by Meg Ripley
Spurred on by his cries, Elizabeth tensed her thighs and slid up his wet shaft quickly, bringing her pussy down so hard on his cock that it knocked the breath out of her momentarily. She would have seen stars if she’d closed her eyes, but she didn’t want to miss the incredible view. Chase bit his lip and began to roughly thrust his own muscular hips upward, and the force of his strokes sent Elizabeth’s round breasts bouncing even higher and harder. She gripped her breasts, twisting her nipples as she bounced on the cowboy. Chase’s cries were nearing their peak, and his eyes were crazed with the intensity of his lust. Pleasure was crashing through her body with each quick thrust of his hips, and her toes began to curl as her pussy tightened around the thick shaft rocketing between her walls.
She leaned over and pressed her breasts against his chest, kissing as him passionately as her lips and twirling tongue would allow. His hands were holding her ass to him as he thrust his cock wildly in and out of her pussy, pulling on her curls with one hand as he moaned deliriously into her kiss. Her body was brimming with desire and pleasure, and with one final stroke, he pierced the thin layer containing her ecstasy and sent it, roaring, through her body, so that she was trembling on top of him and screaming her pleasure even as he exploded inside her. He continued pushing himself between her legs meekly, both of them moaning and turning into two vague, blissful shapes on the couch.
Wow, she thought. Elizabeth lifted her head to look at Chase, and found him wearing the same soft expression of wonder as she was. He moved his head forward and kissed her, holding the back of her neck so she couldn’t pull away.
When he finally did pull back, he smiled at her—the same open, tired smile that he first gave her at the courthouse. He looked like he wanted to say something, then decided better. A distant thump signaled them to Ella’s awakening, and they looked at each other with bashful expressions.
“We should get dressed,” Elizabeth said. She slid off of him and hurried to find her clothes, pulling them on before the discomfort crept back into her body and she was too terrified to move. She felt Chase’s gaze on her body as she dressed, and she caught him shooting her covetous glances as she put her shirt on over her bra. This is so weird, she thought. Weren’t we just in the middle of a crisis?
As if on cue, a series of gunshots suddenly echoed through the house, shattering windows and vases in the front of the room, and punching holes in the walls and furniture. Elizabeth felt Chase tackle her and cover her body with his. They’re coming for us, she thought. They’re finally taking us down.
The shots seemed to go on forever, echoing around the room long after the last bullets had sailed into the room. Her muscles were vibrating with fear, and her mind was racing, trying to assess her feelings to determine if she’d been hit. After a full minute, nothing seemed to ache, so she looked around the ruined living room before getting to her knees.
“Ella?” Her voice carried through the house, but there was no response. “Ella?”
Chase took off without a word deeper into the house, calling his agents name. The air around the house was eerily still and silent; she didn’t hear sirens yet, which meant they might still be around. Who was it that was firing? she wondered. Her body was curiously empty of feeling, so there was no fear when she moved over the broken glass to peer out the window to take in the grisly scene before her.
Holy shit.
There were clear tire marks in the street where a car had just peeled off. Ella was right: this was a setup. Elizabeth would have bet money that it was the black sedan, but they were long gone by now. Normally, a vehicle leaving the scene would upset her, but it turned out that things hadn’t actually gone so well for the shooters themselves. Two of them had gotten caught in the crossfire; one was lying near the curb, and the other one was trying to compress the bullet wound on his neck with his own fat hands. Elizabeth stalked over to him, and his beady eyes darted around the scene in panic, presumably looking for a weapon.
She watched Donald Douglass gasp below her, one hand still searching for his gun in the grass. His gaze contained a look of such pure hatred that Elizabeth knew he thought he wasn’t long for this world; he wasn’t begging for help or even mercy—only trying to take her down with him.
She spotted his gun lying ten feet out his reach, partially covered in his own blood. Bingo. Elizabeth snapped a bare branch from a low hanging tree, bent over, and used the stick to pluck the gun from its place in the soil. It looked oddly like her own gun, but that was locked in her safe at home; then she flipped over the handle and saw the serial number etched in the butt. This is my gun. They were trying to set me up…for murder.
