Strokes, Vol. 3 Read online

  She sniffed, pretending more confidence than she felt. His weight pinned her to the bed. “It is large.”

  “I am large, and one day you will understand how perfectly we suit.”

  He said it with a crooked smile, but she was breathless, too excited to wonder what he meant, because he bent toward her and rubbed his mouth against hers. His kiss was softer than she’d expected, but demanding all the same, lips slanting and drawing on hers, waiting until she followed his circular motions, acceding to the kiss.

  When his teeth bit her lower lip, she gasped and his tongued entered her, surprising her. His tongue slid along the meat of hers, lashing it, rimming her teeth.

  They kissed with their eyes wide open—her eyes crossing from the nearness, his smoldering. Without thought, she tightened her lips and suctioned on his tongue.

  A groan passed from his mouth into hers, and she gave it back, at last closing her eyes and simply feeling the way he patiently prodded and licked, awakening something inside her—a curl of heat, deep inside her womb.

  He was large and brutal, this she knew from the stories she’d heard, but he was also terribly insistent—and he would make sure she enjoyed this, whether she wanted to or not.

  And suddenly…she wanted. Desperately. Again, she remembered him breaking from the line astride his warhorse, his body frighteningly large, his dark hair fluttering from beneath his conical helm. She’d felt a shiver of unwanted attraction and tamped it down. He’d looked like a Norse god come to life, but she’d feared he’d be every bit as brutish. And yet, here he was, set on seducing her.

  By the time he drew back, breaking the kiss, she was breathing hard, her nipples hard points catching in the fur of his chest. She wanted to rub against him, to chafe in the silky curls.

  His hands framed her face; his thumbs caressed her bottom lip. “Tonight, we find our pleasure, Edwina. Tomorrow, we can war.”

  She felt as though a great weight had lifted—the weight of her responsibility to herself to resist. As though something broke inside her, warmth rushed through her. The promise in his eyes was seductive. He made pleasure seem possible. Even inevitable. She swallowed and gave him a nod.

  His reaction was swift, a one-sided smile, an even more smoldering gaze. He scooted down the bed until his head hovered over one small breast. She slid her hand between them, covering it. He tugged her hand away then lowered, sticking out his tongue to stroke the nipple.

  She gasped as her areola dimpled and the tip tightened. He aimed breath in a narrow stream, cooling the wet bud, then kissed it, sucking it into his mouth where he teased it with his tongue.

  Heat swept over her skin. Gooseflesh prickled. Her legs moved restlessly, trapped by his weight as he moved to the other breast and renewed the sweet torture.

  Her head thrashed, so many sensations bombarding her—the rasp of his beard, the pull of his lips, the liquid spilling from inside her… How had he brought her to arousal so quickly?

  Again, he moved downward, his tongue tracing her ribs, dipping into her navel, then lower still. When his face was above her mound, she bowed upward in alarm. “What are you doing?”

  “What I must,” he said, his voice rasping.

  “’Tis sinful,” she gasped as his tongue stroked her outer folds. Sinful, but oh so pleasurable.

  He raised his head to give her a narrow stare. “You would not have barred your gates against your husband if you feared Hell.”

  “I barred my gates against a barbarian, knowing God would understand.”

  He grunted and bent over her again, parting her with his fingers.

  Good Lord, why was he looking there? She slipped her hand between them to cup her sex. “I am already wet. You have accomplished what you sought. You can enter me now.”

  His head shook, as did his chest. Was he laughing at her? With her free hand, she sank her fingers in his hair and pulled. But he would not be dislodged. He pulled away her hand, and his mouth burrowed between her folds; his tongue stroked her entrance.

  “Sinful,” she whispered. But, oh, it was also glorious. Her hips bucked when his thumb rasped across the sensitive knot at the top of her folds. “Oh, please, please stop.” But her hands clutched his hair, pulling her to him, anchoring him there, because now, she was desperate for the release his efforts promised.

  When his lips latched around her hard knot, she whimpered. When two of his thick fingers entered her, she bucked. But he held her still, drawing hard on her knot, fingers pumping inside her. Her back arched and she cried out, darkness closing around her vision.

