Sweetest Salvation Page 3

  Andy lowered her hand to her clit again. Her fingers swirled the swollen nub and clenched the bed sheet in her other hand.

  “Yes, more. Give it harder.” The roles of who was Dominant and submissive forgotten. She just needed him to be ruthless with her.

  Nolan groaned and grew thicker inside her. The edge drew close and Andy tightened her inner muscles.

  “Damn it, I won’t last if you keep doing that,” Nolan growled.

  His cocked pounded in and out of her and their deep gusts of breath filled the air around them. Andy looked at Paige, watched as she pumped her fingers in and out of her pussy. It was beautiful. But she couldn’t allow herself to be caught up in Paige. She needed to concentrate on Nolan fucking her.

  Her fingers left her clit as she shifted her stance more firmly onto her left leg and lifted her right one onto the bed.

  Nolan moved with the change in position, and shouted, “Christ!”

  Andy felt him deeper than ever, thankful that it brought him in closer. He clenched her hips tight and pushed his cock in higher and deeper.

  “Fuck me, yes. I need it to hurt,” Andy begged. Desperation clawed at her as she straightened her back just a bit more.

  Hands tight at her waist, Nolan steered her hips as they dropped onto his cock while he pushed higher. She felt as if she sat on top of him, riding him, except not facing him.

  His strong hands maneuvered, pulling her hips down as he pushed up.

  White light suddenly filled her vision, catching her off-guard. She gasped. “Christ, I’m coming soon. Almost there. Please, more.”

  Nolan curled over her back, thrusting deeper into her as she came down onto his cock.

  “I can’t hold back much longer,” Nolan moaned.

  Andy lowered her right hand to her clit and pinched it. She cried out and rolled her hips faster. The drive to the edge of the cliff approached fast. She wanted to hold back but didn’t deserve such pleasure. Not without pain.

  She wanted Nolan to spank her, slap her pussy with his fingers, she didn’t care. But she needed the pain.

  She pinched her clit harder, her pussy tightened on his cock and she shuddered. It took over and she was helpless to stave off the release she so desperately ached for.

  “She’s close, Paige. Baby, come with us,” Nolan cried out to his wife.

  “Yes, love. I feel as if you’re fucking me. Mmm,” Paige moaned.

  Andy heard their voices, but slipped into her own world. Patrick and Peter’s faces swam in front of her.

  She closed her eyes tight, tears filling them. No, she couldn’t think of them at a time like this. She deserved no happiness. They had no place here. She just wanted to be fuck, and without emotion.

  “Deeper. Faster,” Andy commanded.

  Nolan let go of her hips and cupped his hands around her shoulders as he pumped harder and faster inside her.

  Yes! This was what she wanted.

  In the position she was in, she was surprised he didn’t snap her in two. Her back arched as her hips rode his. Her right leg ached at its angle, but she didn’t care. She had the pain with the pleasure.

  Nolan lowered his left hand and grabbed her nipple. He pulled until it distended as far as possible. She cried out as pain washed through her.

  Releasing her, he grabbed her right leg, lowered it to the floor and pushed her completely face down over the edge of the bed.

  Unable to move, Andy shivered. Her pleasure soared, as if she were held captive.

  Nolan’s cock pushed into her, hard and fast. The strength of his hips gave her everything she wanted as he thrust deep.

  She turned her head to the right. Her gaze connected with Paige’s blue eyes and saw nothing but lust and pleasure. Her gaze dropped to Paige’s pussy as she fingered herself, the juices visible.

  “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Nolan growled.

  Andy watched Paige fuck herself as Nolan pumped harder. The rush of pleasure pushed her toward release.

  “Spank me,” Andy mumbled into the bedding, unsure if Nolan could hear her.

  As his palm hit her cheek, she shouted and her fingers clenched tight against the mattress. Her hands curled into fists and she pounded the bed.

  “More, dammit. It doesn’t hurt enough,” Andy demanded vehemently.

  Nolan’s hips pistoned faster as he hit her ass over and over. She felt him grow in width inside her and moaned.

  “Harder. Make my ass red,” Andy cried as her release crashed over her.

  Nolan’s hand came down once more as he thrust deep. He squeezed the skin of her ass so tight Andy’s eyes filled with tears. She exploded with a long, guttural shout and stars filled her vision.

  At a distance, she heard Paige and Nolan find their simultaneous release. Nolan drove inside her as her muscles squeezed over and over. He let go of her skin and petted her ass cheek.

  Andy buried her head in the bedding and fought to keep her tears at bay.

  As her pulse slowed and heart rate decreased, Nolan pulled from her body.

  Exhaustion clawed at her. Boneless, she lowered herself onto her knees at the end of the bed and laid her head on the mattress. Closing her eyes, she waited for her breathing to slow.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes. Paige, wrapped in a robe, knelt beside her, a wet cloth in her hand. “Here, to clean up,” she said softly.

  Andy smiled in thanks and took the cloth. She pushed herself up to the edge of the bed and cleaned herself, then threw the cloth into the tiny pedestal sink in another corner. Staff would come in later and deal with the dirty linens. She was grateful for it since she didn’t think she could handle doing it right now.

