Collared By The Warrior

by Daniella Wright

  “You’re no fun,” she declares, following up this declaration by pitching back onto the bed and closing her eyes tight. Soon she has forgotten her ire and is snoring contented between crisp cotton sheets.

  Chuckling hearty in response to her shenanigans, I bid her good night.

  Chapter three

  The next morning I wake up, all the while wishing that I really, truly hadn’t.

  In the wake of a restless, fitful sleep rife with disturbing dreams, I awaken in a strange room—and with the worst headache I ever have suffered. A sharp, cutting pain that seems to be both physical and emotional in nature.

  My actual headache, I fear, is the product of a long evening spent drinking to excess; something I rarely do, even while away at college.

  The mental pain emanates from the horrible recent memory that drove me to drink in the first place; the mental image that tortures me as, again and again, I picture my dear father being murdered in cold blood, right before my disbelieving eyes.

  “Daddy,” I cry out, letting loose with a loud, sharp sob. “Oh God, I hate what happened to you. I miss you so much already.”

  Suddenly this admission inspires a barrage of tears; a torrent of expression that I cannot hold back as I whine and scream my misery.

  I take in my breath as a pair of warm, strong arms catch me up in a nurturing embrace; rocking and cradling me with the gentlest touch as a succoring voice bids me to let it all go.

  Opening my eyes to look up into the face of my beautiful host and protector, I manage a small smile as he wipes away my tears and hugs me closer to him.

  “Thanks, Joey,” I rasp out, my voice cracking with emotion. “You’re far too kind to me, considering the spectacle I made in this very room last nig-“

  I fall silent as my mouth is suddenly filled with a heaping helping of steaming hot oatmeal; a rich sampling of the bowl that Joey brings with him when he rushes to my emotional rescue.

  “Don’t say another word, angel,” he whispers, voice soft and loving. “I know what you’re going through. Well actually I don’t know, but I can only imagine the pain you must suffer. So just relax now, and let me see if I can help.”

  For several quiet moments we sit silently together, with him spoon-feeding me the piping hot oatmeal as well as a serving of cinnamon tea.

  Finally, he sets aside my breakfast dishes and pulls me into his lap; staring deep into my eyes as he runs a gentle hand through my long mass of soft dark hair.

  “Is there anything else I can do?” he whispers.

  Without hesitation, I throw aside the calico quilt that covers my body; opening my arms to him as I pin him with a narrow eyed, very meaningful look.

  “Are you sure, babe?” Joey asks me, tilting his head in my direction.

  I nod.

  “I know what I want,” I declare, arching my eyebrows to seductive effect. “And what I want, Joey, is you.”

  I take in my breath as Joey responds with actions rather than words; seizing my lips in a passionate kiss as I murmur my keen approval.

  Kissing away my worries and concerns in a single passionate advance, his full, moist lips massage mine in deep, even strokes; angling his head over mine to intensify our kiss.

  I reach my hands upward to entangle my fingers in the long dark strands of his silken hair; pulling his head closer to mine as our tongues entangle between us.

  Joey kisses me senseless as I lean hard into his kiss; my hands venturing downward to part the soft folds of his sea blue bathrobe. With hungry fingers, I rub and knead his chiseled pecs; his nipples flying erect beneath my touch as his breath catches in his throat.

  He continues to kiss me as he slips my proper white nightgown slowly but surely off of my shoulders; revealing as he does the buxom breasts that he bows his head to suckle.

  With a heated growl, he eases my body deep into the sheets of my soft, comfy new bed; his flawless physique covering mine as he strips me bare and tosses our clothes reckless to the floor beneath us.

  Soon our arms and legs entangle as our naked, sweaty bodies unite; grinding together to create a certain friction as he licks my nipples erect.

  Surging upward with a heated gasp, one that more than serves to betray his animal arousal, Joey once again seizes my lips in an intense kiss; his hands streaming like warm water down my sensitive spine before coddling and kneading my ever-tender breasts.

