Taken by Storm

by Tamara Mataya

  The combination punched her in the chest, leaving her breathless and reeling. The second he’d pushed inside her again, she wanted to scream and laugh and cry. He was more than a physical outlet; he was the flame igniting the fuse of the explosion blowing away the walls between who she’d been, who she was, and who she wanted to be. He was the freedom to be herself, and she clung to him like a life raft.

  For all his intensity, he set a slow pace, rocking into her as if he savored every second and wanted to prolong it, stay inside her forever. He was huge, making her feel tiny and safe. And he was huge, as big as she’d remembered. She was still a bit tender from last night, but the way he filled her made her forget all about anything but pleasure and wanting more. So much more.

  The felt of the table rubbed softly against the backs of her thighs, and ass, matching the friction of Ryan’s skin on the front of her body. The sensation overwhelmed her. Quickly, too quickly, he brought her to climax, so deeply she couldn’t make a sound, only remembered to breathe when her lungs started burning. She felt him come, but he stayed inside her, lightly traced her lips with his own, his hands burned teasing caresses across her cheek and jaw.

  “Were you really into me back then? In school, I mean.”

  Her cheeks flamed which was ridiculous seeing as how they were still joined and pressed together. “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “You know how Joanne had a thing for you?”

  “No. She did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But her and I never went out.”

  “No. But she liked you and she was my friend, so,” she trailed off, looking away from his eyes—difficult with their close proximity—glad of the darkness that hid her embarrassment.

  His fingertips delicately traced her cheekbone. “I thought you hated me.”

  Leila’s laugh tasted bitter on her tongue. “It was easier to pretend that than to let you get too close. You frustrated the hell out of me, which made it easier. Seriously, were you trying to torture me by following me around from activity to activity?”

  “You were the one following me around!”

  She hugged him tighter, silencing them both for a moment. “Anyway, I didn’t think you wanted me. Nothing I did seemed to register with you, or get your attention, even though I was trying to keep my distance for Joanne’s sake. And I hated that I couldn’t have you.”

  “You could have had me every day.”

  Now she couldn’t look away from him, suddenly hating the dark because it stole confirmation of his words from his eyes. She didn’t miss how he thickened inside her, harder than before, when he breathed a heartbreakingly gentle kiss against her lips. He undid his sweater and eased her tank top up her body, dipping his fingers beneath the lacy fabric of her bra. She twitched her hips, needing more than the kiss, and he understood, easing out and pressing back into her until she cried out from the fullness.

  Still he pressed up, and ground against her, rubbing her from within as he kneaded her breasts and lightly pinched her nipples. She gasped into his mouth and with one hand pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. She trailed her other hand down his back and grabbed his ass, trying to pull him deeper inside when it was impossible because he was already stretching her to her limit, but God she wanted more, needed more.

  And yet, if he gave any more, she had no idea how her heart or body could take it.

  She pushed at his shoulder. “Roll over.”

  He withdrew from her and they both groaned, then chuckled, realizing they were in exactly the same place, on the same wavelength. Then he was on his back, and Leila straddled him. He rubbed her thighs, then gripped her hips.

  “You have no idea how much I wish I could see all of you right now, Heavenly Flower.”

  She knew exactly how much. “Feel me instead.” And she positioned the tip of his swollen cock at her entrance and rocked down quickly, driving him into her with all her weight and all the force she could muster. His gasp told her it felt as good to him as it was for her. His hand pressed gently against her lower belly, and she leaned back, crying out at how the angle allowed her to open up and take him even deeper.

  She reached behind her, and caressed his balls, began gently rubbing them, kneading them as she moved up and down on him. He shuddered, and a second later, his hand was on her clit, teasing her toward release. The closer she came to climax, the harder it was to move, but the faster she moved, the better it felt, the more pressure built within her core.

  “I’m gonna come, Leila.”

