Battered Not Broken (6 page)

Ronan mimicked the actions of his imaginary
Gillian, touching his body as he imagined she would. His fingers
found their mark and he pinched, shivering as the sensation peaked
and slithered away. His hand released the tiny protrusion of flesh,
hardened from his touch, and snaked his hand south. With light
touches, he imagined Gillian tempting and teasing him by stroking
his abdomen, to his hip, and then thighs before repeating the
caress. He did the same, driving his need higher.

Refusing to break free of his fantasy, Ronan
continued. Stroking, touching, feeling, his muscles tensed beneath
his fingers before relaxing as his hand inched closer to its goal.
So much closer. After a few more teasing touches, his fingertips
sifted through the cropped curls surrounding his erection and
stroked the base of his shaft.

Hard as a rock, his thumb and forefinger
encircled his hardness and squeezed, relishing in the first touch
of his sensitive skin. Dragging his hand up his erection, his
fingers picked up the silken drop of pre-come and rubbed it on the
tip. Gasping at the sensation, he encircled his shaft once again
and using his pre-come as a lubricant, began stroking his cock
again. He imagined it was Gillian’s hand loving his body, and the
speed of stroke increased. Up, down, up, squeeze. Over and over he
moved his hand on his body. Gilly would be so sweet, so perfect at
loving him.

Hips moving in conjunction with his hand, he
continued the gentle tugging and stroking of his erection while his
other hand moved to cup his balls. Imagining it was Gillian’s mouth
tonguing him, he rolled the sensitive sack in his hand, alternating
between tugging and squeezing. The combination of the fantasy and
self-loving was pulling him closer to the edge. Any moment now he’d
come with thoughts of Gillian dominating his mind.

At one point, Ronan brought his feet closer
to his body, knees bent. He began thrusting into his hand,
pretending it was Gillian’s plump mouth encircling his cock,
sucking him dry. Her tongue would swirl and stroke the large vein
of his shaft. Flicking the spot just below his cock’s crown would
drive him mad with want.

Ronan’s orgasm built, shimmering beneath his
skin as it ran along his nerves and centered in his lower back. It
pushed and rushed against the confines of his body, begging to be
released. He increased his movements. Tightening his hand on his
shaft, he thrust harder, pulled and tugged on his balls, squeezing
them almost to the point of pain. Sweat poured from his brow, his
body cried for release.

His movements continued. On and on they went
as he reached for his release. His mind dove back into his fantasy
of Gillian giving him pleasure. She’d suck and moan around his
shaft, tempting and cajoling his come from its haven.
Spirits,
how he wanted to give it to her.

Closing his eyes, he imagined looking down at
Gillian, her mouth stretched around his erection, love shining from
her eyes as she sucked him and then he jumped. His body arched,
muscles tensing as his seed burst from the tip of his cock. The
tension that had built in his balls released in a rush. It felt as
if his insides were bursting through his cock, tensing, releasing
in time with his heartbeat.

Seconds later, his back still arched, cock
still half-hard, he eased his body back to the bed. His breath
still came in harsh pants as his mind returned to the present. His
imaginary Gillian, the woman that gave so willingly with trust
shining from her eyes, whispered out of his mind, and he felt an
ache in his heart at the loss. But she would return to him again.
He only hoped that next time she wouldn’t be imaginary. She would
be the woman across the hall, loving his body like no other woman
could or ever would.

Grabbing his discarded t-shirt, Ronan wiped
the cooling come off of his hand and abdomen. Throwing it on the
ground next to the bed, he rolled over, dragging the sheets with
him and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Raised, angry voices pulled Gillian from her
sweet slumber. Opening her eyes, she was assaulted by the bright
sunlight streaming through the window.

Damn, it must be late.

Raising her arms above her head, she
stretched and groaned as her muscles, joints and bruises ached in
protest. Just about every part of her body hurt. But, at least they
weren’t new hurts, right? Sure, she’d gone to bed sore and tired,
but not with any new cuts or bruises of someone else’s making.

The voices of the Bearclaw brothers drew her
attention.

“No, you’re not.”
Ronan.

“Yes, I am.”
Conner, maybe?

