Lightning fast, Brody spun around to face the vile man, but now the barrel of Cal’s gun touched Brody’s forehead.

  “My brother never loved Sheila the way I did,” Cal announced. Emily thought he looked high. “I’ll have justice for them both, even if it means going through you and your little piece of ass to get it.”

  Cal wasn’t in his right mind, and Emily, even through her own not completely coherent state, knew that he wasn’t bluffing. She felt the cold steel in her left hand. Point and shoot, Brody had instructed earlier. So she did. Cal fell to the ground and then everything went black.

  Chapter Ten

  It took Emily almost four months to convince him. Afraid to dredge up old memories for her, Brody constantly refused … until today. “Please, let’s just try it,” she had pleaded with him. It was pointless to deny them both what they had craved when the past had already been buried.

  It’s not like she could entirely forget the past, especially not on the days she would visit Enza in prison. With Louis and Fallow dead, Enza lost her bargaining chips. Emily managed to get her a good lawyer though, who helped her plea down to a lesser sentence. Brody decided to withhold the recording she had made, lest it implicate his Navy Seal brothers in Fallow’s death. She hoped that Enza would come out of prison a better person than she went in, especially now that they were both free of Louis.

  Enza would have been by her side that night in the forest, she later learned, had Nowicki not whisked her away to safety. Some of Louis’s men had still been out there, and Cal had thirsted for her blood. Through some moments of clarity, Emily had recalled how Enza had begged her not to die. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything,” she had cried. Emily actually thought she had died and that hell had frozen over, since she never once recalled Enza ever apologizing for anything. But that night, she had put her and her sister’s past behind them too. The only hurdle left to get over, was her boyfriend’s aversion to tying her up.

  She found herself now, fully able to experience the pleasure of Brody’s expertise in the art of Kinbaku. He sat back against the headboard in their bedroom and ordered Emily to remove her clothing slowly. She complied, feeling confident in her newfound love for sexy lingerie. When all that remained were her bra and panties, he told her to stop.

  “Come and kneel on the bed in front of me.”

  She walked over to the foot of the bed and climbed on top. Like a stealth panther, she crawled forward to him, stopping right in front of his outstretched legs, and she gave him a sly little smile. He moved quickly then, tying her ankles and calves together in intricate knots. Her hands came next, tied behind her back in reverse hand prayer position and then she leaned her torso forward, leaving herself completely at his mercy.

  Brody circled her on the bed as he removed his own clothing, both of them breathing heavily. He tugged the cups of her bra down freeing her breasts, and moved her panties over to the side, leaving her trussed up and fully exposed. She moaned at the sensation of the ropes against her skin and felt herself becoming even wetter, knowing what Brody could see when he stood behind her. Her ass in the air, and her wet pussy completely open and on display for him. She became even greedier for his touch.

  He circled around to the front of her, positioning himself on his knees, his cock angled toward her. “Take me into your mouth,” he commanded, his voice low and husky.

  She licked just the tip of his mushroomed head and savored the flavor of his salty pre-cum before sucking hard on the entire head. He took charge from there. With one hand, he swept up her hair into a makeshift ponytail, while the other tenderly cupped her face as he fed her his cock. Emily looked up and met his eyes. They were glazed over with desire. His mouth slightly ajar, his breaths heavy.

  “Enough,” he breathed, swiftly pulling out of her. “I want to come in your pussy. Fill you up and mark what’s mine.”

  “Yes. Please, Brody.” As much as she loved pleasuring him with her mouth, she needed to be filled by him. To be as he had said, marked, taken in a way that he had not taken her yet. And then she would be completely his.

  Brody positioned himself behind her. He swept her hair to the side so that he could trail kisses from her neck all the way down her spine. She tried not to giggle when he placed a few soft kisses on her ass. Then, with his arms balanced on either side of her and his torso flush against hers, he entered her, filling her completely in one long stroke. His next movements were slow, pulling almost all the way out, and then pushing hard all the way in, jerking her body forward each time. Over and over, he stroked her inner walls this way, his grunts getting louder, her moans growing more desperate with each pass. She felt his hard stomach against the sides of her hands.

