Heart of Steele

by Alysha Huddleston

  "Oh god." She whimpered, tangling her fingers in his hair. She felt a wave of sensation moving toward her, pleasure tightened her sex until it burst and she cried out, her body convulsing against him.

  He continued to caress her, nursing the last trembles as she drifted back. She felt him kiss her gently before the rip of foil rent the air and he was sliding into her. His cock was thick and rigid and hot and she lifted her hips to take him. His hands cupped her bottom, helping to lift her so he could bury himself fully, as he'd promised.

  He slid out slowly, a groan rumbling in his throat. He opened his eyes and gazed at her, before shifting his body. He lowered himself and took her mouth, desperately, tenderly. His lips still sealed to hers as he drove into her.

  She cried into his mouth, her body arching, nipples surging against his chest. He pulled out and drove in again, thrusting, sliding, giving and taking pleasure. Her nipples tightened to painful peaks.

  "God, I love being inside you." He whispered hoarsely into her ear before lifting himself over her and slightly changing his position, his weight on his corded arms, so he could move against her clit.

  Autumn gasped and held his gaze as tension built, her breath holding, stuttering, sensations spiraling, coiling, gathering into a single point, then bursting, everything disappearing in a flash of light, everything but him.

  The sensations pulsed through her limbs, her body convulsing with sweet currents of pleasure.

  She felt his long thrusts, his mouth teasing her nipples until he stilled, groaning on a wave of breath. She felt the pulsating stretches of his release as he held himself above her, his face marred with agonizing pleasure, his hips convulsing with the clenching of his stomach.

  He collapsed into her arms and swept her against him, his powerful arms coming around her, holding her tight. Autumn wrapped her legs around his hips, holding him inside her, arms flung around his neck, cheek pressed against his damp forehead.

  Within minutes he had fallen asleep, evidenced by his steady, deep breathing tickling her cheek. She slipped his mask up, but he was too close and the room too dark to see him clearly. Autumn kissed his closed eyes and held him close. A painful ache slashed at her chest and hot tears filled her eyes. She would never see him again.

  Chapter Eleven

  She must have slept.

  The strains of dawn sifted through the curtains and she was once again in the cabin.

  Autumn took a deep breath releasing a swell of emotion. She stared at the curtains, feeling a despondency that filled and overwhelmed her.

  She closed her eyes, trying to feel his lips on her, his skin pressed against her skin, his deep voice whispering to her, his body filling her.

  She couldn't stop the tears, they came so fast, too fast, to blink away and then the soft cries rising from her aching chest.

  Mike didn't come that day, but she hadn't expected him. He was in the city. She was glad he hadn't come. She would have to lie to him, to explain why she couldn't stop crying, why her body ached with longing for a man she didn't know.

  She wrapped herself in a quilt and sipped tea in front of the fire, gazing sometimes blankly, other times with thoughts of Steele until the crying began again. She was a wreck.

  She needed to get back to town. She still had a few days before classes started but she didn't want to stay here any longer. She briefly thought of going to his house but discarded the idea just as quickly.

  They had kept on their masks for a reason. He wasn't interested in getting to know her; otherwise he would have taken off his mask and kept her with him, but each time, he had brought her back to the cabin. She knew this now. She had no memories of coming back herself, so he knew she was staying here. Had he also found out her name?

  If he had wanted more time with her, wanted to get to know her, she would still be at his house. It was a weekend affair. That was all. The faster she got away from there, the better off she would be.

  She spent the morning cleaning up the cabin, showering and packing. By the afternoon she was on her way back to her apartment in Greenwich Village.

  Matt called when she got back. She had been expecting it. Dreading it.

  "Hey you. How was your trip?" He smiled through the phone.

  "It was nice." She said brightly, trying not to let the depression she felt come across in her voice. "It was really nice. Got some writing projects done for school and ...just relax."

  "Nice of your friend to give you the cabin. Do me a favor. Next time give me a heads up before you go running off, okay?"

  "Don't get all FBI on me, big brother. She's just another law student. Her name is Jennifer Delaney and since I returned in one piece, completely harmless."

