Monster (Impossible #1) (14 page)

What was happening to me?  I hardly recognized the wanton woman draped across this god-like man as
myself.  But all thoughts, all doubts, were driven from my mind at the first resounding blow.

Sharp, hot pain seared my flesh where his palm had landed hard on my ass.  My shocked cry mingled with the loud crack as it echoed around the small room.  But he didn’t give me time to absorb the sensation.  His hand came down on me again, harder this time.  The stinging intensity took my breath away.  I tried to move away from him, to avoid the next hit, but he held me firmly in place with his grip on my hair.  A low, warning growl stilled my efforts instantly.

I shuddered, fear, pain, and pleasure intertwining in a heady cocktail that overwhelmed my senses, taking me to a place where no thoughts existed.  There was only the sting on my flesh, the pulsing of my pussy, and his utter control.  When the third blow landed, something halfway between a whimper and a sensual moan clawed its way up my throat, coming from somewhere deep and primal within me.

His fingernails traced a vertical trail across my burning flesh, starting at the tops of my thighs and stopping at the upper curve of my ass.  My eyes rolled back in my head as pleasure shot through me, the sudden gentle touch on my abused flesh making my head swim.  Then he
lightly touched his forefinger to the little patch of skin where the crack of my ass met the base of my spine, tracing a small, circular pattern.

I cried out in shocked delight as he awoke a secret bundle of nerves that I had never before known existed.  My clit pulsed almost painfully in response, desperate to be touched.

“Do you like this, Claudia?”  He asked, a smirk in his voice as he continued torturing me sweetly, never breaking contact with that delicious erogenous zone.

I hesitated, pursing my lips.  Wasn’t it enough that he had made me verbally agree to this?  Hadn’t he embarrassed me enough, stripped away enough of my dignity?

“I don’t know,” I lied after a moment.

Then his fingers were at my inner thigh, swirling in the juices that coated it.

“You might lie to me, Claudia, but your body doesn’t.”

I closed my eyes and was unable to hold back a low whine.  God, I needed him to touch me.  My sex was on fire; surely the heat of it would burn me up if he didn’t grant me some release.  If only he would touch me where I needed it most…

A strangled moan escaped me as his forefingers drove into me in one swift movement, sliding easily through my slick folds until he was in me to the hilt.  He paused for a moment, letting me adjust to the sudden intrusion.  Then he slowly pressed his fingers apart, stretching me, filling me.  My pussy contracted around him as pleasure overwhelmed me.  But he stopped his movements immediately, holding me there on the edge.  I couldn’t take any more.

“Please,” I begged, letting go of the last shred of my pride.  “Sean,” his name was a desperate moan.

I was dimly aware of the low, satisfied groan that escaped him.  “How can I deny you when you say my name so sweetly?”  He asked huskily.

But I hardly registered his words.  As he spoke, his fingers curled within me, stroking the sensitive spot at the front of my inner walls.  At the same time, his thumb came down on my clit, pressing hard against it.

I screamed at the most powerful orgasm of my life hit me, shattering me.  My body thrashed across Sean’s lap, but his fingers inside me pinned me in place as they continued to stroke me.  Stars burst behind my closed eyelids, popping in my brain like fireworks as I came completely undone.  White-hot bliss soared through me, searing my veins.  My sex contracted around Sean’s fingers, greedy for more.  It was only when he had wrung the final delicious tremors from me that he finally slid out.

I lay there limply, trembling and gasping for breath.  He turned me gently, hooking a strong arm around my back and pulling my torso up to press against his hard chest.  I took a deep breath, drawing in his rich, masculine scent.  His fingers touched my hair, stroking it tenderly back from my forehead before cupping my cheek in his large hand.

I looked up to find him smiling down at me gently.  I grinned back at him like a fool, reveling in the perfect moment.  That had been the singular most amazing thing I had ever experienced in my entire life.  And Sean had given it to me.

“Are you okay?”  He asked gently.

Okay? 
I was more than okay.  Amazing, actually.

