Pride and the Stranger: Book 2 in the Pride Trilogy

by TJ Dallas

  My pulse quickened as memories rose to the surface: intense quarrels, physical confrontations, and magnificent displays of violence, leaving my stomach in a knot, coils wrapping around inside me. I groaned low in my throat, cherishing each recollection.

  My eyes snapped open as I sensed an approach. A man, veiled in red, as if I were viewing him through a heat-seeking camera. I narrowed my eyes. There he is.

  He walked with his head down, a soiled brown coat around his shoulders, the hood low to obscure his face. He carried a white plastic bag, the glass bottles inside clinking together. He wore stained tracksuit bottoms with cigarette burns in the knees, and his eyes flitted around as he maintained a brisk trot towards the building.

  I stepped out of the car and patted my pockets. He glanced in my direction but continued his march. I waited until he disappeared down the narrow alley before I pursued him, trying to appear casual on the off-chance that someone was watching.

  I heard his footsteps echoing as he ascended the stairs, the volume of the glass bottles getting louder in the corridor. I waited on the ground floor, counting the footsteps.

  They quietened, and I started my ascent. Third floor. I tiptoed, careful not to draw attention to myself.

  I halted, looking between the two doors on the landing. He was in one of them, and I had a 50 percent chance of choosing the right one. I exhaled and closed my eyes. The vivid blood red to my right was pronounced.

  I crinkled my nose as I peeked around the door, the overpowering stink of urine and decay hitting me as soon as the door opened. The room was squalid, empty bottles of cheap rum, plastic cups, and empty cigarette packets filling my vision. I sniffed, grimacing. He smoked weed as well. While I knew the other managers, especially Riley, were partial to a joint or two, I steered well clear. I focused on my strength, and getting stoned wouldn’t exactly encourage me to complete my daily exercises.

  I narrowed my eyes, looking around. Have I picked the wrong flat? It’s too quiet.

  He caught me off-guard. He’d hidden behind the front door, expecting my approach, and launched an empty bottle of rum towards my skull before I registered him. Thankfully, he was drunk, and his aim was off. The glass bottle grazed the side of my forehead.

  I whipped around and seized the back of his neck, pulling him towards me. His nose broke upon contact with the door. Blood started flowing down over his mouth, and his eyes went wide. I glowered, a manic smile emerging on my face.

  I entered the flat and closed the door quietly behind me. The stench was repulsive, but I couldn’t risk being overheard. I won’t be long, anyway.

  I stood and regarded him, clenching and unclenching my fists. I could feel the fury building inside me, standing before him and analysing what he’d done. Harry was strong, always able to fight her own battles and never needing rescuing, but this bastard had got through her defences, rendering her incapable of fighting back, and it was a dick move. He was a coward, using drugs to get his victims, never able to get someone to agree to shag him of their own volition.

  “What was it you used?” I growled.

  “Used for what?” he spat, more blood streaking over his chin. He grasped the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, struggling to stem the flow.

  “Don’t play dumb. What drug do you use before you rape them?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who the fuck are you?”

  “What did you use?” I moved towards him, and he withdrew into the corner.

  “Why do you care?”

  I needed to know. I needed to know that Harry would be OK, I needed to know her baby would be OK, and I needed to hear it out loud.

  “One. Last. Time. What did you use?” I snarled.

  He wavered. “Rohypnol.”

  Of course it was. That tranquilliser was ten times more potent than Valium and had gained the infamous reputation as the date-rape drug. It paralyses the victim, frequently rendering them so incapacitated that they can lie on the floor with their eyes open, able to observe everything going on but powerless to act. Memory is impaired, so they cannot recall anything that took place. I grit my teeth together, the rage rising in my core. I was seeing red.

  Glorious, hot, vicious red.

  “Thank you.”

  I grabbed his filthy T-shirt and jerked him towards me. He tumbled forward, his legs giving way underneath him, and I stepped aside as he hit the floor. He grunted on impact and tried to stand, but I kneeled into the small of his back.

  His neck made a satisfying crack as I whipped his head to one side, and he slumped forward.

  Harry wasn’t a killer.

  But I was.

  My heart was still racing as I made my way to a local club. Harry had mentioned a Club Sin, and I was eager to check it out. I needed sex.

  While I embraced the anger, the wrath, and the rage, it still caused my insides to clench, and I needed to release the pressure. Masturbating was never enough. I needed a hot young thing to squirm beneath me, coming under my fingers with my length deep inside her to cure the ache inside me.

  Killing him had felt a hell of a lot better than killing the Old Smokies. I smiled at the memory.

  I exhaled as I sat on a bar stool. I ordered a pint of cider from the bartender and swallowed half the glass in a few large gulps. I licked my lips, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

  The club was busy, and I scanned the crowd, searching for the one who would scream my name tonight. I wouldn’t stick around. I wouldn’t call her the next day, nor waste the night watching her sleep. It was meaningless, purely animalistic, and simply a method to ease the tightness in my chest.

  I eventually saw her.

