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“You create beautiful art.” His voice was rough, harsh in the quiet air of the dusky room. “But I don’t think I’ll ever see anything more beautiful than this.”
She was wearing full-bottomed panties, but they were sheer and black. Without warning, he slapped his palm over the crease that divided them once, then twice. Heat pooled between her legs, and she felt herself pushing back toward him, desperate for more.
Rather than delivering another blow, he gathered the waistband of the panties in his long fingers and ripped. Amy gasped again when she heard them tear, felt his questing fingers explore the opening he’d just made.
“I want to take my time with you, but I don’t think I can.” Reaching between her legs, he swiped his fingers through her wet heat, then traced them back, along the crease that divided the cheeks of her behind. “I’m feeling a bit primal tonight. I need you, Amy. I need to claim you. If you’re not okay with this, please say so now. I’m afraid I’m going to lose control.”
His clever fingers found the pucker of her rear entrance. Her body bucked, and she cried out her response.
“Take me.” She barely recognized her own voice. “However you want to, but take me now.”
He snarled—that was the only word for it. With a palm flat on her back, he bent her over the sawhorse, then ground his pelvis against her naked behind.
“Hold on to this.” He delivered one more quick blow as she did as she was told, fingers digging into the rough wood on either side of her body. When she closed her eyes, she could hear the metallic rasp of his zipper being undone, the soft sound of fabric dragging on flesh, the metallic crinkle of a condom wrapper. She inhaled, and he pressed the head of his cock to her soaking-wet entrance; she didn’t have enough coherent thought left to be embarrassed by her shameless state.
With a grunt and a single hard thrust of his hips, he was inside her, all the way inside her; the way she was bent over the sawhorse left her open, inviting him deeper inside than he’d been before. She gasped for air as he pulled back, fingers digging into the wood. When he worked his way back in, he pressed a finger to the hidden rosette of her rear, shocking her body into sensations she’d never experienced before.
Working his finger past the tight ring of muscle, he filled her in two places, and she couldn’t hold back the scream. One thrust, two, and then she came, his bossy fingers ordering that she take her pleasure. She did, clenching around him like a vise. Behind her, she felt him shudder, his muscles tighten. His movements shortened, because a short series of sloppy thrusts as he pursued his own pleasure, and then he came, his shout mingling with her hoarse cries as she continued to come, around his finger and around his cock.
The force of his release made Amy shake, pushing her up and through one more of her own. Her body resisted it for a moment, overly sensitive at this point and not sure it could handle more, but Fred had told her he was going to claim her. Her body knew that this wasn’t her decision, so when he thrust into her roughly again, and again, and again, she fell, spiraling through the glittering dark in a way that should have been terrifying. Should have been, but wasn’t...because Fred was there to catch her.
EPILOGUE
“NICE DIGS.”
Fred looked up from the cardboard box he was unpacking to find his twin in the doorway. While Fred was dressed down in his new daily uniform of khakis and a crisp button-down shirt, Frank was, as always, wearing a perfectly fitted custom suit. He looked, Fred thought, much as he himself had, only a month before.
“Thanks for signing off on the lease.” Pushing the box away with one foot, Fred lowered himself to his new office chair, which still had a layer of plastic on it that squeaked beneath his weight. He gestured to the equally new chair that sat on the other side of his box-store desk.
“There wasn’t much to think about.” His twin shrugged as he lowered himself into the chair that Fred had indicated. “The space was sitting empty, and a law office is a good fit.”
“It’s not a law office.” Fred scowled at his brother. “Jesus, Frank, didn’t you read the paperwork? If this doesn’t pan out because you—”
“Chill.” Frank rolled his eyes, then placed the long, slender box he’d been carrying onto the desk—fifty-year-old Glenfiddich. Nice. “Have a drink before you have an aneurysm. Yes, I read it, but ‘legal counsel for the Boston Underprivileged Housing Authority’ is a bit of a mouthful to say every time.”
“As long as it’s legit.” Fred eyed his brother again, then reached into the box he’d been unpacking. From it he withdrew two mugs, both with Amy’s artwork on them, a new item she was offering in her shop. Frank nodded at his approvingly before reaching for the scotch.
“It’s legit.” Fred watched as his twin opened the box. Removing the heavy bottle, he uncorked it, then poured a generous measure into each mug. “You did have the upper hand, though. No one else wants to lease a space with a giant mural on the wall.”
“That mural is fine art, I’ll have you know.” Picking up his mug, Fred inhaled the peaty aroma, then took a careful sip. “Did you buy this or steal it from Dad again?”
“I didn’t steal it,” Frank replied, indignant. “I told him I was heading over here, and he took it out of his desk and handed it to me. Told me to bring it.”
“Interesting.” Fred paused with the mug at his lips again, considering. He and his family had reached a détente of sorts when he’d applied to lease this space, but he and Amy still wouldn’t be heading over there for dinner any time soon. He wanted an apology for the things they’d said about her—to her—and thus far they hadn’t offered one. The scotch was a small step forward, but there were a lot more steps to take.
Fred held on to the hope that they would be taken, at some point. And if they didn’t, that was okay, too, as long as he had Amy.
“I have to get back to the office.” Frank nodded to his brother as he stood. “Anything you want me to tell Dad?”
“Tell him thanks for the scotch.” Fred pondered saying more, but he just wasn’t ready. Lifting his mug, he saluted his brother. “Thanks for being the go-between.”
“I don’t work for free, you know.” Frank drained the last sip of his drink, then held the mug up to the light for inspection. “Can I have this mug? It’s cool.”
“Sure you can. For twenty bucks.” Frank rolled his eyes, and Fred gestured widely with his palms. “Hey, I just work here.”
“Uh-huh.” His twin made a big show out of pulling a money clip from his pocket and extracting a twenty. With exaggerated gestures, he moved to lay it on the desk, then snatched it back. “I suppose I should go downstairs and leave this with Amy, then?”
Fred grinned as he tried to come up with a snarky comeback, which he knew his twin would then inevitably try to top. Happiness was a warm glow in his chest, spreading outward as he leaned back in his chair and looked at the gigantic orange rose that stretched the length of the wall in his new office space.
Life wasn’t perfect, but he no longer thought it was supposed to be. And with his twin still in his life, a new job that ignited fire in his gut and, most of all, the woman he loved at his side during the day and in his bed at night?
He might not be part of his family legacy anymore. But you know what? He was doing just fine anyway.