The Ravager Chronicles: The Complete Series

by Sara Page

  His furious pumps slow to deep, rolling thrusts. The way he works himself in and out of me it’s like he just has to hit every single sensitive spot, he has to feel every deep dark inch of me.

  My ears are ringing, and as I begin to reconnect with my body I realize my throat feels raw.

  Beast breaks our connection first and his head falls forward. His body gives one last, hard shudder and then his hips stop.

  I sag against him, feeling so fuzzy and full of warmth. I’m buzzing off of that high of incredible sensation.

  Until the walls of my sex seize up in a small aftershock.

  “Ameia,” Beast groans as if he’s in pain and his head snaps up.

  We’re both twitching and groaning as Beast slides himself out of me. I’m both grateful and regretful because I miss him at once.

  He pulls me close, holding me until the last tremor stops. When my body finally relaxes, he brushes my hair back and tips my chin up.

  “I love you, Ameia,” he says gruffly, his own throat sounding raw.

  “I love you,” I repeat back and slump against him, resting my cheek against his warm chest as he picks me up.

  Chapter Six

  Beast carries me out of the bathing pool and we stand under a heated lamp that dries the water from our bodies. Once my hair is completely dry, he carries me back into my apartment, and we both slip under the sheets of my bed to sleep.

  We fall asleep in each other’s arms, and I’m naked and content until a cool breeze disturbs my dreams.

  Slowly I peel my eyes open, reluctant to leave the happy dream I was dreaming. Behind me the bed is no longer warm and my sluggish mind figures at some point Beast must have left.

  Did Beast come back? Do Esha and Ellany need something?

  It’s still very dark in my room, nearly pitch black, so I know it’s not yet morning.

  My bed shifts and the mattress dips. I figure it must be Beast coming back.

  I scoot closer, wiggling my body up against him and getting comfortable again.

  Two strong arms wrap around me and the chest I snuggle up to feels warm and toasty.

  “Ameia,” Striker groans.

  I nearly jump right out of my skin because that was so not the voice I was expecting.

  “Striker?” I gasp, my heart thundering behind my ribs.

  His arms tighten around me. “I’m not leaving.”

  I squirm, trying to lean back. I want to see his face.

  He must take my wiggling as resistance though because his muscles lock up, tightening around me and keeping me from moving.

  “I don’t want you to leave,” I explain. “I was just surprised…”

  “Good,” he says, his voice deepening huskily and his chest vibrating against me.

  That voice, it does things to me. Warm, gooey things. My heart rate slows and all the blood in my body feels like it’s being directed to one place.

  “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he breathes and his head bends down, his lips brushing against me.

  “I missed you too,” I say softly and lean into his cheek as he nuzzles his nose against my face. He’s being so sweet, so tender, he’s lulling me into a warm fuzzy feeling of safety.

  Then suddenly I’m spun around and he’s pushing me down, pinning me flat on my stomach.

  Panic rises up in my throat as my face presses against the mattress.

  His weight comes down on my back, and his hard bulge grinds into my ass. Grabbing my hands, he lifts them up, pinning them above my head.

  “Striker?” I gasp again, turning my face away from the bedding so I can catch my breath.

  He rocks his hips forward, grinding his hardness into my ass again, and even though I’m a little freaked out by his aggressiveness all my little nerves are lighting up with the friction.

  Great. Now I’m both a little freaked out and a little turned on.

  Seriously, what the hell has gotten into him?

  Striker has always been a bit of a wildcard. He has his moments where he can be extremely sweet and affectionate, but foreplay and intimacy tend to be a game with him.

  My curls are pushed over my shoulder and then I feel his lips stamping down the side of my neck.

  It’s impossible to remain rigid beneath him. Especially when his lips find that one little spot on my neck that’s so sensitive it feels like it’s connected directly to my clit.

  I groan, sagging against the bed, the fight and stiffness going out of me. His mouth closes around me, suckling hungrily. Each pull delivers a sharp, electrical jolt that has me twitching and squirming beneath him.

