Stryker (Boys of Wynter Book 1)
Page 6
His glazed jade eyes focused heavily on my naked breast. It was my left breast, my left side, the half that was dotted with the glittered nymph's mark.
"What I wouldn't give to run my tongue along that diamond tattoo," Stryker spoke into the dimly lit room as if he was just thinking aloud. Then he took a deep breath, released it and moved against the grasp of my hand. "Harder, angel. Faster."
I moved my hand up and down, feeling the pressure build in hot waves beneath my palm. Another low groan floated through the air, but this time it rolled from my lips. I was feeling his pleasure. As I rocked him toward the ending he wanted so badly his entire body had grown tense with it, I felt my own body hurtling toward something I couldn't explain.
Suddenly, it seemed my mind had been taken over by that molten core at the center of my pussy. My free hand moved on its own, as if driven only by a carnal need to finish this. Stryker's gaze grew from hungry to predatory as he watched me smooth my hand along my breast. My nipple, taut with arousal, sizzled with sensations as my fingers plucked at it.
I tightened my grip on Stryker, and he growled in response. "Fuck yeah, touch yourself, love. Please. Fucking touch yourself."
I needed no coaxing. The hot pool of moisture between my legs begged me for relief. I moved my hand down and pushed it beneath my underwear. A small cry left me as my fingers reached the pulsating nub hidden deep within the folds of my pussy. Instinctively, I stroked it. My head felt as if it would float off my shoulders, but I kept my hands moving, almost in perfect simultaneous rhythm, one pumping fast and hard on Stryker's erect cock and the other quick and light between my legs.
"Fuuuck," Stryker uttered with a release of breath. His cock pulsed in my hand and hot liquid dripped over my fingers. The sensual feel of the silky semen sent my body over the edge. I cried out as the pressure that had been building in my pussy shattered, leaving behind waves of an intense pleasure, the likes of which I could never have imagined.
More daylight filled the room, and a glow surrounded Stryker as the light got caught in the steamy moisture evaporating off his naked body. He lowered his arms and without touching me, his fingers came as close to me as they could.
"That blush," he said quietly. "You are so beautiful, Willow. It's like someone has tied a steel knot around my chest. I know I don't belong in your world, and I've never done anything to deserve someone like you, but— " He inched his fingers closer and they brushed against my arm. "But this cut in my side is nothing compared to the hurt I'm going to feel when I walk away from you."
Tears threatened. I didn't want him to know that I was wearing that same steel knot around my chest. I blinked a few times and took a steadying breath. I grabbed at the cloth I'd been using as a compress on his head, and I wiped him clean. My ministrations caused his cock to stir again, so I cut my task short, worried that I'd start the whole thing again.
He watched me as I slipped back into caregiver mode, a state of mind that helped me forget that I was falling hard for the near stranger in my bed. I pulled the covers over him and avoided looking at him. I had never had enough sympathy for my mother's plight, it seemed. She'd spent so many hours sad and heartbroken about my father that I'd ignorantly decided she was just melodramatic. And now all I could think was that I had been a selfish daughter. If I'd had any idea just how acute the pain of heartbreak was, I wouldn't have been so quick to judge.
"I'll make you something to eat. I scrubbed some of the stains from your pants. They are drying by the fire. One more day of rest and you should be strong enough for the journey home."
I could feel his cool green gaze on me, but I willed myself to keep my eyes averted as I finished picking up the used gauze and water glasses. "I'll be right in with some lunch." With that, I walked confidently out of the room and straight into the kitchen where I dumped my load into the sink. The glasses clattered in the porcelain basin, cracking into several pieces.
I stared down into the sink as my tears fell over the broken shards of glass.
Chapter Twelve
Stryker
A meal of potatoes and bread, a hot shower and a long rest and I was feeling a thousand times better than the day before. Of course the day before I was teetering on the edge of death until Willow came up with a plan to save me.
