Strokes, Vol. 3 Read online

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  EVEN THROUGH THE rattle of the spray hitting her glass shower door, Jenna heard the front door slam. Rinsing the last of the suds from her hair, she turned off the water and tugged her towel from over the edge of the door, wrapping it quickly around her body. By the sound of the heavy thuds of his boots, he was a man on a mission. She had no doubts what was on his mind.

  What had been on everyone’s mind during the debrief at shift’s end. She’d felt the glances, saw the condemnation simmering in the male officers’ eyes. Despite the fact females had been serving inside the prison for years, she was a problem. Too pretty. Too slim. A distraction for the prisoners and officers alike.

  Things she’d faced down before. No matter how she’d tried to minimize her attraction—no makeup, loose uniforms, her hair pulled into an unflattering, tight bun—she still stuck out like a sore thumb. Danny had to come to her rescue, and that put him in unnecessary danger because guards caught in the dark were supposed to hit a wall and wait. He’d traversed the entire barracks to get her out. Yet no one pointed a finger at him for breaking protocol. They all understood the need.

  More than once the LT and the major had offered her easier duty, inside the infirmary or permanently manning a hub’s control, but she’d refused, wanting to prove herself. Not because her sole ambition was to be the best corrections officer she could be, but because a successful stint there would make her application to the police academy stand out among the other candidates.

  Danny knew this. But he didn’t support her. Even before they’d begun to see each other, he’d been after her to quit or transfer. When she’d been assigned to his shift, under his command, he’d kept silent about their relationship because he’d been hell-bent on protecting her. Maybe it was time she asked for a transfer to another shift.

  The thought left her cold. Because even though things had gone sideways tonight, she’d known he would get to her. No matter what. And that thought had kept her from panic. Not something she would ever let him know.

  Her bathroom door slammed open. Still dressed in his uniform, Danny’s shoulders spanned the door frame. His short black hair skimmed the upper edge. His dark blue shirt, spattered with raindrops, reflected the stormy color of his eyes as he raked her with a glance. Anger simmered in the glance he gave her.

  Her chin shot up. “No, hello darlin’?”

  His hand shot out, grabbed her arm and yanked her against his chest. “Fight me.”

  Her eyes widened. “What’s this about?”

  He gave a sharp shake of his head. “Shut up. Fight me.”

  She inserted her free hand between them and shoved at his chest. “Danny?”

  “Think you could have fought Draper off if he’d been after you?” he said, his voice a deep, graveled growl.

  She swallowed hard against a burning lump at the back of her throat. So that was what this was going to be. A lesson. Proof she wasn’t strong enough, mean enough to be on that barracks floor. “Stop this, right now.” She pushed again, but he ducked down, shoved his shoulder against her abdomen, forcing her to crumple over him.

  Then he was backing out the door, striding toward her bed. He shrugged his shoulder, and she tumbled to the mattress, her towel flying open.

  Before she could roll over the side to escape, he was on her, his superior weight sinking her deep into the mattress. Covered shoulder to toe by his large body, she could barely breathe. “Danny.”

  He shook his head again, a grim set to his tight square jaw. “This ends, Jenn. Tomorrow, you’re gonna accept that transfer. Work in the warden’s office, guard the nurse, whatever, but you won’t be on that goddamn floor.”

  “You have no right to dictate to me.”

  “Don’t I? Wasn’t my ass on the line tonight?”

  “I didn’t ask—”

  “You didn’t have to! Dammit, I love you!”

  His shout reverberated in the room and had her jaw clamping shut. Bitter tears filled her eyes.

  His eyes squeezed shut. Then before she could draw the next shattered breath, he rolled off her to sit at the edge of the bed, his back to her. His shoulders were slumped. “I can’t do this again.”

  The softly spoken words cut through her more sharply than his shouts. Jenna sat up then crawled behind him. He jerked at the first tentative touch of her hand to his shoulder, but she moved closer, wrapping her other arm around his waist and leaning against him. “I’ll take the transfer to the infirmary,” she whispered.