  Me too. She cried out as everything tightened at once then released, forcing her over the edge of climax. She rocked a few times more, riding him through her orgasm, and he shook and twitched inside her a moment later, pulling her to his chest, running his hands all over her back, and arms, and hair. It took her a few minutes to gather herself.

  The last thing she’d wanted was for them to have sex again.

  Lie number one.

  The last thing she’d expected was to want him to look at her like a man lost in passion, lost in love.

  Lie number two.

  The very last thing she’d planned on was to fall in love with Ryan Benton.

  Again.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The long emotional day after the mostly sleepless night before finally caught up with them, and they dozed off in each other’s arms. Ryan crashed hard, and woke with a jolt, unsure as to what had startled him awake. Leila sighed and nestled closer to him. She radiated heat in her sleep, but even so, he noticed it was a few degrees colder than it had been. No candlelight flickered—he’d blown the candles out to conserve them before they dozed. How long had they been out?

  Leila murmured in her sleep, and Ryan gently stroked her shoulder. She quieted immediately, and he smiled. He’d had sex with a lot of women, but hadn’t slept with anyone since Mel. Not that crashing out on a pool table counted as spending the night together, but it still broke one of his few rules when it came to women. Never spend the night. Never get involved. Never the same woman twice. And here he was breaking all three rules with her.

  What was it about Leilani—Leila—Spencer that allowed her to override everything, and parade right back into his life? Man, she was a pain in his ass, but she made him feel like the future wasn’t so bleak and meaningless. What would a life with her be like? Interesting. Lively.

  Her dad and brother worked emergency services. She’d know what to expect being a firefighter’s wife. The stresses that came with it, but also the tight-knit extended family the other firefighters and their families became. She’d let him be himself, but she’d keep him in line, rule the house. He’d pretend to be annoyed, but would love how passionate she was about their life. She could work, or stay home with the kids—he’d support her either way. He couldn’t imagine hooking up with someone else—maybe he could, but would it be the same, now that he’d been with her?

  What the hell is wrong with me? This isn’t going anywhere. We have history. Not quite ancient history, but we were friends once. That’s why it feels different, and seems like there’s meaning. She’s not just some random I picked up at a bar for a night to forget. After this, she’ll leave town, and I’ll forget about her. But how could he forget about Leila? She was different than the other women he hooked up with. She had substance. She was more … alive. Feisty. She was tiny, but she was a handful. And—thankfully—she was one of a kind. Not to mention that, as far as sex went, she was up there with the best he’d ever had. Fine, she was the best he’d had. But that was it. Their history and the fucking amazing sex were clouding his mind.

  And lying there pretending they had a future after this—or that he even wanted a future with her—was ridiculous. Who knew he was secretly a romantic—getting swept up in the moment? It wasn’t real life. They weren’t in a fantasy. They were mid-nightmare, and he had to keep his eyes on the prize. He wasn’t keeping her—he was keeping her safe.

  Still, he allowed him
self one more minute to hold her close, and breathe her in.

  A trickling sound tickled his nerves, made him uneasy. It’s just the water.

  A dripping, then quiet rushing sound, like they were in a grotto surrounded with tiny waterfalls filled the air. What the hell is that? He sat up and looked around, unable to see much. The clouds had made a comeback and blocked out any moonlight. They’d dressed before dozing off, and he’d set his phone next to him on the table. He flicked it on. No messages. No bars. It was nine-thirty p.m. He held it out as a flashlight and was greeted with a wet shimmering darkness.

  Water covered the floor of the bar. The quiet roaring echo that sounded like waterfalls was water rushing into the vents on the floor. The river had risen in the time they’d been sleeping. It was higher than it had ever been. He reached for Leila, shook her gently but urgently.

  “Leila.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Wake up.”

  “What’s up? Are they here?” She sat up and looked around, blinking the sleep from her eyes. “When did we fall asleep?”

  “Before the water started coming in.” He held out the phone and watched her eyes widen with horror.