  "I gotta know my baby sister's safe." Matt said, his voice edged with seriousness.

  "I know." She answered quietly. "It's sweet and annoying at the same time."

  He chuckled. "Hey, you're doing great by the way. I'm proud of you, tum-tum."

  "Thanks." She felt better hearing his voice. "Hey you want to meet for coffee later?"

  "Yeah, how's your schedule look?" He sounded a little distracted.

  "If you're too busy, it can wait." She didn't want to put unnecessary pressure on him.

  He sighed. "Sorry. How is it you can read me so well?"

  "It's cuz I love you."

  He chuckled. "Love you too, and no matter what's going on, you're still my priority, okay?" His tone shifted back to serious.

  "Okay." She smiled. "My classes don't start until ten this semester, so we could grab a cup before then."

  "Let's get together next week. Wednesday good? You can tell me more about your trip."

  "Yeah, uh, absolutely. Sounds great. See you, Mattie." She hung up, feeling slightly nauseated. He would be so disappointed in her if he knew what had happened on that trip. She had a right to live her own life, right? She sighed. Still, she never wanted to disappoint him.

  * * * * * *

  Magnus lounged at a table near the front of the stage, watching Myra pop the front of her bra, revealing firm, perfectly round tits. Fake. He followed her dance, her pouts, her shimmies, and felt nothing, no physical reaction at all.

  He glanced at the patrons. Plenty of guys had their eyes glued to her with their mouths hanging open. Well, that was good. It was just him then. He'd hired her for her physical assets and experience, and he rarely got it wrong. From the looks of the customers, he hadn't.

  He could still pick them from a business standpoint anyway. That was all the interest he had in them. He'd gone out with a few of his strippers in the past, but over the years he'd found it only caused trouble within the ranks.

  Besides, he'd lost interest some time ago. He wasn't sure what it was, just gradually, he'd become unresponsive to their appeal. Since meeting Autumn, that lack of interest had turned into a feeling of repulsion.

  Tonight Autumn Moretti took over his every thought. Her endless, trusting eyes and contagious laughter, soft skin and responsive body had been in his head every day since he'd been with her.

  He couldn’t shake it. He could still feel her against him if he closed his eyes, moaning, her body trembling at his touch. Still see her tongue running over her lips. Those lips...He smiled at the memory, his eyes on the table rather than the half-naked girl on the stage.

  He pulled out a cigarette and let it hang from his mouth like he usually did. It seemed to be working. He hadn't actually lit one for a couple of months now.

  She had said he could call her, or that Mike could call her, and as far as she knew he was Mike. He could see her again as Mike. He would take her out on a few dates, something innocent, fun, something she'd enjoy.

  He choked as he looked up at the girl's ass bouncing in his face. Christ. Not exactly conducive to fantasizing about innocent dates. And a reminder that he wasn't some upstanding citizen who courted nice girls. He was a ruthless bastard with one selfish agenda, and he didn't court or woo; he fucked, and the women he fucked never expected anything
more from him.

  He shook his head. Of course he couldn't take her out. What was he thinking? Did he live in a fucking fantasy world? He chewed on the end of the cigarette until Jamie tapped him discreetly on the arm.

  Magnus pulled the mangled smoke out of his mouth and grimaced. "Fuck."

  "Yeah, no shit." Jamie smirked.

  He tossed the cigarette in the ashtray and stood. "I'm taking off." He said impatiently. Without another word, he signaled his driver and walked out.

  Driving north past Greenwich Village, Magnus wondered if Autumn was at home. It was a school night and past midnight.

  He imagined her in soft pajamas, maybe doing homework, maybe watching a movie, cuddled up on the couch, smelling like vanilla or cotton candy or some sweet shit body wash girls loved. He was hard just thinking about it.

  Did she think about him? Did she relive their weekend together too?

  He flipped his phone several times, then found her number and stared at it. He'd put her number in both phones, his and "Mike's." He didn't know why. He'd just wanted to see her name in his phone.