My head was clear, and the burning fire in the wound on my side had cooled to a dull ache. I'd turned a corner, and I was mending fast. Which meant I had no reason to stay on the mountain. And after my confession that I was feeling something much stronger than appreciation for my unwitting guardian angel, she'd made it starkly clear that I needed to leave once I felt able to journey out on my own. I couldn't blame her. Why the hell would someone as unique and incredible as Willow think of me as anything except as one of the Boys of Wynter, dangerous, notorious rakes who spend their days and nights hunting and partying?
I scrubbed the towel through my wet hair and combed it back with my fingers. Willow's cheery voice floated in from the porch. It sounded as if she was talking to one of her animal friends.
I headed out to the front room. My buckskins were hanging over the stone mantle in front of the fire. The blood stains had seeped in like permanent black ink, but there were no more traces of yellow venom. It was still hard to believe that one measly wraith had been so fucking dangerous, just as it was hard to understand why it had led me so far up into the mountains. Of course, if it had followed the usual predictable path toward a populated city, I would never have met Willow.
Gunner, the little white fox, had finally gotten used to me. He ignored me as if I was just a piece of furniture as I pulled on my pants. His focus was on a scene outside the cabin, on Willow, no doubt. I could still hear her talking in that soft, cooing, comforting tone that I'd heard through the fog of my fever. It was a soothing sound that I knew had kept me from heading straight into the darkness that called me. More than once, my mind told me to let go and be done with it, but it was Willow's touch and voice that kept me clinging to the ledge. The creatures of the tundra didn't understand just how lucky they were to have an angel like Willow guarding them. Fuck. Now I was envious of polar bears and Arctic foxes. Leaving her was going to be hard. I just needed to get it over with and go.
I finished tying up the leather string of my pants and walked to the window to see what had Gunner's full attention. Willow was standing in the snow wearing a green hooded cape. Her long black hair lined the sides of her face, framing her perfect profile. She was holding out something on her palm, a piece of fruit or apple. I had to lean to the side to see what animal was being offered the treat. I expected to see something camouflaged in the white fur of winter, a snow hare or polar bear. Instead my eyes were met with a stark black silhouette, the silhouette and black coat of an animal I knew better than any other.
"Fuck." I raced for the door. A mortal stallion was dangerous enough to come face to face with, but Rogue was a stallion born and bred in the underworld. I'd seen the animal scare off every critter in his path with just a low whinny. And Rogue never trusted strangers.
I flew over the steps and my feet landed with a jarring thud in the icy snow, reminding me of the two hundred stitches in my side. Rogue's head lifted and turned my direction for a second but then he refocused his gleaming black eyes on Willow. She wasn't the slightest bit intimidated by the seventeen hand stallion as he pawed the snow with his massive hoof.
"Willow, wait," I called as I ran toward them.
She peered around the edge of her hood, but there was no apprehension in her expression. Just a kind smile, which stayed on her face as she casually walked toward my beast of a horse. I was ten yards away, plunging through the snow, wearing my heart in my throat as I watched Willow reach up and touch Rogue's neck.
I stopped in front of them, the air around my head clouded with the condensation of my own heavy breaths. Rogue snorted contentedly like an old plow horse as he snuffled up the piece of fruit. All the while, Willow stroked him like he was a tame, spoiled circus pony.
I shook my head, still stunned in disbelief. "Yep, this is Rogue, and I have never seen him stand still to be stroked or eat a treat off of someone's hand. Hell, I don't know if I'd be brave enough to offer him something. Of course, I did watch you calmly walk a polar bear out of your cabin, so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised."
"You forget, I'm a guardian of animals."
"Uh, guardian of earth's animals. I don't think Rogue fits in with any of this world's species, even if he resembles a regular horse. The mare he was bred from used to kill wraiths and goblins with just one hoof."
"True, but he's amazing nonetheless." Willow reached up to rub the white star on Rogue's forehead, the spot that transformed into the headlight of my motorcycle when we left Wynter and joined the mortal world. Rogue had taken a risk changing back to horse form on the outside, but he was trained to be my loyal companion at any cost. I felt the same way about him.