  He nuzzled the side of her head with his before delivering kisses to her cheek, her neck, and she nearly convulsed when he bit down on the tender flesh between her neck and shoulder, bracing herself for the earth-shattering orgasm he was about to deliver. He lifted himself up enough to free her hands and place them out in front of her. That’s when he really let loose. He picked up the pace and pounded into her, twining their outstretched hands together. The headboard banged into the wall from the force of his movements. Emily squeezed his hands tighter as her climax built to its peak. And then she came … loud and hard, taking Brody with her.

  After Brody pulled out of her, he undid the rest of her bindings and massaged her ankles and calves. He massaged her wrists next while lying down with her resting in his arms.

  “You really enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” Emily looked up and smiled at him. “Very much. Did you?”

  “Very much.”

  “Does that mean we get to do it again?”

  “Don’t you worry,” Brody promised with a chuckle. “I have a lot more patterns to show you with the ropes.” he paused for a moment before adding, “I love you, Emily.” He’d implied it many times before, but this was the first time he had said it outright.

  “And I love you.”

  He had come out of nowhere, her Shadow, carrying her into the darkness with him, until they were both safe enough to step back into the light.

  The End

  www.elenakincaid.com

  GODSEND

  Jocelyn Dex

  Copyright© 2016

  Chapter One

  Gia tromped through the woods of the Mark Twain National Forest, her heavy backpack weighing her down. She probably shouldn’t have taken so many supplies, but the tiny store in the podunk town had just been too easy to rob. And the more supplies she gathered, the longer it would be until she had to make another trip to another town and do it all over again.

  A felled tree in her path seemed like as good a place as any to take a break and rest her aching feet. She slid the backpack off her shoulders and let it drop to the ground. The canned goods inside were packed so tight they didn’t even clank.

  She stretched her arms, back, and legs before plopping down on the rough bark of the oak tree, pulled a bottle of water from her pack, and tried not to suck the entire thing down in one sitting. Careful rationing kept her in the woods, where she preferred to be. Away from people. People sucked.

  After quenching her thirst, she stuffed the half bottle of water back in the bag and pulled out a small notebook and pen. She flipped to an empty page and wrote “Earl’s Grocery, 5-15, $50” and then put the notebook and pen away.

  The urge to set up her small tent right there and take a long nap was tempting, but she had a lot of daylight left and wanted to cover more ground before stopping. Plus, according to her map, there was a lake about four or five miles south and she really wanted to bathe. It’d been a couple days since she’d had the luxury, and she was pretty sure she could smell herself.

  She inhaled the fresh air of nature as she trudged on. Rays of sunshine filtered through the dense canopy of trees, and fallen leaves and acorns crunched beneath her boots. The occasional bird sang to her, and she always smiled when the squirrels chattered at her.

  By the time she reached the lake, she was about to pass out. She’d pushed it extra hard that day, and she didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like she had anywhere to be.

  She found a sandy embankment, ditched her pack, shucked out of her clothes, and waded into the water. She shivered as the cold water lapped at her skin but sank down into it anyway.

  She scrubbed her body and hair with one of the fruity bars of soap she’d pocketed earlier that day and made quick work of rinsing herself clean before jumping out and standing in the sun, willing it to hurry and dry her enough to get dressed. She’d kill for a big, fluffy towel, but they took up too much space she needed for more important things.

  When her skin was sufficiently dry, she twisted as much water from her hair as possible, shook it out like a dog, then combed it straight. She washed her shorts and t-shirt in the lake, set them out to dry, and then dressed.