  Writhing and slithering restless in his arms, I grind my being hard against his as his hands continue their tender exploration of my naked, desirous body; tickling my planed stomach before dipping daring between my long legs.

  As I reach downward to stroke the planes of his flawless washboard abs, he proceeds to do some stroking of his own; coaxing open my sensitive folds and treating my feminine jewel to a long, intense massage.

  I purr outright against his soft lips as his ministrations send shards of raw pleasure coursing upward to kiss every fiber of my naked, quivering body. Our kisses deepen as I wrap my arms around his broad, sculpted shoulders and thrust myself deeper into his embrace.

  As his free hand cradles my back and his tongue licks and laves my mouth, Joey continues to massage my clit as his shaft emerges aroused; kissing my cleft as I spread my soft thighs to invite my lover farther inward.

  Accepting my invitation with lustful fervor, Joey fully and finally joins us as one; sliding his manhood to the very depths of my wet feminine garden.

  Our hips claim an immediate rhythm as his tongue mimics the motion of his manhood; even our breaths seem to merge as one as our bodies undulate in an endless tango.

  Joey probes me with the strongest passion as he continues to massage the source of my pleasure; his hard, planed form gyrating against mine as we soar together toward a certain peak of undeniable ecstasy.

  For a few precious moments, the worries of my life are all but forgotten; replaced by a feeling of erotic bliss that threatens to consume me.

  Then suddenly my lover’s gorgeous dark eyes open wide to collide with my own. In that single instant, there is nothing in the world save him and me; and with the final thrust of his shaft and fingers, he sends me hurtling across the bounds of an incredible mutual orgasm.

  Joey and I collapse in one another’s arms as ecstasy overcomes us; our sweaty bodies clinging together in a tight, binding embrace.

  He remains within me as the spasms of joy subside slowly but surely within us; all the while sharing a secret smile that tells the truth of the tale.

  “So babe,” Joey whispers, touching my cheek with a gentle caress. “Care to go for a ride?”

  I arch my eyebrows.

  “Wasn’t that what we just did?” I query, tone more than slightly breathless.

  My question is answered moments later, as Joey and I dress, bundle up, and take to the vast, snow-sprinkled meadows that surround our winter borne refuge.

  Lifting me most literally off of my feet, Joey plants me on the back of the shiny ebony motorbike that he has brought with us for the duration of our visit.

  I watch quietly, and with admiring eyes, as my companion sits up tall and proud at the head of the bike; his back strong and straight, his legs long and sturdy and his thighs iron clad as they embrace its steeled sides, his long, silky dark hair blowing back into my face as he sets his dark gaze on the course before him.

  I wrap my arms around his trim waist and press myself sure and tight against his back; feeling once again his strength and grace as he revs his engine and launches his motorcycle into a quick but steady dirge that sweeps us with a certain fury across an ivory covering of snow-covered ground.

  Suddenly I feel as though I’m flying on air as a cloud of white snow passes and scatters beneath our lightning fast wheels. Suddenly we are one with the wind, racing in circles while still directed toward a certain single destination.

  “Still,” I can’t help but wonder. “How will it end?”

  Chapter four

  Joey Addams. Biker. Bodyguard. Trained fighter. Househusband.


  I know, right? I can’t believe it either. The fact, is, though, that I’ve very much enjoyed playing house these last few weeks with the enchanting Winter McDonald.

  Although keeping an ever vigilante watch over our house and property, I also savor my every moment with this wonderful, beautiful woman. One moment we’re laughing like kids and watching our favorite Christmas movies—she loves “White Christmas” and “Miracle on 34th Street”, I prefer “Die Hard” and “Lethal Weapon”, and we both love “Home Alone”—the next we’re making out like a couple of love-struck teen-agers on the floral print couch that sits just before the fireplace in our ranch house living room. One minute we’re decorating our Christmas tree—the tree that I bought at a local lumber yard—and the next we’re making mad, passionate love beneath its branches.