  When she came back to herself, he was kneeling between her thighs.

  She waited, spellbound, as he came over her and began to push inside her.

  Although she was wet, her quim burned as he stretched her, shallow thrusts breaching her then sinking deeper with each steady forward push. She slid her heels up the mattress, curving her hips to accept his thrusts. Glancing between them, she watched, fascinated with the sight of his thick shaft disappearing inside her. Tension built inside her womb again.

  He made a growling sound, and she glanced up. Passion tightened his cheeks. A deep flush was spreading there. His eyes were losing their focus, becoming smokier, his lids falling. He was finding pleasure, intense pleasure, if the quivering of his arms and shoulders was any indication.

  And suddenly she felt powerful, no longer the conquered one. Her own motives began to disintegrate beneath the blistering heat they built. There was pleasure in surrender, but it went both ways.

  “Stop,” she whispered.

  He went still, his gaze falling to her face. Slowly he pulled free of her. His chest billowed around deep breaths, and he held himself on his arms above her. “Did I cause you pain?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  She shook her head. Then without saying a word, she reached down and slid her fingers around the base of his cock, all the while marveling at the thickness, the steel-like firmness wrapped in warm, supple skin. She pulled him forward, fit his head against her entrance, then glanced up to meet his gaze. “I am not sorry I barred my gates to you.”

  He held still, his gaze studying her face.

  “Had we met in a normal fashion, I would have dismissed you as I have a dozen suitors before you. I have had little respect or need for a man. And I suppose my first husband spoiled something inside me.”

  His eyes closed for a moment, and then he speared her with a hot look. “I will never dishonor your trust in me. I will never strike you. You know these lands and your people. I will listen to your counsel.”

  Her eyes filled, knowing they were speaking their private vows. That this was the true consummation of their union. “I will honor you. I will try never to disagree with you in public, and I will trust you with my property as I will trust you with my body.” And then she offered him a smile. Her first.

  His smile was warm and beautiful as he entered her. And this time, there was no discomfort, no burning, just a luscious fullness that spread upward, filling her chest with hope for their shared future. This burly knight, this dark barbarian, was only a man who wished a home. A place of his own. Well, perhaps he only wanted the respect and stature being lord of the keep would bring, but wasn’t it her role to make him appreciate the other things she brought?

  Starting now. She raised her head and bit his shoulder, hoping she hadn’t read him wrongly.

  His swift, tight smile was followed by a blazing glare. He captured her hands, drawing them up and together, holding them easily as she writhed beneath him, her movements seeming to incite him. His own measured thrusts grew harsher, deeper, and she reveled in the violence, meeting his darkening gaze with a narrowed one of her own.

  “Our passions are well matched,” he growled.

  She jutted her chin, unwilling to bend enough to agree.

  Abruptly, he pulled free. In an instant, he rolled her, forcing her with his hard hands to her knees. His cock nudged her entrance then thrust, impaling her, and she groaned, comin
g up on her arms and twisting to give him a quelling stare.

  His laughter filled the air, and she turned toward the wall to hide her own grin. Their lovemaking was becoming a contest. One she found she relished.

  A smack landed on her backside, and her quim tightened around him even as a fresh wash of fluid drenched his cock. With a glide of his finger on her small nubbin, she went rigid, pleasure exploding.

  Moments later, he gave a shout. His motions slowed then stopped. They both hung there, their bodies still connected, ragged breaths punctuating the air.

  A kiss landed on her shoulder. His face nuzzled into the corner of her neck. “Well played, milady.”

  She shook her head, no dismay creeping in to sour the moment. “You have won, it seems.”

  A chuckle shook her. Rather than withdraw, he held her hips as he brought them to the mattress then spooned his body around hers. She rested on his thick upper arm, inhaling the scent of sex, his musk, surrounded by the man. Captured. In his thrall. And happily so.

  *

  THE NEXT MORNING, Grimvarr held her hand as they entered the hall. Lord Alred was already seated on the dais breaking his fast. Everyone stared as the couple crossed to take their places at the head table.