  I arch my neck to the side, the ball of tension in my stomach unwinding as he devours me with wet, hungry kisses.

  Then he growls, “You’ve been a bad girl, Ameia.”

  And now my heart rate is going all crazy with panic again.

  Shit.

  Does he know what I’ve done? Does he know I snuck into the library and read the forbidden books?

  His teeth scrape against my flesh but it’s only a warning, there’s no real pain yet. Just a promise.

  Everything inside of me is screaming to flee, to get away.

  And then his erection is dragging lower, his hot velvety skin is pushing between my thighs. Sliding against me.

  Now everything inside of me is screaming to stay.

  Stay and enjoy this.

  Striker chuckles as if he knows my inner struggle, as if he’s getting a little kick out of it.

  I’d call him a dick but he’d probably like it.

  “What’s wrong, Ameia?” he breathes hotly into my ear. “Feeling the weight of your guilty conscience?”

  Yeah, actually, I kinda am. But I can’t exactly say that. There’s still a chance this is just one of his games and he doesn’t actually know what I did.

  “Guilty conscience?” I squeak and squirm, trying to push up off the bed but it’s really hard to do without using my hands. “The only weight I’m feeling is you.”

  “Is that all you feel?” he breathes huskily and then his hips are pushing into me, his shaft sliding against my sex.

  I bite my lip, swallowing back my moan.

  Striker’s tongue meets my ear before he asks me, “Are you ready to confess?”

  Confess?

  “Confess what?” I ask, my voice sounding too soft, too breathless.

  “Confess your sins,” he growls, his chest vibrating against my back.

  Is he playing? Is he serious? I can’t tell. Maybe if I could see his face I’d be able to better judge his intentions.

  “What sins?” I groan

  There should be a law against using sex as a weapon.

  His teeth give my earlobe a quick nip.

  “Ow,” I cry out and jerk beneath him.

  My butt slams back in reaction and he groans as I drag along his shaft.

  “You did that on purpose,” Striker growls accusingly and then he’s sliding his shaft against me in retaliation.

  Now it’s my turn to groan and squirm. “I did not.”

  “Ameia,” Striker says in warning.

  “I didn’t,” I insist but if he’s going to go ahead and start accusing me of teasing him on purpose, I might as well oblige him.

  Lifting my hips, I push back against him again, the hot, velvety length of him sliding through my slick folds.

  “Fuck,” Striker rasps. His hips press forward, grinding himself against me, then he breaks away.

  A flash of warmth spreads across my ass before the sound of his hand connecting with my right cheek registers in my brain.

  I jerk beneath him with a yelp, the sting like pins and needles biting into my skin.

  “See what you made me do…” Striker sighs as his hand touches the cheek he just spanked and begins rubbing me as if he’s trying to soothe me.

  I jerk my hips away from his hand. “Stop, you’re making it worse.”

  Striker chuckles darkly and then his hand connects with a loud slap to my other cheek. “I know.” />
  Burying my face against the bed, I groan as my entire ass lights up with warmth. He begins to rub and soothe the left cheek, his thick fingers digging into my flesh.

  I can’t help it, the way he’s rubbing me, the way his fingers are working me, I begin to relax. My muscles unwinding, all the tension flows out of me. I push my ass back, into his hand, my hips rolling in rhythm with his kneading ministrations.

  “You like that, my princess?” he breathes hotly into my ear.

  I groan and thrust my hips back as an answer. His hand grabs up a chunk of my ass and squeezes.

  “Answer me,” he insists and his fingers just keep digging and digging.

  “No,” I lie and resist the need to bite the mattress. “I hate it.”

  Each cheek lights up, my entire ass suddenly on fire as he swiftly smacks each cheek.

  “Liar,” Striker hisses and his teeth nip at my ear as his weight comes down on me. Grinding his hips hard into my sore bottom.

  I don’t know why I lied to him. I don’t know what makes me want to resist him when he gets like this.

  “Why are you doing this?” I whine.

