Slut, she’d whispered in her ear when the girl came over to tell her. Marnie had only poked out her tongue and given her the finger. What were friends for if not to insult?
Now she was stuck going home by herself. At least she’d had the sense to call a taxi, even if her last drink had been an hour ago. Getting shit-faced drunk when your hormones were raging wasn’t wise.
Then he walked into view at the other end of the row of parked cars, blocking out the taxi waiting for her with its engine idling, and he turned and headed toward her. Long dark coat. Mean look in his eyes…or where his eyes would be. His face was shrouded in darkness. He just looked bad.
Her throat closed in. Breathing, who needed it?
Big man, as in fucking huge, and with a totally deliberate way of moving. Every step was calculated. Like a lone stranger walking into a lowlife Wild West town, about to rescue the folks from the two-gun killer kid. She could hear the theme song from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly playing.
All he was missing was a Stetson and a pair of six guns.
Headlights from a passing car flickered over him. His face…oh god. He definitely needed a hat to pull over that. Were those parallel scars running across his cheeks? Or tattoos made up to look like American Indian war paint? Whatever. They were red and scary. Only he surpassed scary by a mile. She took a half-step back, surprised the man wasn’t snorting steam out his nostrils.
But he smelled good. From yards away. Was that even possible? Mm-Mmm. It took all her determination not to squeal, run down the aisle between the parked cars, and jump his bones then and there. Loose stones on the concrete cracked under his boots. A breeze blew the front of his coat wide. She caught a glimpse of a wide, well-built torso that stretched his pants and shirt with a real man’s body.
Shit. Was that metal glinting there? Holsters? No. Couldn’t be. Unless he was a cop?
Fear reared its head. He wouldn’t be looking for her. Get the fuck outta his way.
Jarred into self-preservation mode, Brittany cleared her throat and squeezed back against the bus she was walking beside to allow him to shimmy past. Not that a man like this would ever shimmy. He’d saunter or stalk but never ever shimmy.
What would it be like to be underneath him being…
Shut up. She took a deep breath and held it when he seemed about to pass her.
Don’t faint. Unladylike.
Then he grabbed her under her shoulders, lifted her a few inches, and slammed her flat against the bus with enough force to frighten her but not hurt. Startled, she sucked in air.
His scent swept her awareness of danger far, far away and replaced it with pure unadulterated LUST.
Her pussy flooded instantly. She shut her eyes. Not Niagara Falls wet, just enough to make slippery every part of her down there, enough that a man could slide his cock right in without a second’s hesitation. That. Wet.
She inched open her eyes and found him staring down at her. Brutal and callous was her instantaneous impression.
An odd ringing began in her ears and buzzed down through her. All the small hairs on her body stood up. For a moment, for the tiniest particle of time, she lost track of where she ended and he began. They merged, breathed as one, their hearts beating as one…
Then his fingers tightened on her upper arms. Both of them inhaled some much-needed air. The ringing drifted away.
A man…a man like this might do anything to her. She quivered.
“Spread your legs.” From the grating timbre of his words, he was as desperate as she was. Then he leaned in and murmured directly to her ear, his breath warming her. “Is your pussy glowing red for me?”
And she almost obeyed, but those last words undid what her body was screaming at her to do. The brakes screeched on. Was her pussy glowing? Where did this lone stranger get his pick-up lines?
Stranger. Bad man. A fucking stranger.
She needed to scream out rape. And fast. Before she instead asked him if she should wrap her legs around his head or keep her feet on the ground while he fucked her.
At her stiffening, and obvious noncompliance, he paused. “Did I say something wrong?”
Rough voice. Deep. The man gargled rocks. Maybe that was his job? Rock gargler.
“It was the glowing pussy line. You need to work on –”
“Noted.” He nuzzled her neck. Bit her.
She sagged down the bus, held up only by his big hands on her body.
Shadows blocked the aisle of cars up where he’d just come from. Two more men stood there. Oh crapola. Was this some sort of gang?
