HIS VIRGIN VESSEL: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (War Cry MC)

by Nicole Fox

  I felt his hands settle on my ass, but I slapped them away again. He was trying to take control once more, trying to reassert his dominance and ease our love-making back to a gentler place. But I would not allow it. He was mine, he would be mine, and he would do as I wanted. Grabbing his wrists, I forced his hands back above his head, leaning forward so I was face to face with him, our eyes locked in a heated stare. We kissed hard, biting at each other like animals. To both of us, the rest of the world ceased to exist. There was only him and me, only this bed, only this sensation, this heat. I rode my hips backward and forward along his strong length, the friction thrilling me to new heights.

  But while I had been concentrating on keeping control of Asa, my own body had been plotting against me. While I might be able to master him, I could not restrain my own needs, and the orgasm that had, for a long while, been building in me, suddenly rushed in. I cried out loudly, my whole body bucking. Involuntarily, I released Asa's trapped hands, and, in an instant, he had flipped me over onto my back, growling like a caged lion as he did so.

  As my orgasm continued to wrack my body, Asa drove himself into me to the hilt. His ferocious masculinity, which I had kept chained up, now expressed itself. He dominated me utterly, pinning me to the bed, thrusting into me like a bull, and taking me straight from one orgasm into the next. The pleasure was almost more than I felt I could stand, and yet, I grabbed at Asa's hips, yanking him harder towards me.

  "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

  I must have blacked out, for how long I couldn't say, but when the world came back, Asa was still on top of me, still hard inside of me, gently kissing my face. I grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled hard, biting his chin and neck.

  "You bastard," I murmured.

  Asa just grinned in reply.

  But I wasn't done yet. Without warning, I looped a leg around his hips and nimbly turned him over onto his back. I might not have had Asa's strength, but I was fit enough to take him by surprise and hold him there. I reached back to hold his thighs and began twisting on top of him, grinding myself into him in tight little circles, using him.

  Asa was having none of that. Grabbing me, he easily pulled me over again, onto my back, beneath him. But I was ready for him this time and wound one of my legs tight around his, allowing me to turn him again, putting him back where I wanted him, under me. This battle to be on top continued a while, Asa using muscle, me using guile. Over and over, we twisted and rolled, the bedsprings complaining beneath us, the act of sex turning into a war for supremacy. But such a war was only ever going to end one way. Perhaps Asa had been toying with me all along, letting me think I could win, that I might be able to control him. Now, as we both approached the point of no return, he made his move, pinning me to the bed so I could not move. I was his to control.

  I had expected him to pound me into the mattress, to aggressively fuck me to orgasm after orgasm. That would have been fine with me. Instead, he stared down at me a long time, and I stared back at him, our bodies frozen in an explicit tableau. What passed between our eyes went beyond lust or heat. There was an understanding of what this little battle for supremacy had meant, of why I had needed to control him, and of why I never could. Our eyes remained fixed to each other as he began to move within me again, slowly but firmly, as regular and unstoppable as the tide. The end was coming, and there was nothing that I could do to stop it.

  My last orgasm was the most overwhelming of all, perhaps because it occurred simultaneously with Asa’s. But I think it was more because, unlike every other time we had had sex, this time our eyes never left each other's. We were locked as one, from groin to eyes—one body, one soul. We came together in more ways than one.

  There was little to say afterwards. We both knew that it was the end of something. A battle had been fought, and neither of us had won.

  Exhausted from the long night, we snuggled up together beneath the sheets to sleep through the day. Asa spooned up behind me, draping a protective arm across me, and I thought that, although I might never possess him, it was rather wonderful to be possessed by him. As we lay there, pressed to each other, I felt his impossible organ stir back into life, hardening against my backside. Without a word, I raised my leg, then reached back to guide him back inside me. Quietly and gently, we made love, almost too tired to move, slipping in and out of dazed consciousness. When we both finally came, together again, we were asleep before the shock waves of orgasm had passed, his wonderful penis slowly softening inside me as we slept.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Asa

  When I woke up, the afternoon sun was already peeping through the blinds on the motel windows. I looked down at the figure curled up in the bed beside me. Corinne looked so tiny, so vulnerable, and fragile. It was hard to believe that this little creature was the same one who had utterly exhausted me and repeatedly drained me over the last twenty-four hours.

  When you're a kid, and learning about sex for the first time, there are some pretty epic sessions. At that age, every time feels like it might be the last time anyone will ever let you do this, and so you just want to keep doing it, on and on, forever, and, at that age, you have the stamina to damn near make it happen. I remembered some long weekends with one girl or another (maybe Fiona even), where we never seemed to leave the bed. Objectively, I supposed, I had had frequent and athletic sex with someone before Corinne. But this had been something else. It wasn't just my body that felt spent, it was my mind. I was mentally exhausted, and I never even knew that sex could do that. Who knew your brain had anything to do with it? But even that wasn't the whole story. Was it possible for a soul to feel spent? If there was a finite amount of love in the human body, then I felt I had poured mine all out to Corinne last night. I had nothing left to give, and, yet, felt a deep desire to give her more. It was not just that I had never known sex like this. I had never even known that sex could be like this.