But my brain took that moment to start re-forming after being blown apart by my orgasm.  What had I just allowed Sean to do to me?  I had let him break me down, destroy my defenses.  Hell, I had volunteered for it.  I had allowed myself to be completely vulnerable to him.  And I had loved every second of it.  My head was spinning; I was so confused about what I felt towards him, about what I felt about myself.  Who was I becoming?  I didn’t recognize this needy woman who sat compliantly in his lap.

Sean had been right before: this was so fucked up.

“I’m fine,” I said quietly.

But he could sense my discomfiture, and his expression suddenly shifted, his eyes clouding over and his face going blankly indifferent.  Still, he didn’t push me away from him, and I was grateful for that.  As confused as I was, I didn’t think I could handle the sting of rejection after what had just transpired between us.  I was already on the verge of being an emotional wreck, and I was sure that that would push me over the edge.

The sound of the front door unlocking jolted me out of my tangled thoughts.

“Sean!”  Bradley called out.  “We have a visitor.”

I felt a moment of relief as I realized that Bradley hadn’t been in the apartment to hear my shameful wantonness.

Sean grasped my hips, quickly pulling me off of him before getting to his feet.  He grabbed my wrist, jerking me upright.  “Come on,” he hissed.  “And play along with what I say.”

I glared at him indignantly to hide the hurt at his suddenly cold treatment.  Without a word, I pulled up my panties and smoothed my dress down, making sure that I was covered before I allowed Sean to lead me out into the living room.

There was an older man standing beside Bradley.  He had a thick head of grey hair, but his face was only lightly lined with wrinkles.  His square jaw and defined cheekbones gave him a roguishly handsome air, making it difficult to pinpoint his exact age.  I guessed he was in his mid to late forties.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sean tense up at the sight of him.  “Ronan,” he said the man’s name in a clipped tone, inclining his head only slightly.

But rather than returning the greeting, Ronan’s keen eyes focused on me, the obvious disdain in them making me bristle.  “Is this the reason you haven’t been at work?”  He demanded of Sean.  “You’ve been too busy fucking your whore?”

Sean’s expression turned livid, and he half-bared his teeth at the older man as he spoke.  “She’s not a whore,” he ground out.  “She’s my girlfriend.”

I opened my mouth to snap that I was neither of those things, but Sean shot me a warning look that told me I had better keep quiet if I knew what was good for me.  I pursed my lips together, holding back the furious tirade that wanted to spill forth.  I had no idea who this Ronan was, and there was clearly no love lost between him and Sean.  He might prove more dangerous than Bradley if he found out why I was truly here.

Ronan looked at Sean levelly.  “Then she’s a whore.  What other kind of woman would put up with your sick perversions?”

I felt my face flame red.

Whore. 
Was that what I was for letting Sean treat me the way he had?  For enjoying it?

“What do you want, Ronan?” 
Sean asked, his voice carefully controlled.

“I want to know why the fuck you haven’t been at work.  And no more of this ‘sick day’ bullshit that Bradley keeps feeding me.  I can see that you’re fine.”

Sean hesitated for a moment, clearly reluctant to tell the man the truth.

Ronan’s eyes narrowed.  “Don’t think you can lie to me, boy-o,” he said threateningly.  I registered that he had an Irish accent.  It might have been appealing if the man himself weren’t so repugnant.

“I was shot, okay?”  Sean said finally.

The older man scowled. 
“When?  And by whom?”

Sean eyed me, his expression anxious, as though he didn’t want to say in front of me.  But why would that matter?  If he didn’t plan on letting me go, who was I going to tell?

“Tell me, boy!”  Ronan barked.

Sean’s attention snapped back to him, and the words flooded out of him, as though he couldn’t resist the man’s direct order.  “Ten days ago,” he
said in a rush.  “It was Santiago.  The deal went south, and he pulled a gun.”

I had guessed right; Sean had been committing a crime when he got shot.  The reminder that he was a criminal made my gut twist.  Somehow, my brain seemed to have conveniently
forgotten that fact.  But he hadn’t revealed much, and I still didn’t have a very clear picture of what had actually happened.