  He stared out the window at the passing cars. He needed to see her, needed to touch her, hear her voice. He needed other things too, but he wouldn't push it, not as Mike, and he couldn't exactly put on a mask and show up at her door as himself.

  Goddammit. He was craving her like an addict. He'd never been into drugs. Was this what it was like to want something so badly?

  He'd text her tomorrow. See if she wanted to have dinner.

  He'd have to rent a car; she probably wouldn't believe Mike would own a Bentley or a McLaren; he didn't actually own a car a guy like Mike would drive. Where should he bring her? The best, of course. A luxury car was hard to explain; a dinner at an expensive restaurant, easy enough.

  No one could know. Especially Jamie.

  "Don't go falling in love with the Moretti girl, Magnus. Then you would be a sorry motherfucker."

  He wasn't falling in love. He didn't know what he was feeling, but it definitely wasn't love.

  Chapter Twelve

  15 years earlier

  "Who the fuck are you?" Magnus felt his stomach clench into a ball of loathing.

  Another boyfriend. He thought they were done with boyfriends.

  "Magnus." His mother's soft voice admonished, her brow furrowing.

  He scowled. The asshole wasn't staying. Even if he had to threaten him when his mother wasn't looking. The fucker was not staying.

  He picked up his plate and shoved it into the sink with a clang before leveling the guy with a glare, pushing past him, shoulder checking him hard.

  Magnus was over six feet now, tall enough to use his height to let people know not to fuck with him and his family.

  He bounded up the stairs to his room, almost slamming the door, but didn't. He wasn't some petulant kid. He was the man of the house. He made the money for rent. He bought the food and the clothes on their backs. He'd put his mom through rehab.

  He wasn't about to let another coked up bastard come in and ruin that.

  His mother knocked on his door. "Magnus?"

  Sighing, he jumped off his bed and opened the door. "Mom, I don't want that guy here." He said through clenched teeth. "I told you that the last time, no guys at the house."

  He hated to have to remind her as if she were a child, but he couldn't risk her going back to the way it had been.

  She moved past him and shut the door. "Honey, he's a good man, just a friend...really. I wanted him to meet you boys."

  "No." He was adamant, no more. He wasn't an adult yet. He couldn't protect them from everything, even with the gun under his bed.

  "Just meet him. He won't stay and I won't ask him over if you don’t like him... Please." Her soft brown eyes pleaded with her son.

  "He can't stay." His whisper was desperate and harsh.

  "I promise, he won't. Just talk to him. I wish we had met him ...years ago. I think you'll like him. He's the kind of man you and Patrick needed after your dad...Well, would you just meet him?"

  Magnus felt his heart constrict. No man could replace his Dad, no one. He would pacify his mother. For now. He wouldn't let another guy in their lives, but he'd give him a few minutes for his mom's sake. Then he'd tell this fucker he wasn’t man enough to be his dad, and to get the hell out of their house.

  The guy stood when they came back in the kitchen and his mom gestured toward him.

  "This is Jamie, Magnus." She stood back from them as they locked eyes. The man reached out first.

  "Good to meet you." Jamie said in a deep, slightly raspy voice.

  Magnus clenched his jaw and clasped the offered hand, then quickly dropped it staring directly into the other man's eyes, glaring into his fucking soul. If he had one. Magnus gave him a flash of warning. Tense seconds passed and the guy nodded, eyes looking directly back, shrugging as if he had nothing to hide.

  "Where did you meet?" He demanded.

  "The coffee shop." His mother smiled, lifting her brow. She had followed his train of thought. "We met at the coffee shop a few months ago, and we've been having coffee together a few times a week."

  She waited for Magnus to say something, but he only gave the man a last look and nodded to his mother, his eyes softening but still communicating caution.

  She walked with him to the stairs, out of hearing of their guest. "Thank you." She cupped his cheek. "Thank you for watching out for us and thank you for meeting Jamie. He's a nice guy... I like him."

  He nodded, his expression less tense, more tired and wary. He dropped his head slightly. "I worry about you." He whispered.