One advanced. “You okay there? Miss?” A young man’s voice. An oddly polite question.
Her stranger let her go and faced them. “Stay back.” One hand turned back his coat revealing a weapon hanging at his side. Could that be a shotgun? Surely not? No one wore a shotgun in a waist-slung holster.
The first of the two men shifted. The snick and flash of metal said switchblade. “Miss?”
A few seconds passed.
Her stranger used the seconds of time well – he reached back, sneaked his hand under her short swishy skirt and planted his palm over her mound.
Her mind went into meltdown.
“S’fine. I’m fine!” she added thickly, because she’d just pressed herself against that invading hand.
“You’re sure?” Her would-be rescuer asked.
No. Yes. God, she was a fool.
“Yes.” She put her hand on the stranger’s wrist, and found her fingers could barely encompass half of his arm. “I’m fine. Go away.”
“Okay. Suit yourself. Have fun!” The knife vanished. The two of them backed off and walked…somewhere, laughing.
She cared not at all, being more interested in his thumb, which was pushing at her panties, exploring, shoving. The cloth was now molded to her and had crept up into her slit.
He turned to her, and with that thumb, did some more thorough and ever so rhythmic exploration. Shove, push, then slow inward probe while her thighs strained forward to encourage him. She still clutched his wrist, for all the good it did. He wasn’t taking guidance from her.
Throbbing, close to coming, conscious of nothing but what his hand did between her legs, of how swollen and heated her most intimate parts had become, Brittany gave a soft choked moan.
He spoke, his thumb unmoving and sunken dead center between her lower lips. Her panties were still in the way. “You might not be glowing, but you’re ready for me. For the second time. Open. Your. Legs.”
“Not.” She gulped. “Not here. Please.”
With his spare hand, he clasped her wrist, dragged it upward, and pinned it to the metal skin of the bus. Then he played in her wetness, with her cunt, her clitoris, everywhere down there, until she writhed and whimpered unashamedly.
The floodlights, the moon, the stars, and the passing headlights of cars shone down on them. Were people watching? All she wanted was him inside her.
But, she really should see who she was fucking. She took in his face as he studied her in return. His eyes were purplish-blue and they shone, just a little, enough to make her go whoa.
“What are you?” she whispered.
“Jadd. That’s a who not a what.”
Before she could process his words, she was spreading her legs. She let him hoist her higher up the bus. Her hand bumped against a weapon for a fleeting second, but she didn’t care. Something else had her complete attention. His groin and a stupendously throbbing appendage that she prayed was his cock was down there, positioned in exactly the right spot on her slit. Her pussy pulsed, no doubt trying to suck him inside. Slutty thing.
Blaming it seemed sensible. This was so not her. She didn’t do this kind of thing.
As his fingers pulled aside the crotch of her panties and one of them was inserted a…whole…amazing inch up inside her, she managed to gasp out, “Jadd?”
“Yes?” His finger popped out, and he cruised it slowly back and forth along her wet slit, before something
bigger and wider probed at her.
Yes. Oh fuck yes. She crammed shut her eyes to better absorb the feeling.
She felt herself dilate around the blunt tip of his cock. Waves of hot desire shuddered through her from the tips of her breasts to the tips of her toes. She searched for and found his lips, and kissed him while he kissed her back, frantic, noisily, clumsily. Like there was no tomorrow, no tonight. No anything except him, her, and maybe the bus behind her. While his cock slipped higher up inside.
“You taste better than you –”
He thrust at her, his cock surged in, pushing her flesh aside, taking her.
“Than… Oh damn.”
And in some more.
She groaned and gave up on talking, letting her head flop back against the bus. Another thrust and more of his cock entered her. More. Surely that was all of him? He’d hit the top, hadn’t he? Her eyelids fluttered at the throbbing feel of him within.
Pain. Good pain. Fuck, that hurt way up at the top where her cervix must be. She tried to get away by crawling up the side of the bus using her ass alone.
