Forged in Desire

by Brenda Jackson

  She was determined that by the end of the night Striker would realize that when it came to pleasure, he wasn’t the only one who could dish it out.

  * * *

  STRIKER FELT HIS body beginning to shudder and knew he needed to end things. Margo might not realize just what she was in for if he didn’t. But for the life of him, he couldn’t. How could he when he was planted inside her mouth with her tongue stroking him, slowing and tantalizingly pushing him closer to the edge?

  He intended to hold on to sanity as long as he could...but it wouldn’t be easy. Not when her mouth on him felt so damn good. And seeing her head bob up and down between his legs, while blowing him away, had him fighting back the urge to lift his hips and move in sync with the way her mouth was stroking him. The heat of her tongue was destroying his willpower, and a groan of pleasure rumbled in his chest.

  And then it happened. He growled out a series of expressive words as a mirage of explosive sensations ricocheted through his body, nearly propelling him off the bed. Somehow she wouldn’t stop, didn’t let up as she drew the very essence of his being out of him and then worked her tongue over him, lapping up anything she might have missed. He began murmuring words, not certain just what those words were or if they made any sense. For him it didn’t matter. He’d just been given the blow of blows and his body was still reeling from the impact of what Margo had done.

  Needing her with an urgency he felt in every part of his spent body, he reached down and gently cupped the back of her neck. He eased her up his body, fully aware that her tongue was now licking areas she passed along the way. And then with all the strength he could conjure, he switched their positions so she was on her back beneath him. He reached over to the nightstand to grab a condom packet.

  “Striker?”

  He paused and looked down at her. “Yes?”

  “I’m on the pill, and I’m healthy. Unless you’re not, you don’t have to use one unless you really want to.”

  He didn’t want to. The thought of not doing so, of being skin to skin with her, had him trembling inside. “I’m healthy, too, and as long as you’re comfortable with me not using a condom...”

  “I’m comfortable with it,” she assured him.

  Breathing heavily, he used his knee to ease her legs apart. He slid inside of her, loving the feel of his flesh touching hers. Pressing her into the bed as his weight bore down, he felt himself go to hilt. Lifting his head, he stared down at her while his heart raced a mile a minute. She looked up, returning his intense stare as her hands began softly stroking his back and shoulders. Her touch was sending him over the edge again as stirring sensations rejuvenated in his groin.

  “Striker...”

  Her inner muscles were clenching him tight, seemingly holding his shaft hostage. As far as he was concerned, that was an unnecessary move since he didn’t intend to go anywhere. He was perfectly satisfied to remain where he was for now. Striker inhaled deeply, absorbing Margo’s scent through his nostrils. Loving her aroma. Loving how she said his name whenever he was inside of her.

  Loving her.

  He went still when that thought flashed through his mind. He blinked and then stared back down at her. The woman beneath him. The woman whose body he was inside of. The woman whose life he’d been hired to protect. The woman who’d pushed it beyond that. The woman who had broken through all the blockades he’d erected.

  Striker was shaken by the very thought that he had any feelings for Margo beyond what was necessary to do his job. He could try fighting it, blow off his concerns, find a solution to the madness or accept things as they were. But he knew the best thing was to deal with the issue of Margo and his feelings for her when he was in a better frame of mind. It had to be during a time when she wasn’t around to muddy the water, hold his thoughts captive or make him believe in things that he really shouldn’t.

  He wouldn’t accept his love for her, regardless of how difficult that might be. When he got some distance between and could think more logically, things would be clearer. He was sure he’d gotten lust confused with love. That had to be it.

  Satisfied with that supposition, he began moving inside her, loving the way it felt. He began growling deep in his throat with every single stroke. His eyes were glued to her face, watching her expression each and every time the hard length of him slid into her body and then out again, over and over in repetitive strokes. She couldn’t mask the unadulterated, raw emotions in the eyes staring unflinchingly back at him. It was a degree of desire and longing unlike anything he’d ever felt, and he was feeding off of it. It was driving his passion, his hunger, lust and need.

  Suddenly, something shot through him, causing him to blink at the force that rushed even more powerful emotions through him. She said his name again, calling out to him in the most primitive way as if to beckon him to claim her as his. So he did. He leaned down and kissed her, needing his mouth to be joined with hers. Not wanting anything separating them. He wanted them to be joined from head to toe.

  And when their lovemaking suddenly escalated to a fevered pitch, he felt her body shudder, almost uncontrollably, and he felt those tremors trigger his own orgasm. He blasted off inside of her, never wanting anything as much as he wanted to fill her with him at that moment. Wishing he could stay buried inside her forever this way.

  He forced himself to snap out of those thoughts. Margo Connelly had somehow managed to wrap herself around him, every single inch, and right now he didn’t see a single thing he could do about it.

  And he wouldn’t waste his time trying.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  A SHORT WHILE LATER, Margo could still feel every nerve-pulsing sensation flowing through her as she tightened her legs around his finger, which was embedded in her. He had done it again, triggering her orgasm into aftershocks that had her shuddering in pure, piercing passion. The kind that you couldn’t release until your body was ready to do so. His techniques in the bedroom were simply amazing. And she loved it.

