by Jo Raven
Where’s Storm? He’s like a storm himself, wrenching me away from everything I’ve ever known. Only he gives no clues, and I have no idea what’s going on behind his eyes.
I make my way down the stairs, squinting in the half light. The living room looks empty. “Storm?”
No reply. I look into the kitchen for good measure, then move to explore the other rooms. Two bathrooms, an office, a storeroom with a huge freezer, and then a huge sliding door.
I tug on the handle, but it doesn’t budge. Locked. I jiggle it, then look around for something I can use to pick it. Can’t help it. I’m curious.
The office is the most promising place. I check the drawers but they’re empty, except for one that is locked. I rattle it, but it doesn’t give. Solid lock.
Finally I locate a paperclip and return to the locked door. Straightening the paperclip, I push it into the lock and swirl it around until it catches, then push. I turn the handle, and the door slides back.
Another huge hall forms the front of the house, facing a private driveway and a garden filled with tall palm trees and bushes. I walk past window after window, taking in the enormous property. The lawn is overgrown, the bushes untrimmed.
A bird caws, starling me, then flies from a bush outside the window and vanishes into the evening sky. I press my hand to the glass, trying to see where it’s gone.
Instead, I see a guy leaning against a palm tree, smoking a cigarette. A rake is propped beside him. A gardener. I guess someone has to take care of the huge garden, though it doesn’t look like he’s been doing much lately. The place is in a sorry state.
He shifts and instinctively I step aside from the window, pressing myself to the wall, hiding in the gathering shadows. The man isn’t here for me, or he’d have caught me already, but that doesn’t stop my heart from hammering.
Then I hear my name being called from the back of the house.
Storm.
“Ray! Where are you?” He bursts into the long hall, turns left, then right, his eyes taking in the place. “Ray.”
I push off the wall, and he’s there in two strides, grabbing me in his arms and crushing me to his chest.
“Fuck, I thought you left. I thought they came for you.” He’s squeezing the air out of me, and it shouldn’t feel so good but it does—his hold, his concern. “I thought you were gone.”
“I’m fine.” I glance at the window, but I can’t see anybody. “Storm…”
“I went out running and when I came back I couldn’t find you. I was out of my fucking mind and I—”
“Storm, there was someone outside.”
“What?” He swings me around so that I’m behind him. “Who?”
“I don’t know. A gardener. I think.”
He’s silent for a beat, then, “Can’t see anybody. Did he see you?”
“I don’t think so.”
Storm’s back relaxes as he turns toward me, and even in the dimness, I can see the flash of his grin. “Okay then. How about watching a movie?”
***
We lounge in a TV room with a huge flat screen, watching Spiderman movies, eating microwaved popcorn and drinking beer Storm dug out of the enormous freezer I saw in one of the storerooms. Turns out he’s stocked the pantry with more than a couple of months’ worth of food.
I like that. That’s something I would’ve done if I expected to hole up in one place for some time. I toast him silently with my beer bottle.
“What?” He’s chewing on some popcorn, slumped back on the sofa cushions. He’s changed into a pair of dry shorts, and his hair hangs in his face. He pushes it back with one hand, peeking sideways at me.
“You’re a surprise, Mr. Storm.”
“Because I stock up on microwave popcorn?” He licks his lips and my mouth waters. “And beer?”
“Because you stocked up enough popcorn and beer to last you a year.”
He snickers. “Best movie food.”
“You watch up lots of movies down here?”
“I used to. Before you showed up.” He puts the beer and popcorn on the table, and leans toward me and slings an arm around my shoulders. “Then I got distracted.”
That makes two of us. “You spent a whole month here on your own?”
“Uh-huh. Two actually.”
“Sounds kinda lonely.”
He shrugs, long, dark lashes brushing his cheekbones. “It was.”
Then his mouth is on mine, and the sounds from the movie fade away. He tastes of salt and butter, his lips soft and his arm dragging me closer until I’m almost in his lap. He licks at the seam of my mouth, his hand sliding up, tangling in my hair, and when I gasp, his tongue pushes inside.