  His shoulders bunched. “I don’t want the job to come between us.”

  “Neither do I. And since this isn’t my life’s goal, I’ll bend. I love you, too.”

  A deep breath shuddered out. His hands cupped hers against his chest. “I went a little crazy, getting to you.”

  “I knew you’d be there. Even though I knew you shouldn’t come.”

  His chest billowed around another deep breath, and she relaxed, knowing they’d get past this. That his fear had been real. That he would have faced down eighty men to save her or die trying.

  That thought alone made her shiver. “I won’t have you watching my back when I’m a cop.”

  “I’ll learn to deal, Jenn. At least, you won’t be up against the worst every goddamn day.”

  She nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder. “Maybe I’m not what you need.”

  His head swung toward her. His dark-navy gaze caught hers and held. “You’re everything I need.”

  The raw texture of his voice made her melt.

  He turned and she slid over his spread thighs, straddling him again. His mouth found hers, rubbed once then opened.

  She was ready, thrusting her tongue to greet his, suctioning gently to pull his into her mouth. They fed on each other’s lips, rubbing, sucking, licking, with more desperate force than finesse. When she leaned back, she glanced down at his chest. “Time to lose that uniform. You smell like pepper spray,” she drawled, wrinkling her nose.

  “I should shower.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to wait. I need you inside me.”

  With his jaw clamping tight, Danny stood with her in his arms then dumped her on the mattress again. She smiled and set her head on a bent arm to watch as he quickly stripped.

  When he was nude, all six-foot-three of ripped muscle and tanned skin, she went to her knees and peeled back the coverlet, tossed away the pillows, and lay in the center of the bed.

  He came at her from the end of the mattress, crawling on his hands and knees, a look of feral concentration on his face, something that set her nerves jangling. God, she loved his fierceness, even when he was angry with her. Maybe especially when he was looking this mean.

  Danny Crispin was a primal male, tempered by combat, forged in tragic loss. That he loved her, thought her worthy of all that strength and dedication humbled her. She knew what he needed from her and spread her legs, giving him unspoken submission.

  His head dipped between his shoulders, and he buried his face between her legs, breathing in her clean scent, shaking his head side to side as he rubbed his bristled cheeks and jaw between her folds.

  The rasp of his beard chafed her delicate skin, but she bent her knees and raised her hips, offering more.

  His large hands slipped beneath her and cupped her buttocks. A deep growling moan filled the room a moment before his open mouth sucked her labia inside where his tongue stroked, teasing the shaved lips, delving between to lap up the fluid oozing from inside her.

  Jenna kept her hands folded beside her head. Held her body still as he licked up her folds to tease her clit, then back down, beneath her pussy. Her breath caught on a sharp gasp when he flicked the tip of his tongue against her small furled hole.

  His gaze darted up; his mouth lifted to give her a wicked, tight smile.

  She knew how she looked. Face flushed, her belly beginning to quiver and jump. Her eyes would be large and round, her lips swollen because she’d bitten them and hadn’t even known.

 
Swiping her tongue across her bottom lip, she watched his eyelids dip, his nostrils flare. He dropped her bottom and lunged forward, slipping a hand beneath her back to cradle her close, laying the other atop her breast to squeeze. His head descended, and his mouth took hers in a hard, grinding kiss.

  Not that she minded one bit. She tasted herself on his lips. She thrust her hands into his hair, raked his scalp with her nails and bit his tongue, a goad he wouldn’t ignore.

  Danny gave another growl. His cock slid between her vaginal lips, rocking forward and back, wetting his shaft. She wriggled beneath him, trying to dip lower to capture the tip, but he moved back, so quickly she’d barely blinked her eyes open before he flipped her to her belly.

  So he was still in fight mode. Grinning, she scrambled to get her knees beneath her, faking an attempt to escape, but his hard hands gripped her buttocks, centered her, and his cock nudged once before plunging inside her pussy.

