by Leslie Chase
She reached the corridor leading to the exit, just a few more steps and she’d be safe. With an effort of will, she forced herself to move. Darting around the corner away from whatever was making that noise - whatever was going on here - she was so focused on the calamity behind her that she forgot to look ahead, and ran headlong into a man.
The man she collided with was dressed in black from head to foot, face covered with a mask and gear strapped to him. He seemed as surprised by the collision as she was. Together, they tumbled into the wall with a crash, the man snarling a curse, dropping whatever he was carrying. Lenore stared in shock as light bounced off the Silver Sword as it clattered across the floor.
The intruder didn’t hesitate, grabbing her by the arm and slamming her against the wall hard. His grip was cold, methodical, and inexorable. Lenore’s head met the stone with a crack, leaving her dazed and helpless as her attacker struggled up from under her. Stars swam in front of her eyes and her feeble struggles did nothing to stop him smacking her into the wall again.
“I’ll teach you to get in my way, bitch,” the man hissed, and Lenore froze as something cold and metallic pressed to her head. Looking sideways, she could just about make out the pistol in his hand, black, long-barreled and deadly. The man’s gloved finger tensed on the trigger, and terror washed through her like an icy wave, clearing her mind of everything else.
A low, rumbling growl filled the corridor, and the pistol jerked up away from her head. The moment the barrel lifted, Lenore collapsed against the wall, thanking God under her breath for the reprieve. Looking around to see what had saved her life, though, she had to wonder if the blows to her head left her hallucinating.
A tiger stalked down the hall towards her and her attacker. Graceful and terrifying, it prowled slowly closer, amber eyes fixed on the man with the gun. Blood stained the tiger’s mouth, and its forepaws left a trail of red in their wake. Lenore couldn’t imagine how the animal could have gotten into the museum, and wondered if it were a hallucination of some kind. That might explain why she felt an odd familiarity with the tiger, as though she had seen it before.
“Keep back,” the man ordered, pointing his pistol at the tiger’s face. His voice was level, no trace of panic, and to Lenore’s surprise the animal stopped, its tail lashing, ears back, mouth open to show those huge bloody teeth. “Yes, that’s right. You know what I’ve loaded, yes? You don’t want to risk it.”
Lenore shook her head, groaning in pain at the sudden movement. Crazily, the tiger seemed to be listening to the man - at least, it made no attempt to get any closer. The man kept his pistol leveled, and took a careful step away. “I will just take what I came for, yes? And you will stay here, and neither of us will risk ourselves further. My employer will have to settle his differences with you another day, demon.”
Another step back and the masked man’s confidence grew. His voice had a smug note under the anger, and his aim never wavered from his target. The tiger growled, fierce and menacing, its tongue darting out to lick at its bloody lips, and the man hissed a curse in a foreign language at it.
Looking from one to the other, her head still spinning from the impact with the wall and her brush with death, Lenore thought she could see movement in the shadows behind the tiger, but everything was out of focus, a blur. She tried to pull herself up, gasped in pain, and slid back to the floor holding her head, feeling the sticky wet warmth of blood under her fingers.
Ignoring her completely, focusing all his attention on the tiger, the man slowly lowered himself into a crouch, feeling for the hilt of the dropped Sword with his left hand, his right holding the gun rock-steady on his target. The tiger growled another warning, and the man laughed.
“Do not think that I am about to abandon my prize,” he said, blindly feeling behind him. “I’ve been paid too much for this job, and I have no intention of going back to my employer emptyhanded.”
There was definitely movement behind the tiger, Lenore decided. Someone was slowly creeping closer. She had the unsettling feeling that her attacker was trying to keep the tiger too distracted to notice. Lenore wasn’t sure she believed that, but then the whole situation was unbelievable. Maybe it was the blow to her head - that could cause hallucinations, she was sure. Maybe none of this was happening, then, maybe she had slipped and fallen at the party. That made more sense than anything that had followed, after all. Everything from the moment she’d met Maxwell seemed more like a dream than reality.