Sparks run over my skin. I moan as our tongues rub together and run my hands over his naked chest, over his sides, over the dark lines of his ink.
In a blink, he’s got me on my back. He grabs my wrists and pins them over my head, holding them there one-handedly. I’ve never seen his eyes go so dark. Need twists inside me, sharp and hot. I try to buck my hips, to reach him, but I can’t move, trapped by his weight.
“Fuck,” he whispers, one side of that long mouth curving up. “Look at you.”
His gaze travels over me like a flame. My breasts tighten, my nipples harden. Oh crap. What’s the matter with me? I don’t want him to hurt me.
Okay, maybe hurt me a little. Why does the thought make me wet? Jesus. I struggle against him, fighting him—fighting myself, the want that burns under my skin.
He shifts until he’s pressed between my legs, and I moan at the feel of his long hard cock where I’m aching for him.
“Do you want this?” He runs his free hand down his stomach and into his shorts, his cock and his hand now both pressing against my mound. “Tell me.”
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
“How do you want it?”
“In my mouth.” God, is this me? I only know I want to taste him again, I want him to fill my mouth first, my sex later. “Like this.”
“Fuck, Ray.” He lifts up, pushes his shorts down and draws out his cock. My mouth waters again as he strokes that hard length, his big fist running up and down in slow, even motions. Then he straddles me, guiding his hard-on to my mouth. His musk floods my senses. “Beg me for it.”
I shudder. “Please.”
The head of his cock touches my lips. Salty. Bittersweet. I lick at it, and he groans. “Oh yeah. Suck it, baby.”
His words, his taste, the feel of his cock in my mouth trigger shocks of pleasure that travel down my spine. His hand clamps hard on my wrists, holding them fast over my head, and I whimper, liking this. Liking this way too much. Heat blooms inside me, flooding my core, and my hips tilt, looking for friction.
His heavy cock slips deeper into my mouth, and I choke a little. He pulls back and I suck on him, loving the way my lips slide over his hard shaft, the silky skin and the thick vein beating underneath, against my tongue.
“Damn…” His head tips forward, his eyes closing. He lets go of his cock, the roll of his hips pushing it in and drawing it out. His hand caresses my face, traces my lips that are stretched around his considerably girth, and another groan escapes him. “This is so fucking hot.”
Hot is how I feel. Pressure is building inside me, and I clamp my legs together, spikes of pleasure tearing through me. I play with my tongue on the underside of his cock, under the head, lapping at his precum, salt and Storm’s spice, and oh God, I’m going to come from giving head.
Is that a thing? Does it happen to other girls?
Can’t think straight. Not when every nerve on my body feels alive, when the first pulses of an orgasm that will rip me apart are starting deep inside me. When he moans my name and rocks faster, the drag of my lips on his cock harsher.
Suddenly, he pulls out all the way. “Inside you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I want you to ride me, Ray.”
Poised on the edge of orgasm, I stare at him, willing my brain to resume function. He was so close to comi
ng, I felt it on my tongue. His cock is swollen huge and twitching, glistening, bobbing against his flat stomach. As I watch, more precum leaks from the small slit at the top and trickles down the sides.
Just the sight of that might be enough to push me over the edge. I need to come. I reach between my legs to ease the throbbing pressure, but Storm has other ideas. He pushes my hand away, then tears my blouse and shorts off me.
“Finally.” He grins wolfishly at me, licks his lips. “You should never wear clothes, baby.”
“Then we’d never get out of bed,” I whisper.
“I like the idea.” He fumbles with his shorts and pulls out a foil. He tears it open and rolls a condom on. He settles back on the couch, one leg hanging off, the other stretching until it nudges me. He’s holding the base of his cock with one hand, his gaze heavy-lidded. “Come here and ride me. You’re gonna make me come so hard, baby. I won’t last long.”