  “Is it still coming in?” She knelt and faced the window. “Fuck, it’s so dark.”

  “The storm must have picked up farther upstream.”

  “It’s definitely not storming here right now. At least there’d be lightning to see by.” She flopped down and faced him.

  “Either way, I think we need to get out of here or at least think about it.

  “But help is coming—they could be here anytime!”

  “I know, but that was before the water rose again. I honestly thought that the water would go down, not up.”

  “Me too.”

  “If it gets any higher, there may come a point when we can’t leave. And we’re already compromised with the water coming in. We’re uninjured now, and still strong. We don’t know when help is coming for sure. We have no idea how it is on the other side of the river, what resources the responders are working with. Priority will be on any injured people.”

  “They might not have resources to get to us for days.”

  “Exactly.”

  A flameless explosion blew the window, and part of the building, into the bar. Ryan missed what it was, he dove over Leila, pinning her to the pool table, covering her body with his own, holding their heads down to protect their faces. What the fuck?

  The sound of running water increased like someone had removed noise-cancelling headphones. Ryan smelled no burning, heard nothing to indicate it was a fire. After the glass shards had hit the floor, he assessed the scene. The upper portion of a tree rested inside the bar, still propped up by a portion of roof that wasn’t crumpled inwards. A two-foot-wide section of the wall was gone, the new gap filled with one of the tall evergreens that had been standing on the street a moment ago. More water than before rushed into the breach, but all in all, it was only about another inch. Ryan waited, and when nothing else fell, or broke, or shifted, he sat up. So did Leila.

  “We need to get out of here.”

  He nodded. “It’s just a small area, but we’re definitely structurally compromised now.”

  “I mean, we can’t stay, right?” She bit her lip, and he knew she was worried about leaving the bar when Kyle might be on his way.

  “We can’t tell them the situation has worsened, so they’ll assume everything’s the same and keep us where we are on the priority list, which would be fairly low. We’re somewhere that there’s food and water, and we’re higher up than probably any other building downtown.”

  She seemed to relax when nothing else came smashing through their sanctuary. “And yet, we’re taking on water, doing our impression of a treehouse!”

  “Yes. We’re safe for the moment, but if another tree or a power pole came down on top of us, we risk being trapped.”

  “If they can’t get to us for a few days, who knows what shape we’ll be in when they do get here—or worse, if we leave after not eating or being dehydrated, and the river’s a foot higher, and we have to swim out instead of walk.”

  He wanted to cheer her practicality. The situation was worse, and she still wasn’t panicking. “Agreed.”

  “And what’s that sound?”

  “Water falling into the vents.”

  She shivered. “Yeah, let’s make like birds and get the flock outta here.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Make like a tree and—”

  “Don’t even finish that one. Too soon.”

  “Do you want your sweater back?”

  He shook his head. “You need it, but here.” He took off his belt and put it around her waist. Luckily it was a woven material rather than leather; he was able to poke a new hole so it fit her. “If the sweater is flapping around, it’s more of a hazard than if you wore nothing.” He tried not to think of that image, lest they drown having sex on the pool table while the bar filled up with water.

  “I wish I had pants. Even shoes. Fucking sandals. I might live in combat boots after this.”

  A brief image of her in nothing but the little denim skirt and combat boots flashed through his mind, heating him up. He said nothing, couldn’t even look at her for fear of losing control and kissing her. Baseball. Fantasy football. That time my pinkie got dislocated and was sideways from the second knuckle. When Mel left. That helped. All women are alike. Leila might seem different, but other than the hot sex, she’d eventually get bored or boring.

  “We’ll gather a couple things, then we’ll be ready to get going.” He still couldn’t look her in the eyes.

  ***

  In Leila’s bedroom, she had one of those waterfalls for meditation and relaxation. She’d always found it calming to fall asleep to. First thing she’d do when she got home was give it away, or smash it into a thousand pieces. The dripping sound of the river water falling into the floor vents was the creepiest thing she’d ever heard, worse even than the roar of the initial wave, because until now she’d always equated the sound with peace. Relaxation.