  Jenna gave a muffled shout.

  He chuckled. The sound was deep and dirty. With his hands, he forced her hips backward, fully sheathing his cock. But then he held still inside her for several long moments.

  Jenna got her elbows beneath her and shot a glare over her shoulder. “Gonna move sometime?”

  His eyes glittered in the lamplight. “I want to let the storm inside.”

  Her eyes narrowed, not understanding until he slid from inside her, crawled off the bed and padded to the window. She reached quickly for the lamp and turned it off, just as he whipped back the curtains and flung up the bottom pane. Hot, wet wind blasted inside. Light gleaming from the bathroom wouldn’t be enough to let the neighbors see inside.

  “The floor will get wet,” she muttered.

  He glanced over her shoulder. “Do you really care?”

  “Guess it depends on whether you’re planning to distract me.” She laid down the challenge, loved the hard curve of his mouth as he stomped back to the bed.

  His hand darted out, grabbing a pillow. She started to roll away, but he stepped onto the bed, bracketing her between his feet.

  She stared up, her gaze snagging on his thick, hard cock, bobbing high against his belly. “Come down to me,” she whispered, sliding from between his knees then rising to kneel in front of him.

  He dropped, causing the mattress to bounce. She aimed a glare, tucked her damp hair behind her ears then bent toward his straining sex.

  His fingers gripped her skull, guiding her, taking charge, aiming her down, beneath his cock. She stuck out her tongue and flicked it at his balls. He kept them shaved, for her. Something she appreciated as she swiped the velvet sac. His hands forced her closer and she opened her mouth, engulfing his hard stones. Everything about him was hard, so damn masculine. She loved that about him. Reveled in it. All man but still not an asshole. How had she gotten so damn lucky?

  Jenna brought her hands into play, gripping his shaft.

  His fingers dug into her scalp and forced her mouth upward. She slicked her tongue up his long cock, curled the tip around corona and then sucked him inside her mouth.

  His breath hissed between his teeth, and a smile stretched her mouth. So did his thick cock as she bent over him, taking his length down her throat. Swirling her tongue, she teased him as she fought his grip to rise and fall, sinking deeper and deeper.

  Danny gave her hair a stinging pull, tugging her off his cock, then forced her down on all fours in front of him. His fat, blunt head found her entrance, butted against it once, and then his dick sank all the way inside.

  She let loose a long, trembling moan and resettled her knees to lift her bottom, inviting him to plunge deeper. A sharp slap landed on one cheek, and she let out a surprised laugh. Another landed and her pleasure gushed to coat the thickness ramming up inside her.

  When his calloused thumb pressed against her anus, she let loose a groan. “Oh, please, Danny.”

  “Want me to stop?”

  “Fuck no. Jesus, that feels so good.”

  His thumb pushed inside, a burning stretch that had her pussy and asshole clenching. His hips renewed their hard, sharp movements, slamming his lower belly and groin against her, slapping sweat and leaking pleasure, echoing the pulsing, wet wind that washed over them.

  The moment felt elemental, destined. A silly sentiment if she’d thought about it any other time, but the man straining behind her, pounding into her, was a hard, buffeting force, his breaths coming in ragged gasps and chopped groans to match her own shuddering sighs.

  When her orgasm consumed her, she almost cried out a complaint because she was nearing the end. But the strength of it stunned her, curling tightly inside her core, pulsating outward toward her limbs until she collapsed against the bed.

  They lay in a tangle, his body blanketing hers. A kiss landed on her shoulder. “I don’t want to leave.”

  “Then don’t. Ever.”

  “Could get complicated,” he murmured.

  “When is it anything else?” She reached back a hand and caressed his cheek. “Lie with me.”

  “I should close the window.”

  Jenna shook her head against him, her lips curving. “I like storms.”