A thrill pierces me. The thought of feeling him, seeing him come undone never fails to excite me. It’s a strange reversal of roles, I think—me on top, taking control—but I realize my mistake the moment I straddle him. His hands are on my hips, lifting me, then lowering me. His mouth fastens on my nipple, sucking it in, making me cry out. The tip of his cock pushes into me, slowly, and I’m so wet it slips inside easily. He controls my descent on his pelvis, on his hardness.
He’s still the one in control.
I shake as I take him in, inch by impressive inch. Damn, he’s big. I bite my lip to stop myself from crying out again as his rubs on my inner walls, a delicious, never-ending slither. He’s watching me, always watching, his hands clamped hard on my hips, keeping it slow and even. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, his breath whistling out of his parted lips. His eyes are focused between my legs, where we are joined, and the muscles in his stomach contract, his cock twitching inside me.
More and more of him pushes into me. Too much. He’s too big. I can’t… My eyes burn—not from pain but from the overwhelming fullness.
I feel like my heart will burst.
“Storm…” My voice hitches. “It’s…”
Not sure what I want to say. I don’t want him to stop. I want all of him.
He says nothing, and I realize my descent has stopped. I open my mouth to protest, to say I can take it.
Looking down, I see I’m straddling his hips. We’re pressed together, pelvis to pelvis. He’s inside me from root to tip.
A whole-body shiver grips me, and he grunts, his head tilting back, his throat arching. If possible, his engorged cock swells again, until I lean forward to ease the pressure. I place my hands on his hard chest, rock my hips, and we both cry out.
He looks up at me, his eyes wild. “Goddamn… Do that again.”
And I do. I roll my hips, my breasts swaying, and he licks at my nipples, one and then the other, his body trembling as he tries to remain still. It’s so good, and my inner walls ripple. The pressure is cracking. I’m about to plunge into something dark and indescribable. His hands on my hips lift me and slam me back down, faster now. He releases my breast and his mouth opens in a long moan.
Oh God, I’m coming. I sit up, bracing one hand on the back of the sofa, and he slips in deeper, triggering my orgasm. A wordless shout escapes me as I rock on his cock, clenching around his thickness again and again, until he writhes underneath me, his breath coming out in a gasp.
His cock jerks inside me, and I clench again, trembling with the pleasure of it. His pelvis tips up, lifting me a bit, as a stronger spasm shakes him.
“Fucking hell…” He’s still coming as I bend over him, draping myself over his chest. “Dammit.”
Sweat is drying on my skin, sending shivers skittering over my skin, his hardness inside me setting off aftershocks that rattle me. It takes a long time for his cock to soften and for the sharpness of that pleasure to fade into a softer hum.
Sated, exhausted, I close my eyes as his arms come around me and everything’s right in the world.
STORM
I lie on the sofa, gazing at the ceiling, my arms full of passed-out girl and my dick still thrumming with pleasure. That was… mind-blowing. All of it. Her eagerness, her excitement as I fucked her mouth and pinned her down, her weight on top of me, the tightness of her pussy around me. Her orgasm, nipples taut, body shaking, tightening around my dick so hard I thought I was going to pass out.
We fit perfectly together, a lock and a key—and I love putting my key in her lock, goddammit. Fuck, my dick twitches, still trapped inside her, and she moans.
I’d better get up, clean up, get rid of the condom, but I can’t move, and not because she’s lying on top of me. Fuck, no. I love having her like that. Plus she weighs almost nothing. Girl needs to eat more.
I’ll feed her.
The image makes me groan again. If it was up to me, I’d never leave the bed. I’d fuck her all day and night long, only stopping long enough to eat something and catch a few winks.
Come to think of it, isn’t that what we’ve been doing since she moved here?
Grinning, I throw an arm over my eyes to block the light from the TV. Spiderman is still playing, the images flitting by, going fuzzy.
Why can’t we stay longer here? It’s not like anyone knows where she is. She’s not in danger, and neither am I. There’s food in the freezer. We could last for another couple of weeks.
The guys will be worried if I don’t report in soon, I think fuzzily, my eyes closing. Hawk will probably punch me when he sees me, and Rook will sit back and laugh, enjoying the show. Should I call them? Should I take the risk?
