by Serena Vale
She welcomed the metamorphosis. Her body was turned to molten metal, and he was free to reshape her as he wanted. And every plunge of his body against hers was like a hammer stroke that was making her into something better and silently she begged him not to stop. She wanted every part of his body touching every part of hers. She wanted this mutual fire that they were building to consume them both.
Together their bodies formed a mutual rhythm. His grunts matched her moans. He took her hands in his own, pressing her against the floor. Her fingers clenched so tightly around his that it hurt. He bent in and kissed her. She hooked her legs over the backs of his knees. The smell of their mutual musk permeated the air, filling her up like strong liquor.
“Are you close?” he whispered amidst their passions.
She didn’t have the courage to tell him that she had already come several times. His power was truly remarkable. But all she could do to savor the moment was nod wordlessly. She was ready again… she wanted it again… and she wanted it badly.
His body tensed. His grip on her fingers tightened. She firmed the grip of her legs against his more tightly than before, preparing for the final hammer strokes of his body.
His thrusts increased in power. She could feel him plunging to new depths inside of her. She arched her back and the sensation increased, sending shortwaves of madness up her body until they swirled like a tidal pool in her mind. She lost all sense of reason, her higher brain function became lost, and all she could consciously perceive was the feelings below her belt.
It felt as if there was indeed some furnace lying atop her. Like it was glowing red hot from so much heat contained within. But she had the protection of a god and the heat, and the searing metal could not harm her. Simply by laying there, she felt as if she were daring that overheated metal to try and do her bodily harm. But the flaming metal could not come within a sight of damaging her, for she was beyond such things. Transported to a place where nothing, save for the grandest powers of pleasure, could reach her.
The heat began to build.
She moaned softly.
His grunts intensified.
She moaned slightly louder.
His thrusts quickened.
She gripped her fingers around his as tightly as she could.
He thrust his tongue into her mouth and with their bodies pressed against each other, so firmly, she could feel every last muscle within him tightening. The heat had reached its apex… the furnace was about to explode.
It did.
The rush of warmth that raced through her felt as if she had been filled with honest molten metal. She could feel that warmth coursing through her, spreading through her veins, permeating her organs, seeping into her flesh, and finally flooding her mind.
The chill that swept over her following it seemed almost unfair. It had cooled her body before she felt that she had fully enjoyed the sensation that the god had left her with. The cool air of the examination room crept back to her senses as the god untangled himself from her and rose to his feet.
Slowly the reality of what she had done began to make its way back into her perceptions. And the gravity of it all seemed to have pulled her back down from the heights of heaven and back onto the earthly plain with the rest of the mortals.
Oh god… she realized. I had sex with a patient.
Under normal circumstances, she supposed that she should have been worried. But she did not feel the sting of fear. All she felt was… fulfillment.
“Thanks, doc,” the god said as he began to redress himself. “I feel much better.”
She pushed herself up onto her elbows and felt the tickle of weakness in them. Her strength felt sapped, but she found enough energy within her to speak. “That’s it?”
He turned to face her, his torso gleaming with sweat. He smiled down at her. “Yeah… at least it is until next week. I’ll need a follow-up exam, I’m sure.”
She smiled back at him.
“Can’t keep you here too long,” he added, picking up his shirt. “People might get suspicious.”
She felt an idea form in her mind. “You know where I live… you could visit me there,” she said suggestively.
He chuckled. “I know your building, hon. Your doorman would never let me in. It’s easier to get in here than it would be there.” He pulled on his shirt and picked up his vest.
A thought sailed across her mind. An unanswered question spawned from it. “How did you get in here?” She licked her lips, nervously this time. “I mean… you don’t look like the kind of guy that could just walk in here without having some wheels to grease.”
He chuckled at the comment. “You’re gorgeous and smart. That’s a good combination.”
She waited for him to answer her question.
“The Open Road,” he said simply.
She felt her brow furrow. “The bar where we met?”
