by Gina Kincade
“Fuck me harder—that way you do,” she said, tugging on his hips.
Nearly ready to burst, he obliged, sliding into her deep and pausing when he was completely buried inside her. He ground into her hard, twisting again from side to side, a move she loved.
Annie’s mouth fell open and her legs strained against him. He buried his face in her neck and held her as her body went rigid, unmoving except for a deep shudder.
Her hungry little passage tightened and spasmed around him and this time, he couldn’t stop the supernova. His cock jerked, jets of his seed pouring into her as he groaned, fucking her past the little aftershocks until he collapsed with a final convulsive wrench.
“Oh God, you’re going to kill me,” she said after a minute, fighting to catch her breath.
“Me? You’re the one who didn’t wear any underwear all day. I can’t believe you were bare that whole time, and I didn’t know,” he said, shaking his head before laughing. “If I had known, I would have fucked you immediately—in public on the streets of Paris.”
She snickered. “Then I’m glad I didn’t tell you. But be warned. I will do it again. You won’t know when or where, cause I’m not going to tell you. It could be a special first day in a romantic European city, like today, or the average Wednesday at home, but I will be going commando, wet and waiting for you… It’ll be my little secret surprise for you.”
He groaned and pulled her into his arms. “You really will be the death of me.”
Andie giggled and rolled on top of him. “Hey, don’t the French call an orgasm the little death?”
“As a matter of fact, they do.”
She stroked his chest before tracing a letter with the tip of her finger. It was an A. “Well, I bet I can bring you back again and again and again. Just like you did me…when you saved me.”
Eric took her hand, kissing her finger before shaking his head. “I didn’t save you. You saved me.”
And she had. He’d been going through the motions, keeping busy to distract himself from the fact he wasn’t living. He merely existed, marking time until the next job.
But now he had everything. He had Andie.
The End
Joy’s Edge by D. F. Krieger
Chapter One
I pulled into the driveway of my next appointment and checked the time. Fifteen minutes early. Fortunately, my first patient of the day was a simple vaccination and took all of ten minutes. The extra time helped, since I seemed to be walking in blind.
Before I get started, though…
The cellphone next to me called my name like a siren. I picked it up and used the mobile internet to log on to Subspace. To my dismay, my new friend hadn’t messaged me today. The day before yesterday, I’d received a random friend request from a guy. His profile mysteriously contained only one picture—a group of military men in uniform. I’d quickly picked out Wes Wolfe, Hope’s boyfriend, but had no idea which one of the yummy guys was MasterGS.
GS? What does that even mean? G-spot? Great Sex? Something lame like General Sergeant?
With a sigh, I exited the internet and tucked my phone in my pocket. It wasn’t like we had anything going on. He’d sent me a quick message saying hi, and we’d flirted, but I didn’t know the first thing about him. Only that he loved mustangs, served in the military, and could be wickedly tempting with his words.
I turned to open my truck door, and nearly screamed. A man stood right on the other side, staring at me with a cocky smile. His chestnut brown hair appeared long enough to be pulled in a small ponytail, and his toned muscles made me want to run my fingers over them. The guy definitely knew what the inside of a gym looked like.
Refusing to be intimidated, I opened my door, forcing him to step back. He did so while he swept his gaze over me. I blatantly did the same, and watched as his smile broke into an all-out grin.
“I’m Doctor Joy Hart. I’m here to look at some horses. Are you the owner?”
He snorted, and his eyes sparkled in amusement. A stunning sight, were I not very aware it was at my expense.
“Look, my parents were hippies. I’ll change the last name when I find the time to give a shit and a man with one worth taking on.” Oh my God, why did I just say that? I’m never rude with clients! Real fucking professional, Joy.
Mr. Yummy Chest didn’t look insulted, though. His expression could only be described as flat-out amusement. “And what criteria would qualify for an acceptable last name?” he asked.