Behind the tiger, something caught the light. A sharp edge, gleaming bright in the low light, raised high above the tiger’s back. Something made Lenore cry out a warning at the sight of it, and the tiger responded instantly, spinning and lashing out with frightening, lethal speed.
The gunman snarled something and pulled the trigger, a quiet clack the only sound as his silenced pistol bucked in his hand, and a bloody gash scored across the tiger’s back. Lenore screamed and dove into his legs, his second shot going wide as she tripped him.
Why couldn’t I have studied kung fu or something, she thought, struggling to grab hold of him as he hammered his gun hand down into her side with bruising force. She scrabbled at his hand, trying to get control of the gun, but he pulled free with contemptuous ease, smacking her with the barrel of the gun, knocking her to the floor.
Sprawled on the floor, Lenore’s left hand brushed the silver-wired hilt of the Sword and she grabbed at it, desperately swinging the blade at her attacker as he squeezed the trigger. It struck his arm at a shallow angle, not cutting deep enough to do any real harm. It was enough to knock his aim off, and instead of her head, the bullet cracked into the floor beside her.
Stone chips exploded in her face, and Lenore yelped, lashing out with the blade in terror. The bloodied sword in her hand seemed to take on a life of its own, turning gracefully and slashing back at him, but he was faster than she’d thought possible. His left hand snapped up, catching her wrist with a stinging slap, holding the blade still as he raised his bleeding arm to point the barrel between her eyes. It looked huge, big enough to drive a train through, and Lenore froze, unable to look away. Behind the barrel, cold blue eyes narrowed, and she knew with a deep certainty that this was the end.
Out of nowhere, a blur of orange crossed her vision, carrying the gun and its wielder away in a tidal wave of fur, claws, and teeth. Whimpering, unable to move, Lenore stared up at the space the gun had been a moment earlier. Sounds of a struggled rang beside her, but they didn’t mean anything against the blinding realization that she was alive! The Sword fell from her fingers, and everything seemed to fade into the distance.
Oh, so this is what fainting feels like, she thought, and everything went dark.
4
Waking Up
Lenore woke slowly, reluctantly emerging from her sleep. Memories tugged at her, and she groaned, wishing for just a few more minutes’ sleep.
That was a weird dream, she thought muzzily. How much did I have to drink at the party anyway?
Somewhere, she heard a shower running, which made her frown in confusion, wondering who was in her apartment. But this didn’t feel like her bed, she realized as her brain started to work properly. It was far too soft, too big, too comfortable. She sat up, blinking sleep from her eyes, and frowned at the unfamiliar room. This place was far nicer than her own apartment, she had to give it that – spacious, well decorated, and mostly full of the vast, luxurious bed she occupied. The bed alone was most of the size of her bedroom, and the room looked like it could comfortably hold everything she owned.
Where the hell am I? Don’t tell me I actually met someone at that party and all I can remember is that stupid dream?
It would be too much to hope that she’d actually met someone as good looking as Maxwell. That kind of thing would never happen to her, but then, neither would a man taking her to a luxurious palace of a place like this, rather than just bringing her home. Not that she’d had any experience of that either since her last breakup; it had been a while
since anyone had been interested in her.
Swinging her feet out of the bed, Lenore tried to stand, only to find herself too dizzy to support herself. Her head swam, and when she shook it to clear the fog, a pain shot through her making her wince. Raising a hand to her head, she felt a tender lump under her hair and yelped.
I guess I really did hit my head, she thought with a frown. Memories of the fight and the strange black-clad man slamming her into the wall were all she had. I wonder what really happened.
Before she could think on that any more, the noise of the shower stopped and a door opened. Lenore looked around, and then froze at the sight of the man in the doorway. It was Maxwell. Not only that, but it was Maxwell, gloriously naked. Lenore’s mouth hung open and she shut it with a snap, staring at him.
