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“My father is the reason I can’t be close to my uncle.”
Ben sighed when she heard the confession. Sighed, partly because he’d told her about Luke’s warning the night before and was now confiding in her about his family. Mostly, she sighed because he’d stopped asking whether he’d been too rough with her. Once they’d finally spent themselves, Syson had spent well over ten minutes asking her in one way or another if she was alright.
“What happened?” She snuggled into the pillow beneath her cheek. She rested on her stomach amid the vicious tangle of sheets while Syson’s head rested on the small of her back.
“The old stories say it was drama with them and my mother.”
“Mmm...age old story,” Ben snuggled into a cooler spot on the pillow. “They were both in love with her, huh?”
“More like Drew hated her.”
“Well, well,” Ben shifted, causing Syson to push up. “Details please.”
Syson rested on the pillow lined headboard, arms crossed over his chest. “My mother was black. My dad...the Fausts are old money-as in old southern money dating way back...”
Ben nodded, mouth curving as understanding took hold. “Way back as in slavery,” she guessed.
Syson confirmed with a two finger salute. “They don’t make a secret about how much they regret the outcome of the Civil War.”
“But not your father?” Wrapping herself in a sheet, Ben tucked her legs beneath her.
Syson’s tense smile only made his features more striking. “Not my father, but he...he had ways of his own that weren’t always in my mother’s best interests.”
Ben’s understanding swirled with amusement. She knew an overprotective son when she met one. “Do you have all the facts here, Sy?” Gently, she traced a finger along his arm, stopping to tap the blood droplets that dripped from the sword tattoo. “Parents are known to keep secrets. I should know.”
Syson reached for Ben’s hand, brushed his mouth over her knuckles. “They shared a lot with me. Maybe too much. I could never understand how he could work with people who believed my mother belonged in chains. Maybe I was too young to understand,” he shrugged. “Whatever it was I hated him for it.”
“Did it cause trouble for them? Your parents? Your dad working with his family-your mom had to have problems with it.”
Syson’s mouth curved into a smile, soft quick laughter followed. “No, she wasn’t too jazzed about it, but in spite of it all she seemed happy, I guess...” he shrugged again. “I’m an only child, but it sounded like they tried very hard to give me company.”
“Ah,” Ben fixed him with a sly smile. “Listening at the door, were we?”
“Had to learn somehow,” he favored her with a wink.
Ben sighed dramatically and fell back to the tangled covers. “Took your lessons seriously, huh?”
Syson left the headboard. “I was a very good student,” he yanked the sheet free of her otherwise nude body while his gray eyes probed her sparkling amber ones.
“I believe it,” her lashes fluttered when he began to nibble the underside of one breast while his thumb began a slow massage of her clit.
Syson’s lips, teeth and tongue joined forces to ravage the satiny flesh of her breasts. While one thumb massaged her now aching core, the other caressed her nipple. The touch was feather soft-yet produced the same bone deep rapture.
He stopped his torturous feasting at the plump curve of her breast and sucked the nipple in deep. Ben cried out loudly and Syson gave her his finger to keep her occupied. She moaned at the disappointment of losing its touch at her breast, but was happy nonetheless.
She was still bathing his thumb with her tongue when his tongue invaded her sex. Thrilled by the move, yet stunned that he’d shifted into such a lusty position without her realizing, she bathed his finger even more fervently. Her hips bucked lightly against his mouth. It was as much movement as she could manage given his hands loosely cradled her waist to manage her activity.
Her orgasm descended swiftly but Syson gave no hint that he’d be ceasing his efforts anytime soon. His tongue continued to plunder and he squeezed her hips whenever her intimate muscles locked on the organ. His name trembled on her voice as her need oozed abundantly. Syson eagerly drank her in- the nourishment merely making him ravenous for more.
***
“So you aren’t the only one with family drama.”
“Looks like it,” Ben’s confirmation trailed out on a lazy drawl as she stretched on the cushioned lounge next to Rhys.