She returned her gaze to Donald, and saw with satisfaction that his eyes were filled with terror now. She smiled bitterly. “You know I’ve figured it out, haven’t you?”
She crouched in front of him and cupped his fat chin with one hand. He tried to spit at her, and a bubble of blood blossomed at the corner his lips, but nothing else. He shot her another look of hatred, then the fire of contempt slowly died away. He made a noise like a sob, and seemed to be pleading with her to do something.
“What is it, Donald?”
“K-Kill…m….” he couldn’t get any further, but Elizabeth knew immediately what he meant.
“I’m not gonna help you die, Donald,” She promised. “In fact, I’m going to do much worse.”
****
EPILOGUE
“So…Brazil?” Chase was staring at a stack of brochures and pamphlets, trying to decide which destination looked the most promising.
“Nowhere too hot,” Elizabeth said. “Hmm…London?”
“Too foggy,” Chase said, yawning and stretching on the bed next to her. “Can’t we decide this in the morning? I’m beat. Honestly, they had me testifying against Hare all day.”
“At least you didn’t end up having to testify against Ella,” Elizabeth said morosely. “That was a nightmare.”
Chase looked at his pamphlets again, preferring not to think about how his agent had tried to trade him to Hare for her own safety. “Yeah, well…I’m still tired. Let’s just go to sleep, okay?”
The hope in his voice did the trick; never one for taking orders, Elizabeth seemed to respond to gentle suggestions and slightly-less-than-gentle suggestions. She was also incredibly particular about the way her house was situated: Chase had to organize his belongings every two weeks for the first three months of living with her. Now that they were six months into their unlikely relationship and the trials were finally dying down, she was afraid she was being difficult, but Chase assured her otherwise.
“This is your house,” he reminded her constantly. “Your space. You do what you want with it, and tell me what you want me to do with mine.” His smile was breathtaking, as usual, but no less comforting though he gave this speech often. “I have no problem with that.”
Elizabeth felt lucky—for a lot reasons; lucky that Hare’s men had botched their shooting so severely; lucky that Ella trying to double-cross them had thrown the shooters off rather than strengthen them; lucky that the man she represented turned out to be not only innocent, but sweet and passionate and full of life. He’d been by her side during the worst of it, and he’d shown no signs of leaving yet; even so, she woke often with nightmares of an empty bed, or bloodstains next to her body in the shape of a man. Whenever she woke up, he would hold her to her chest, and tell her not be ashamed of her recurring fears. She couldn’t conquer them all, and she’d done so many already.
“Fight or flight, remember?” Chase murmured into her curls, kissing her forehead as her cries quieted. Sometimes he woke sobbing, too, but he was the one from whom she was learning comfort. “You’re not trained to fight. It’s okay to want to flee. It’s okay.”
It was months before she was able to tell him the truth: she didn’t want to flee anymore, and that was what scared her most. For the first time in her life, she had a reason to stay and fight, and every reason not to run away. It was strange to her to
feel safe, and ever stranger to feel wanted by her slowly widening circle of peers in this little country town. The icing on the cake had been her newspaper debut with her shiny new title: DARLING DISTRICT ATTORNEY MAKES SWEEPING REFORMS.
THE END
Sneak Peek of Stryker’s Desire: Dragons Of Sin City, Book 1 By Meg Ripley
The sight of her curves makes my mouth water. The fire deep inside me threatens to rage out of control. But every time I try to claim what's mine, she slips away.
As one of the wealthiest casino owners in Vegas, there's no doubt I could have any woman wrapped around my finger in a heartbeat. Until I met Ava Winter.
There's something haunting behind those enchanting eyes that I just can't read—and this mysterious beauty won't let me.
