Darker Than Desire (2 page)

For a little while, at least,
she thought, breaking inside. But it wasn't like she could pull away. Already she could feel her muscles clamping around him and she knew in just a matter of time she'd be riding his hand, practically desperate for him.

“You want to make me feel better, Sybil?”

*   *   *

David tangled his fingers in her hair. She'd tamed it into a somewhat reserved twist, but he dislodged the clip and pins, impatient, sending the curls spilling down over her shoulder with his free hand while he continued to stroke her with the other hand.

She hadn't answered him, though.

He had to hear the words.

With another taunting, slow twist of his fingers, he stopped touching her and forced her to turn. A soft, sexy little cry escaped her and then a ragged breath as he stroked his fingers, from her sex, across her lips.

“Make me feel better.”

She went to lick her lips and he caught her chin in his hands. “Don't,” he growled, angling her face up. There was another ragged breath, a broken moan as he licked the sweet/tart taste of her away and then proceeded to slip his tongue inside her mouth, another slow, teasing slide of his body into hers. “I'm the one who gets to taste. I'm the one who gets to lick … feel … touch.…”

He gripped her ass in his hand and dragged her against him. “Like this.”

Lust burned, roared inside him, and he pulled away.

He had to be inside her. Had to.

His eyes, used to the dark and these fields, searched the area and found what he needed before he caught her hand and laced their fingers together.

Her face was pale, her eyes dark and wild in her face, as she and David reached the fence just fifteen yards from the buggy. He pulled off his jacket and draped it over the top, a barrier between the rough wood and Sybil's back. Then he urged her up against it, his mouth crushing up against hers as he slid his hands down her back, along the curves of her hips to grasp her butt and pull her in tight.

“Make me feel better, Sybil,” he rasped in between one breathless, soul-stealing kiss and another.

She slid a hand between them and he groaned as she started to stroke him. He pulsed in her hand and he felt something wet seep out. Forcing distance between them, he braced his hands on the long, sturdy boards that made up the fence's rails. “Take off your panties,” he ordered, his voice harder, harsher.

Sybil's lashes swept down in a slow blink, a faint smile curving up the corners of her mouth. He wanted to fist his hands in her hair, haul her back up against him and feast on that mouth. Every day. Always.

Instead, he curled his hands tighter into the old, weathered boards and watched as she dragged up the sleek column of material that made up the skirt of her dress. Starved, he watched, barely able to see anything over the pool of fabric, but imagination served him well. Soft thighs, round and smooth and strong. Her hips, lush and female. The neat patch of curls between her thighs, covering the heat of her, where she was already wet for him.

Once she had the panties off, she held them in her hand and he reached over, pushed them into his pocket. “Take me out. I want to feel your hands on me.”

A harsh breath stuttered out of her, and while it soothed some of the raw, jagged edges inside him, it also made the burning need worsen. She needed this, needed
him
just as much as he needed her.

But this was poison … or addiction. Both. Something he'd started to crave so long ago, he couldn't imagine
not
wanting her, not needing her, not needing to feel her under him. She was inside him, in every way that counted … just another sign that he wasn't as closed off as he wanted to be, needed to be.

Don't think about it now
.

Easy enough, because Sybil had his trousers open and her fingers closed around the heavy ache of his erection and his head fell back, bliss spreading through him as she started to stroke. Firm, tight strokes, her thumb occasionally brushing over his cockhead in a maddening little caress that went straight to his balls.

That sensation raced through him, drew him tighter, tighter—

His cock jerked and for a second he thought …
maybe
 …

The thought of coming on her, in her hands, losing control just like that, burned inside his brain, something he wanted, he needed.

You need the pain—

He swore and all but tore her hands away.

“Rubber,” he said, forcing the words through his teeth.

Like a magician, she produced one. Where she'd had it, he didn't know and he didn't care. “Put it on me.”

Her lashes swept down low and he used those brief seconds away from her gaze to try and regain control, but it was impossible. Her fingers smoothed over him as she dealt with the condom, turning the task into a seduction. When she was finished, he boosted her up and drove into her with savage hunger. Sybil cried out, hooking one hand around his shoulders.

Her eyes stared into his with naked hunger, naked shock, as he slammed into her, hard and deep, little care for finesse or control. He just
wanted
. He just
needed
.

And she met him stroke for stroke, touch for touch.

He pressed his face to her neck and sank his teeth into the supple curve there, felt her tighten around him like glory, and he grunted, felt the warning spasms in her sex. She pressed a line of kisses to his jawline, his ear.

Blind, he turned his face to hers, fusing their mouths together.

That need drove him on, still hard, still demanding.

Sybil cried out into his mouth and he shuddered in agonized pleasure as she clamped down and came around him. He
could
feel the release, feel it hovering just on the edge—

Her teeth sank into his lower lip, exactly where she'd bitten him earlier, harder this time. At the same time, her hand gripped the shorter strands of his hair and twisted.

The line between pain and pleasure blurred and he felt it collapse, that unseen wall inside him. With a groan, he climaxed, his cock jerking, pulsing inside her as he emptied himself.

*   *   *

“What are you going to do now?”

She asked the question softly as he took her back to her car.

His body was sated, his brain dull, from the release and the exhaustion of the day.

Her question took more thought than he liked, even though he didn't really have to think very hard. He'd been thinking about this for … well. Maybe ever since the day he'd run away from home.

He'd always known, David realized.

Sooner or later, he'd have to go home and face his demons.

Turning his head, he met her eyes from under his lashes.

“I'm leaving here.”

Her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open.

Before she could say anything, he focused his gaze on the dark road. The moon was full, giving them more light, but they had to go slow and he needed to get Sybil away so he could think, start to figure things out. He never could think clearly when she was there.