  Just as she decided to make her camp there, a glint in the distance caught her attention. Her best guess was that it was about a mile away. It could be nothing, but it could be something. If there were people that close by, she didn’t want to camp there. Never knew what kind of asshole you might come across. And she’d dealt with quite enough assholes in her lifetime.

  She sighed, gathered her things, and hiked toward the glint hoping it wasn’t something that would force her to keep walking.

  The closer she got, the quieter and more cautiously she listened and scanned the area. Then she saw it. A dilapidated old shack. One of the windows was cracked, and several of the boards were rotted. She stood there a long while watching, listening, waiting, but saw no signs of life. No vehicles. Nothing.

  Over the last several months, she’d come across a few deserted old one-room shacks that had probably been thrown up by hunters or trappers. A couple had had old, rusty wood burning stoves in them—a luxury for her. She’d pretended they were her homes, had even fashioned brooms out of sticks and brush, and had swept the floors, dusted away the cobwebs. But each time she’d run out of supplies and move on.

  She waited another fifteen minutes before sneaking up to the shack. She tried peeking into the windows but dark coverings blocked her view. Surely no one lived there. Up close, it looked to be in worse condition than she’d originally thought. She wasn’t even sure if it was safe for her.

  She sneaked around to the back and got a glimpse inside a small dusty room with busted up floorboards. Sketchy, but it convinced her no one was living there.

  The back door was locked but gave in with a little jimmying and force. Her face scrunched up in confusion as she stepped inside. The hardwood floor shined as if new, and the place was furnished. Uh oh. Definitely not deserted. Just as she was about to get the hell out of there, something slammed into her from behind. Her forehead banged against the doorjamb and everything went black.

  Chapter Two

  Gia’s head ached, but when she reached up to assess the damage, she couldn’t move her right hand, so she tried her left and her fingers came into contact with a bandage. She forced her eyelids open and blinked rapidly trying to adjust to the dim light. Where the hell was she and why was her right wrist tied to a … bed?

  The memory flooded back to her. Someone had attacked her. Oh shit. What if it was some crazy hillbilly who wanted to slice her up, maybe eat her, like she’d seen in a movie one time?

  She jerked her wrist and tried to work out the complicated knot with her left hand, but it wouldn’t budge. Panic shot through her system, her heart beating so hard she feared it would explode. When she heard footsteps, she kind of wished it would explode. Better dead than eaten alive by some deranged psycho.

  When a large silhouette appeared in the doorway, she tried to swallow the scream in her throat, to be strong, confident, but she couldn’t. It tore from her like a bullet, loud, piercing, and reverberating off the walls.

  The silhouette didn’t move, just stood there. When she finally stopped screaming, she yelled at him. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

  Suddenly, he flicked a switch on the wall, the bright light temporarily blinding her. She scrubbed at her eyes with her free hand, scared to see but needing to see what terror awaited her.

  “What the fuck do I want?” a deep voice asked. “You’re the one who broke into my house. I’d say the question is…What the fuck do you want?”

  When her vision finally cleared, she blinked hard not sure whether to still be scared or to drool. His muscular, tattooed frame had to be over six feet tall. His dark hair was cropped close to his scalp, and a totally inappropriate desire to run her fingertips across the stubble to see if it was soft or prickly swept through her. When she realized he might likely be her worst nightmare, she abandoned such ridiculous thoughts.

  “I’m s-sorry,” she stammered. “I was hiking and didn’t think anyone lived here. It looks like a deserted shack from the outside.”

  He crossed his arms that were both completely sleeved with tattoos—intricate designs of color mixed with black and gray—across a sculpted chest and leaned nonchalantly against the door frame. “You break in, get caught, and then insult my home. You’re not very bright, are you?”

  Even in her frightened state, that comment raised her ire. “I’m not stupid. It was a mistake. Just untie me and you’ll never see me again.”

  He looked her up and down and ran his tongue slowly across cruel lips. “Maybe I like seeing you. Besides, how do I know you weren’t planning to rob me? Maybe I let you go and you come back with reinforcements. Maybe the Martins sent you in as bait.”