“Guys, now, calm down.”
Definitely
Max.

But what were they arguing about?

“You’re not going in there until she’s up and
dressed.”

“What makes you think she’s not? Did you take
advantage of her last night? You did, didn’t you?”

But Ronan hadn’t. He’d been surprisingly
sweet and gentle and gave her a kiss that curled her toes. He’d
even left when she asked him to without putting up a fight or
forcing himself on her. She’d seen and felt the erection he was
sporting, but he didn’t pressure her to do anything about it. Who
was Conner to accuse him of something like that?

“Conner, Ronan hasn’t done anything beyond
asking you to give Gilly her privacy, right, Ronan? You’re not
insinuating…?”

“No, don’t stick-up for me, Max, Conner
thinks I’m the type of man to take advantage, maybe I did.”

He did not!

She snatched up her discarded pajama bottoms
from the ground and tugged them on, tightening them as much as she
could, and prayed they stayed on her hips. They were at least eight
inches too long, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it
now. Shuffling across the room, she reached the door just as the
distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh reached her ears.

Her heart stopped for a moment, pausing
between beats as her mind filtered the knowledge that three very
large men, two of whom were hitting each other, stood on the other
side of the wooden door. Should she open it and clear the air, or
lock it tight against their intrusion and escape through the
window?

Blood thundered through her body and all she
could hear now was the rapid beating of her heart as her body
infused with adrenaline. Her hand gripped the knob, knuckles
whitening from the pressure of her hold. Her breath came fast and
hard, as her thoughts warred with her body. The men had shown her
nothing but kindness, yet they were fighting, getting physical over
entering her room. No! Her mind screamed while the other half
yelled at her to open the door, end the torment.

She wanted to run in two directions at once.
To the window, or through the door?
Frozen, she clutched the
knob as the voices continued, but she couldn’t hear any evidence of
a continued fight.

“Feel better now?”
Ronan.

He was okay. Her grip remained on the knob,
even if she felt like sagging against the door in relief.

“Asshole.”

“That I am.”

“Move, Max.”

Feet moved on the other side of the door,
their shadows peeking beneath the wood. Her heart had begun to slow
at hearing the low growl of Ronan’s voice, but it was quickly
picking up speed once again. Now was the time to flick the lock.
Now!

But she couldn’t. The sweet way Conner took
care of her when she first arrived, the tender touches Max gave her
as he cared for her cuts and the softest most touching kiss she’d
ever received from Ronan made her hand freeze on the knob. They’d
proven their tenderness and caring toward her, she couldn’t let
Conner attack Ronan. Couldn’t.

“Conner, I don’t think now’s the time…”

“You’re not going in there, Conner.”

“Watch me, Ronan.”

“Guys, this is becoming a bit like a pissing
match only you’re pissing gas and she’s the match. Do you really
want to go in there as pissed off as you are?”

Silence reigned then the sound of bare feet
padding down the hall met her ears. They’d left. Maybe she could
sneak into the living room and grab her shoes and then…well, she
didn’t know what. She just knew their fighting freaked her the fuck
out.

Turning the knob, she opened the door on its
silent hinges and was met with what she could only guess was Max’s
back. Fuck!

He must have heard her gasp, or breathe, or
something because he whirled around. His furrowed brow and look of
worry was quickly replaced with an easy smile—so much like Ronan’s,
but different.

“Mornin’, beautiful.”

He greeted her as if he hadn’t just broken up
a fight between his brothers. Like everything was as it should be
in the world.

“Max?”

“Yep, you’re getting better at telling us
apart.”

Grunts and a thump against the house could be
felt through the floor. Max coughed, pounding his chest and
stamping his foot. Was she supposed to believe that the sound had
come from him? Did she look like an idiot?

“Where are Ronan and Conner?”

The fear still waged a war against her
compassion, but she didn’t like the idea of the two men fighting.
The fact that the fight had been taken outside, she presumed to
keep her from hearing, made her feel a little better, but she
couldn’t let them beat the crap out of each other.

“Uh. Around.”