  Nolan walked up beside her and laid her clothing on the bed. Seeing that he was fully dressed, Andy had to wonder how long she’d sat on the floor. It must have been for a good few minutes if they had time to clean up and get dressed.

  Andy smiled a little at him, and whispered, “Thank you.”

  She stood on shaky legs and put her clothes on. Once dressed, she straightened on her heels and walked down the stairs. There was no need to make small talk. She’d probably never see them again.

  She looked back at Paige.

  The other woman smiled gently. “If you ever need anything, Andy, the club has our number.”

  Uncertain what to say, Andy turned away and grabbed the remote from the table. She pushed the “close” button and the glass slid together. She hit the “curtain” button and the red velvet shut her away in the room by herself.

  She dropped the remote onto the couch, and straightened her clothing. Going without underwear was something for her to get used to, especially in such a short skirt, but she was just heading home. Her ass still stung as the skirt rubbed against it with every move she made.

  With a last look around the room, Andy smiled gently, thinking about all the other times she’d spent in this room with Patrick. The stings of pain she’d just experienced would have to be enough for her.

  She had no plans to return. The notion niggled in the back of her mind that there were other avenues at the club she could explore, and more pain left for her to feel. There was plenty of time to consider her options, she supposed.

  With a sigh, she walked to the door, turned the doorknob and pulled. Head down, she exited the room only to hit a hard wall.

  She looked up, taken aback.

  Her gaze swept up a white t-shirt covering a rock hard wall of muscle clearly defined beneath.

  When she met the stormy, angry eyes of Hunter Sullivan, she gasped.

  That he’d found out she was there made her nervous and agitated her. She wanted to avoid him at all costs.

  His presence brought forth too much—guilt, fear, anger over his demands and orders these last few months.

  The sight of him reminded her of the days on the beach with him, Patrick and Peter. The weekends he would drop in unannounced and crowd into their lives.

  But he’d been a part of the family then.<
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  Now, she was ashamed to see him. He made her feel unworthy and a reminder of what she’d done. Not that she really needed it.

  His jaw clenched and his gaze narrowed on her. She could almost see smoke coming out of his ears and knew he’d reached his limit with her.

  For months, she’d avoided him, which no doubt pissed him off even further. But she couldn’t look at him. Her shame was enough without seeing accusations in his gaze.

  His nostrils flared. She drew in a deep breath.

  Desperate to get away from him, she lifted her hands and gave his chest a hard shove.

  When he staggered back, she charged down the hallway as fast as she could.

  She deserved his anger and hatred. Every horrible opinion he had of her was justified. Hell, she thought the same things about herself.

  Andy pushed her way through the front entrance and raised her hand to catch the attention of a cab, desperate to get away.

  She couldn’t see her own thoughts mirrored in his eyes.

  There was no forgiveness for her. Not even from herself.

  And especially not from Hunter.

  He would never forgive her for killing his best friend and his godson.

  Chapter Three

  Andy sat on the cushioned seat of the bay window in her bedroom. Pillows surrounded her as she gazed out into the backyard of the two-story home she’d lived in throughout her eight-year marriage.

  She and Patrick had looked at dozens of houses before finding this one. The hardwood floors, three bedrooms, office and spacious kitchen had captured their attention immediately. But the backyard had clinched the deal.

  They’d spent many hours working in the garden. Though they only lived about fifteen minutes from the city, they’d planted vegetables on one side and a fair-sized section of roses on the other. Patrick would bring her a long-stemmed rose every day when they were in bloom, and took some to his mother who lived about ten minutes from them. His secretary at the computer software company where he’d worked had been often thrilled when he’d given her an armful just for putting up with him.

  God, she missed him.

  And she missed her little boy, his laughter and cries of delight as he learned new things.

  Hell, she’d give anything to trip over a dump truck or teddy bear again. To find a towel balled up on the bathroom floor after Patrick showered. The little things that used to drive her crazy were the things she missed the most.

  Peter tugging hard on her long hair when she tried to get him dressed in the morning. Patrick’s incessant humming, or tapping a pen against the table as he tried to figure out the crossword puzzle in the Sunday paper.

  She swallowed back the tears that threatened and leaned her head against the window. Two small blue jays fought for their spot at the bird feeder. She found it calming to sit and watch them come by every morning at seven like clockwork. Since she still battled insomnia at night, it became routine to enjoy a cup of tea and watch them fly around her backyard.

  She sighed and closed her eyes.

  It had been three days since she’d fled from the club and Hunter.

  She could still picture the look in his eyes—anger, frustration and disappointment. He’d never looked at her like that in all the years she’d known him—until Patrick and Peter’s deaths.

  She pushed aside the memories of those dark days she would never escape from. Zombie-like, uncaring and desperate just to be left alone, she only moved through life without really living.

  Opening her eyes, she stood and walked through her bedroom and into the kitchen.

  After setting her mug in the sink, she leaned on the counter, head down, and her thoughts on the past.

  She was grateful for Patrick’s planning for their future when they’d first gotten married. He’d handled most of their finances, and his income alone granted her the option of staying at home.