"I have some hay stored in the shed. I keep it for the caribou when the snow is too deep to forage. Rogue can stay there for the night. Until you are ready to leave." There was a slight hitch in her words. She pushed her hood off, exposing the silky black hair. The opalescent highlights sparkled under the late afternoon sun. Radiant. She was fucking radiant. And watching her stand next to my horse, who was now playing the lap dog and nudging her with his muzzle, I couldn't have been more broken about leaving her behind for good.
"Willow," I spoke up, but she seemed to know where my conversation was heading.
She shook her head sadly. "It's for the best. I'm just glad you're alive." She looked back at Rogue. "And I think your horse is too." Her fingers curled around his mane, and she led him toward the shed. Rogue followed along like a dog on a leash. I was pretty sure he was already as in love with her as I was.
We reached the shed. Rogue walked straight to the pile of hay Willow dropped for him. We watched him chomp away on the dried grass for a few minutes.
"He's hungry," she said. "A night in the barn, and he should be good as new."
"I'll leave before dark."
Willow's face shot my direction. "So soon? But why?" I'd convinced myself she was just as happy to see the backside of me, but her eyes were telling me something different.
"Like you said, it's for the best."
Even her nod was unconvincing. Or maybe I was just hoping to see a sign of disappointment that wasn't really there at all.
"Well then"—she forced a light tone—"we should get you fed too. You have a long, cold trip back to Cliffmoor. I'm sure your friends have missed you." She turned to me with a smile that was more forced than her frilly tone. "I have some pails in the house we can fill with water. Rogue will need a good drink before the ride back."
We walked back to the house, and I realized just how silent a snowy landscape could be. Even our footsteps made no sound. It was such a lonely existence, not one that was suited to someone like Willow, who was life and charm and smiles all wrapped up in a luscious package.
I followed her up the steps and glanced back toward the shed. Rogue had his head buried in the pile of hay. I'd let him finish and rest and then I'd pull myself away from the tundra, the cabin, the girl.
Willow dropped her cape on the couch and walked to the kitchen. She was doing it again, avoiding eye contact with me. In a few hours, I'd be walking out of her life. That thought twisted my gut into a fucking knot.
I watched her thin shoulders through her tight sweater as she leaned over the sink with her bucket. Steam rose up, fogging the window pane as she filled the pail with water.
She didn't look back at me as she lifted the filled bucket out of the sink. She lowered it to the floor. "Here's one." She filled the second bucket. "Take these and I'll carry out the third." Her face stayed turned toward the sink. I stood behind her for a second, breathing in her honey sweet scent and watching her long fingers wrap around the faucet. My cock tightened instantly as I thought about those same long fingers wrapped around me. Her naturally seductive aura mingled with the warm steam in the kitchen sending my pulse into overdrive.
She turned and gasped quietly as she discovered me standing directly behind her. All I could think about was trapping her there in my arms and never letting her go. But she slipped past me with a quick smile and carried her bucket through the cabin. I picked up the two other pails and followed her back out to the shed.
We placed the water down. Rogue finished off the first bucket with one long inhale. Then he lowered his muzzle back into the hay.
"Oh, I have some carrots." Once again, Willow avoided looking at me as she slipped past me to the back of the shed. She leaned into a burlap sack and fished out several carrots.
I was done with our game of tag. I walked up behind her. Before she could sidle past me, I wrapped my hand around her waist, pulling her back against my chest. She was stiff at first, and I worried she might pull away. But she slowly melted against me. She rested her head against my chest.
"If I leave here having never touched or tasted you, then I'll spend the rest of my days wishing I'd died on that couch."
"It's my nymph's aura, that's all," her voice wavered. "You'll forget me the second your horse steps from snow to the forest floor."