  I had always treated sex like a sport, a pastime, or a hobby. It was something fun to do with whoever happened to be around. But, with Corinne, it was so much more, and I found myself oddly horrified by the idea of ever doing it with anyone else. I had thought it last night, and I was sure she understood that I could never belong to any woman. And, yet, in an odd way, I did. Corinne had a hold on me, in that I could not see past her to other women. They no longer existed. There was only her.

  All of that was going to make today especially hard, because this was the last day I would see Corinne, the last day we would spend together. There was no other way. On the one hand, we had had a good—if brief—run. On the other, we had completely screwed things up from top to bottom. But, whichever perspective you took, the only way forward now was for her to go back home to be with her father. I was resolute that I was not going to ruin her life. It was bad enough that I had dragged it down to this point. Things could not go on like this, and I knew what I had to do next.

  Slipping out of bed as quietly as I could, so as not to wake Corinne, I pulled my clothes on and headed for the door. Thinking again, I went back, located Corinne's phone in her pants' pocket, and took it with me.

  "You got a phone?" I asked the woman at reception, who was idly leafing through a magazine.

  She looked up at me as if I must be the lowest form of life on earth for not having a cell phone, but, of course, I wasn't about to use a cell phone that had been taken off me by police while I was in custody. I doubted that the local sheriff's department had bugging facilities, but who the hell knew these days? There were kids in their bedrooms who could take all the money out of your bank account without getting out of bed. I wasn't going to risk it.

  "There." The woman said, pointing at a pay phone that might have last been used during the Nixon administration.

  "Thanks." I took out Corinne's phone and scrolled through the numbers looking for 'Dad'.

  "You know," drawled the woman at the desk. "For future reference, that thing in your hands can also be used as a phone."

  "Battery's low," I lied.
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  The woman shrugged. Working in this particular motel, she knew damn well I was lying, but she also knew better than to pry too deeply into the lives of her clients. Running a place like this, you quickly learned to ask no questions, to see nothing, and to never remember a face.

  The phone rang a couple of times before a familiar voice answered.

  "Dugas."

  "Hi, Sheriff. It's Asa Covert."

  I would have paid good money to see the sheriff's face at that point, but all I got was a very long silence before he spoke again.

  "Is my daughter all right?"

  Once again, I found myself having to grudgingly respect Brian Dugas. If the first words out of his mouth had been anything else, then the whole purpose of this conversation might have changed, but he clearly cared about Corinne, and that meant I had to go ahead with what I had been planning.

  "She's fine."

  "I want to speak to her."

  "She's sleeping. And I don't want her to know that I'm making this call."

  There was another pause, as Dugas pondered what I had said. "What is this call?"

  He was a smart man. "This is me reaching out to make a deal."

  "You broke the last deal we made."

  "Now, we both know that you made that deal under false pretenses," I said.

  "So, you decided to revenge yourself on me by going after my daughter?" Anger was creeping into his tone.

  "That's not how it is with Corinne and me, and I think you know that," I said, shutting him down, not giving way. Dugas respected strength, and I wasn't about to give an inch. "I was trying to do what I thought was best for her, and I'm willing to admit that it didn't go as planned. But I think that if you hadn't chased me last night, then you'd have been genuinely pleased with the outcome."

  "You were speeding!"

  "I'm not blaming you," I hastened to add. "I'm just saying, it's a shame things went the way they did. But they did, so let's try to fix them now."

  I imagined I could hear Dugas grinding his teeth. For the second time this week he was forced to make a deal with a man he despised. Tough times for Sheriff Brian Dugas.

  "What do you want?"

  "Nothing, Sheriff."

  "Nothing?" His incredulity was plain to hear.

  "Nothing for myself, that is," I amended. "I know you can't just let me get off scot-free. I'm not asking for immunity or for you to give up the chase. Come get me, if you can. All I want is a guarantee that Corinne won't suffer for what she did in choosing me over you."

  "Suffer?" Dugas sounded as if he wanted to reach out of the phone and beat my head against the wall. "What in the hell do you think I am?! You actually think I'd harm her?!"

  "No," I said. "But I wanted to be sure. And, also, there's more than one way in which a father can make his daughter suffer. Sometimes without even knowing he's doing it. She's not the girl you think she is, Sheriff. She's fragile and vulnerable. Cut her some slack, let her be herself, and stop looking at her and seeing her mother. They're not the same."