Ronan spat.  “That little shit,” he muttered.  Then his attention turned back to Sean.  “Seeing as you’re not in jail right now, I take it you at least had the sense not to go to a hospital.”

Bradley interjected quickly.  “No, sir,” he said.  “She’s a doctor.”  He jerked his head at me, seemingly unwilling to say my name.  I hated how he referred to me in the third person right in front of my face.  The jackass.

Ronan eyed me again, his gaze coming to rest on my bruised cheek.  “I would think a doctor would have enough sense not to be with a man who beats her,” he said rudely.  He cocked his head at Sean.  “Seems the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree after all, did it, you little fucking hypocrite?”

Sean’s face turned thunderous, and he took a step towards the man as his fists clenched.  “I am nothing like you,” he hissed.  “I didn’t do that.”

Ronan squared his shoulders, suddenly seeming to grow taller.  That same aura of power that Sean seemed to gather around him now surrounded the older man.  “Are you going to try to fight me again, boy-o?”  He
asked, his voice low and dangerous.  “Your mother’s not here to save you this time.”

Sean’s expression twisted into a furious snarl.  “Get out, Dad,” he growled.

Dad? 
This horrible man was Sean’s father?  I stared at him, taking in his chiseled features that were so like Sean’s.  And his eyes: that same deep, gorgeous green.  It was horribly disconcerting to see Sean’s eyes looking out of that malevolent face.  I suddenly understood the curious lilt to Sean’s accent that I loved so much; it had been infused with his father’s Irish brogue.

The two men stared at one another for a long moment, years’ worth of mutual hatred roiling between them.

“Listen,” Bradley interjected in an effort to break the tension.  “Everything’s fine now, Ronan,” he assured the older man.  “Sean will be better soon, and then he can come back to work.”  He shot me a hard look.  “Can’t he, doc?”

“Yes, he should be fine,” I said as coolly as I could manage.

Ronan’s glare suddenly rounded on me, and I had to fight the urge to take a step back.  “You had better not be lying, whore,” he said threateningly.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to hold his gaze.

“Fine,” he snapped after a moment.  He turned to Sean.  “You have one week before I come back here and personally haul your ass in.  Got that, boy?”

Sean nodded, a single, short jerk of the head.  It seemed that was enough to satisfy Ronan. 
Barely.  After sparing one last contemptuous glance at me, he let himself out of the apartment.

Bradley breathed out a relieved sigh.  Then he turned a scowl on Sean.  “What were you thinking, antagonizing your old man like that? 
And for
her? 
Do you realize what that could cost you?  What it could cost me?”  He shook his head angrily.  “You really need to get your shit sorted out, man.  I should have killed the bitch after she stitched you up.”

“That’s enough, Bradley,” Sean snapped, still seething after facing off against his father.

Bradley looked at him disgustedly before stalking into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Sean was still standing stiffly, tension in every line of his body.

“Sean?”  I said his name tentatively as I approached him slowly.  He didn’t acknowledge me.  He seemed lost in his own head; his eyes were stormy, full of fury and pain and grief.  My hand reached out to him as though of its own accord, my fingers gently closing around his curled fist.  He was trembling.  His eyes didn’t shift to me, but after a moment his hand relaxed, and his fingers entwined with mine.  I tugged at him gently, leading him back to the bedroom.  He followed, walking mechanically at my side.  I pulled him down on the bed beside me and sat with him in silence for long minutes, tracing my thumb in little circles over the back of his hand.

After a while, he blinked.  His gaze fell on our interlocked hands as though surprised to find me touching him.  Then his eyes found mine.  They were so lost.

“Claudia?”  He said my name beseechingly.  My heart twisted at the sound of it.

Chapter 9

I reached out for him, helplessly drawn to this beautiful, damaged man.  I traced the line of his strong, square jaw, the roughness of his stubble lightly scraping at my fingertips.  His eyes darkened, and he flinched away from me.