Excerpt:

PROLOGUE

Summer, 1997

Sarah was everything he wanted, everything he had dreamed of for over a year now. He had waited, put aside any thought of her until she turned eighteen, ignored his rising lust each time she smiled at him. Just as he now ignored the little voice in his head that said she was still too young. Much too young for what he needed from her.

But how could he resist her any longer? His body ached for her, his cock throbbed with a constant erection, his hands itched to stroke her silken skin. He was starving for the touch, the taste of her, and could no longer deny himself the pleasure he knew he would find in it.

So, he watched and he waited, planning just the right time, just the right way to draw her to him. She wanted him; he could see it in the soft golden brown eyes, the flush that mounted her cheeks when she looked at him. The way her hands trembled and her breasts rose and fell with her quickened breathing.

And he knew when she left the party after receiving his note to search the shadows of the house for him, that she needed him, too.

“Sarah?” He moved from where he hid as she stepped hesitantly toward him. “Where’s your shadow?”

Mark Tate had been damned near impossible for him to get rid of.

“Mark?” She bit her lip nervously, glancing back at the corner of the house as though afraid the other man would suddenly appear. “He went off to the barn with some of his friends.” She turned back to him, watching him intently in the dim light of the full moon. “He’s just a friend, Brock.”

Mark wanted to be more. Brock was determined he wouldn’t be.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come.” He moved closer to her, feeling the warmth of her body that seeped into that cold, dark place in his heart.

He watched as she swallowed tightly, her big brown eyes following him, looking up at him as he stopped within an inch of pressing against her heaving breasts.

“You asked me to come,” she whispered on a sigh. “You knew I would be here.”

Her admission was like a fist of desire to his loins. Brutally sharp, agonizing in its intensity.

“Will you come for me every time I ask?” He was more than aware of his play on words.

Sarah frowned, her face turned up to him, her lips tempting him. “If I can.”

God, she was too innocent for him. Too soft, too vulnerable.

“You have no idea how much I want you, Sarah,” he told her, fighting to keep his voice soft, tender. “How desperately I want to touch you.”

She took a deep breath. Her breasts brushed against his shirt, the light material of her sundress doing nothing to hide the hard little nipples beneath it. She licked her lips nervously, and Brock was lost.

“Come upstairs with me.” He lifted his hand, touching the fall of dark blonde hair that brushed her bare shoulders. “I promise not to hurt you, Sarah. Whatever you want. Just come with me.”

Her hand, small and graceful, the fingers slender with delicate pink nails touched his chest. He felt that touch clear to his soul. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, hungry.

“I’m nervous,” she whispered. “What if I can’t—”

He would explode, but he would accept it.

“Then I won’t,” he promised her. “Whatever you want, Sarah.”

She was scared. He could see it in her eyes. Scared, but she wanted him, wanted him just as much as he needed her.

“Just us?” She asked the question almost fearfully. “Just me and you, Brock?”

Gossip was the spice of life. Had she heard the gossip, the truth of what he was?

“Just us, Sarah.” He lowered his head until his lips could brush her temple as his hand smoothed up her bare arm.

He heard her breath catch, felt her body melt against him. He clasped her other hand in his as he moved back. He drew her into the house, then up the stairs to his room. The barbeque was in full swing outside. Laughter and music drifted into the house, though it seemed distant, unreal. The only reality for Brock was Sarah as she followed him up the stairs, down the hall and into the room he had prepared for her.

Tall, thick candles graced the walnut dresser and bedside tables. Their soft light spilled over her, creating a soft glow on her creamy skin. She trembled, a blush stealing over her cheeks as she glimpsed the bed, turned down and inviting.

“Sarah,” he whispered her name as she halted in the middle of the floor. “I promise. Only what you want.”

She followed him, her steps careful as he moved her to the bed.

“I’ve never—” Her voice shook.

“And you don’t have to now.” His cock was raging at him; his heart was breaking for her. “I just want to hold you, kiss you.”

He needed her like sunlight. God help him, she brought light to his soul when nothing else had in years. He would do anything for her, kill to have her. But he didn’t think he could survive another night without holding her.

He stopped by the bed, pulling her against his body, unable to wait another minute before he touched her. His lips covered hers, catching the breathy little moan that escaped as one hand clenched in her soft hair.

Her hands were on his shoulders, her soft belly pressing against his cock, and Brock knew he was on the edge of his control. He pressed his tongue to her lips, sinking into the dark velvet of her mouth as she shuddered against him. Her nails bit into his shoulders, her tongue tangled timidly with his, drawing him deeper in the maelstrom of pleasure that touching her evoked.

Moving slowly, his lips still covering hers, Brock lowered her to the bed. He wanted her until he couldn’t breathe. Her skin was soft, her moans heady as he pulled his shirt from his shoulders, tossing it to the floor. Her cry was mingled with shock and pleasure as he lowered the bodice of her dress, pressing the hard points of her nipples into the muscles of his chest.