  We sometimes even venture outside of the house, walking hand in hand or sometimes biking across the tree-filled, snow-kissed land that defines our farm; and stopping for a few minutes to build a cheery snowman or challenge each other to a heated—well, actually, very chilly—snowball fight.

  Sometimes, of course, reality comes crashing in on our own private paradise. We get regular phone calls from Pete; calls that Winter insists on taking in private, that seem to go on for an hour or more. And she calls her mother at least twice a day, to ensure her safety and wellbeing.

  I find myself revealing to this woman things that I never thought I’d tell anyone; and when she asks me what a nice guy like me is doing in a biker gang, I feel compelled to tell her the truth.

  “Well you might be surprised to know, babe, that I actually love to read every bit as much as you do,” I reveal. “Oh, I doubt that we read the same things. I always did favor Clancy over Austin, Spillane over Christie.”

  “But you know what it’s like to lose yourself in a book,” Winter interrupts me with a smile. “To forget about all of your problems and discover your own, more fun other world. When you read, Joey, you can go anywhere. And that’s exactly why I’ve always wanted to teach the love of reading to kids, especially those who might not have grown up under the best of circumstances.”

  I nod.

  “Kinda like me,” I deadpan. “Unfortunately, I had the kind of parents that would knock my books out of my hand and tell me to stop acting like a pussy,” I recall with a cringe. “The first opponent I ever fought was my own father—and it was after a street fight with some random punk I didn’t even know that I found my real dad.” I pause here, continuing with a smile, “Pete rescued me from the fight, then took me home to clean me up and offer me a job at his biker bar. I mean, not that a 16-year-old had any business mopping the floors at a rough and tumble hole in the wall; but at least I was out of that poisonous hellhole that was never really a home—and, for that matter, I was off the streets.”

  “Pete home schooled me and taught me to care of myself,” I continue, adding with a shrug, “And while he made me a part of his gang, he also encouraged me to keep reading and learning.”

  I take in my breath as Winter’s gorgeous eyes suddenly come alight with an inspired glow.

  “And so you kept picking up the books that were knocked out of your hand,” she observes, voice barely above a whisper. “You made a better life for yourself, against the odds.”

  Ducking my head, I cast my glance upward to regard my lady with a look of shy thanks.

  “And by committing your life to teaching, you’ll be helping so many kids like me do the same thing. You’ll be doing for them just what Pete did for me. He wanted me to have a better future—though just what kind of a future that will be, I swear I’m still not sure.”

  Winter nods.

  “Well as usual Joey, you and I just have too much in common,” Winter sighs, spreading her hands before her. “I spend my life building a future with the help of parents who adore me—actually enjoying school and looking forward to what I hoped would be a great career.” She pauses here, staring with wide, stunned eyes out a nearby window, “Now it’s all gone. My parents have been ripped away from me, and I don’t know if or when I’ll ever go back to school. If I do live through this, I too have no idea about what the future will hold.”

  Taking her hand in mine, I raise it to my loving lips for a long, sweet kiss.

  “Well Miss, I can’t rightly answer that question,” I admit, adding with a warm smile, “I do hope that, whatever that future holds, I just happen to be a part of it.”

  Squeezing my fingers in hers, Winter raises my hand to her cheek and rubs my rough knuckles against her soft skin; seeming to enhance me with her touch and presence.

  “You know, from the first time I really sat down to talk to you, and definitely the first time we made love, I knew without a doubt that you were a diamond in the rough,” she tells me. “I must admit, though, that I have now amended my opinion. You, Joseph, are just a diamond.”

  And every evening we sit with hands joined at the lace-covered dining table in the quaint, comfy dining room of our temporary home; a room that shines in its gold painted walls, vaulted ceilings, and Cherrywood china cabinets.

  One evening I serve her up a piping hot plate of my grandma’s famous lasagna—a top secret Italian recipe that has been passed on for generations. I watch with a smile as my dainty, ladylike guest ploughs through her first two helpings with unbelievable gusto—looking up just long enough for me to pile a third onto her plate.