He nodded. “I own it.”
She felt a tickle of embarrassment race up her spine. She recalled the things that she had said about the bar the night they had met. It had never even occurred to her that she had been addressing the owner of the bar when she made her not-so-polite comments.
“Uh… but…” she stammered.
“The Gods of Asphalt,” he said again as if that was explanation enough.
She froze. “What about them?”
He fastened the buttons on his vest. “I’m their leader.”
The words felt harder than any hammer stroke he could have delivered to her and Carlie felt like she could have passed out from the shock of it all right then and there. Not only had she fucked a patient and a criminal… but apparently, she had fucked a rich and powerful criminal at that.
He stepped to her and bent over just enough to kiss her. He rose up and smiled down at her. “You’d better get dressed, hon. It’ll look suspicious if I walk out of here ten minutes before you.”
She did as he commanded.
Chapter 6
As the weeks went by Carlie found herself becoming more and more attached to the idea of pronging a gang leader while at work. The wonderful thing about J-Ward, she quickly learned, was that no one asked any questions, and the paperwork was minimal. When filling out forms for each of her god’s visits, she would simply site “Physical Therapy” as the reason for his visit. If anyone thought that this was peculiar because she wasn’t a physical therapist, no one said anything.
Once – sometimes twice a week – her god would come by. Sometimes he did so under the pretense that his body was aching, and he needed to see her immediately. And as soon as they were alone and she was wrapped up in his arms he would claim to be feeling better.
Sometimes he would drop by unexpectedly and surprise her, and she welcomed his visits. Their passions would consume them, though regrettably for only a short while of every time he came to see her.
“We can’t risk anyone getting suspicious,” was all he would say. Carlie found it nothing short of sweet that he was thinking of her career.
So their trysts were kept short, lasting anywhere from twenty minutes to half an hour at a time. But it was time well spent in her opinion. When he arrived complaining that he was in pain – which he was able to do only sparsely – they were able to extend their time into an hour. She sometimes prayed that he would visit her complaining of pain simply for that.
It was the time that she lived for.
It wasn’t until nearly eight weeks later that Jackie had gotten the sudden urge to want another outing to someplace dangerous.
“The Open Road,” Carlie said with much enthusiasm.
“What?!” Jackie asked, her eyes going wide. “You mean…?”
“Yes,” Carlie said, feeling adamant about it, “the place where the Gods of Asphalt hang out. We’re going there tonight.”
Jackie shook her head. “Carlie… don’t you remember what happened last time?”
“Yeah… you fucked up. But don’t worry. I know a guy inside. We’ll be okay.” And with that, she felt certain that her best f
riend wouldn’t quarrel about their destination tonight. Even as she had spoken – with a firmness that Jackie had never heard her use before – she was positive that Jackie wouldn’t argue. She – Carlie – had decided where they were going. There was no other room for debate in it.
Jackie looked nervous on the whole drive out, and Carlie couldn’t help but feel her excitement building within her. It would be the first time that she would see Damian – she still liked to think of him as her personal god – outside of the hospital. There was something alluring about seeing him again in the place where they had first met.
“Carlie… let’s go someplace else,” Jackie said feebly as they parked.
Without giving her friend a chance to react, Carlie reached over and plucked the keys from the ignition of Jackie’s car and dropped them down the front of her dress. She smiled vindictively at her friend, happy to use one of her own tricks against her. “Come on, where’s your spine?” she asked with a delighted grin as she got up out of the car.
The bar was just as busy as it had been the last time that they had been here and with the same blend of characters. Bikers of traditional and newfound styles congregated at all of the diversions that the bar offered. But unlike last time, Carlie found that she was unafraid of anyone in here. She had the protection of the best kind.
And she saw him, standing behind the bar and casually mixing drinks for impatient customers. She thought it was sweet, seeing him like that. Part of her wondered briefly how all of the patrons of this bar – his bar – could simply ask for drinks and not realize that they were in the presence of a god.