He was as gorgeous as she remembered him, tanned all over without the faintest hint of a tan line. His rock-solid muscles flexed as he dried his hair, and a small whimper escaped her lips at the sight of him. She tried not to look, but she couldn’t help it. As her eyes traveled downward, she noticed his manly parts were as beautifully perfect as the rest of him and sucked in a breath of appreciation.
He flashed a self-satisfied grin, almost arrogant and entirely without shame as he watched her devour his body with her eyes. He seemed completely at ease with his nakedness. If anything, he was pleased by the way she watched him move. Discarding his towel carelessly onto a chair, he clapped his hands.
“Ah, you’re awake! I was worried you might need longer to recover from that knock,” he said, looking at her appraisingly.
Lenore found herself clutching the blanket to herself, covering up and blushing under his gaze, which only seemed to amuse him more.
“Time for you to get a shower before breakfast. We’re in a bit of a hurry but we can afford to be civilized at least.”
Lenore squirmed at the thought of him seeing her naked. Maybe he’d been distracted or drunk last night, but once he saw her, she was certain he’d lose interest. Guys like Maxwell could have a supermodel on each arm - he simply couldn’t be interested in her, that just didn’t happen. And yet, here she was in his hotel bed… but thinking about how she’d ended up there just brought her back to the memory of the robbery, the fight, the tiger.
“I said get up,” he told her firmly, smiling and grabbing the cover. Lenore yelped as he effortlessly pulled it from her hands, uncovering her unceremoniously.
His amber eyes flicked over her, up and down, appraising her. There was no sign of disappointment in his gaze, though, not a hint of it, and an embarrassed glance between his legs told her that he approved of what he saw.
“Come along, time for your shower,” he said, stepping around the bed and offering her his arm for support. Lenore gave up on questioning her reality and took it - maybe there had been a tiger last night, maybe he was an art thief. None of that mattered beside the fact that he was here with her. She took his arm, feeling the strong muscles like cords of steel under his velvety skin, and she let him help her to her feet again.
She told herself that she didn’t need to lean on him to make it through to the bathroom, and it might even have been true. She had no intention of trying to find out, not when she could cling to him and feel his powerful naked body beside her. He certainly didn’t seem to mind her holding on tight either, chuckling warmly as he led her into the bathroom.
It was huge compared to her own. The floor under her feet was warm, heated from below and comfortable to walk on, the shower was easily big enough for two. Maxwell pulled open the glass door and helped her inside, stepping in behind her.
“Hey, um, didn’t you just shower?” She asked him, confused.
“What does that have to do with anything?” His powerful arm reached past her to the controls, twisting a dial. The water sprayed down on them in powerful streams, hot, almost scalding, and Lenore yelped at the pressure of it. Maxwell just smiled, unconcerned by the heat, and pulled her close.
His body was a rock, and Lenore clung to him, shuddering at his powerful presence. His arms held her tight, squeezing her against him as she squirmed, her body flushing with desire as the steam swirled around them. His voice a low, hungry growl in her ear.
“I didn’t come in here to wash, Lenore. You know that. I am in here to fuck you, and you’re going to come undone like you never have before, with me inside you. I need this, and you need this. We both do.”
She shuddered against him, her pussy throbbing with need as she nodded, and his growl grew deeper, wordless and hungry and so very sexy. He pulled back. His hands gripped her shoulders and she found him looking down at her, eyes devouring every inch of her body.
Flustered, Lenore tried to cover herself with her hands, self-consciousness catching up with her again.
Why does he have to look at me like that? She was carrying too much weight for men to find her attractive, she knew from bitter experience, and sooner or later he was bound to realize it.
“God, you’re sexier than I could imagine,” he said, his voice straining as though it was an effort to keep control. “I can’t believe it.”
Neither could she, but she wasn’t going to question her luck. Maxwell grabbed shower gel from a shelf set into the shower wall and squirted it across her body. Putting aside the bottle, he reached out to massage the gel in, sweeping his hands over her, careful not to miss a single spot.