  “Bait? I don’t know any Martins. I don’t know anyone. And I swear I wasn’t trying to rob you.” Although, had he not been home and she’d found supplies worth stealing, she totally would have. He didn’t need to know that though.

  “Let’s see about that,” he said ominously and hauled her pack up from the floor. He detached her knife and tomahawk from their outer riggings, then unzipped every compartment, turned it upside down and shook out the contents on the bed at her feet. She winced as some of the canned goods rolled off the bed and hit the wood floor. Everything she owned was in that pack, and every bit of it was precious to her.

  He carelessly tossed her first aid kit, her damp clothes, and other items to the floor. “Please,” she said. “That’s everything I own. Don’t ruin it.”

  His piercing blue eyes pinned her in an intense stare. “What makes you think you’ll be alive to use any of it?”

  She flinched and shrank back as far from him as possible.

  He held up her notebook, an “aha” look on his face. “What do we have here? What truths will be revealed when I open this? Tell me now. Admit your real reason for breaking into my home and maybe, just maybe, I’ll kill you quick instead of dragging it out.”

  She gulped. “Nothing in there has anything to do with you. I swear. It’s personal.”

  He scowled. “You had your chance.” He flipped through the notebook one page at a time, slowly, reading every word. He frowned more with every page. By the time he got to the end, he looked truly confused. “What is all this?”

  Shit. She didn’t want to tell him. It would just confirm his initial accusation that she was a thief. She went for vague, hoping it would suffice. “It’s a list of debts. That’s all.”

  “Why would you owe grocery stores and thrift stores and gas stations?”

  She stuck out her chin. “I just do.”

  He dug through the rest of her items, her cringing the entire time at his carelessness. “Where’s your wallet?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “Purse, wallet, pocketbook, plastic bag,” he snarled. “Whatever the fuck you keep your ID and money in.”

  She blanched at his tone. “I don’t have any of that. I lost my ID months ago and never got it replaced.”

  “Bullshit.”

  She tried to curl into a ball as he stomped toward her, but he grabbed her legs and pulled her so she was laid out flat on her back. When he let go of one leg and grabbed at her shorts, she kicked at him, a lucky shot catching him in the chin. Hard. His head snapped back, but he didn’t loosen his hold.

  “Stop. Now.” He ground out between gritted teeth, his dark-blue eyes flashing ominously. “I’m not going to hurt you … yet.”

  She stopped struggling, praying his words were true, and really, kicking him in the face wasn’t going to get her anywhere. It was only going to piss him off more. He didn’t look like the kind of man you wanted to have pissed off at you.

  She protested when he snaked a hand into her front pocket and then the other. When he flipped her over, instinct kicked in and she kicked despite her earlier thought. He straddled the backs of her knees, pinning her to the bed as he checked her back pockets.

  “Not in your pack, not in your pockets. In your bra then?” he asked.

  She was about to tell him she wasn’t wearing a bra when his hands slipped beneath her shirt. Chills stole down her spine when his rough hands cupped her breasts. A loud hiss escaped him, a deep, rumbling moan accompanying it.

  She clenched her teeth, waiting for him to realize she really didn’t have any ID or money and to get off of her, to stop touching her, but he didn’t move for a full minute. Seemed to be frozen, and she froze with him. She gasped when his fingers twitched and he pinched her nipples and rolled them between thumb and forefinger.

  “Fuck,” he whispered so quietly she barely heard him.

  He kicked her legs apart with his knees and settled between her thighs, pressing an obvious erection against her ass.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she stammered. Her stomach clenched painfully, fear of his intentions paralyzing her.

  “Quiet,” he growled in her ear. He ground against her over and over, his hands still gripping her breasts, but he never made a move to remove her shorts or his jeans. His breathing sped up, his grunts coming in pants, his hips jerking wildly against her.