  She knew what they saw. Her cheeks were still rosy from having awakened with him hard and sliding inside her. His face bore the expression of a man who had been well pleasured. Together, they exuded an aura of sensual ease. They were lovers.

  Geade glanced up from his table and raised his glass, a silent toast. Relief was apparent in his smile.

  Grimvarr made of show of helping her take her seat then lifted her hand from her lap, turned it, and kissed her palm. Edwina’s eyes filled at the tender gesture. Still bent over her hand, Grimvarr offered her a smile, one filled with wicked promise.

  Beside her, Lord Alred lifted his beaker of mulled wine. “To a glorious siege!”

  One-Track Cowboy

  ‡

  WITH OUR HORSES’ reins tied to tree branches, we stood by their heads soothing them as a helicopter’s blades whipped up dust from above. While the bird lifted the hikers in baskets, one at a time, relief that we’d found the teenagers alive, if hungry, warred with my disappointment the journey was nearly over.

  Once the second basket was safely aboard, Zane Red Elk looked over his shoulder at me. As always, his stoic expression was impossible to read. “Want me to signal them to send the basket down to pick you up too?” he asked, voice dead even.

  I wondered why he asked. He could simply radio the request; his job was done. If I refused, he’d be stuck getting me back to the park headquarters, two days—and nights—away.

  I hesitated. Was he offering me an option because he felt it was polite or because he hoped I’d stay? Maybe he read the reason for my indecision as easily as he had the tracks the boys’ sneakers left in hard rock and sifting dirt. He lifted the radio and told the helicopter to head back to civilization and the waiting ambulance.

  I stood atop a bare ridge, my face no doubt reflecting every bit of yearning I felt. The emotion hit me squarely in the belly. As hard as the tracker had been on me, I wasn’t ready to leave him.

  The last two days had been a revelation. I’d been working for the park service for three years, and it was the first time I’d been selected to participate in a search for missing hikers. When the boys failed to return to their vehicle and hadn’t talked to relatives in days, we’d feared the worst. A search was organized involving volunteers and members of the park service, local law enforcement and Texas Rangers, and was conducted from the ground and the air.

  Zane was enlisted due to his tracking expertise and his intimate knowledge of the area. When he wasn’t busy with his nearby horse ranch, he led photographers and hunters through the canyon.

  We rode two of his personal horses—Zane on a tall black gelding and me on an even-tempered bay mare. After two days in the saddle, despite the fact I rode often for relaxation, my ass was numb.

  Zane flicked a glance my way, turned off the radio and stowed it in his gear. There’d be no need to keep in contact with the team now the search was over. We’d head back the way we came. I hoped he’d take his time.

  I wanted time to savor the silence and my growing attraction to the stone-faced Comanche cowboy who’d begun this journey more than a little irritated I’d insisted on accompanying him. I guess he’d thought I wouldn’t be able to keep up. I’d earned his grudging admiration the first time we’d taken our horses down an arroyo and I hadn’t freaked at the steep decline. I’d cemented his respect the first night we’d stopped and set up camp. With a quiet efficiency that matched his, I’d cared for my horse and then set about sweeping away brush and rolling out my sleeping bag, never complaining about the lack of a crackling fire to provide comfort in the darkness.

  For two days, we’d barely spoken, except when he’d paused to point out the signs he’d found—broken branches, boot scuffs, dried puddles where the two young boys urinated against a tree or behind a boulder.

  I trusted his instincts. Not something I did easily. He was so competent and briskly impatient that I’d gone along with his every suggestion, biting my tongue before adding my own two cents. He didn’t need them.

  And now we’d be alone. Miles and miles from civilization. For the first time since I’d begun this journey, anticipation rather than quiet dread thrummed in my chest.

  If he felt it too, he hid it well. He repacked his gear, ran his hands over his horse’s head and flanks, then lifted his hooves to check his shoes. I followed suit, not wanting to earn his disgust if my horse fell lame because I’d been too moon-eyed to see to the mare’s welfare first.

