I don’t know how many times I came, I only know he didn’t change our positions every time, as Jinn had. I hated that I was comparing them, but I loved that Nix could rock my world in ways Jinn hadn’t. This wasn’t about technique and finesse. It was raw, animal, beastial, feral.
I stayed on my back, sometimes with my feet planted on the bed so I could fuck him back, and sometimes with my legs wrapped around him as he slid in and out of me. When he finally came, he did so while I was screaming my way through yet another release, and he let me see the intensity of his orgasm — his eyes open, his face an odd mix of tense and relaxed, and his energy wild.
When he at last collapsed beside me and pulled me into his arms, his lips kissed my shoulder as he said, “Forgot the damned condom. Please tell me you’re on the pill. I think you melted my brain.”
His arms moved with me as I gave a weak chuckle, and I marveled again at how safe I felt wrapped in his embrace when I should feel like the deer about to be eaten by the wolf. “Deer can only get pregnant when we’re in rut. I wouldn’t have let you in me without one if I could get pregnant.”
“When does that happen?”
“During the late fall and early winter, so a baby will be born in spring. You’d have had to wear one a few weeks ago.”
“Don’t you get extra horny when you’re in rut? I mean, I don’t know anything about deer, but physiologically, it would make sense.”
I nodded. “Yeah, and I don’t want to talk about why I was celibate for it. Just let me chill and enjoy the afterglow, please?”
7
Nix
It’d been another gamble but it seemed to have worked. She’d been with one of the most charming beings on the planet — or off, if you want to get technical — and there was no way I could compete with that.
So I didn’t try to charm her — I just gave her what she wanted. It was crude, and raw, and animalistic, but it’d worked and now she was as limp as overcooked spaghetti in my arms, her breathing even and her scent about as relaxed as I was betting she ever got.
I was smart enough to know I’d need to charm her and romance her in order to keep her, but I also knew I needed to focus on all of the things we have in common.
I’d never considered settling down with anyone before. Not seriously, anyway. I enjoyed my life of fucking anything that moved. With plenty of fuckable pussies and asses around for me to use whenever I got the urge — why would I screw that up with a relationship?
Because Tiffany Mason had never walked into my world before. Never mind she’s now Tippy Delfino — this is the woman who’d so fascinated me on television. It’s possible I’ve been in love with her since before I met her, but Tippy in real life is so much better than the Tiffany I saw competing and training.
Plus, I hadn’t known she wasn’t human. The Concilio has rules against supernaturals playing in most human sports, but there are exceptions and it seemed she found one. Her status as Deer didn’t give her any advantages over humans when it came to shooting, and — most importantly for them — there was no risk she’d give herself away as more-than-human by accident while competing.
And now she was relaxed in my arms. It was a light sleep, and I wasn’t sure if she’d go into a deep sleep while in the arms of a wolf, but the fact she was asleep at all gave me hope we might have a chance.
This is the part where I admit I have about twenty pounds of venison in my freezer, and I know nothing about deer shifters. I’ve never come across one in the woods, and I wouldn’t eat one if I did — though until I’d met Tippy, I’d have probably had to fight my wolf about letting one run away without giving chase.
Now? I didn’t think he’d be interested. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to eat the rest of the venison in my freezer.
Tippy seems fragile but she’s strong. I’d gradually deepened the intensity of my thrusts, making sure she could take the kind of damage a shifter usually can, and she’d begged for it harder and faster. I’d fucked her as hard as I would another wolf and she’d gotten off on it. If I hadn’t been in love before, that pretty much sealed it. So fragile and graceful, and yet so damned tough.
Fuck, I was falling head over heels for a woman who’d told me several times this was just a good fuck and she wasn’t interested in more.
When her breathing finally told me she was in a deep sleep, I carefully extricated myself and went to properly lock up and set the alarm. I also put the venison in the fridge into the freezer so she wouldn’t as easily see or smell it the next day, and took stock of what I had that she might want for breakfast. I folded one of my tees on the nightstand on her side of the bed, and gathered her clothes — strewn from the kitchen to the bedroom — and folded them on a chair in the bedroom before settling her bellyband and weapon on top. I placed some bottled water on her nightstand, and then crawled back into bed with her. She snuggled into me and I fell asleep a happy man.
* * *
Snipers have a reputation of being meticulous, egomaniac control freaks, and I can’t say the description is too far off. My vehicles are precision, well-tuned machines. My weapons are the best money can buy. And yes, when I’ve had some time to figure out how I want it, my home will be a showplace. Since we’d destroyed my sofa, I should probably figure out what kind of furniture style I was going with so I could buy something sooner rather than later.
I’m used to girls looking at me like I’m an alien species when they see my highly organized closet and drawers, but when Tippy looked in my linen closet for a towel the next morning she merely asked, “Do all sharpshooters line everything up perfectly?”
“Probably. When you have someone patient enough to learn what it takes to put a bullet somewhere at a distance, odds are they’re going to line their folded towels up so they’re all in the same direction.” Because we’re all apparently fucking OCD, but I didn’t say the last part out loud.