  Somehow he’d known when the last moan would flow from her breath, and his mouth was right there, capturing hers and kissing her with a need that mirrored her own as their tongues tangled greedily. She started moaning into his mouth as a spike of unrelenting desire began swirling around in her stomach.

  He drew back from the kiss at the same time he withdrew his finger from inside her and, like before, she watched him lick the finger that was drenched with her juices. Then he pulled her tighter into his arms and held her, speaking to her in a soft voice, telling her how much he’d enjoyed her.

  With all the strength she could muster, she lifted her hand to his cheek as her fingertips brushed across the sexy, dark stubble covering his chin.

  Leaning down, he used the tip of his tongue to lick sweat from the side of her face before nibbling around her lips. She was amazed how much pleasure and passion he could generate, whether it was with his finger, tongue, hands or whatever he decided to use.

  She would never forget the moment she’d felt his semen shoot into every part of her. It was the first time she’d made love to a man without any barrier between them, but for some reason, she had made the offer to Striker and he’d accepted. She had made the same offer to Scott, and he’d turned her down. At the time he’d all but accused her of having ulterior motives. As if she would deliberately set him up to be her baby daddy or something. She had found his way of thinking so ludicrous. That was the one time she’d come close to telling Scott that she didn’t need his money because she had enough of her own. And that having a baby with him was the last thing she’d want.

  “Ready to go to sleep now?” Striker asked, intruding on her thoughts while running his fingers through her hair.

  She should be ready, but a part of her felt too wired. Too aware of him in every single pore of her body, especially the heat of his skin touching hers. “Can we talk?”


  She figured that was better than asking for them to make love again. She could feel the crackle of sexual energy that was always in the air whenever he was near.

  “Just as long as it’s not about Siskin and Dylan. I’ve had enough of them for one day.”

  So had she. Margo knew what she wanted to talk about, something she just had to know. “Why did Stonewall stab you? And if the two of you were in prison, then how did he get a knife anyway?”

  Striker knew Margo wouldn’t let it go until he told her what she wanted to know. One day he would learn to keep his mouth shut around her...unless he was kissing her. He decided to give her the short version. “It was a butter knife from the kitchen.” No need to tell her that if the knife had hit its target and ruptured a vein, it would have been just as deadly as a butcher knife.

  “Stonewall was already in prison when I got there. We clashed and over time became bitter enemies. One day things came to a head and we fought. End of story.”

  He shifted positions in bed to hold her while they slept, but he should have known that for her it wasn’t the end of the story. She wiggled out of his arms and sat up to loom over him. “But the two of you are friends now.”

  “Yes. Stonewall, Quasar and I are the very best of friends.”

  “What happened to turn that around?”

  Seeing he wouldn’t be getting any sleep for a while, he propped himself up on his pillow and pulled her to him. “It’s not what, Margo, but who. Sheppard Granger happened. He arrived at prison one day and changed everything. Don’t ask me how he did it because I don’t really know. All the inmates thought they were badasses, except when they were around him. He was much older and carried himself in a different way. It was easy to tell he was someplace he didn’t belong and way out of his element, but he had decided since he was there he would make something positive out of it. He started these programs for us. Most of them were educational in nature. And more than once Shep stepped in to help fight for better living conditions and educational opportunities. He was a born leader.”

  Striker paused a moment before adding, “Shep became our liaison with the warden. Keeping peace when needed and telling us when we were wrong, teaching us how to pick our battles. Over time he became a father figure to not only the three of us but to a lot of the other younger convicts as well. I think we reminded him of his own sons.”

  Striker remembered how at first they’d all tried resisting Shep’s overtures, no matter how positive they were. “Somehow he understood each and every one of us. Made us believe that no matter what crime we’d committed, there was a life waiting for us beyond that barbed-wire fence. That we didn’t have to wait to make something of ourselves until after we served our time, but we could do it while incarcerated. I got an associate degree while in prison and finished up with my bachelor degree at Hampton University when I got out.”

  She lifted a brow. “You have a bachelor’s degree from Hampton University?”

  “And an MBA from the University of Virginia.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “That’s remarkable.”

  He shook his head and chuckled, pressing his nose to hers. “Why don’t you go ahead and ask why I’m not working at a job that uses my degree? Don’t try to pretend you’re not curious.”

  She snuggled closer to him when he tightened his arms around her. “Okay, I admit that I’m curious.”

  He could understand. “I own a pretty good chunk of stock in several companies...including Roland’s firm. The three of us—me, Stonewall and Quasar—own quite a number of shares. But we’re satisfied with being silent partners and letting Roland run things.”

  He waited for her to ask something about Roland, whether or not he had a past in prison, and when she didn’t, he figured she hadn’t thought that much about it yet.

  “So that’s why you have such a close friendship with the Granger family?”