  She was watching me from the end of the bar. I wasn’t Pride, but I knew girls’ gazes would linger on me, especially femmes. The vest top I wore was tight, leaving nothing to the imagination, and they loved to let me fuck them senseless. A few butches would linger on me too, trying to establish whether they could dominate me. A few had tried, but none had succeeded. They were consistently the ones who finished up on their back, squealing. Unless it was Harry.

  I smiled to myself again and signalled the bartender. “One of whatever she’s having.”

  I gestured towards her, and he smirked, bowing his head. I sank back, taking another deep drink of my pint. I knew what would transpire next, and I waited for her to approach. It didn’t take long.

  “Hi,” she said after walking over to my stool, flashing a sweet smile.

  “Hey, sexy.” I winked, twisting my body towards her. Her eyes fell over my shoulders and my arms, and I knew she was picturing where she’d like them to be. “What’s your name?”

  “Astrid.” She smiled again. She was cute, in a tight strapless black dress, lace netting coming out from around her waist and ending just above her knees. “I haven’t noticed you here before.”

  “I’m only visiting,” I replied, swallowing another mouthful. “I’m going home tomorrow.”

  “That’s a shame.” Her eyes trailed over me again.

  Yes, she would do. “I am seeking company tonight, though.” I separated my thighs, the merest hint of the strap-on visible through my jeans.

  Within the hour, I’d taken her to the car park behind the club. I fucked her over the bonnet of my car and repeatedly in the driver’s seat. She’d bounced in my lap, erotic moans escaping from her throat, her clitoris swelling under my fingertips. I’d watched her, biting my lip, each bounce sending a shock wave through my own clit.

  My orgasm had taken me just as her second began, and I’d clutched her hips as I pounded up inside her, my arousal slick over my inner thighs. I grit my teeth as waves of pleasure washed through me, and I groaned, careful never to let that distract me from my task.

  My climax ebbed at the same time hers did, and she was none the wiser, too absorbed in her own little w
orld to notice me coming hard beneath her. I felt better.

  I chivalrously dropped her off at her flat before I turned towards my hotel. She hadn’t screamed my name, but in her defence, I hadn’t told her it.

  After a hot shower, I dropped into bed, sporting nothing but a pair of boxers. I dragged the duvet over me, stifling a yawn.

  Emilia?

  Yes, Harry?

  Thank you.

  Lust

  PART 7

  Lust

  28

  Althea

  Harry and I entered the room and came face to face with the same nurse from the initial scan. She lowered her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry for what happened last time, it was just a bit of a shock.” I smiled as she looked between us, but an uncomfortable silence followed. “She’s sorry as well,” I added, glancing back at Harry. Harry didn’t smile, but she nodded.

  I rolled my eyes. “She’s not a big talker.”

  Harry stared at me disapprovingly as she hopped onto the bed, but the nurse still hesitated. The poor woman was terrified.

  “Maybe we can see another nurse?” I mumbled, but she shook her head, finally finding her voice.

  “No, it’s OK. I’m sorry. I don’t want to upset you again.”

  “You won’t, we’re all right now. Unless you’re about to announce it’s twins, there isn’t much more that will shock us.”

  I laughed, but Harry shot me a glare. I immediately stopped laughing. Probably shouldn’t joke about it. Just in case.

  The nurse leaned forward, lifting Harry’s T-shirt and folding it back. My eyes drifted over Harry’s body. You wouldn’t know it was there unless you looked for it, but there was a slight curve to her abdomen now compared to the last time. I swallowed, a strange feeling inside me.

  Once the transparent gel was on her skin, a device was placed underneath her belly button. I looked to her face. She still hadn’t said a word, staring stoically at the ceiling.

  I froze as a heartbeat resounded around the room. My eyes widened, air trapping in my lungs.

  Harry remained motionless. She closed her eyes for several seconds, swallowing hard. She eventually opened them again, still staring at the ceiling and refusing to look anywhere else.

  I took a deep breath and considered the monitor. It was indisputable; the grainy white lines on the screen revealed the shape of a baby. You could make out arms and legs, and almost fingers and toes. I covered my mouth with my hand.

  “Do you want to know the sex yet?” the nurse inquired, and Harry shook her head. “OK, well, either way, it looks very healthy.”

  I exhaled a long sigh of relief. Harry had been smoking and drinking for months, as she always had, and I’d developed a concern that something could be wrong. She’d done several tough workouts with Emilia, ignoring the horrifying ordeal at the hands of the Old Smokies. I could have sworn Harry let out a breath she’d been holding as well.

  After a minute, the nurse switched off the monitor, and the heartbeat disappeared. She turned to me, sounding apologetic, and said, “I need to speak with her alone, if I may?”

  Harry nodded, and I stood up, heading towards the door. I remembered Georgia telling me that at one of her scans, Galen had to leave the room as the nurses need to ask the mother in confidence whether she felt safe in the company of her partner.

  I suddenly felt sick, and I couldn’t understand why. I closed the door harder than I meant to.

  It was at least fifteen minutes before Harry exited, and I jumped up as she tucked something into the back pocket of her jeans.

  “Are you OK, toots?” I asked, and she nodded again. I sighed. “Are you going to talk at all today?”

