by Hondo Jinx
“Thank you,” she said, and he liked that she didn’t blush or feel the need to make a joke or brush off the compliment altogether. He sensed no neediness in this woman, no insecurities or desperation or confusion, and that was very attractive to him. There is a difference between cockiness and confidence, and unless he was sorely mistaken, Nina fell on the right side of that line.
Nina paused to run her hands over his hard muscles, lingering here and there to trace some of his many scars.
It was a relief that she didn’t ask about them.
They shucked the rest of their clothes.
It had been a long time for Brawley. Not that he was inexperienced.
He’d gotten with a couple of girls in high school. At eighteen, during his first season with the PBR tour, he’d sewn a lifetime of wild oats on his way to becoming Rookie of the Year. Jaded at nineteen, he’d started dodging the buckle bunnies. Well, mostly.
Since then, he’d had a few girlfriends, but none of those relationships had survived the long distances and insane demands of life on the road. Then he’d broken his neck, spent about a century in the hospital, and had been too busy sorting out his future to even consider getting frisky.
What made this moment even nicer was that Nina had no idea who he was.
When you’re an eighteen-year-old kid from small town Texas, it’s a rush to be recognized by anyone, let alone beautiful women. But that shit wears thin after a year or two of going town to town. He never stopped loving the fans and never ignored their requests for photos or signatures or a quick exchange, but there was a big difference between signing a program and having sex with a girl whose idea of foreplay was snapping a selfie with your gold buckle.
It got so you had a hard time trusting people’s motivations.
Added to the appeal of his present anonymity was the alluring mystery of Nina herself. He knew almost nothing about the woman. He was attracted to her and enjoyed her company and wanted to know more about her and this strange power that they shared.
The moment crackled with energy.
Completely naked, Nina was breathtaking, head to toe.
Her mouth fell open, and for a few seconds, she just stared between his legs. “You really are a long, tall Texan,” she said, reaching out to grip him by the root of his shaft. Her fingers didn’t come close encircling his girth.
As Nina stroked him lightly, he kissed her collarbone and moved lower to suck her tiny, pink nipple into his mouth.
Nina purred with pleasure. Her free hand squeezed his balls.
Inhaling her heady floral aroma, he ran his hands down the curve of her back and filled them with her firm ass.
Nina’s kisses came harder and more urgent, her breath quickening with desire.
His own desire was raging like a prairie fire now. Brawley wanted this woman. He reached between her legs and cupped her smooth and swollen mound, which was slick with excitement.
Nina trembled against him, her breath growing ragged as he caressed her silky folds.
Gripping his shaft in both hands, she said, “What do you say we skip the foreplay and open your power strand.”
“Works for me,” he said, still not really understanding the whole power strand thing. Grabbing Nina by the hips, he lifted her off the ground and positioned her overtop his erection. He paused there, looking into her lovely, mismatched eyes. “Ready?”
She threw her arms around his shoulders and wrapped her legs loosely around him. Her eyes were both nervous and excited. “Yeah, but go slow, okay? It’s been a long time, and I’ve never been with anyone your size.”
“We’ll take it easy. You just let me know how you’re doing.”
Nina let out a shuddering breath and nodded like a rider ready to come out of the chute.
He lowered her inch by inch onto his hardness, pausing whenever she gasped or her eyes shot wide. She was warm and wet and wonderful, her tight channel gripping him as he lowered her bit by bit.
At last, she slid all the way down, tensing when he filled her. After a few seconds, she smiled and started squirming, lifting and lowering herself in short, pulsing motions.
“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering shut.
When everything is right, there is nothing sweeter in the world than coupling with a new lover. They found their rhythm quickly and effortlessly, moving together like two halves of a single being.
This wasn’t the sloppy pawing of two drunks slapping flesh during a hazy one-night stand.
Nor was this love-making, with its heavy emotional load and implications of commitment.
There was no power play, no history, no thought of the future beyond a mutual attraction and curiosity. Neither had chased the other. Nor had they drawn things out, giving the question of friendship time to shove its ugly face into the mix.
They were not friends. They did not love each other. But the powerful attraction between them was more than physical. And as they moved, Brawley felt a wave of bewildering affection for her.
It made no sense, this sudden stab of raw emotion. He liked this girl. A lot. More every second, it seemed. He liked her as if they had known one another for a long, sweet time. How was that possible?
Strange thoughts rose in his mind. He wanted to pleasure Nina and keep her close, wanted to protect her and make her happy.
She smiled wide as her eyes locked on his and her body pumped rhythmically, sliding up and down his length. She moaned softly as she rode him. There was no bullshit with this woman, no fake-ass screaming or cutesy dirty talk.
“Oh,” she said, and her eyes went wide. “Do you feel it?”
For a quarter of a second, he wondered what she meant by it—was she feeling this confusing surge of affection, too?—but then something clicked, and there was no longer any question about what she meant by it.
His dick was glowing. His dick, his balls, his whole pelvic region. That’s how it felt. Like everything down there was glowing with warmth and vigor.
But this wonderful sensation wasn’t contained to his flesh. It was swelling within her loins, too.
And somehow, he could feel that.
Before he could even try to make sense of what was happening, Nina whispered, “Faster now. That’s it. Harder. Open me up, Brawley.”
Squeezing her firm ass, he pumped faster and harder. Their flesh smacked together in perfect rhythm, beat for beat, pounding away, while this other thing, this channel of energy coursing through them, spread euphorically away from their coupled sexes, filling their limbs and torsos with sizzling warmth.
He barked laughter, surprised by a rush of elation and power.