As much as she pushes me away, I can't resist her. But I know I shouldn't allow myself to give in to the fiery temptation. Not if I want to keep her safe from the other dragons in Sin City.
Or myself...
Chapter 1
Cade stood at the back of the theater with a single-malt scotch in his hand. A few empty seats peppered the room, so he could have sat down, but he had no intention of staying for long. He wouldn’t have bothered making an appearance at all, but it was the illusionist’s first show in his casino, and he wanted to make sure the act went off without a hitch. Better than waiting for the reviews, he wanted to get a feel for the reception of the new act before he committed to further appearances.
Right on cue, the stage’s strobe lights brightened as a figure descended from the ceiling—suspended from near-invisible wires, of course—and pyrotechnics lit up the circumference of the stage. The trick seemed to enthrall the crowd. The music grew louder, a cacophonic techno mix designed to increase heart rate and bring the audience to the edge of their seats. The man certainly knew how to make an entrance.
All of a sudden, blazing streams of fiery ribbon whirled chaotically just to the left of center stage and it drew the audience’s attention there. The illusionist touched down and the strands of fire vanished, leaving in their wake the man’s shimmering-haired assistant. She contrasted the illusionist in every way, creating a vivid display in the middle of the stage. He was clothed entirely in black and his dark hair was slicked back. She looked like she was almost aglow. To the audience, she appeared to be shimmering, but Cade could see each of the tiny lights that covered her body, an impressive fiber optic display. Her costume—some sort of silvery corset—left little to the imagination, evident by the way every head in the room turned to her.
He couldn’t blame them. She was beautiful, so much so that he couldn’t take his eyes off her. But it wasn’t her soft curves or slender legs that held him captive. He’d had so many women with curves in all the right places that it wasn’t much more than a chore these days to select a bedmate from all the blonde beauties and gorgeous brunettes who fell all over him.
It was something else about her that captivated him in a way he’d never experienced. Maybe it was the way she stood, her spine just a little straighter than other women he’d seen on that stage. And though she wore a serene smile, the expression on her face simultaneously dared anyone to question whether she belonged there. He got the immediate impression that the vivacious beauty on the stage didn’t fall all over just any man. Was it possible she might not even fall so easily for the infamous Cade Stryker? Perhaps it was that challenge that had made her instantly irresistible in his mind.
He watched as she bound the illusionist in a straightjacket and firmly secured his ankles to a wire. What exactly the trick entailed, he didn’t know, and he didn’t care. His eyes never left her for a moment, even as the man was hoisted out of sight. Her gaze perused the audience while the man was suspended somewhere above the ground, and for the briefest moment, as her eyes found him there in the crowd, she paused. Could she see that he was staring right back at her? It seemed unlikely.
He searched her gaze quickly, looking for something to break his fascination, but damn it, he couldn’t find it. He couldn’t find anything. He’d learned a long time ago that human eyes were indeed the windows to their souls, but the dark, opaque contact lenses she wore kept her soul safely hidden from him. Was she really the dazzling siren she appeared to be at first glance, or was it all just part of the act? The uncertainty should have served to frustrate him and extinguish his curiosity, but it only served to fan the flames of his desire. From out of nowhere, this stunning woman had become an enigma that he absolutely needed to solve.
A round of applause erupted, signaling the conclusion of the opening trick as the illusionist reappeared on the stage next to the silver-haired mystery to give the crowd more of what they came there for. And then trick after trick, he watched her, trying to find what it was about her that had drawn every bit of his attention.
Stunned and bewildered an hour later, he left the theater as the final round of applause began to fill the room. He glanced back briefly as the door closed behind him just in time to witness the entire room burst into a standing ovation in response to the night’s riveting performance.
It appeared that his decision to give the illusionist a chance had been a worthwhile one. Based on the ecstatic reaction of the crowd this evening, the theater was guaranteed to be packed every night for a good number of future performances. At the moment, however, that wasn’t his primary concern.