“Leaving…?” she whispered.

“Abraham is gone. He left the farm to his daughter and I could stay in my house on the hill, but it isn't right.” He looked around the quiet darkness surrounding them, felt an odd tug in the region of his heart. He'd miss it, he realized. Some of it, at least. “I don't belong here.”

“Where—” She cut herself off, but from the corner of his eye he could see the strain on her face.

“I'll find a place in town.” He shrugged. He'd already looked around, checked a few things out. Money wasn't an issue. He had money. The issue was everything else.

“Town. You're moving to Madison,” she said, her voice ragged.

From the corner of his eye he watched her for a moment. “Did you really see me going anywhere else?”

Her gaze flicked away. “I don't know. You…” She heaved out a sigh. “But I don't see you being happy in town.”

“Happy.” He snorted. “Happy…? Yeah, sure. I can be happy there with half the town staring at me like I'm a freak and the other half like I'm a monster.”

“You're
not
a monster.” Her gaze cut to him. “And you're no more a freak than I am.”

Faint amusement worked through him. “At least you don't lie and tell me I'm normal.”

“What is normal?” she asked, reaching up to touch his cheek.

This
 … part of him wanted to believe this was normal. That this could
be
normal. “Normal … not me.” He shrugged. “People in town know. Unless they've been living under a rock, they know who I am and the ones who aren't idiots are already figuring out…”

He stopped, unable to continue. Unable to voice that shame in front of her.

“Figure out what?” she asked, her voice gentle. “That your father was a monster? Good. People
should
know he was a monster.”

Fury pulsed in her voice. “It's made me
sick
the past twenty years, watching people mourn him and your mother.”

Her gaze came to his. “You know…” She hesitated.

He jerked a shoulder. “You knew he was abusive back then. You were one of a few.” His heart thudded hard against his chest. “One of a very few.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Why?” His laugh sounded like jagged bits of glass. “Because people know? Don't be. You're right. Everybody should know he was a monster.” Shaking his head, he murmured, “Yeah. They should know.”

Her hand smoothed up his back while secrets and shame slithered through him, but for once, it all wanted to come spilling out. Clenching his jaw against the words tearing up his throat like bile, he said, “I can't leave. There's too much left undone, unanswered.”

Sybil's hand, soft and strong, smoothed up his back. “Some questions won't ever be answered.”

Nobody knew that better than him.

But he had some of those answers himself, tucked away inside his head. And if he'd look deeper, he could probably find a few more.

*   *   *

Sybil watched from the road as he turned the buggy off the main road. She would have liked to follow him, but it was weird enough coming out here just to offer him comfort he clearly hadn't wanted.

He hadn't wanted it, no. But the pain in him was wild. The need enough to take her breath away.

She'd probably have bruises on her hips in the morning, and although her body felt bruised in that wonderful, blissful way that could only happen when you have good, hard sex, she knew he'd just done the same thing he always did.

Used her body to avoid looking at his own pain too deeply.

Used her so he wouldn't have to think about the fact that he needed her.

He did need her. She'd seen it in his eyes, on his face, in the way he clung to her as their breathing calmed and their hearts slowed. He needed her, and because he did, he would push her away.

He'd been doing it for weeks.

To be honest, she'd been half-expecting this anyway.

Hell.
She was actually shocked David Sutter had ever let her get close to him at all. One look in his dark, tortured eyes and she'd realized that he had demons living inside him. All the truths were coming to light now and she understood more about those demons than she really ever wanted to know.

She wanted to hunt down the people who'd hurt him as a child.

She wanted to put herself at his side so he never had to go through anything alone again.

But David—Caine, whatever he called himself—only wanted to be alone, except on the rare occasions he didn't. Then he turned to her. When he left in the quiet hours before dawn, she was exhausted, aching, and the need for him was like a drug in her system.
More, more, more …
that was all she wanted.

But he gave her less and less.

Sybil was stupid enough, desperate enough, needy enough, to accept whatever he was willing to give her, to give him as much as he was willing to take.

And all the while, she hid some truths from him that she'd likely never reveal to him.

Sighing, she did a three-point turn and headed back into town. She needed to get out of her boots, get into her bed and crash. Alone. Thankfully, she had that option.

She'd left her nephew, Drew, with her best friend. Taneisha Oakes had a boy about Drew's age and the two had become almost inseparable. It was a good fit, in more ways than one.

Taneisha wasn't going to be intimidated or freaked out if Drew's mother, and Sybil's sister, showed up looking for him. It wasn't likely to happen, because Layla didn't have a maternal bone in her body and the few times she'd actually tried to get involved with her son she'd been doing it to get something from Sybil.

But if she tried to square off with Taneisha, Layla would find herself in for a rude awakening. Taneisha might leave a few shards of bone when she was done, but that was it.

Someday Sybil wanted to think her little sister would get her act together, stop the drinking, the drugs, and kick the revolving-door habit thing she had with men.

Until that day, though? Sybil's goal was simple—keep Drew out of his mother's destructive orbit.

He'd be safer. Happier.

And if Sybil knew what was good for her, she'd pull out of David's orbit before it was too late.

But that point had already come and gone.

*   *   *

Within minutes of his leaving her, that raw, edgy energy returned.

David knew he should be doing better than this—it shouldn't hit him so hard that he'd lost Abraham, shouldn't hit him so hard that he was alone in the quiet, again. Without Sybil.

He'd been alone in the quiet for most of the past twenty years and this was how he'd wanted it, why he'd deliberately set out to shut himself down, shut himself off, so he couldn't feel, so he
didn't
feel.