The deep growl of his voice made me visualize things like hard sex, hair pulling, and waking up pleasantly sore the next day. Unwilling to back down now, or let him see how much he frazzled me, I offered him a sweet smile. “It can’t be something generic, like Smith or Johnson. Nothing wussy either.”
“Wussy?” He arched an eyebrow and I wondered briefly what his laugh would be like. Loud bellows from deep in the belly? Or a masculine rumble like a growl?
Go big or go home. You’ve already thrown away being a professional. Nothing to lose now. “Flowers,” I said, lacing my tone with distaste. “Can you imagine it? Joy Flowers. Hippie fucking dippie, man.”
His laughter came out choked at first, but when I frowned at him, he broke down and the sound vibrated through me. It reminded me of the purr of a motorcycle, or boom of thunder. It conjured images in my mind of him pressing me up against my truck, trapping my wrists above my head, and taking me rough and hard. Right here. Now. Where anyone could see it and the thrill of possibly being caught gave my orgasms the sweet boost of an adrenaline rush.
"Horses?" I needed to change my course of thoughts, and fast.
He pointed at the barn. "I've got them in there. The mare is friendly enough, but the gelding is a skittish asshole. Don't think he was handled much."
"Think?" I followed him, torn between ogling his butt in those fitted blue jeans and puzzling over his description. "You don't know why he is skittish?"
He paused to glance at me over his shoulder. The laughter in his eyes faded and his expression turned serious. "I inherited them...recently."
"How recently?" I asked, trying not to roll my eyes. I'd heard the "but I only got the animal a few weeks ago" protest countless times as an excuse for their poor health. More instances than I could count, a "few weeks ago" usually ended up being six months or longer.
"Three days ago," he answered. "Just bought the place. They were abandoned by the previous owners. Called your clinic to make an appointment soon as I found out."
"Oh." Well fuck. Seems like tall, dark, and handsome isn't just eye candy.
We entered the barn and a nicker resonated through the air. Two horses stuck their heads over their stall doors, watching our approach. Cobwebs clung to everything, and the cement walkway was barely visible through the dirt, old hair, and some trash. Normally, I'd make a passive aggressive comment about giving the client a broom while I did my doctor thing, but I cut the guy some slack. Especially considering the stalls both had fresh shavings, clean walls, and buckets that looked brand new with water in them.
"I'll start with the mare," I said.
He indicated the taller bay horse in the first stall. I let her sniff me, using it as an opportunity to assess her friendliness. When she seemed perfectly at ease, I entered her stall.
"Any idea of age, history, anything? No paperwork lying around or the like?"
"Not a damn thing." He sounded as irritated as I felt.
"Before I left the clinic, I tried to search our records for any services at this address. I came up empty. If you are willing to sign the paperwork for it, we can send a records request to the vet clinic in the next town over. See if they have something." I checked the mare's teeth, then gently pulled her lip up.
"No tattoo. Either of them," he said. "Just point where to sign. Worth a shot."
Wondering why he’d suddenly turned into a man of few words, I scratched the mare on the jaw, then offered her a treat. "Good girl,” I crooned. “Sweet baby. We will get you took care of."<
br />
When I left her stall, the man crossed his arms over his chest. His face gave no hint of emotion. "So?"
"She needs a farrier and her teeth floated, but seems great, otherwise. Looks to be maybe ten to twelve." I approached the chestnut gelding's stall.
A strong hand clamped on my shoulder. The power behind his grip, despite it being friendly and not forceful, made me weak in the knees. It sent more visions dancing through my head.
“Let me grab a lead rope and hold this one. He’s got the manners of a mean drunk.”
I nodded and watched as he pulled a lead rope off the wall and entered the stall. Immediately, the gelding rounded and stuck his nose in a corner, presenting his rump and two dangerous back legs. The two of them stood there for a moment, as if frozen in time and a sudden energy flared to life in that stall. A silent exchange happened and I watched in awe as the horse told him to kindly fuck off, and the man told the horse to give up the bullshit.