He wanted to see the illusionist’s assistant up close. He wanted to see what was really there when the curtain closed and she shed the glitzy, provocative costume and fiber optic lights for street clothes. He needed to know who the real woman was behind the silver wig and the dark contact lenses. As soon as he could, his mind would be freed.
She would be a woman, just like any other woman—a well-formed one, for sure—but no different than any other human. The sooner the enchantress lost her hold on him and his mind could return to other matters, the better.
He reached the rear stage entrance, and the man there opened the door wide for him without hesitation. There wasn’t a person in the entire hotel and casino who didn’t cater to his every whim. It was the same in all the properties he owned. Through the door, he located the illusionist right away, standing amid his group of technicians and other experts in the field of magic, but the assistant was nowhere to be found. There wasn’t a room in the entire building that was off-limits to him, but the very moment he began to move to go search for her, the illusionist spotted him, gave a nod and started in his direction.
A moment later, the man stood before Cade grinning widely as his hand shot forward in earnest. “Mr. Stryker, I do hope you enjoyed the show.”
Cade grasped the illusionist’s hand reluctantly. “Indeed, I did, Adam. And more importantly, it seemed the audience was very impressed. Why don’t you touch base with my assistant in the morning, so we can set up a deal for future bookings?”
“Thanks very much; I’ll give a call first thing.”
Just then, a woman appeared from a side door, and though she wasn’t wearing the silver wig she’d worn on stage, he recognized her instantly. She was dressed in a pair of distressed jeans that hugged her curves perfectly and a black tank top that crisscrossed its way up her back and made Cade long to slide his fingers between the strands of fabric and then tear it off altogether. She rummaged for something in a simple handbag she wore slung over her shoulder as she walked toward them, completely oblivious to his presence.
“Adam, you wanted to meet on Tuesday afternoon to go over the—” She looked up then and her words seemed to get stuck in her throat.
“Ava, this is Mr. Cade Stryker, owner of the hotel and casino,” Adam cut in with a knowing smile. “Mr. Stryker, may I introduce my assistant, Ava Winter.”
There was no possessiveness in the man’s eyes, which meant the illusionist and his assistant weren’t intimately involved, nor did it seem the man had any interest in a romantic relationship with the beautiful Ava Winter. Strange. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to have her?
/> “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stryker,” she said, staring directly into his eyes.
That was impressive. There weren’t many people who didn’t shift uncomfortably beneath his gaze. She stood there with her spine just as straight as it had been on stage and her eyes locked on his as he clasped her hand within his.
Still, as much as she might not have been intimidated by his presence, she wasn’t entirely unaffected by it either. He could feel her response to him, the tiniest of tremors the moment he touched her. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to have her falling all over him after all. The thought sent a jolt of desire through his body, and he needed to have her, but he didn’t just want her naked and writhing beneath him. He wanted her completely open, unguarded; unequivocally his. It was a possessiveness he’d never experienced before, and certainly one he never expected to feel for a woman he’d only just met.
“Would you care to join me for a drink, Miss Winter?” He heard the question loud and clear, but had it really come from his own mouth? What the hell was he doing?
He hadn’t had any intention of pursuing her. He’d only wanted to see the silvery beauty up close and without all the glitz and glam of the show. At most, he’d intended to invite her up to his suite, indulging in her soft curves for a couple of hours. By then, whatever it was that had had him so captivated would certainly be long gone. This inexplicable need to have her all to himself should have been a warning sign. It should have sent him running in the opposite direction.
Cade Stryker didn’t need any human; he never had, and he never would.
“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Stryker, but no thank you. And if you’ll excuse me, it’s late and I have to be getting home.”
She nodded once more and then walked past him without another word. Had she really just shot him down? He wondered briefly what was wrong with him for asking her out for a drink, but now there was a much more pressing question in his mind—what was wrong with her? Did she not understand who he was? Even without being able to see behind those damn contact lenses, he’d been able to sense her attraction to him. Hell, the sexual energy in the air had been almost palpable from the moment she slipped her hand into his grip.