Her god.
The idea sent excited shivers up her spine.
“Uh, Carlie?” Jackie whispered into her ear.
“Go find yourself a dark corner to hide in,” Carlie replied to her friend, knowing what it was that upset her about being here again. “I have some business to attend to.” She didn’t give a look back to Jackie as she pushed her way up to the bar.
He saw her coming just before she reached the elevated counter and he smiled broadly at her. The look was appealing… enticing… almost like he wanted her here and now on the counter in view of everyone else.
She sat on the stool facing him and smiled at him. “Hello, husband.”
He smiled back. “Hello, wife.” He licked his lips. “Something to drink?”
She shook her head. “No… I’d better not.”
He arched a curious eyebrow, but there was something knowing in his voice. It was something that tickled her, just like his voice was always apt to do. “Oh? And why not?”
She answered by gently touching a hand to her belly.
His smile increased like he was about to implode from pride. Just as she had been able to see through the subtext of his words he was able to see through the gesture to its underlying meaning.
He looked like he was halfway to heaven at this realization. About time, she thought, thinking of all of the past times it had been he that sent her to new heights of pleasure. He even looked tempted to jump over the bar and embrace, but he managed to keep himself under control. Barely, from the look of it.
“How long?” he asked.
She smiled back. “Eight weeks.”
He nodded approvingly. “So… from that first time?”
She nodded. She had never had any doubts.
His smile was filled with delight in a manner that she had never seen him in before. He set his bar towel down the counter and whispered to her, “Wait here for one minute.”
She obeyed and watched as he found another of the bartenders and whispered something into their ear that she could not hear. Then he returned to her quickly, rounding the bar and taking her hand in his. “Are you here with your friend?”
She nodded.
“Give her the car keys back,” her god said. “You’re with me tonight.”
Carlie didn’t have to look far to find Jackie huddled in a corner and trying very hard to be invisible to everyone around her. Carlie found it sort of poetic that it was finally she – not Jackie – that was having a successful outing and that her slimmer and more petite friend was cowering and hidden away.
“I’ll find my own way home,” she said to Jackie as her god took her hand and quickly pulled her from out of the bar. The look on Jackie’s face when she saw who was holding her hand was priceless.
Her god brought her to a motorcycle that was parked very near the entrance to the bar. He climbed on, and she climbed on after him. He kicked the engine into life, and the roar of it tickled her.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He looked at her over his shoulder. “It’s an open road. Does it really matter?”
It was a simple question. And one that she found she didn’t mind if she couldn’t answer. She shook her head. “No. It doesn’t.”
He paused just long enough to give her a kiss and then he switched on his headlight and with the roar of the heavy bike beneath them they sped off of the dirt parking lot and onto the open pavement of the road. It wasn’t long before the noise of the bar vanished distantly behind them.
THE END
Touch Down For Love
Chapter 1
Tate
Tate Henderson was developing quite the reputation these days, which wasn’t a surprise really. He’d gone from regular guy to superhero after winning the biggest match of the season, and soon everyone knew his name.
“You’re like the Justin Bieber of sports.” One of his friends had said to him. Which he, of course, had taken as a compliment and used as yet another reason to become as wild as possible. It didn’t harm that he had the looks as well as the talent. He was twenty-nine years old, with dark brown hair that swept over his face, bright blue eyes, the physique of an athlete and the whole world at his feet. The moment he had scored that final goal his social media had gone crazy, with girls practically throwing themselves at him. And really, who was he to deny their advances.
At the start, he’d taken it in his stride, but when one party got particularly out of hand, he found that he could not say no any longer. He said yes to every party and every girl that came his way. “I’m having the time of my life,” he told Bobby, his oldest friend, “and I never want it to stop.”