  "I know, but we're in a good place now, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "I'd like you to give Jamie a chance."

  He sighed. "Ok." He would give him one fucking chance and that was it. And he'd watch him like a fucking sniper through his scope.

  * * * * * *

  Magnus felt someone watching him. He glanced into the darkness, skimming his gaze along the sidewalks and the shadowed brick buildings. Fuck! Tonight was not the night to be jumpy. He had a deal to do in a few minutes. He didn't need to be paranoid too.

  Edging into the alley between the gas station and the run-down apartments on the corner, Magnus kept to the shadows, his sweatshirt hood pulled up, hiding his face.

  He went directly to his meeting spot, reaching it and turning to face the alley so he could watch anyone coming in. It was March and still cold as a motherfucker. He shifted from one foot to the other, as he waited.

  Pulling out his smokes, he slipped one from the soft red box into his mouth, cupping and lighting it quickly as he kept his eyes on the entire area.

  He didn't like waiting. He was a fucking sitting duck.

  Sucking in a drag, he thought he saw a shadow sidling up the fence that ran along the first portion of the narrow lane. He waited. Tense. No one.

  His heart was starting to race a little now. He flicked his smoke on the ground stepping on it. "Fuck this."

  Ready to turn back, he saw a figure entering from the other side.

  Magnus leaned against the cold wall at his back, pulling out another smoke and lighting it as he watched the figure draw closer.

  He fiddled with the bag of coke in his pocket, running his thumb along the thick roll.

  The man moved up beside him slouching next to him shoulder to shoulder but not touching.

  "You Mikey?" He asked, not looking at Magnus but down the alley.

  Magnus took a dramatic slow drag of his cigarette, blowing it up into the stars. It put out the vibe that he wasn't nervous, but he was always nervous, always expecting to be caught and always ready to run, ready to get lost between the dumpsters and mountain of boxes behind him.

  That's why he'd chosen this spot. He'd almost been arrested before, but he was careful now. This drug shit always made him jumpy even when he was careful.

  He breathed in and out slowly, fixing his gaze on the tall wooden fence in front of him. It
was dark. Two street lights lit each end of the alley but not in the middle where they now stood.

  Cops... Sometimes he could tell an undercover cop by his haircut or clean fingernails or polished shoes. Sometimes he could smell them, clean and crisp, no druggie sweat or stink. Sometimes he could tell by the arrogant lift of their shoulders, by the fake street attitude.

  But sometimes he couldn't tell. Sometimes they looked just like any other addict, twitchy, their eyes shifting too fast, a stale scent making him gag. Sometimes they were that good.

  They were supposed to admit they were cops if you asked, but Magnus never trusted that bullshit.

  "Who wants to know?" He still didn't look at the man.

  "Z said you could hook me up." He dropped his gaze to the ground. This guy hadn't stopped twitching, shuffling his feet. He was going through withdrawals. Sweaty, unwashed, skinny. All the signs. Fucked up bastard.

  Wasn't his problem. He looked at the man's shoes. Not just scuffed, but filthy.

  The anxiety went out of him and he finally turned, pulling out the neatly rolled plastic bag, the white of the coke glowing in the dark. He showed the guy without letting him take it. "One fifty." He told him.

  The guy nodded. "Yeah, ok." He reached into his pocket with shaking hands and Magnus stiffened, but he only pulled out a crumpled wad of bills, counting it out.

  Apprehension prickled along his skin. The bills were crumpled but the man was too smooth as he counted out the money. All junkies wanted was the bag...the cash didn’t matter. He started to put away the bag.

  "Hey man. The fuck? I've got the money."

  "Ok, make it quick." Magnus said, thrusting the baggie into the man's hands and grabbing the money.

  He stuffed the money in his pocket and pivoted quickly to leave but was yanked back by a hand clamped on his wrist. "What the fuck? Don’t mess with..."

  He was met with a badge in his face. Fuck. He dropped to the ground, yanking his arm out of the guy's grip and kicked at his knees, making him stumble.