amory's way, Wayne thinned his lips in irritation. Amory was so d.a.m.ned critical of the past, and he was getting sick of it.

"And just how would you have handled it, Amory?" he asked snidely. d.a.m.n, he was getting real sick of Amory's a.s.sured att.i.tude that he could have handled everything so much better than his previous partners.

Amory pursed his lips thoughtfully for several seconds before grinning back at him. There was no doubt the other man had been waiting for this question for months now. If he had thought of it, he would have never given the younger killer a chance to answer it.

"First off." Amory lowered his chair and stared back at him with a smug look. "I wouldn't have touched a representative's daughter. Never ever choose a high-profile victim."

"She slept with Logan Callahan." What the h.e.l.l did Amory think the point was here?

"She was a badge," Amory drawled with a mocking smile.

"What the f.u.c.k do you mean?"

"She was an FBI agent, a badge," Amory repeated. "That made her a challenge to you, and we both know it. Add to the fact she was a representative's daughter and she was more or less deliberately goading you." Amory shrugged. "If I had been working with you at the time, we wouldn't have touched her with a ten-foot pole."

Since when did Amory think he would have had that much control? The past days since they had taken Anna, Amory had acted differently. More confident, perhaps? As though he were certain he suddenly knew more, had more experience than his trainer had.

"She was the perfect target," Wayne all but snarled, hating the fact that Amory was making him feel stupid.

"The point is, she was a friend of the Callahans, not a lover," Amory stated. "Your partner did not do his research well."

And Amy Ferguson had been such a joy to kill.

Particularly sweet, and such a fighter.

"So she hadn't slept with him?" he mused.

"Does that make a difference?" Amory asked.

He had to grin. "No, not particularly."

He would do it again.

There was a flash of something dark and disapproving in Amory's eyes for a second. How amusing, a killer with a conscience.