Paranoid, my brain informs me. You’re paranoid. That’s what everyone thinks. Just turn on your damn phone. Do it.
But Raylin believes me. Right? She’s seen her fair deal of violence and bad people, and she thinks you’re on to something. It’s okay to be careful. Your whole family is gone because they thought themselves invincible.
It was no accident. I had been there, with them, in the car, but I can’t… I frown, clutching at the girl in my arms. I can’t remember.
Bottom-line is… Be careful. Death comes for everyone, sooner or later—sooner for those who don’t believe in his scythe.
I doze for a while. I must have, because when I come awake, my head throbbing and my dick still wearing a condom full of cold cum, my arms are empty.
Chapter Ten
RAYLIN
My throat aches and is dry like the Mojave, so I unglue myself from Storm’s chest and go in search of water. Probably from taking his cock in so deep, I think, and I almost fall over my feet as the image slams into my brain and rocks me.
Storm guiding his cock to my lips, his face twisted with pleasure, his strong hand holding me in place as he fucks my mouth. Then lying on his back, beckoning.
Ride me, Ray.
Shit. Rubbing at my mouth, I head to the kitchen and drink straight from the tap. My thirst slaked, I decide I should shower and put some clothes on me. I’m back down in record time, wearing the last of my clean clothes, a short denim skirt and a striped tank top. There has to be a washing machine somewhere in the house, right? A laundry room.
Making a mental note to ask Storm when he wakes up, I wander to the sunken living room, but I don’t sit long. The breeze wafting through the windows lures me outside, to the patio. The lit-up pool is beautiful. I sit on the edge and dip my feet in the water, drawing a deep breath of night air.
Cool water from the pool. Some exotic flower from the garden. The sea. A warm note of rotten leaves and earth.
Peaceful. Quiet.
I wonder if he played on a beach like this one when he was little. If he swam and played in the sand and rolled on the lawns.
Probably. I try to imagine him when he was a kid, and I bet he must have been way too cute. Hell, he’s cute now, only in a badass, sexy way.
If that makes any sense.
Nope. No sense whatsoever, and who cares? I swing my feet in and out of the water, splashing sof
tly, and grin.
That’s it, I’m fallen head over heels for this guy. The damage is done.
A flash from my right catches my attention. Is it lightning? My heart booms at the thought of thunder, and I wish for Storm’s arms around me.
I hastily get up and glance at the ocean. It’s dark, the sky overcast. No moon. Could be a storm in the making. I walk to the gate, rubbing my hands over the goosebumps on my arms.
Leaves crunch a few feet away. As I turn around, I think I see someone walking by, a barely-there shape behind the fence stretching along the gate.
Or maybe it’s an animal? What animals do they have here, in Florida? They have coyotes, don’t they?
Calm down, Ray. Even if it’s a person, so what? People live here. It’s not a deserted beach.
My pulse pounding in my ears, I turn back toward the house just in time to see Storm standing at the door, one arm braced on the frame. He’s wearing a pair of surf shorts that reach his knees and hang low on his narrow hips.
“May I interest you in a midnight swim?” He winks, giving me a crooked grin that settles my heart.
Everything’s fine. Relax. Nobody knows you’re here.
“I think I’d rather go to bed. It’s getting chilly.”
“Bed sounds good to me.” If possible, his grin turns more wicked.
I shake my head, laughing. “You’re insatiable.”
“What can I say? You make my hungry.” He waits until I reach him, then takes my hand in his. “Dammit, Ray, you…” He frowns. “You make me want. Things. More. More from life.”
I stare up at him, my pulse skyrocketing again, and wonder what exactly he’s trying to tell me. “That’s good, right?”
“It’s good.” He sighs, rubs his thumb over my knuckles and tugs me inside, closing the door behind us. “It’s new for me, that’s all. I’m trying to figure it out.”
I bite my lip. “Need help with that?”
“I need all the help you can give me,” he says, wagging his brows, and yeah, we aren’t talking about figuring this out anymore—this thing between us, which has my mind in twists, too.