His lips were at her neck, nibbling, licking the fragrant skin as she trembled and gasped in his arms.

“I could eat you up,” he growled, kissing a soft line to the rising mounds that tempted him. “Like candy, Sarah. Like a man starved for the taste of you. Just you.”

A fever of need burned inside him. Lust had never been like this. It had never stolen his control, had never wiped the pain of his memories from his mind. It had never sent his heart beating so fast it shuddered through his body. It had never made him tremble from his hunger.

His lips reached her nipples and for a moment, he could do nothing but stare at the perfection he was ready to devour. The tips were hard, dark pink, the perfect mounds swollen and flushed as they rose and fell sharply from her agitated breathing. Watching the hard little points carefully, his tongue distended and swiped over the delicate bud experimentally.

He felt the muscles of her stomach clench beneath his hand, her hips bucking sharply.

“Brock?” There was fear and desire in her voice. A husky little moan of pleasure that frayed the last threads of his determination to go slow.

His head lowered, his mouth covering her nipple as his hands worked her dress from her hips. She arched to him, her hands locking in his hair as he began to suckle the engorged nipple. She was chanting his name and he was drowning in it. God help him, she was so hot, so soft and sweet he could barely breathe for it.

He let his tongue rasp her nipple as he sucked at it. He pushed the dress from her hips, down her legs, surprise flaring in him as she kicked the material free with an impatient move of her legs.

His hand smoothed up her thigh and she stilled. Opening his eyes, he moved with greedy hunger to her other breast, his gaze locking with hers. Her golden brown eyes were wide, dazed as she watched him. His hand neared the humid heat emanating from her cloth-covered cunt as his tongue licked her unattended nipple in slow strokes, his eyes never leaving hers.

Her head jerked, her eyes darkened. His hand covered the hot mound of her cunt and she cried out brokenly. The sound went straight to his cock. Lifting his hand from between her legs, Brock quickly worked his pants open. Careful to keep her pleasure building, he nibbled at the hardened tip of her breast as he worked his pants and underwear from his body.

He was so hard he wanted to scream from the agony. When he was finally free, finally naked, his hand went back to her thighs, his fingers running over the damp silk of her panties. She jerked in his arms, twisting against him now as her own hunger began to reach a fever pitch. Her eyes closed, and Brock couldn’t help but watch her. Watch her cheeks flushing, her lips opening in a strangled gasp of pleasure as he moved the crotch of her panties aside, his fingers sliding into slick, damp honey.

“Sarah.” Brock panted her name as he lifted his head from her breast.

He couldn’t control his desire. His need to touch her. He had to have her. He had to taste the sweet honey of her or go crazy from it. He planted soft, sweeping kisses across her chest, her neck, back to her lips. She was hungry for him, her lips opened, her hands tightened in his hair as her hips arched to his fingers.

“So sweet,” he growled against her lips, then stroked them as his fingers slid into the wet velvet crease between her thighs.

She stilled, her eyes opening again, staring up at him as she whispered his name beseechingly. His fingers moved slowly through the slick crease to circle her swollen clit slowly.

“Oh God, Brock.” Her thighs opened wider, her hips pushing against his hand.

“You feel so good, Sarah,” he whispered, desperate, his need to ease her, to draw her to him with his tenderness rather than the wild hunger driving him insane.

He clenched his teeth as her hands left his hair, moving to his shoulders. She was watching her hands now, smoothing them over his chest. Curiosity lit her expression, amazement washed over him in waves that she would draw such joy from touching him.

“Yes, Sarah,” he groaned, hearing the fierceness of his voice. “Touch me. Please God, touch me.”

His fingers moved through slick honey to the tender opening of her vagina. Her hands stroked his clenched stomach as he slid his finger shallowly into the tight, hot entrance.

Sarah cried out his name, her muscles clenching on his finger as her hand encountered the thick stalk of his cock rising to meet her fingers.

“Sarah, I have to have you.” He was dying for her. The need was a white-hot agony radiating through his body. “Dear God, Sarah, please—”

His hand moved from between her thighs. He wanted to draw the panties from her hips, show her caution and tenderness. The sound of fabric tearing shocked his dazed senses but did little to cool the fever raging through his blood. The widening of her eyes, the glitter of excitement in them shocked him further. His sweet, shy Sarah liked having her panties ripped from her? What else, he wondered, would she like as well?


* * * * *
Sarah cringed inwardly from the excitement that flared through her body like a burst of heat as Brock ripped the panties from her hips. His face was a portrait in sensuality, his gray-blue eyes dark and hungry, intent. She could see the need in his expression, the rapid loss of control working through his body, and it thrilled her.

Her hand clenched at his shoulder, sun bronzed and hard from the tense muscles beneath as he stared down at her. His eyes were locked with hers, watching her, intent on her. Thick, black lashes were lowered over his eyes; his black hair was mussed about his face from her fingers.