  “Deifiious,” she exclaims with a full mouth, clapping her hands together with girlish glee. “Your grandmuffer sure knows how to cook, and so do you!”

  I chuckle.

  “Why thank ya, Darlin. She’s the master of the meatball, I just try to copy and plagiarize her every recipe, as closely as possible,” I reply with a smile, adding more seriously, “Anything I can do to cheer you up, Babe, is well worth the effort. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now…”

  I fall silent as a suddenly solemn Winter holds up a restraining hand between us; halting my words with the firm shake of her head.

  “I know you’re only trying to help,” she addresses me, tone soft but firm. “But please don’t mention the circumstances that brought me to this place. I still don’t know how to cope with this, Joey. The pain is just too fresh in my mind and heart, and—frankly—I don’t know how to deal with it.”

  With these words she manages a faint but sincere smile, leaning forward to touch my lips with a soft, sweet kiss.

  “Right now, my baby,” she releases on a whisper. “I just want to focus on you, and us, and….”

  “Say no more, my lady,” I release on a growl, surging forward to claim her lips in a kiss meant to comfort.

  Soft and tentative at first, I touch my mouth with hers and reach forward to place two nurturing hands on her petite, dainty shoulders. My lips tell Winter what words cannot, stroking and coaxing hers with upmost tenderness as she murmurs soft and bidding in response.

  Leaning full and hungry into my kiss, Winter purrs as my fingers dig into the skin of her tension wrought shoulders and make every attempt to rub away her pain.

  Our tongues entangle between us as our kiss intensifies, our breaths intermingling as I lean forward to hug my lady closer to me.

  My heart pounds in my chest as her soft, pearl pink lips rub and coax my own, the soft strands of her soft dark hair tickling the skin of my hands as our mouths smack together in a show of great tenderness.

  Finally Winter breaks our kiss, drawing back to regard me with what I can only describe as emerald eyes on fire.

  Hey, I’m nobody’s poet; but I swear this bright, beautiful, delightfully feisty woman has brought out a whole new, much softer side of me.

  “Winter, I know that all of this is moving so quickly,” I whisper, raising my big, work roughened hands gentle to her face to sooth and caress her flushing cheeks. “And, tough guy that I am, I don’t know quite how to say what I want to say. Just know that—well—I’m really coming to care for you. I’ll do anything to keep you
safe for as long as I need to—and, after this terrible nightmare of a situation has finally passed over our heads, I hope that you’ll make the choice to stay with me.”

  Gracing my words with an angelic smile, Winter nods and says everything in two simple words.

  “My protector.”

  Chapter five

  That night Winter and I lie clenched across the soft cushions of our favorite couch; a beautiful calico quilt covering our bodies as we admire the twinkling, rainbow-colored lights that flash from the branches of the Christmas tree before us.

  “So what do you want to do tonight, babe?” I whisper in her ear. “Care to take in yet another holiday movie marathon? Maybe play some board games?”

  Whisper thinks for a long moment, then shakes her head.

  “I think I’d rather talk,” she tells me, tone low and melancholy. “I’m finally ready to talk about it, Joey.”

  I make no verbal response to Winter’s words, just tighten my arms around her suddenly quivering body as she looks me straight in the eyes.

  “In your time with the Eagles, Joey, have you ever heard the name Thomas McDonald?” she asks me.

  I squint thoughtfully at the sound of what is indeed a very familiar name.

  “From what I understand, he used to be one of us. That is, until he ditched our gang to go mainstream and become a big-time prosecutor,” I recall in a thoughtful tone. “A good man, from what I hear.”

  Winter nods.

  “He was indeed a good man—a great one, as a matter of fact,” she reveals, adding on a sob, “He was also my father.”

  I gape, shaking my head from side to side as I consider her words.

  “Why are you referring to your dad in the past te…” I begin, shutting my lips as a sobbing Winter wraps her arms tight around my shoulders.

  “My dad was murdered, Joey!” she bellows, tears now falling free down her soft, fair cheeks. “He was shot and killed in cold blood, right before my eyes!”