Free Melt by Cari Quinn Page A

gaze ping-ponging
between their unwelcome observer and her sweet, undulating body. The anger
inside him climbed right along with the need until his expelled breaths scalded
his throat.
    She’s mine, you
bastard. Watch while I show you. While I make her come like you never did and
never will…
    “I can’t take it.” She pulsed around him, white-hot and
tight, urging him to let go. “Justin, please. Give it to me.”
    His orgasm roared through him, so overwhelming and
all-consuming his vision blackened and his body numbed. Even as she held on to
his legs, something inside him ripped free. He shuddered again and again,
adrift in the ecstasy she’d brought him.
    Finally lucidity returned. As his eyes opened, he saw Kylie
slumped against his updrawn legs, her back glistening
with sweat. She rubbed her cheek against his skin and murmured softly, but he
didn’t hear what she said. His gaze was on the man who’d yet to leave the front
stoop. Though he couldn’t see his face, his fury might as well have flattened
the door blocking his entry.
    Time to face the dickweed he’d
wanted to throttle since last night.
    “Kylie,” Justin whispered, but she’d already heard the
sudden renewed pounding at the door, along with her bellowed name.
    Her lax, loose form stiffened. He hated watching her
shoulders brace, hated even more when she slid off him and drew herself to her
feet. A flash of pain crossed her face as she rubbed the bruise on her thigh
and flexed her legs. Her muscles had to be trembling from the position she’d
just been in, but she quickly began to dress.
    “I’ll handle him.”
    “We’ll handle him,” he corrected, standing to pull on his
jeans. “You aren’t alone anymore.”
    She shot him an impatient glance, then hurried toward the
front door, flinging it open just as Justin reached her. “Rob, we’re a little
busy,” she began, but Justin only saw the lifted fist in the air, coming down
in slow motion toward her gorgeous face.
    No fucking way. Not again. Not in his home. Not Kylie.
    His brain didn’t engage, but his body sure did. He pushed
her out of the way and flew out the open door into the blinding snow, his
forward motion driving him into the huge man dominating the stoop. Rob had to
be six feet two and two fifty at least, but the size mismatch didn’t slow
Justin for an instant.
    The fucker was going to pay.
    “You like to hit women? You like to hurt them to get your
rocks off?” Spitting his words, Justin gripped Rob’s shoulders and shoved him
back, propelling them both down the two steps. A thin layer of ice glazed the
snow, making just maintaining his footing difficult when the other guy decided
to shove back.
    “Hit women? Are you crazy? I’ve never hit my woman.” Rob
clearly didn’t have the same reservations about hitting him , however, because one of his meaty paws plowed into Justin’s
cheek before he could duck.
    “Rob! Justin! Are you two fucking nuts?” Kylie hurtled
between them, her face a pale mask of anger and fear. She grabbed both men’s
shirtfronts, but Justin nudged her firmly out of the way before returning the
gift he’d just received.
    Except when Justin’s fist connected with flesh and bone, he
didn’t stop. He rained blows on Rob’s face, not hearing his shouts, not
recognizing Kylie’s frustrated screams.
    They fell to the ground, scrabbling like wild beasts in the
packed snow. Justin didn’t feel the cold, didn’t notice the wind-driven flakes
pelting his face. Hell, he barely saw Rob’s watery green eyes swelling shut.
All he could see was the smug smile of the man who’d wielded a belt on his
mother.
    Never again.
    “He didn’t hit me. He never hit me. Justin.” Kylie yanked at
his arm, pulling him back. “It’s my fault he’s here. I called him to tell him I
was okay—”
    Shock rolled through Justin’s system. “You called him?” His
attention switched to her for a moment, just long enough that Rob’s mammoth
fist rammed directly