  She scowled at my abrupt shift in tone. When she met my gaze, I realised how overwhelmed she was. From experience, she could only express it with anger, and I instantly felt guilty for trying to provoke a response from her.

  She surprised me with her placid manner. “I’m fine.”

  I studied her carefully. “Are you sure?” I was quiet for a few moments, stepping closer to her. It was a long, tense minute before she replied.

  “No.”

  I pulled her into a cuddle, and she buried her face into my shoulder, wrapping her arms around my back. I held her tight as she pressed herself against me. Neither of us moved for a long time, and I sensed people parading past us; they probably wondered what was going on, but I didn’t care. I eventually withdrew, my mouth millimetres from her ear.

  “Come on, toots. Let’s get you home.”

  She trudged towards the exit, and I followed behind her, trying to hold back my tears. She was struggling, and there wasn’t anything I could do to help. I couldn’t make the situation go away. I couldn’t reverse what had happened, and the only way out was for her to give birth to that child, a child she wouldn’t ever see.

  She slid in behind the wheel of her car and closed the door. She waited until I’d slumped into the passenger seat and buckled my seat belt before she revved the engine and pulled out of the car park.

  Later that night, after a soak in the bath and a shoulder massage, Harry lay back against the pillows with a satisfied sigh.

  I knelt between her legs, carefully pushing the strap-on inside her. I watched to make sure I didn’t hurt her, and I soon pressed my hips against hers. Her pussy tightened as my length disappeared inside her, and I saw the first small smile of the day from her.

  I bent forward to kiss her. It was slow and passionate as I thrust gently. She moaned into my mouth, her tongue tracing my bottom lip, and her arms snaking around my neck.

  I broke the kiss to pull away and looked into her eyes. I saw every wave of pleasure flash across her face, her lips parting, her breath getting heavier. She spread her legs wider, and I pressed deeper, smiling at the resulting groan. Holding myself on one arm, I lowered a hand to her swollen clit, swirling in small circles. Her eyes fluttered closed.

  “Look at me,” I murmured.

  She opened her eyes again, and I bent forward for another kiss. I took my time, lovingly bringing her closer to the edge, and soon she started a low, continuous moan. She closed her eyes again.

  “Look at me, Harriet,” I repeated. Her eyes opened just as the orgasm took over.

  She didn’t look away as the ecstasy flooded through her, and I felt her wetness on my fingertips. My heart was racing, and my core ached, but irrevocable, unconditional love surged through me as I looked into her eyes. I swallowed hard, feeling what she’d felt for me for centuries, and I’d been unaware. How she’d kept these powerful emotions to herself, I’ll never know.

  A lump caught in my throat, and I dropped my head as I fought to hold back tears. Again, I wasn’t sure why I wanted to cry, but I took a few deep breaths to steady myself. My hips slowed, and I took control as she calmed, her climax ebbing away. I found my hand resting on her swollen stomach.

  “Can I?” I whispered, and she chewed the inside of her cheek before she nodded. I pressed down, trying to feel the baby.

  “The head’s there,” she muttered, finally taking my hand and guiding it to the opposite side of her belly, near her hip. She rested her fingers on top of mine before she pressed firmly, and I gasped at the solid swell beneath my fingertips. She couldn’t hide a small smile at the astounded look on my face.

  Holding me in place for a few seconds, she lifted again and placed my hand higher up, underneath her ribcage. “There’s a foot there.” She pressed my fingertips down just as it kicked.

  I couldn’t help it; I burst into tears.

  Harry couldn’t say anything that would make me feel better, and she knew it. She remained silent as she lifted her hand from mine, taking my face in her hands and wiping my cheeks with her thumbs.

  “One day, if you want, we’ll have a baby of our own,” she said. “But it’ll be ours; yours and mine, and no one else’s.
I know you want to experience this, and I’ll get you pregnant, I promise. But this is not our child, Althea. It’s barely even mine.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut as more tears fell. I knew she was telling the truth, but I didn’t want to accept it.

  “It’s a stranger to me,” she finished quietly.

  A couple of days later, I sat at the bar in the nightclub, nursing a glass of red wine. I’d finished early tonight, having expended most of my day with two particular clients who’d had very specific fantasies. Their lack of communication had created a barrier between them, so divine intervention had called upon me to help. While I wasn’t one to kiss and tell, I couldn’t resist spilling the gossip to Harry.

  “And then, would you believe it, she asked me to wave the wand about, smack his arse with it, and yell out ‘Phallus Engorgio’!” I burst out laughing, holding my sides. Tears cascaded down my cheeks, and Harry buckled over in hysterics, holding onto the bar for support. I wiped my eyes. “You couldn’t make this shit up.”

  Harry shook her head, taking a deep breath to hold herself together. “What happened after that?”

  “She sucked him off whilst literally riding a broomstick.” I roared again, grateful I’d put my wine glass down before I dropped it. Harry cried with laughter, and it took several minutes for us both to calm down.

  “Fucking hell, you really get all sorts, eh?” she said, shaking her head.

  I nodded, flicking a loose piece of lint from my dress. “You’re not kidding. I’m amazed I kept a straight face.” I looked up, but Harry’s gaze had landed over my shoulder, her smile fading.