  And trees were no longer the squirrel-riddled majesties she’d always thought them to be.

  She figured she was supposed to scream, and flail, and feel the need to get the hell out of the bar, because surely that was normal in this situation, but Ryan’s presence was strangely soothing. It might also have something to do with the fact she’d just come harder than she ever had in her life, and her body was so flooded with endorphins that she couldn’t muster a lot of give a damn. Maybe her nerves had been riding the edge of fear for so long that she’d crossed over into a bit of a shocked state, rather than riding that adrenaline rush anymore. Whatever the case, she felt better than she should have.

  Because of Ryan. Was she really in love with him? People did tend to jump into things emotionally when thrown into a crazy situation—just look at those reality television shows. The timeline and high emotions sort of fast-forwarded the normal process—that is, when the whole thing wasn’t made up for the viewers. Leila was pretty sure love at first sight was a myth, but lust at first sight was definitely true. And maybe a connection at first sight was possible. She’d felt something when she first met Ryan.

  But he’d barely look at her now, and it wasn’t just the tension of the situation. He’d smiled at her lame attempt to elicit a laugh, but he was pulling steadily away from the moment he woke her. If he kept this rate up, by the time they got to safety, they’d be shaking hands and introducing themselves, no better than strangers. And they’d both go on their merry ways instead of …

  Instead of what? Living happily ever after? Is that what she even wanted?

  “I could give you my socks. My shoes wouldn’t fit, but if you put your sandals on, and put my socks on overtop, they’d keep your shoes on your feet. They won’t protect you from much, but at least they’d keep your soles safe.”

  She was thinking of a future, and he was thinking about now. He was right to focus on the
situation at hand, but maybe that was all he wanted from her. He hadn’t mentioned what happened after they got out. He was in safety mode, back to being the detached first responder. In Silver Springs. That’s who he was, and who he’d be after this.

  The furthest thing from what she wanted from life. How could she stay in the tiny town where she stuck out like a sore thumb? Living there as the wife of an emergency worker. She’d seen how awful that was first hand, the strain it had on the men working those shifts. Seeing those accidents. Seeing the tragedies that weren’t accidents, though those were rare. That wasn’t a life that was easy to watch. Long hours, high stress—way worse than people thought, especially for a job where you scrubbed blood from yourself more days than not. A job where you rushed into a dangerous building that people were rushing out of.

  A job made worse nowadays with building materials getting cheaper, in the name of progress and speed. Kyle had mentioned a few guys who had been hurt by the new houses—they couldn’t hold up, and basically collapsed like a house made from soggy cardboard as soon as water was sprayed into them. Not to mention the fumes getting more toxic from all the new chemicals sprayed onto things to make them flame retardant, or the plastic that made their new world.

  She’d actually cried with relief when her dad retired, tears that she’d shed again in fear when she learned Kyle was becoming a firefighter. There wasn’t a day she didn’t worry about them out there. Every job had hazards. But whereas most people worried about traffic or a paper cut or getting fired, first responders worried about dying, being maimed, attacked, or one of their coworkers being hurt. A good day was when someone didn’t die or get hurt. It was bad enough when it was her dad, then brother, but to have a boyfriend, or a husband, in that profession?

  Leila didn’t think she could do it. She’d seen her mom in that position, married to her dad for all those years. While paramedics didn’t have to rush into burning buildings, they still had to race around in shitty weather, get there fast to horrible scenes. Late nights, early mornings, on call for whatever hell came up next. Dealing with drunks, abusive husbands, and people on drugs. Hell, her dad’s partner had been stabbed one night by a vicious drunk. Her mom hadn’t slept for a week after that. Leila had heard her mother, pacing the main floor while Leila was supposed to be sleeping.