Lenore braced herself against the side of the shower as his hands roamed over her, caressing her breasts, squeezing them, stroking downward, leaving trails of soapy bubbles and burning desire across her skin.
His hands slid over her thighs, between them, across her pussy, and she moaned. His hungry touch burnt through her shyness, and she took some of the gel, rubbing it over his torso in turn, feeling his muscles move under the slick skin, trailing soapy fingers across his washboard abs. His cock straightened, dancing in the hot wet air, thick and stiff as it bounced against his stomach. Grabbing her buttocks, he squeezed her soft flesh and grunted approvingly, drawing her close.
Lenore gasped, burying her face in his chest as his body pressed to her, his cock hard between them. Maxwell pulled one of her legs around his, and slid his hands between her thighs, stroking gently back and forwards across her pussy lips slippery with gel. She shuddered again, muffling a cry with his chest, her face pressed into him, and he chuckled, a dark deep noise that she felt rumble through her body.
He slipped one finger inside her, and finding her wet and eager, pushed a second in, too. His thumb stroked across her clit as he slipped his fingers in and out, making her hips buck and her heart skip a beat. Lenore’s back arched, her head falling back, the hot water raining down on her as she let out a long low moan, losing herself in the sensations he woke in her.
Her breath quickened, and her pussy squeezed his fingers tight, but as he brought her to the edge of her orgasm, he pulled his hands back, leaving her gasping in frustration. She snapped her head up to look him in the eyes and saw him grin. She blushed. He had claimed control over her body, over her orgasm, and she found that she didn’t want to object. Surrendering control to him just made her more turned on, more eager for his touch. Her feelings burned like a fire fanned to an inferno, and she had never needed a man’s touch more.
He pulled her to him again, leaning down to kiss her urgently, passionately, and she felt the hardness of his cock pressed against her. She reached down to hold it, squeezing and stroking its hard length slowly, feeling it twitch in her grip as he moaned into her kiss. His desire made her burn even hotter for him, her fingers speeding up as he drew back from the kiss, looking her in the eyes with an intense stare.
“I am going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before,” he promised, voice raw with desire.
She shivered at the urgency of his voice, the unfamiliar need for his touch. Keeping his eyes on hers, he reached up to the shelf again, and she heard cellophane crinkle as he opened a condom packet.
Oh my god, it’s real, this is re
ally happening! Somehow that brought it home to her, and her breath caught in her throat.
He reached out for her again, grabbing her buttocks and lifting. His powerful arms picked her up with no effort at all, and she melted against him as he kissed her deeply, urgently. Her legs wrapped around him, and his hard cock pressed against her pussy, their bodies yearning for one another.
Lenore whimpered into his kisses, a stab of fear running through her - his magnificent cock was larger than anything she’d had inside her before. But she was also more turned on than she’d ever been, and she knew that she could take him. He lowered her onto himself, taking her gently as she moaned and felt herself stretch around his strokes. Each stroke took him deeper into her, and soon he had eased himself fully in.
She gasped at the sensation, her wet pussy stretched around him, but his hand slipped between them, stroking her clit gently and the nearly-painful sensation faded into pure pleasure.
He pressed her against the wall, his chest pressed hard against her ample breasts, thrusting faster and harder, and it didn’t take long for Lenore to start trembling with her approaching orgasm.
She panted against him, limbs wrapped around him, drawing him to her as hard as she could, and soon her breaths came in short sharp cries, her body shaking between the hard tile wall behind her and his solid muscular body in front.
His hands gripped tight, squeezing her ass as he thrust deep and hard, his face buried in her neck, lips hot on her wet skin. His body shuddered against her as he snarled.
“Oh god. Oh god yes, Lenore,” he growled, his muscles tightening, his cock swelling inside her. “I’m going to - OH!”
That was enough to push her over the edge, and her orgasm exploded through her like lightning. Maxwell growled a low animal noise, almost crushing her as he held her thrashing body tight to him, her howls of pleasure filling the shower cubicle.