That day was just a day like any other; he’d spent the night at a party, gotten horribly drunk and spent the morning nursing a hangover with countless cups of coffee. He had a meeting with his PR manager and by the time he was due to meet her he was still feeling rough. Nevertheless, he put on his sunglasses and sauntered inside, not daring to take them off. He looked around for Sally and found her sitting in the corner of the coffee shop, her hands folded. She looked upset. Sally Ann Truder had been his manager from the start. She’d been the one that had seen potential in him, and she’d been the one that had taken a chance on him when nobody else would. From the very beginning, she had promised him great things, and it was her guidance that had given him the confidence to play bigger and better each time. She’d been so proud of him the day he had scored that winning goal, and the two of them had popped open a bottle of champagne the moment he was off the field. He knew that he needed her as much as she needed him. He liked Sally. She was demure in stature, and yet overbearing in nature. She reminded him a lot like one of those small yappy dogs who were convinced they were really an Alsatian. There was something about her sternness and her ability to say things as they were that made her a force to be reckoned with. He liked her no-nonsense style right from the start and so far they’d maintained a good relationship throughout his career. It was customary for them to meet once a week at a coffee shop to talk business and to keep his focus on the game. More and more he had noticed her become frustrated at him because each time he’d arrive with stories of parties rather than ideas for his game. Today was no different.
“Take off your glasses,” she said without saying hello or standing up to greet him. Tate sighed and did as he was told, well aware that his eyes were the same r
ed color as his shirt. He looked at her and smiled, hoping to gain back her confidence with a bit of flirtation.
“I’m sorry I’m late Sally. But you look gorgeous today. New hairstyle?”
“Seriously Tate? You’re going to flirt with me? Me? Firstly, you’re not my type. Secondly, why the hell are your eyes so red? Wait, don’t answer that. I actually really don’t want to hear another one of your stories. But listen, I have something serious to ask you. Can you explain this?” And with that, she held out a newspaper.
Tate had no idea why she was handing him the newspaper, but he knew it couldn’t be good news. He glanced at the page and immediately saw the words, “WOMAN CLAIMS THAT TATE ‘THE GREAT’ HENDERSON BROKE UP WITH HER OVER A TEXT MESSAGE. PERHAPS HE’S NOT SO GREAT AFTER ALL.”
Tate could barely look at Sally’s face, but he noticed that her hands were shaking as she held out the paper to him. ‘Tate the Great’ had been something that she had spread through the media and was pleased when it had spread like wildfire. Now, it was being thrown back in her face, and he knew that it was because of him that it had happened. “Uh… well… I can explain. This chick was crazy Sally. Seriously. If I had to break up with her in person, I probably would’ve been left with bruises. It really was the only way to go about it. Also, it really was not a serious relationship. It could barely be called a relationship at all.”
“Well if you’re not careful you’re going to be getting bruises from me anyway. Tate, you can’t keep doing this. I know you think you’re big stuff and all that, but can’t you see that you’re acting like an idiot. Do you really enjoy this type of lifestyle anyway? You’re turning thirty next week and most of the people you hang out with look like they’ve just finished high school. Do you really want to be seen as the pathetic old guy?”
Straight talking Sally has appeared. Tate sat back in his chair and waited while Sally ordered for the two of them. The waitress had come over just as Sally had finished her speech and Tate was grateful for the intrusion and the brief moment to catch his breath. He wanted to be upset with Sally, he wanted to tell her that her life must be boring and that she had no idea what he was going through. But the truth was that he understood why she was upset. And he knew that he was turning into the type of guy that he had always hated. Just the night before, at yet another party that had turned into an all-nighter, he had looked around and noticed how out of place he really was. If it wasn’t for his career, there were no ways that people like this would be hanging out with him. They were all young and gorgeous, and it was suddenly obvious to him why they hung out with him. It had nothing to do with his personality and everything to do with his money and his fame. Of course, he liked being richer than he ever thought possible – he’d be lying if he said he didn’t – but the thought that he was almost buying his friends didn’t sit well with him. When the waitress left, he looked Sally in the eye.