Beautiful couldn’t begin to describe it. My own body began responding to the waves of quiet dominance rolling off—what the fuck was his name! I wanted to grab my binder to look at my appointment information, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the two of them. I also wanted him to slam me up against the walkway wall and take me, emphasis on the take.
The gelding flicked an ear, then swiveled his neck so he was facing his new owner. They remained like this for a couple more heartbeats, then Mr. Walking Sex God took a step forward and it was like a bubble of dominance pushed onto the horse’s personal space. Instead of kicking out, the gelding swung so his side pressed against the stall wall and he dropped his head, making a licking noise.
“Good,” the man said, shattering the silence. With complete confidence, he strode to the horse and snapped the lead rope on. “Come in,” he told me.
My panties were so going to need changing when I left here. For the first time in my life, I wished I had a significant other I could randomly drop in on for a quickie. Wonder if he has a woman in his life he talks to like that? Oh, come on, Joy. Of course he does. A man who looks and acts like this isn’t single unless there’s some major fucking issues. Even then, he might have some little sex kitten on call.
I walked into the stall and checked the horse over, remaining mindful of his body language. Too many years around animals had taught me the wrong move could send them into lashing out at perceived danger in less than a second. The gelding behaved, but he trembled the entire time and flinched where I touched him. Poor boy needed some serious people skill training.
Once I was out of the stall, I grabbed my binder to write down the horse’s information and sneak a glance at his name. “Okay, Mr. Striker, got a temporary name for these two that I can put on today’s paperwork?” Did my voice just tremble? Heat traveled across my cheeks, burning them, and I hoped he couldn’t see my blush.
Silence met me. It strung on until I raised my gaze to meet his. The look in his eyes reminded me of a predator, and from the way his gaze remained riveted on me, it was easy to assume I played the role of prey.
I licked my lips, and a thrill danced through me at how it drew his attention to my mouth. “Mr. Striker?” The words came out barely audible.
His attention snapped up and he flashed me a smile. “Striker. No mister. Let’s call the mare Charity, and the gelding Chivalry.”
I blinked, trying to wrap my mind around the names he offered. Despite his bad boy attitude, the names seemed to suit him better than the expected Brownie and Butthead I thought he’d throw out. Or maybe I was becoming jaded with the ones people were giving their animals lately. It seemed like everyone had a chestnut gelding named Red and a black cat named Shadow.
“Sign here and here for a records request. Like the mare, the gelding needs a teeth float and a farrier visit. If I can’t find records on them, they’ll need a Coggins and all their shots. Wormer too.” I handed him the binder, watched him sign, then torn off the carbon copies and gave those back to him for his records. “The records request may take a few days, but I’ll be sure the office lets you know one way or the other what we find so we can figure out the next step. Unless there’s anything else, we’re good here. For being abandoned, they look healthy enough. Welcome to Norrington, by the way.”
“Bill?” he asked.
I glanced at my watch. Less than 20 minutes had passed during my visit. “No charge.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How much do I owe?”
Placing my hands on my hips, I arched an eyebrow right back. “I told you, no charge. I didn’t do crap except pat them on the nose, look at their teeth, and give you a list of things you’ll need to have done.”
He chuckled and I found myself smiling in response. “Thanks. Can I schedule their teeth float through you?”
“I suggest calling the office to schedule, but you can request me. We have several other great vets on—”
“No. I want you.”
The way he said it sent shivers down my spine. Surely to God he didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Because it definitely sounded like he wanted more than a doctor for his horses. “As you command,” I replied, trying to cover my reaction with snark, then winced. My professionalism apparently didn’t exist with this guy.
Striker stepped closer and I stood my ground to call his bluff. Problem was, it only seemed to encourage him. Or was that really a problem? I stared at him until his lips were mere inches away, waiting for…what I didn’t know.
“It’s been a pleasure having you, Joy. I look forward to seeing you again soon.”