His body blocked the entire doorway, his
shoulders nearly touching the sides of the doorjamb. She scooted as
quickly as her feet would allow to the left, but he was too quick
for her. She stepped back to look him in the eye.

“Around?”

“Uh huh.”

She feigned right and moved her body left,
but he blocked her again. Stepping back, she planted her hands on
her hips and glared at Max.

“Why are you keeping me locked in here,
Max?”

“Uh. What makes you think I am?”

“Max?” She growled his name, low and as
menacing as she could make it. “Do I look like an idiot to you?”
She held up her hand. Max had proved to be the laid-back jokester
of the family and she’d just walked him into the perfect set-up.
“Wait, don’t answer that. Just tell me why I can’t go outside where
it’s obvious Conner and Ronan are doing their best to kill each
other.”

Leaning against the doorjamb, Max looked
defeated, his smile turning into a grimace as the seconds ticked by
and grunts of pain could be heard from outside.

“They didn’t want to scare you. They’re
working out their differences the only way they know how and well,
they don’t want you thinking of them as another 'door', beautiful.
We all like you,
a lot,
and want you to feel safe and happy
here. They didn’t think fighting in the hallway outside your
bedroom would make you feel safe or happy.”

Fuck if that wasn’t what she thought when she
heard the first punch connect. Now, knowing that this just was the
way they were, she wanted it to stop.

“I’m going out there, Max, and you can’t stop
me.”

“Gillian, I really think it’d be best if we
stayed inside until they’re done.”

“No.” She’d made up her mind. Couldn’t he see
that?

Running his hands through his hair, she could
practically see the wheels spinning as he tried to think of a
different stalling tactic. But, he ended up repeating a phrase that
was familiar and oddly comforting.

“I’m carrying you.”

Victory!

Of course, her victory was short lived. When
he bent to pick her up, she expected to be cradled in his arms like
all three of the men had done before. Instead, he threw her over
his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, ass straight up in the
air.

“Max! Put me down!”

Chuckling as he strode down the hallway, his
hand moved up and down the backs of her thighs and she couldn’t
stop the shiver that raced through her. What kind of slut was she
to get aroused by the brother of the man she’d kissed the night
before?

When he reached the door, he flung it open
and stepped into the bright, frigid morning air.

Fuck, it's cold!

Smacking his lower back didn’t have any
effect on the man. That had been proven by every hit she’d rained
on him as he walked through the house. Aiming lower, she smacked
his ass, which earned her a swat in return.

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself!” He laughed, deep and hard.
She felt it through her entire body.

Max strode around the wrap-around porch until
they were within earshot of Conner and Ronan fighting. Gillian
could hear their pants, grunts and moans as they fought. Hitting
Max’s back, she yelled at him.

“Put me down or turn me around, I want to
see!”

Spinning, she squeaked when she felt like
he’d drop her, but his hold was steady. Conner and Ronan were
locked together, arms twisting, pulling, squeezing and fighting for
dominance as they rolled around in the snow, ice, and mud. They
weren’t punching each other so much as they were wrestling. This
wasn’t about one beating the other unconscious, but resembled two
kids fighting in the schoolyard.

The tension she hadn’t known was with her
released, but it was quickly replaced with agitation. Stupid men!
Worrying her, making her fret and contemplate running because they
wanted to wrestle like animals. Max had been right. It was a great
big pissing contest.

She poked Max in the side as she issued her
orders.

“Take two steps back and move left.” She
waited while he moved as she directed. “No, no, your other left.
Perfect.”

Her goal was within arm’s reach. Gillian
scooped a handful of snow off the railing and formed it into a
small ball, compacting the snow as tightly as she could. It needed
to both sting and stun the men she had her sights on.

Thanking her brother for being into baseball
and needing someone to throw with, she let the first ball fly. It
hit Ronan in the shoulder, drawing his attention away from Conner,
which resulted in him being laid out by his brother. She heard
Ronan yelling, but was focused on gathering another clump of snow
and forming the perfect ball to really pay attention. Conner
distracted him again, so she supposed it didn’t matter. Taking aim,
she let her second snowball fly and got Conner in the back of the
head. Max had remained perfectly still through her two lobs, but
was now on the move and striding across the porch.