She chuckled as she turned the water on in the shower to get the temperature right. “My guess is your closet looks a lot like mine, with socks folded instead of rolled, and organized by color?”
“And short sleeve shirts in one section, arranged by color, while the long sleeved shirts are in a different section,” I agreed.
She opened her mouth to say something else, but then changed her mind and closed it.
“What? Don’t censor yourself around me. If you think it, I want to hear it.”
She shook her head. “It has to do with Jinn’s maids and housekeeper, and I don’t want him in this conversation.”
“I can make us some breakfast while you shower, and then I can take one after we eat. You’re an early riser.” It was quarter till seven — I’d figured we’d sleep in and then have some more sex, but she was up with my t-shirt on and rounding up towels for a shower.
“Were we still going to play with your guns? It’s cold now, but there’s a cold front moving in later today and it’ll be brutal this afternoon.”
8
Tippy
He spent five hours showing me how to shoot like a sniper, and even in the cold it felt like barely an hour had passed. He’d been right about my already having the basics down — timing my breathing with the trigger pull, figuring trajectory based on wind, light refraction, and a zillion other factors. And with the right equipment and a good teacher, by the time we finished I was hitting bullseye just about every time at a half mile.
Of course, this was on a measured range where I didn’t have to figure distance and didn’t have to dial anything in because he did most of the calculations for me. But still, he had two dozen targets for me to hit at that distance, all scattered within about forty yards of each other, and I could move between them and stay pretty accurate.
The cold front had long past hit when we finally went inside, and Nix insisted on building a fire in the living room. He sat in a chair in front of the fire with me in his lap, and we talked about the differences I’d found in what I’d learned today versus the kind of shooting I was used
to.
He’d groped me twice while on the range — once on my ass and once at my breast — and then backed off when I asked him to. Now, he was once again the perfect gentleman and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. We’d been together more than twenty-four hours, though, and it was past time for me to leave.
“I think I’m warm enough now, any chance you can take me to my car in your car, instead of on the bike?”
It’d been in the forties yesterday — chilly for a shapeshifter but still doable on a bike. It was in the twenties now with the forecast saying we’d get close to single digits by morning, and no way did I want to ride on a motorcycle right now. He’d had a four-wheeler at the range, so we could ride back and forth to reset targets when needed, and that’d gotten pretty cold by the end of the day.
“I had someone bring food while we shot. There’s supposed to be French onion soup, salads, and pork chops in the fridge.”
I’d told him this morning I’m not vegetarian in my human form. I have issues eating the animals close to me, so no beef or elk, but I have no problems eating pig. I’ve been chased by a wild boar when I was in deer form and it gives me great pleasure to eat bacon.
“Why are you doing all of this?” I asked again.
“Same answer as before, Tiff. I like you and I’m not ready to say goodbye yet. Let me feed you, and if you want to stay I’ll be more than happy to help you go to sleep again. If not, I’ll take you to your car.”
“You still see me as Tiffany more than Tippy?”
“I don’t think so. I was impressed with the Olympian, and enjoyed watching the little five-minute video they put together showing you training, but meeting you and getting to know you has made you real. Seeing how much we have in common? It’s made me want to see how much more there might be.”
I had no idea how to react or what to say, so I turned around so he couldn’t see my face, and then realized I was heading in the right direction to walk into the kitchen. I started walking as I said, “French onion soup sounds great. Let’s get the pork chops started.”
His kitchen was just as organized as I’d expected it to be — it was almost as if I’d set it up. Everything was placed exactly where it should be for ease of use, and it was a little disconcerting to just know where I’d find something without asking.
He only had commercial salad dressing, so I looked through his cabinets for ingredients and made some out of olive oil and some of his herbs and spices as I explained, “I have major issues with MSG, and just about all commercial dressings have it.”
“Any other food issues I should know about?”
I shrugged. “I think most shapeshifters are more aware of all the poisons humans put into their food supply. You have grass fed beef and buffalo in your refrigerator, and the few fruits and veggies you have seem to be organic. My guess is you don’t do salads so you didn’t know what’s in most store-bought dressing. If you consumed a lot of it, you’d have tossed them, too.”
Our conversation stayed on mostly safe topics for a while, but as we neared the end of the meal he said, “Tell me your biggest sexual fantasy.”
I cringed inwardly, but told him the truth. “All of my wildest fantasies have been fulfilled. There’s nothing else new I want to try.”
Instead of being stymied, though, he chuckled and said, “Something else we have in common. I imagine most guys would see your ex as a hard act to follow, but I have a feeling we’re different enough that you aren’t comparing us in your head as often as you do with other men. Am I right?”
He was dead on. I’d compared them a few times but there was no way to say which was better. They’re so different — it’s like trying to compare pork chops with chocolate cake. And in that analogy, Jinn was the cake and Nix was the spicy salty filling goodness of the pork chops.
Instead of answering him though, I told him, “I’m not staying tonight. Let me know what evening you have off later in the week and I’ll invite you to my house for dinner, but I need to go home when we finish eating.”