  Each rock of his hips is inflaming my skin, yet the gliding of his shaft against my throbbing sex is more than making up for it.

  “Because you’ve been a bad girl,” he growls, each word punctuated by a hard thrust of his hips.

  “How?” I gasp, arching my spine, thrusting my ass back just as the crown of his erection begins to breach my entrance.

  Striker let’s out a low, rumbling growl as he slowly eases his cock inside me. Inch by torturous inch he fills me up until I feel completely full of him.

  Bumping into the barrier of my womb, he stills, just holding himself there. Panting into my ear.

  I try to remain still too. I try to savor the feeling of being joined with him once more.

  The weight of his body becomes heavier and heavier, and I feel myself sinking deeper into the mattress as his weight pushes me down.

  As much as I want to be completely still, to relish the simple pleasure of his skin against my skin, my sex squeezes, gripping him against my will.

  “Fuck,” Striker immediately curses and shudders above. “Stop doing that.”

  “I can’t,” I squeak and he pulls back only to slam back into me.

  My body rocks forward, my face meeting the mattress.

  “Fuck,” Striker curses again, withdrawing from me slowly. “The things you do to me, Ameia.”

  He slams forward and my cry is muffled against the sheet. “Driving me crazy for weeks.”

  I shake my head in denial and lift my face from the bed.

  His grip around my wrists tightens and his fingers pinch into my skin. “Denying me the sweet comfort of your bed.”

  “You are always welcome in bed,” I pant as his hips collide with my ass.

  He’s working himself in and out of me in a deep, steady rhythm but at my words he begins to drive himself forward, harder. Our bodies crash against each other and my ears fill with the sounds of his skin slapping against my skin.

  “Why didn’t you send for me, Ameia?” he grunts with a mixture of anger and effort. “Why have you pushed me away?”

  I struggle to answer him, all the pleasure and intense sensations fogging up my brain. “I… I… don’t know.”

  He’s driving into me so hard and fast the frame of the bed begins to creak and my lungs struggle to pull in enough air.

  The pressure inside me expands, growing and growing.

  “You can’t push me away,” he says fiercely and then his mouth is against my ear, his tongue flicking against me before he nips my ear with his teeth. “I won’t let you.”

  “I’m not trying to push you away,” I insist and cry out as his mouth drags down my jaw, his teeth sinking into my neck.

  The pain seems to only amplify the pleasure I’m experiencing. My insides are so hot as he bites me it feels like my very core is melting into a puddle of warm liquid.

  “Good,” he grunts, teeth finally giving way. His tongue laps at the tender spot he bit and I shudder, all the little muscles in my body tensing up. “Because if you reject me, I’ll just lock you up until you accept me again.”

  I want to ask what he means by that but before I get the first word past my lips, he changes the angle of his hips.

  He begins to drive into me deeper, the crown of his cock dragging across the little bundle of nerves buried inside me. The sensations are overwhelming and too intense.

  I cry out, wanting to ask him to stop doing what he’s doing. It’s too much, but I just can’t seem to get the words out of my head.

  The angle of his thrusts hit that spot over and over again.

  I’m dying, oh stars, I’m dying again. Pushed into that space between pleasure and pain. Lost in the euphoria.

  “You’re mine,” Striker grunts and his tongue lashes against the spot on my neck he bit, reawakening the pain.

  It’s just another sensation added to the mix.

  “Mine, Ameia,” he repeats, and somehow, someway, he’s driving into me even faster, our bodies colliding like he’s trying to push his body through me.

  The world flashes white in front of my eyes and then I’m crying out as the first wave of my orgasm hits.

  “Don’t you try to push me out,” Striker growls and slams himself forward, fighting through my tight grip.

  I’m not trying to do anything; I can’t help that my walls have clamped down in a vain attempt to keep him trapped so I can milk my release out of him.

  As my orgasm rocks through me, I’m vaguely aware of Striker’s hand slipping between my body and the bed.

  “Fucking hell,” he curses, the rhythm of his thrusts stutter as my sex convulses around him.