  When I dropped the last hoof to the ground, I straightened. Zane stood closer than I expected. I drew back startled, my eyes widening. His face hovered over mine, so still, his dark eyes watchful, that my breath caught and held. What was he searching for?

  I went with my gut, with my own desire. My lips parted as I let my head fall back. An invitation extended with the lowering of my eyelids. Beneath the sweep of my lashes, I noted the tensing of his jaw, the narrowing of his gaze. He was looking at my mouth.

  And then slowly, he bent closer, his mouth drawing nearer. “We should head back into the canyon and follow the edge of the stream.”

  I drew in a ragged breath. He was so damn close. Just kiss me.

  He moved away, but not before I saw one corner of his firm mouth twitch.

  My face grew hot. Almost as hot as the juncture of my thighs where moisture pooled. Only once before, when he’d checked my seat on his horse and the length of my stirrups before we left the parking lot, had he stood that near. And then, his hand had been on my boot, easing it in and out of my stirrups, adjusting the length a notch. His hand had brushed my calf just above my boot, but I’d assumed it was accidental, because he certainly hadn’t given me any clear sign he was as aware of my body as I was of his.

  From that first moment when he’d arrived in his big Ford pickup with an old dented trailer in tow, I’d been intensely aware of him. I was to lead a ground team up one possible trailhead while another team followed a well-established hiking route. We’d all stood staring at the park map behind the Plexiglas; Zane beside my shoulder as I’d traced the first team’s route with a finger.

  Zane had shaken his head. “Do we even know that was where they planned to go?”

  The trail was popular. “Where would you go?”

  “Straight up the ridge overlooking the canyon.”

  The face of the bare outcropping of rock was a favorite with climbers, but the rugged trail along its edge led into wild backcountry. Only skilled hikers, and ones who carried proper gear, including GPS and radios, should ever attempt it.

  The two boys didn’t have the extra gear and carried only sleeping bags and light packs with food for two days. Their parents had thought they intended to sleep in the canyon camping area, but the ranger at the station remembered them standing in front
of this very map and asking about trails.

  Zane and I took the harder route. The one he said two boys who liked to look for trouble would go. By the end of day one, we’d found signs.

  Zane bent over his saddle, peering at the dusty trail. “Two hikers.”

  “We don’t know it’s our boys.”

  “It’s two men. Wide strides. Light steps. They don’t weigh much. And they’re heading straight up. They haven’t stopped to eat. There’s no trash. My guess is they wanted to make the first bluff and camp there for the night to watch the sunset.”

  On horseback, we’d made the bluff before noon. The boys’ campsite was evident from the trash they’d only half buried. Ramen bags. Energy bar wrappers.

  Zane and I hadn’t stopped until we’d found their second campsite. One they’d taken even less time to clean up, because it was obvious they were already scared. They’d traveled in nearly a circle before bedding down, footsteps crossing their own paths.

  With darkness falling, we’d stopped to rest the horses and rolled out own sleeping bags. The Army MRE bags we carried had provided a hot meal with a huge amount of calories. I hadn’t wanted to finish mine, but he’d pushed the crackers and peanut butter at me, silently insisting I eat everything. I’d guessed he didn’t want me lagging from lack of energy or complaining of hunger.

  We’d lain on the dirt, three feet between our bags, beneath a starry sky. And although my body was tired and aching, I’d been too aware of his proximity to fall asleep quickly. I kept remembering how he’d looked that day, straw cowboy hat atop his dark hair, his long black braid swaying between his shoulders. He wore a light chambray, long-sleeved shirt over a dark tee. His jeans were Wranglers that hugged his hard ass and thick thighs. Zane was tall, and from the light scruff of beard on his jaw, not full-blooded Native American, although his sharp, wide cheekbones and tawny skin bespoke the majority of his heritage.

  Even now, my horse needing barely a nudge to follow Zane happily down a ravine, my gaze rested on his tall, lean frame. Without the dreadful urgency that had filled me while we’d searched, my thoughts were now consumed by my partner.