The two had taken to the private strip of beach outside their cottage that afternoon. Rhys worked on her tan, while Ben covered herself in sunscreen and savored the warmth.
“Do you think racial stuff is all there is between Sy and his uncle?” Rhys asked from her prone position in the lounge.
“Highly doubtful,” Ben kept her eyes closed while she responded. The sun and sounds of nature were relaxation inducing elements of the highest order. “I don’t think I should push him on it when we’ve got a lot more to deal with.”
“Mmm...one being Luke’s words of caution,” Rhys turned to her back and gave her friend a naughty look. “My question is will you heed his warning?”
Ben didn’t open her eyes, she could hear the devilry all too clearly in her best friend’s voice. “Would it surprise you to know that I get where he’s coming from?”
“Nope. You’re a smart woman,” Rhys pushed her hands beneath the bun she’d pulled her hair into. “Because you’re a smart woman, you’re also considering the work arounds.”
Laughing then, Ben pushed up on the lounge to stare down at Rhys from behind her sunglasses. “Seriously? Workarounds? You’re suggesting we sneak around like a couple of teenagers?”
“Who said anything about sneaking around?” Rhys leaned over to take a wine cooler from the silver ice bucket sweating at the foot of her lounge. “He’s got a cottage, you’ve got a cottage. Since Luke’s playing Big Bad Wolf, you guys can cuddle up in ours. I know how to make myself scarce.”
“May I ask why you think we’d need a place to cuddle up?”
“Oh please,” Rhys helped herself to another long sip of the flavored cooler. “Because Syson Faust is sexy as sin which would make it hard for any woman to care about the consequences. Besides...” she wedged her hands beneath her head again, “I’ve seen the way you look at him and the way he looks at you...beyond intense.”
Ben found herself coughing around a sudden ball of emotion.
The naughty gleam returned to Rhys’ green gaze. “Maybe there’s more going on here than I’ve been told?”
“Whatever,” Ben waved off her friend and reached into the bucket under her lounge for one of the berry flavored coolers she preferred.
Rhys continued to smile while she settled into a more comfortable position.
Ben grabbed her cooler and was easing into a comfy position of her own, when a beefy arm shot under her jaw and cut her air supply. There was only a moment to register what was happening and then she thought fast. As did Rhys who’d leapt from the lounge when she saw the hooded figure running at full tilt toward them.
Ben used her bottle to beat at the top and sides of her attacker’s head. His death clutch eased under her jaw to allow Ben to slip free and leave him open for Rhys to pounce. Still, it took their combined strength to bring him down. The man was tall and broadly built with stellar fighting skills.
While Ben tried to catch her breath, Rhys rode the man’s back. She used nails, teeth and fists in the struggle until he turned the tables and went down on his back to rid himself of her presence. Rhys’ hard landing sent all the breath from her lungs. Her eyes saucered as she coughed and spat. The man turned, hunched over Rhys and looked ready to render her unconscious with a blow from his raised fist.
“Do it and lose your windpipe,” Ben scarcely recognized her voice, calm as it was. Her hand didn’t even shake around the broken bottle she held at his throat. “Who sent you?”
“Do it!” The man snarled, leaning into the jagged glass.
“She won’t have to,” from her prone position in the white sand, Rhys brandished her own broken bottle. She held hers to their attacker’s groin.
The man jerked instinctively, but quickly stilled when Ben let her broken bottle graze his jugular. “Who sent you?” she demanded once more.
“Tell her,” Rhys made her request politely as she tapped at his crotch.
“S-Sean! B-bolton-Sean Bolton, Jesus!”
“Ben! Rhys!”
Avery’s and Jace’s roars carried down the shoreline. Ben and Rhys were so relieved to see them, they relaxed their guards against the attacker. He capitalized. One lithe move, sent Ben crashing back against her lounge which sent the chair folding around her. He punished Rhys’ cheek with a stinging backhand that dislodged her weapon from his thighs. He ran, becoming a blur down the beach by the time Avery and Jace arrived.