  DANNY SMILED, PULLED free and spooned his body around hers. They both faced the window with its billowing curtain. Everything precious lay inside his grasp. A feeling of homecoming, of hope for a happy future, eased away the last of the fear and anger that had ridden his body throughout the night.

  He slid his hand between her legs, cupping her sex, feeling possessive and pleased.

  Jenna let out a deep sigh, and her breaths evened out in sleep.

  Outside, the wind died down, and the last jagged white forks descended from a pitch-black sky.

  The Pleasure in Surrender

  ‡

  Kent, England, 1067 AD

  THE FIRST MISSIVE arrived without fanfare, passed through the iron bars of the barbican by a lone messenger dressed entirely in black.

  Sir Geade read the note, lifted a graying brow, and then passed the small scroll to Lady Edwina, who held it beneath the oak table to read it. Not that everyone wasn’t aware of the queer fact that she could read.

  Prepare for a wedding or a siege.

  With all gazes resting on her, Edwina schooled her expression into a neutral mask. “Should I thank him for the warning, Geade?”

  Sir Geade snorted. “He gives us time to retreat to the keep, stock the larders, and call our neighbors for assistance. Perhaps we should.”

  “What sort of warrior would give away his plan?” she murmured, not the least bit alarmed. Not yet.

  “Either a fool or one who’s supremely confident.”

  She traced the bold scrawl scratched across the parchment with her fingertip, knowing instinctively the bold knight had written the message himself. No proud scribe would pen a note so spare.

  Grimvarr had been written across the bottom—as if she should already know his name and the two syllables should strike fear. “An odd name for a Norman knight.”

  As she swept from the hall, she would never have admitted that the word wedding had caused her more alarm than siege.

  In response to the warning, Edwina ordered the stores replenished and the flocks of sheep brought closer to the keep, but otherwise went about her business without worry.

  Who was this baseborn knight with designs on her demesne? Her overlord had assured her the choice of husband from among the eligible men in the region—once her grief was passed. That Edwina had every intention of nursing her grief for as many years as she could was a secret she kept to herself.

  But by the time the second missive arrived, she’d learned a thing or two about the mysterious Grimvarr. Lord Alred’s steward had been a font of gossip concerning the knight who’d earned the Duke of Normandy’s trust by barreling into the royal pretender to save him from an assassin’s arrow. That act had earned him the gift of her demesne. A fact she found humiliating to learn in such a manner, but since her overlord had yet to apprise her directly
of the news, she preferred to assume it was only rumor. How could the pretender give a gently bred woman to a barbarian?

  Grimvarr was a Viking—or at least half the demon race, his father having abducted a Norman maiden and returned her promptly to her father when she’d spoiled his enjoyment by getting with child. And although he’d been raised by a Norman peer, he chose to dress in the fur and skins of his barbarian father.

  No doubt Alred’s man had embellished the tale to cause Edwina worry. His master would love to see her squirm after she’d refused his latest suggested mate, claiming she’d marry the pig keeper before she’d wed a man who’d already sent two wives to the grave in childbirth.

  While she kept her chin high and her comments derisive of her new “suitor” whenever he was mentioned in company, she’d suffered nightmares over the days before the second note arrived.

  This message was longer.

  I bring 25 knights, a hundred bowmen, swords and shield to arm every man, and one siege machine. Yield to me or face consequences.

  Geade grunted, but worry creased his rugged brow.

  “’Tis a love letter,” she muttered, determined to keep the bastard knight’s looming menace from raising alarm among her people. “He intends to impress me. No different than any of the other preening knights who’ve tried to woo me.”

  “Perhaps he simply gives you fair warning, milady.” At her reproving glance, Sir Geade shrugged. “Our requests for reinforcements from Alred and Rathburn have gone unanswered.”

  “They simply need time—”

  “They know he approaches. Perhaps they fear him.”

  “He bluffs!” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “What landless bastard commands such a force?”

  He sighed. “Perhaps you are right. However, I would sleep easier if you remained inside the walls—at least for the coming weeks,” he amended when she gave him a scowl.