  She helped out the local church, fundraising for donations. She’d joined many of the charity organizations her mother-in-law, Jeanine, was a part of. After learning the ropes in organizing various functions to raise money for hundreds of causes, Andy had found a niche in life she excelled at, and had helped multiple charities raise hundreds of thousands of dollars.

  In the last year, she couldn’t find it within herself to continue doing so. Her life had been shattered. What could she offer other causes when she had lost so much? Where was God when she needed Him most?

  She sighed and turned toward the fridge and opened it. Where the shelves were once filled to the brim with fruit, juice boxes, condiments for Peter’s favorite hot dog meal, they were nearly bare now. She grabbed a container of yogurt, closed the door and snatched a clean spoon from the strainer of dried dishes.

  She leaned against the counter and contemplated what she’d do today. Most days she vegged on the couch and pretended to watch movies or talk shows, but not even Ellen Degeneres could make her laugh.

  As she scooped the last bit of yogurt from the tub, the doorbell rang. Her gaze checked the time on the microwave—eight-fifteen. Only her in-laws stopped by these days, but never at this early hour.

  Walking through the kitchen and into the foyer, she caught sight of herself in the mirror beside the coat closet. Her brown tresses were all over her head, and she smoothed them down a bit with her fingers. It was a losing battle. She wasn’t expecting anyone and the solicitor or whoever was at her door could just live with her faded grey sweats and bugger off. Visitors should call first. Though it wouldn’t have mattered—sweats and t-shirts were all she wore at home now.

  She unlocked the door and swung it open.

  Andy’s stomach pitched and her eyes widened. Hunter stood on her porch, arms spread as he leaned against each side of the doorframe. His unwavering gaze met hers.

  She knew at some point that he would confront her after the other night. He’d been none-too-pleased to see her at the club then.

  He looked even unhappier now.

  Hunter Sullivan took a long look at the woman before him.

  For years, he’d seen her dressed in long flowing gowns, dress slacks or pant suits with gorgeous blouses or shirts at charity functions. He was becoming very tired of seeing her in the same faded sweats whenever he happened to see her.

  Of course that was before she’d told him to go to hell and rarely answered the door anymore.

  “Can I come in?” he asked, even though he wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

  Seeing her at the club the other night had nearly put him over the edge. He never wanted her to grace the place again. At least not without him present.

  He pushed those thoughts from his mind and crossed the threshold as she stepped back and walked away.

  Hunter closed the door behind him and followed her into the living room.

  Memories choked him.

  He still couldn’t get used to not seeing the framed family photos on the wall. Absent were all pictures of Patrick and Peter, photos from Andy and Patrick’s wedding day. The dozens of photos of Peter as a baby when he’d learned to walk, a picture taken every three months. The last would have been his fourth year photo.

  His nose tickled and his throat tightened. That little boy meant so much to him. The godson he would have done anything for.

  Hunter coughed and took a seat in the black recliner across from the matching loveseat where Andy sat.

  She picked at what he could only guess was imaginary fluff from the arm of the loveseat. She obviously didn’t want to look at him. He sighed.

  Coming here today would no doubt result in a hell of an argument, but things had festered too long. He needed to resolve whatever anger she felt toward him and convince her to move on. He hated that she’d closed herself off from everything and everyone she loved.

  He spoke to Jeanine and Tony Sheaver every day. Patrick’s parents had become his own since first meeting them in his senior year of high school. Even when he and Patrick had left for college, they’d always made sure Hunter came to th
eir house on holidays and special occasions.

  Having lost his own drug-addicted parents when he was two, and having moved from one foster home to the other his whole life, meeting the Sheaver family was one of the best things to ever happen to him. On his own since he was sixteen, he’d worked two jobs after school in order to stay in a rundown motel on the outskirts of town.

  The couple who owned the motel knew he was alone, and for various chores and help when needed, they’d kept quiet about him being underage and never called the authorities.

  Within the first six months of being Patrick’s friend, he’d tried to convince Hunter to save the money he spent at the motel and move in with him and his folks.

  Hunter’s pride kept him from accepting, and he managed to save enough money to live off while he tried to save for college. It was a useless effort since tuition cost more than he could make in ten years just working at the car garage and sweeping up after last call at a bar in town.

  He’d been shocked, however, when Patrick and Tony showed up at his motel one evening and revealed that his first year of tuition at college had been paid for. He’d been humbled and had succumbed to tears at their generosity. He’d tried to refuse their gift, but Tony had wouldn’t allow it. They would help him like that was more than anyone had ever done for him.

  He’d worked hard during those four years and finally graduated with a business degree. He’d worked at the bar, having moved from janitor to bartender, and even became the night manager after a couple of years. Though the Sheavers refused to let him pay any of the tuition money back, Hunter had put it into investments for them once he’d learned the ins and outs of business and stocks.

  They now lived off the interest of those investments, and Hunter took pride in knowing he’d paid them back somehow and they were taken care of.

  Especially with Patrick gone now.

  Hunter sighed, which caught Andy’s attention. Her eyes met his briefly before lowering to her hands, which were clenched tight in her lap.

  “Look, Andy,” he began.