9
Nix
I wasn’t sure what to expect as I drove to her house. I’d looked it up on Google street view, and had looked at a half dozen satellite images from above and to the side, but her home was in the woods and surrounded by trees so it couldn’t be seen.
She’d met several of the club members when I’d taken her to pick up her car. Thankfully, Horse had helped me keep the clubhouse a little calmer than usual so they didn’t freak her out too bad, but I’d been getting good-natured ribbing from Duke, Brain, Dawg, and Gonzo about her.
And Horse… well, I was now regretting all the wisecracks I’d made about a bear and a rabbit together. He was having a blast with the deer and wolf jokes.
Google street view didn’t show the twelve foot fence she’d erected around her property, because she’d put it up since the images were taken. It’d shown up on the recent satellite images Horse had procured for me, but seeing it in person made me realize just how much money she must’ve sunk into it.
I had to wonder how much she got in whatever divorce settlement she’d had with Jinn, because I was guessing she’d spent a hundred grand on the fence alone. Maybe more.
The gate opened as I approached, and I noted the cattle grid as I drove over it — designed to keep animals out, even when the gate was open. She’d likely gotten rid of all predators capable of taking down a deer inside her fancy fence, and wanted to make sure none got back in.
In this part of the country she’d most have to worry about dogs, coyotes, and mountain lions — the latter was probably why the fence was so high.
I drove for a quarter mile on a winding, meandering driveway. It was two strips of concrete with grass in the middle, and I had to admit I liked the effect. It felt more like a woodland path than a driveway.
I didn’t see the house when I arrived at her little parking area, at first, which is saying a lot since I’m both sniper and wolf. I parked beside her car and got out of mine before I finally used both scent and vision to spot it — tucked into the trees and looking like something out of a fairy tale. A little creek ran beside it and several weeping willows were around it, almost like a little gnome house amongst tall grasses.
She’d gone from a huge mansion to a small cottage. This alone should tell me about the changes she’d made in her life upon her divorce.
I’d brought a blueberry pie and some peach wine — and I’d done a ton of research on deer shifters, so I was hoping this would be to her liking.
I kissed her forehead as I said hello, and let her invite me in before I found the kitchen and settled the pie and wine on the counter. The inside was a lot more spacious than I’d assumed it would be, but the downstairs appeared to be mostly one big room of kitchen, eating area, and living area. A set of steps went upstairs, where I assumed she’d have a rather large bedroom. If there was a basement then she had a whole lot more room than the outside hinted at.
“You’ve researched deer shifters,” she noted as she glanced at the pie and wine. “How much did the info cost you?”
“Sixteen ounces of blood.”
She looked horrified, and I explained, “I talked to a really old vampire who once had a deer as his main food source for a few decades.”
“You let a vampire bite you to find out more about me?”
I shook my head. “No, there are lines I won’t cross, but I had no qualms about drawing it with a needle and handing it over.”
She’d cooked a ham, and the smell had my mouth watering in anticipation. I didn’t want to be rude and ask when we were eating, so I asked, “Anything I can do to help with dinner?”
“You can open the wine if you want. I found my way around your kitchen, it’ll be interesting to see if you can do the same.”
We’d talked about how I’d put things where she would’ve, so I looked around and asked myself where I’d put the corkscrew. I walked to the most likely place, opened it, and smiled as I admired one of the neatest
kitchen implement drawers I’d ever seen.
She’d gone all out for dinner — ham, sweet potatoes, some kind of bacon broccoli dish that made me think broccoli might not be so bad, sweet rolls, slaw, and peach fritters.
I’m not sure what she did with the ham, but it was the best I’d ever had.
“My pork chop dinner pales beside this,” I told her as we dug in.
“It isn’t a competition, though from what I’ve read about the top snipers in the world, it seems ya’ll like to turn everything into one.”
I grinned. She’d researched me, too.
She rolled her eyes and said, “Okay, totally honest, no games. You good with that?”
“Always.”
“I was serious when I said I didn’t want a relationship. I love this new life I’ve built for myself. My gun shop is just inside another gate accessed from another road, but it’s a short walk to work through the woods. The address for the shop is several streets away from the address for my home, so unless someone looks at a map and sees it’s part of the same property, they won’t figure out it’s me. Most of my stuff is shipped, very few people show up in person.”
“You didn’t go all out on dinner to tell me to get lost.”
“No, but I’m telling you I want to spend time with you in spite of the fact I’m not interested in a relationship, and I’m warning you up front — if you push me into more than I’m prepared to deal with, you’ll be history. We have a lot in common and I loved spending time with you, and the sex was…” She sighed. “It was better than I dared hope. I never thought I’d have good sex again, much less great sex.”
“Well then, while we’re being honest and not playing games — I’ll tell you I wasn’t looking for a relationship either, but I want to spend time with you and I’ve counted down the days until I could see you again. I tend to be pushy when there’s something I want, so please warn me if I’m pushing too hard.”
Nix: The Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, Book 7.5 Page 4