“Stop.” She pushed feebly at his big shoulders. Heavy muscle resisted. He’d not move in an earthquake. Built like a fucking truck. “Please. Please, no.”
But when he paused in his relentless invasion of her pussy, she only sucked in some shaky lungfuls, blindly groped for each side of his ass, and tried to wrench him closer.
He chuckled then fucked her slowly, effortless in his strength. She never came just from penetration but this time, after a few strokes, she was almost spasming from the intensity. He seemed stiffer than most men – a diamond-hard cock with softness sheathing it. Sometimes it hurt, but the rest of the time…
“Jadd, fuck me harder. Please!”
“Done.”
He plowed into her like a pistoning machine. His hands were under her thighs, holding her up to him so he had full access. Not too rough, but smacking into just the right places. Her clit responded, massaged by every thump as he drove all the way in.
Desperate, she moved her hands to his shoulders and clutched him there. The climax struck her suddenly, tossing her into that body-wrenching tumult that threw all thoughts to the winds and shook her over and over. Panting, grunting, mouthing nonsense sounds, she rode out the orgasm in unison with his last high thrust. His cum swelling inside her triggered a full-body arch that meant her head might’ve dented the bus.
When he let her down, she felt his cum trickle down the inside of her legs. But her mind was too blown for her to register much. Something. Something important. Then he picked her up and cradled her to his chest.
“You’re mine now, little one. Mine.”
“Mmm.” She smelled his chest, bit the cloth under her teeth. She didn’t care to translate his words, just, just…her eyes flashed open. “Ohmigod. Babies! I might get – We should have used a –”
“I can’t get you pregnant. And I have no diseases.”
“ – a condom. How’d you know I was asking that?”
“You can’t get pregnant from me.”
“No?” She met his eyes. God, that purple. Contacts? “I’m not on anything.”
“Trust me. You can’t.”
Trust him? What have I done?
She wriggled to get down. “You don’t even know my name!”
“Brittany.”
The world stopped. How had he known? She had a stalker and he was the best lover ever? Well now. Curious.
She inhaled again, nose to his black shirt. Yum. His scent did things to her, again. “I can bear that,” she murmured.
*****
She stared up at the ceiling, so exhausted everything seemed blurry. Was it morning or night?
She thought back.
With all the kissing and fondling of each other while he’d carried her, she wasn’t quite sure how they ended up in a car with him driving. Then they stopped on the second floor of the stairs on the way up to her apartment. Where they sort of fucked. Also did some seriously pornographic things outside her door, she vaguely recalled, or was that inside the door?
If inside, she had less explaining to do. But somehow Mr. Bateman’s face kept intruding on that memory. She’d never be able to look him in the eyes again. Then…then she was fairly sure she let Jadd bend her over the island bench in the kitchen, in front of her innocent toaster, before they made it to her bed. More sex. After that she may have passed out.
“Jadd?” She felt sideways on her bed.
Double-sized bed and so she knew before she tried that he wasn’t there. His warmth was there, and a slight dip in the mattress. Not him. He’d left her without a second thought after all that? It had been a one-night stand. She knew zero about him. Lost opportunity there. They’d had sex so much there’d been no time for talking.
What had she done?
Not once had she thought of Jason. Remorse traipsed in, and sank into her heart for a few ugly moments. Her mouth turned down.
A small tongue licked her fingers where she’d let her hand dangle over the edge of the bed. She shifted and peered down at the dog. Jadd must have let him in on the way out.
“Hi Popstar. Cutie. At least you’re loyal.”
Though he was Mr. Snow’s, Popstar visited her daily. A little three-legged half-mop, half pooch. Despite his thirteen years and missing leg, the dog was a puppy at heart. If it hadn’t been for his lameness, he’d surely be a pogo stick. Mr. Snow had said that before the accident Popstar would almost bounce into his arms.
“Guess you want your morning walk? Wait until I have breakfast.” She’d forgotten to do it yesterday. She sat up in bed and yawned, feeling sore everywhere, especially between her legs. That man had stamina.