  I’m just a mess. A boneless, mewling, mindless mess in the grips of my orgasm. I can’t tell up from down, his cock from my sex.

  Then his hand pushes down and his fingers brush against my throbbing clit.

  I buck against him, trying to escape the touch of his fingers. Just as I was beginning to float down I’m propelled into another explosive orgasm.

  Striker seems to really like this, grunting and slamming into me. Taunting me with, “You like that, my princess?”

  I can’t answer him. I can’t. But he releases my wrists only to grab me by the hair, fisting it in his hand. Pulling my head back, he demands, “Answer me, Ameia.”

  My scalp stings and I can’t buck my hips as much in this position. I really want to buck my hips.

  “Answer me, dammit,” Striker demands and the way he demands it, I know he’s close to his own release.

  I want to push him over that edge,

  “Yes,” I gasp and he grunts with satisfaction. “I like it.”

  “Fuck yeah, you do,” he rasps, finding his rhythm again.

  “I fucking love it,” I declare and buck back as his fingers in my hair loosen.

  His thrusts skip a beat and then he’s cursing and snarling. Pushing me into the bed with his weight while his cock pounds into me relentlessly.

  “I love you,” I cry out, half trying to make him break, half because I’m still trapped in the throes of my own orgasm. “I love you, Striker.”

  “Ameia,” Striker cries and then I’m being filled with the most lovely warmth. I can feel him twitching and swelling. Pulsing as he shoots his heat inside me. “Fuck, I love you, Ameia.”

  I’m so full, so warm, I collapse against the mattress, spent.

  * * *

  I awaken to Striker squeezing me tightly, nearly crushing me in his hold.

  “Can’t… breathe…” I gasp and feel him shudder.

  Gradually, his hold on me loosens and I feel him press his face into my hair, breathing me in.

  It’s dark and I’m smashed up against his chest. I try to wiggle back so I can see his face but his arms lock up again as if he’s afraid I’m trying to get away or something.

  This is so unlike him…

  “Wha
t’s wrong?” I ask.

  I half expect him to give me a snarky answer but all I get is cold silence.

  After a long minute, I ask again, “Striker? What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

  “Yes,” he finally answers, his voice sounding thick with emotion.

  With a little more wiggling, I manage to free my hands enough to reach up to him. I pull his face down close to mine and press a soft kiss to his lips.

  “Did you have a bad dream?” I ask.

  “No,” he exhales, his breath warm against my lips.

  “Then what’s going on? Did something happen?”

  He sighs.

  “Striker…”

  When still he doesn’t answer I resort to pleading. “Please, you can tell me. Something is bothering you. What is it?”

  I don’t know what answer I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t, “I know why he did it.”

  My entire body freezes and Striker sighs again, noticing my stiffness. His lips press against my lips and he kisses me tenderly before explaining. “I can understand it.”

  “Understand what?” I ask somewhat fearfully. Is he emphasizing with his father? Is he relating to him?

  Do I need to be worried?

  “I understand why he locked her in the pit.”

  I guess the answer is yes.

  “You do?”

  I feel Striker’s chest swell up against my breasts as he sucks in a deep breath. “Yes. I hate him for it but now I understand it.”

  “Can you explain it to me? I’m sorry, but I’m not following.”

  Striker brushes back my hair and then his fingers trail down my cheek, running along my lips. “There’s a secret we keep. One we don’t share with our Callings because it would give them even more power over us.”

  My breathing slows and my heart thumps sickly behind my ribs. I focus really hard on trying to sound like I’m not disturbed by this new information. “Oh?”

  “I’m not supposed to tell you, Ameia, but I want to…”

  “You can tell me,” I say softly.

  “Can you keep a secret, my princess?”

  I pull his face back down and give him another kiss before I answer, “Yes.”

  Striker grabs the sides of my face and holds me close. His nose is touching my nose. His breath is warm and sweet as he says, “After accepting us, a Calling can still reject us at their whim.”