  I could only imagine how Brian Dugas felt getting a parenting lecture from a member of War Cry. But I think he knew that there was some truth in what I was saying.

  "I don't know what assurances you want from me, Mr. Covert," he said. "But I swear to you on the Bible, on my daughters’ lives, on everything I hold sacred, that I won't do anything to harm Corinne. And I'll try to be a more understanding father to her in the future. I'll take care of her."

  There would be arguments and recriminations of course, because that's what families did. And daughters needed to know when they've overstepped the mark, even twenty-three-year-old daughters who really ought to have known better. But I was happy enough with Dugas's word.

  "You know the Outland Motel?"

  "You took my daughter to that place?!"

  He might be ready to forgive Corinne, but Brian Dugas wasn't going to be forgiving me anytime soon. "It's a safe place."

  "Safe for who?!"

  "It's not about who it's safe for, Sheriff Dugas," I said. "It's about who it's safe from."

  Dugas considered this. "Okay. That's where she is."

  "That's where she'll be. Room 21."

  "And do you expect me to give you time to clear out?"

  "I could ask you for it, but I don't think I'd get it."

  "You'd be right," replied Dugas grimly.

  "I'll be gone by the time you get here."

  There was another pause before Dugas spoke again. "I don't want there to be some misunderstanding between us, Mr. Cyrpian. You do know that I'm still coming for you."

  "I know," I said. "Like I told you, I'm not part of the deal."

  "I'm going to nail you."

  "No. You're never going to see me again."

  Another pause. "Under the circumstances, I can see that as a win."

  He hung up.

  Assuming Dugas got straight into his car and drove out here—and I couldn't imagine him waiting—I had about an hour to clear out. Maybe less, since he'd be using the siren all the way and stopping for nothing. There was a vending machine in reception, and I went to get snacks from it. I could eat properly when I had put some serious miles between myself and Brian Dugas. And Corinne too, of course. She would hate me for what I had done, but deep down she would realize that it was the way things had to be. I hoped.

  But as I was getting the snacks from the machine, I glanced across to the TV, which the woman behind reception was now watching, the magazine apparently having lost its appeal. The news was on, and I recognized Dan's Steak House, one of the places that got protection from War Cry. The place had burned to the ground. That was no great surprise. The way Dan treated Health and Safety regulations, it was a wonder that it didn't happen more often. But then the picture changed to Shades, a club we protected, then Bar None, then Jay Jones' Place. All of them were protected by War Cry, and all had been attacked in the last twelve hours.

  "Turn the sound up," I said, pointing at the TV.

  The woman said nothing, but did as I asked, once again deciding not to ask questions about my interest in these events.

  As I listened, a horrible story outlined itself. The media might not have all the pieces yet, they just knew the events, but I could fill in the blanks. My being in jail had clearly given the local Mafia some ideas. They had been watching, they had noted my distraction, and they had moved. They were not as much of presence way out here, as they were really more of a big city organization, but if there was money to be made, then they moved in. War Cry had kept them down for years, making sure that whatever profit they might make was never worth the blood it would cost them to make it. Now, War Cry was weakened by my absence. However strong my boys were, they needed a leader. The Mafia had known this, had seen an opening, and they had pounced.

  Of course, my first instinct was to get myself back to town as soon as possible. I would end up in jail again, for sure, as soon as Dugas knew I was back. But by then I could put the Mafia back in their box with such extreme force that they wouldn't trouble the town again for a long time. But then a more terrible thought struck me. They had to know that my absence was temporary. They had to know that I would be heading back in a fighting mood, so they would want to make my absence permanent. If they had been watching me, then they might well know where I was now, and if they couldn't kill me, they would be looking for ways to control me. Ways like Corinne.

  I was heading back towards the phone to tell Brian Dugas the latest development when I realized that was futile. He would already be on his way. But there was no way that Corinne could stay here. With or without me, she was in danger, so with me was better. Then, at least, I could protect her. I could only imagine how angry Dugas would be when he arrived to find his daughter gone. He would assume that I had lied to him again and that I had just phoned to screw with him. He was going to tear me apart if he ever found me.

  For a fleeting moment, as I was hurrying back to room 21, I wondered about just waiting here for Dugas and l
etting him take me. But, with the Mafia out there, that didn't seem a good option. I had to keep moving, and I had to keep Corinne moving. I wasn't convinced she would be safe at home now.

  I wasn't proud of it, but, for an instant, I felt a pang of delight at these events. I had been handed a legitimate excuse to keep Corinne with me. I could honestly say that I was doing what was best for her, and not losing her was the collateral result. Thank God for the Mafia.

  I shook the thought clear from my head as soon as it entered, but it lingered there a while, so I was almost grinning when I went in to shake Corinne awake.