Crap. If Jadd was wrong and he could get her pregnant, she had a bunch of quintuplets on the way.
“Oh no,” she moaned, covering her face with her hands. “I am so stupid!” She’d need to get blood tested for everything. “Why did I trust him?”
The dog panted happily up at her. At least someone was happy. She felt like…like screwing his brains out, again. She put her hand over her clit and wriggled her hips. Nice, but… This was unnatural. Seriously unnatural.
Where was the man? She flopped back onto the pillow. “I think I need an intervention.”
Maybe she should talk this over with someone? There’d been times in the past when her sister Talia had managed to bring her down to earth.
She sat up and cradled her knees, pondering if it was worth it. Talia was yin to her yang or something. Opposite in many ways. They both owned the same surname – Wolfe – but only Talia suited it. Where she’d ended up as a hairdresser with vague ideas about staying healthy and fit, Talia had a doctorate in forensic pathology, a professorship tenure at the University of Sydney where she lectured, and some sort of martial arts belt in something that let you be all fancy with a sword. Kendo? Yeah, that.
The difference between their tastes and attitudes to life meant she got some odd gifts from Talia.
Brittany sourly eyed the samurai sword hanging on the wall opposite. She was supposed to whip it out if she ever got attacked, but tossing it under the bed seemed a better idea. She’d told Talia that with her luck any attacker would take it from her. Getting sliced and diced with your own sword? Shudder.
They’d had some doosies of arguments about everything under the sun. But they loved each other and would protect each other’s backs in a pinch – her with a hairbrush and curling wand, Talia with a scowl that could blister paint, or if it got serious, one of her samurai swords.
Yes. She fired up the laptop and carefully composed an email that said the basics like, hot guy, instant lust, no protection and she was still even now dying to find him and…
Her fingers trailed off on the typing. Maybe that was a bit much? Brittany deleted some words and frowned. It took some more rewrites before she was happy, but she sent it off. Later, she’d check for a reply. Surely it wasn’t too crazy to have done what she did?
> Breakfast of milk and cereal swallowed, she beckoned. “Come on, Popstar. Walkies.”
As she closed the front door behind her she was chewing her lip. Perhaps she shouldn’t have asked about diseases she might get from unprotected sex, though. That had not been subtle. Damn. Panicking Talia was not her aim. Or told her he was armed. Even if it made him seem so mysterious. So macho. Dayum. Where was he?
A spasm struck. She leaned against the wall and panted. No one was coming, though she might be any second. Pressing the heel of her hand against herself didn’t do much except make her hornier. Her labia felt so swollen, so plumped with blood, so needy, like she’d combust if she touched herself. If she sneaked her finger under –
Appalled, she lifted her hand away.
“What am I thinking?” Wearing a short dress and panties was only encouraging herself in her newfound deviancy. She needed a chastity belt to stop herself finger fucking in public. She shook her head and squeezed shut her eyes. “No. No. No.’ She was being so bad. “I neeed to learn to stop.”
This sex thing had to wear off sometime soon? Though at least she wasn’t aiming to hump hairbrushes. No, now, all she could think of was Jadd.
Popstar had waited for her, but perked up his ears when she straightened and took a firm hold of his lead. “Yeah, yeah. We’re going. I guess I can show you that Tai Chi move I learned?”
The dog whined and tilted his head.
“Come on.”
The drive then walk, out to the point, woke her up and she began to wonder. Had she dreamed it? No. But maybe she’d embellished.
She found her favorite quiet spot under some trees up near the cliff.
The slow movements of Tai Chi were like meditation and let her think through what had happened.
“He couldn’t have been that big, or that good, or that weird looking.” It had been dark.
In the middle of a heel kick, while on one leg, she glimpsed a shadow encroaching. A crow overhead? But when she looked, it was him. Jadd. Dark overcoat. Looming. Striding toward her like a thunder cloud with a destination in mind for all its trouble. He was that big.
She fell over.
Precious Sacrifice Page 3