“I want you, Sarah.” His voice was hard, determined. “If we’re going to stop this, now is the time to do it, baby. I may not be able to later.”

His voice was incredibly gentle, at odds with the hard sensuality in his expression. His hand smoothed over her shoulder, her breast. Sarah arched in his arms, hearing the involuntary whimper that issued from her throat. His hands were so warm, they felt so good.

“Brock.” She arched against him, feeling the heated length of his cock against her thigh, his hand as it smoothed over her body, setting up an electrical firestorm of need that she had no defenses against.

“Sarah, I need you so bad.” His face buried in her neck, his lips tasting her skin like a man more than starved. Let me have you, Sarah. Please, let me have you.”

His voice was tormented, his body tense.

Sarah moved against him, unable to halt her body’s response to his plea. As his lips moved over her cheek, then took hers in a kiss that destroyed any objections she may have had, she could do no more than give into him.

Her lips opened to him, her tongue twining with his as he moved against her, pressing the hard length of his shaft against her thigh as he groaned into her lips. Her hands clenched at his shoulders as his chest rasped the tender tips of her breasts her neck arching as desperate kisses ran across her jaw, her neck. He licked his way to her breasts, but didn’t stop there.

His hands roamed over her body as she tossed beneath alternate stinging nips and fiercely hot licks to her flesh. Each touch sent her spiraling higher, her fears of his possession overshadowed by the electric currents of arousal pulsing through her body now.

His lips moved to her abdomen, tongue stroking, then teeth nipping as she tossed against him. His touch moved lower then, his hands spreading her thighs as he went between them.

His head was moving below her hips, his breathing a hard, rumbling groan as he moved lower, then lower.

“Brock?” Sarah stilled, forcing her eyes opened, her breath catching at the hungry look on his face.

“I’m going to eat you like candy, Sarah,” he whispered, his voice deep, dark. “Just liked I’ve dreamed of for months now.”

His head moved, lowered, his hands arching her closer as his tongue swiped through the curl shrouded, slick folds of her cunt. Sarah cried out, her fingers clenching in the blankets as he did just as he promised her. He ate her. Every inch was stroked, licked, sucked. His tongue pushed inside her pussy with a slow, even stroke, drawing yet more of the thick liquid from her pulsing center.

Sarah was insane with arousal now. She bucked against him, pleading for more, desperate to still the raging fires burning through her body. Each second she could feel her body tightening further, reaching higher. She shuddered, gasping, begging. Then his lips enclosed her swollen clit, suckling lightly as his finger sank shallowly inside the humid depths of her throbbing pussy.

Sarah felt herself exploding, coming apart. Her eyes flew open, her first sight that of the doorway at the far side of the room and Brock’s twin, Sam as he turned from them. In an instant she saw his arousal, his assurance, and Sarah knew the rumors about the August men were true.

She stiffened, fear washing over her, the hot slide of depraved excitement flaring inside her.

“No,” she cried out desperately as Brock rose over her, pushing between her thighs, his cock stroking over her moist cunt lips as he positioned himself.

“Sarah?” He was breathing hard, fighting for control when her hands went to his shoulders.

She was desperate to escape. She had to leave, get out of here before he possessed her forever. Because God help her, she would never find the strength to deny him anything he wanted otherwise.

“No,” she cried out again, mortifying tears brimming from her eyes, fear shaking her body as the thick, bulging head lodged at the entrance of her cunt.

“God, baby. Sarah.” His voice was a cry of pain, a desperate dark plea that shook her to soul. “Please, Sarah. Don’t do this.”

“Let me go.” She couldn’t control her cries, the soul shocking pain and fear that assaulted her now. “I can’t. I won’t, Brock. I won’t do it. Please don’t make me. Promise me you won’t.”

All he would have to do was ask her. She knew it. The flare of added arousal she had felt at the sight of Sam had shown her that.

“No, Sarah.” He dropped his head, his expression tortured, tormented. “Don’t do this.”

She pressed at his shoulders, fighting to escape not just Brock, but also the dark needs rising inside herself. She was sobbing now, unable to stop the fear that overshadowed her arousal.

“God damn.” His curse was fierce, angry as the head of his cock parted her, throbbed at her entrance. “Son of a bitch.”

He jerked away from her. His curses sizzled the room, his fury was a like a beast, wild untamed.

“Go, damn you! Get the fuck out of here!” he yelled at her, his expression so angry, so dark and so filled with pain that Sarah couldn’t bear the sight of it.

She jerked her dress from the floor as she jumped from the bed, stumbling in her haste, barely catching herself from falling. She struggled into it, crying, shaking as she rushed for the door.

“You’ll be back, Sarah,” he bit out as she rushed from the room. “I swear to God, I won’t let you go.”

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