  “Yes. I owe Shep my life. He convinced me that retaliating by killing Stonewall wasn’t the anwer. He helped me get on the right track to get out of prison and made sure I kept my head on straight to stay out. What he’s done for us could never be repaid. I don’t know any man who was more highly respected, and it was well-earned and deserved respect. He would have done anything for us, and usually he did.”

  Striker was proud that, last year, when Shep’s sons’ lives were in danger, he had been in a position to pay some of that debt back. He, Quasar and Stonewall had stepped up as protectors for Shep’s sons. Not that he was going to tell Margo how he’d saved Caden Granger’s life, risking his own. He’d done what any of them would have, and he didn’t need Margo making a big deal out of it.

  “Thanks for sharing all of that with me, Striker.”

  He looked down at her. For some reason, sharing it with her had felt right. “No problem.”

  “I guess we’ll go to sleep now.”

  He saw the look in her eyes. “Do you really want to?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. What about you?”

  “No. I could claim it’s my time to ask you some questions, since you’ve been drilling me with yours for close to an hour.”

  Margo chuckled as she snuggled closer to him. “Are you sure that’s what you want to use this time for? To ask me questions?”

  Striker drew in a deep breath, deciding, no, that wasn’t how he wanted to spend his time. At least not now.

  * * *

  LIZ TILLMAN TIGHTENED her coat around her and then glanced at her watch. The man was supposed to meet her at ten. She didn’t like coming to this area of town at night, but she was determined to teach Frazier and that bitch of a niece a lesson.

  She quickly walked into the café, taking a seat at a vacant booth. She used to frequent places like this but that was in the old days. And definitely not since she had moved up in the world after deciding she wanted to go places. She had worked hard to overcome her past, and when she had met Frazier she’d known he would be her ticket to the life she’d always wanted.

  She didn’t appreciate all her hard work going down the drain because of one person. As far as she was concerned, Margo Connelly had coming what Liz had planned.

  “Faye Matthews?”

  She glanced up and was about to tell the big bruiser of a man standing at her table that he had mistaken her for someone else, when she quickly remembered that the name Faye Matthews was her alias. She plastered a smile. “Yes, I’m Faye.”

  He chuckled and gave her a look like he knew that wasn’t her real name, before sliding into the seat across from her. “So what kind of job do you have for me, Faye?”

  She nervously looked around before turning back to him. He had come highly recommended from a friend of a friend. She wasn’t sure this was the place they should talk. It wasn’t crowded, but most of the tables were filled. The last thing she wanted was to have their conversation overheard. However, she didn’t want to go anywhere with this man. She felt safer inside the diner than outside, where the building was surrounded with dark alleyways.

  She leaned over the table and said in a low voice, “There’s someone I want you to get rid of. Here’s a picture.” She slid the photo over to him.

  He took it and looked at it for a few minutes and then smiled, showing his crooked teeth and a sinister glint in a pair of beastly eyes. “What’s her name?”

  “Margo. Margo Connelly.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  RANDI STUDIED THE notes on her computer screen. She was alone in the office Harkins had provided for her use and she was grateful for that. Her meeting with Erickson had been draining. More than once today, while doing her research, she had lapsed into what she’d long ago termed a deep state of concentration. For some reason, her psychic mind was treating this case differently. It was strange how strong the ambiences were, and she was determined not to take any o
f them lightly.

  She knew about Erickson’s sordid past. Most of it she’d decrypted from the time she’d spent with him. A part of her was glad he was finally behind bars for his crimes. But then there were murders he hadn’t been convicted of. Murders he’d never even been linked to. In her mind she had seen the victims, and they were calling out to her. The only good thing was that about 80 percent of those murdered had been assassinated by the same individual, Erickson’s personal hit man. And she hoped she would be able to stop him before he could kill again.

  She looked up when there was a knock on the door. “Come in.”

  Detective Ingram walked in. “How are things going? Do you need anything?”

  Randi shook her head as she leaned back in her chair. This was the first she’d seen of Detective Ingram today. According to Chief Harkins, she’d been pulled to work another case. Randi got strange vibes whenever she was around Detective Ingram.

  “Things are going fine,” Randi said. “And, no, I don’t need anything. In fact, one of the officers brought me a fresh pot of coffee a few moments ago. Guess it was obvious I’d be burning the midnight oil. Grab a cup. I’d like to go over a few things with you.”

  “Sure. Want me to pour you a cup as well?”

  “Yes. Thanks.” Randi looked back at the computer screen. The number three had been flashing through her mind most of the day. She had awakened at three o’clock this morning and had a hard time getting back to sleep. Then her mother had called to remind her that Randi’s twin nieces would be turning three in a few weeks. When she had arrived this morning, the room she’d been given by Chief Harkins had been office three. What did all this mean?

  “Here you are,” Detective Ingram said, placing the cup of coffee on the desk.

  “Thanks.” Randi lifted the cup to take a sip and glanced over at the detective, who was about to do the same. Suddenly, a flash of one of the recent victims’ faces nearly blinded Randi. “Stop!”