"Not true. It's not just the aura." I turned her around to face me. She finally lifted her blue eyes to my face. I reached up and ran my finger through her hair. "It's this black and opal silk. It's the confident way you walk right up to a black stallion or a damn polar bear. It's the way you cared for me, the way you sewed two hundred perfectly sized stitches into my flesh without a second thought."
"They do look pretty perfect, don't they?" Her lip turned up at the corner.
I pressed my thumb along the crease next to her mouth. "Oh yeah, and then there are these lips."
I took hold of her face and kissed her.
She parted her lips, and I brushed my tongue along them before deepening the kiss. She responded with a soft mewling sound that sent all the blood from my head and directly to my cock. "Please, angel, I need to taste more of you. I want to ride home drunk on your scent."
She didn't answer but her hip rubbed against the raging erection in my buckskins. I pushed her sweater up and was met with the tight rose of a nipple. I lathed my tongue across it and then suckled it. She combed her fingers through my hair and held my face against her.
I ran my tongue along the silver tattoo, a string of leafs and roses all formed from an ink that resembled liquid diamonds and tasted somewhat of mint. My hands went to work on the button of her jeans. There was no hesitation or sound of protest so I continued.
I lifted my gaze to her face and looked into her blue eyes as I pushed her pants down to her knees. The pink blush covered her skin and her eyes were blue pools of desire. I took hold of her waist and spun her so that her back was against me again. I gazed over her shoulder down at the small mound of dark hair resting over her pussy, a pussy I was sure felt like creamy nymph satin. I reached my arms around her and swept one hand up to her breast. I slid the other down along her flat belly.
Willow grasped my forearms with a bit of fear, and it seemed to steady her wobbly legs.
A chirping sound, like a tiny nervous bird, came from her lips as I trailed my fingers over the mound of her pussy and pushed them between the hot, wet folds.
I tightened my arm around her and cupped her breast in my hand. "Shh, love, I have you. Relax and let me repay you for your kindness."
A sound that was half cry and half stunned breath shot from her mouth as I pushed my finger inside the slick wet opening. It was as I'd expected, like touching the most lush satin, and that satin closed around my fingers, wanting more. She was inexperienced, but nymphs had a natural instinct for pleasure just as they had an aura that co
uld drive a man to madness. And hers was doing exactly that.
Her breathing came in short white puffs of steam in the open air of the shed. I couldn't stop myself from rubbing my hardened cock against her as it strained against my buckskins. Holding her and fucking her wildly with my finger was like the best damn sex I'd ever had, and I had plenty to compare it to. But this was different. Her scent, the heated aura that was chipping away at my resolve, putting every imaginable idea in my head and the instant way she responded to my touch was bringing me close to coming. I wanted nothing more than to strip her naked and take her right there in the shed. But I wasn't going to leave her with that memory of me. I just needed her to know how much I wanted her. She needed to know at least that.
Ignoring the throbbing ache in my cock, I pumped my fingers into her and massaged her clit with the heel of my hand. She was so wet with desire, I had to clench my teeth just to keep myself from exploding.
"Stryker," she whispered and then her pussy clenched around my hand. The shuddering trembles of an orgasm pulsed through her body. I held her tightly, knowing full well that if I released her, she would collapse to the floor.
I felt her racing heart slow beneath my forearm as I held her against me. Her head lulled back against my chest, resting lightly against the gauze and stitches she had so expertly applied. Her small ear was exposed as her silky strands of hair fell back, away from her face. I leaned my head down and kissed her ear and neck, my mouth lingering on her fragrant, honey colored skin long enough to memorize her scent, her taste and the way she felt in my arms.
Chapter Thirteen
Willow
I silently chastised myself for the hundredth time for giving into my weaknesses, my urges. I wasn't angry at myself for following the carnal instincts my mother had passed on to me. I had ignored those instincts for what seemed an eternity. But now knowing how hot and satisfying it was to touch Stryker and how much pleasure his touch could give me made me realize how much I'd been missing in my solitude. It made his leaving that much harder.