Before I could respond, he pulled back and turned, then marched out of the barn toward the house. My body sagged and a soft whimper escaped. I’d wanted him to kiss me so badly I ached from his absence. I needed to get laid, even if it was only by my own hand. Between this guy and that flirtatious new Dom on Subspace, I felt amped up enough to indulge in a marathon of sex.
I managed to walk with an air of dignity to my truck, then glanced at my watch. I still had an hour before my next appointment. Plenty of time to swing by my house for a visit with my vibrator to take the edge off.
Chapter Two
The front door slammed behind me and I flopped down on the shoe bench, grumbling as I pulled my boots off. My stomach screamed for food, and my mood had turned as black as the night outside. Not only was my break interrupted with an emergency call, leaving me sexually frustrated and fighting for a puppy’s life, but I hadn’t managed to eat a thing all day.
“Why the fuck would you leave a toddler unattended with a fucking puppy to begin with, jackass?” I threw one of my boots against the wall. “Is it really such a shocker your kid who has no concept of their own strength because they are what—A fucking toddler!—broke a six week old puppy’s rib because they were too rough? Christ, people are stupid!”
My second boot ricocheted off the wall, leaving a smear of dirt and likely manure, pissing me off further. “Of fucking course,” I groused, then leaned my forehead on my palms as I rested my elbows on my knees.
The people today wanted to euthanize the puppy instead of paying the vet bills. That angered me just as much as the fact they allowed the injury to happen to begin with. After counting to ten, I’d managed to talk them into signing papers to surrender the puppy, then they’d received a stern lecture on my preferences that any future furry additions to the family be of a larger size like a full grown dog to prevent these kinds of emergencies.
The puppy was at the office, recovering. When it healed, I’d be sending it along to Last Hope Rescue. My best friend, Hope Hopewell, ran the place and the puppy would find an awesome home through her. The woman was a miracle worker at matching rescued animals with long term families.
“Speaking of Hope…”
I pulled out my phone and used it to log in to Subspace. I had two new messages. One from Hope…and one from MasterGS. I zipped my friend a quick, Hey, how’s it going? before switching over to the one from Mr. Mystery Guy.
MasterGS: I liked
seeing you today. Maybe next time I’ll give you the kiss you wanted.
“What?” I stared at the message, wracking my brain. Had he sent it to the wrong person? Who else was he flirting with? And why was the pit of my stomach souring at the idea even though I had no right. “Wait… Fucking impossible,” I whispered as a hunch hit me.
Following my hunch, I clicked on his profile and brought up the only picture he had. My phone screen was so small, I couldn’t make out much detail. I groaned and glared at the phone.
My computer. I could clearly see Hope’s boyfriend’s face on there.
I ran to the living room as if the hounds of hell were nipping at my heels. The laptop, in the normal fashion of urgent situations, took forever to boot up. “Come on, come on,” I demanded, drumming my fingers on the desk. “Load already, damnit!”
The login screen popped up, and I typed my password in. It felt like an eternity as the computer logged me in and pulled up my internet. By the time I pulled MasterGS’ photo back up, I’d convinced myself I’d misread his message.
“Motherfucker!”
Striker knelt right next to Wes Wolfe, scowling at the camera. His hair was a hell of a lot shorter, but there was no mistaking him. The same mouth, compressed in a thin line, had been inches away from my own just this morning.
Glaring at the photo, I dialed my cellphone and brought it up to my ear. My gaze never wavered from his face as the other end rang a few times.
“Hello?” a breathless voice asked just as I was about to hang up.
“You remember when your boyfriend tricked you into meeting him for dinner when you didn’t know he was the same guy on Subspace?” I asked, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.
Hope made a strange sound and I briefly wondered if I’d interrupted some sexy time. “Yes,” she finally replied, sounding more normal. “Why?”
“How did you forgive the dickhead?”
A masculine, short bark of laughter sounded in the background, confirming my suspicions Wolfe listened to the conversation. “Shut up, you,” my friend said, her voice slightly muffled. “Sorry. I was talking to Wes. As for your question, if I answer, you have to explain why it suddenly matters.”