Nina beamed, writhing with pleasure.
As this supernatural energy bound them, Brawley’s feelings of affection and protectiveness for Nina grew. There was no weakness in this burgeoning adoration. Quite the opposite, in fact. With ever thrust, his feelings for her grew, and with every increase, he felt stronger, more dominant, more territorial.
“Yes,” she cried. “Keep going, babe. That’s it. Tap that strand. Almost there now. So amazing. Come on, Brawley. Tap it. Let me feel your power.”
Brawley growled, thrusting away as the suffusing energy rose through their bodies.
Nina’s breaths came faster and faster.
Then the energy rushed into their heads. An unbroken u-shaped flow of power formed between them, running from her brain through their bodies into his own mind.
Nina thrust into him—not with her body, which tensed now with impending climax—but with her mind, her psionic power. A wave of bright red energy rushed out of her body and through his dick, raced up his body like magma shooting up an erupting volcano, and burst in an vermillion explosion within his skull, where he felt something crack wide open.
Brawley roared, and his mind bucked like it was strapped to the rankest bull in the world. A fountain of power burst from the crown of his skull, arched into the air, and punched straight down through Nina’s purple tresses. A river of psionic force r
ushed out of his mind, flashed through her quivering body, and slammed back into him, where it joined the energy still gushing from his newly opened strand.
For several seconds, they both cried out in garbled streams of euphoria like enraptured worshipers prophesying in tongues.
Her body rode his, and they both rode a ring of pulsing psionic power.
They gasped in unison, locked in a mutual paralysis of awe and pleasure—then cried out at the same instant, their bodies bucking wildly as they exploded in simultaneous orgasm.
Brawley was aware of Nina clinging to him, shuddering and screaming and soaking him with her juices as his entire body convulsed with waves of ecstasy and he pumped her full of hot seed.
When the epic waves of their shared climax finally ebbed away, the ring of power split apart at its apex, parted at their lower point of pulsing union, and unbundled, a portion of the energy receding back into each individual.
Power whipped up Brawley’s core and flooded his skull. A second later, the ruby inferno imploded, crushing into a bright singularity at the center of his mind before winking out altogether.
“What the fuck?” Nina heaved, going limp in his arms. “What the fuck?” Her panting voice sounded amazed, almost stunned—which made perfect sense to Brawley, because that’s exactly how he felt in that moment.
He lowered her onto the loveseat, kissing her softly as Nina said over and over in an incredulous mumble, “What the fuck? What the fuck?”
As the words tumbled from her mouth in shocked murmurs, they echoed loudly within Nina’s mind.
What the fuck? What the fuck?
Over the course of her twenty-two years, Nina had been with three other men. Well, a boy and two boyish men, if she was honest. Her fuggle boyfriend in high school and two other guys since, both of whom were Unbound, and both of whose strands she had opened, having heard that could be fun and beneficial.
Opening those strands had been a kick, and she had felt the little surge of power people talked about.
But this…
This was un-fucking-believable.
Brawley was big and strong. Handsome and fun. Refreshingly different. And a man. In fact, after meeting him, despite the short time they had been together, she suspected he might be the first real man she’d ever met.
And yet what she had felt, what she was still feeling for fuck’s sake, had nothing to do with his big hands, bright smile, or the courage and integrity she could feel coming off him in waves.
It was his strand.
She knew she had more juice than most psi mages. Much more, in fact. Sage, who as a Seeker felt the need to quantify such matters in numerical ratings, claimed Nina’s psi score was 140. Basically, where other psi mages drew on the psionic equivalent of AA batteries or maybe a C cell, Nina’s mind hooked into a frigging car battery.
And Brawley? This cowboy was packing a nuclear power plant.
The rush of energy had formed some kind of crazy power ring. She’d never even heard of anything like that. For a moment, she wasn’t even in herself anymore. Not properly, anyway. Skewered on the ring with him, she had lost her sense of self, as if they had blurred into each other. The rush transported Nina out of herself into a transcendent bliss of union with Brawley, where everything was power and pleasure.
And then the orgasm.
Again, what the fuck?
Never in all her life had she so much as fantasized that anything could feel that good. All of her had climaxed. Not just her body but her mind, her energy, her fucking soul… and Brawley, too. All of him. She had felt it. His pleasure as well as hers… because in that moment, they were the same thing. They had literally climaxed together, their minds and bodies, energies and souls intermingled.
Everything had changed.
She felt shaken yet elated. And supercharged with psionic energy. Every psi mage enjoyed coupling with a psychic virgin because it was fun to usher them into the psionic community and because you got a boost from opening their strand. Not a ton but a noticeable little pick-me-up. Like your psionic storehouse knocked back a cup of coffee, the slight caffeine lift of which would never fade.
But this…
What the fuck?
Her trusty car battery felt more akin to a jet engine now. Psionic energy thrummed at the center of her mind, ready for action. She felt like she could generate enough force to blast a bank vault open or tear an armored car in half.
Not that she would do those things. And that’s when she realized that regardless of what had just happened to her, she needed to hide this new power from her father. Otherwise, he would force her back into the life she had never wanted in the first place.
But then she realized the error in her thinking, and inwardly, she smiled.
No, he wouldn’t force her. He would try to force her.
Good luck with that now, Dad.
Brawley had given her so much.
Not just the best orgasm of her life but also enough power that she would never have to take her dad’s shit again. Hell, if she was even half as powerful as she felt right now, she wouldn’t be taking anyone’s shit ever again.
Not that Brawley would ever let somebody give me shit, she thought warmly. Then she stifled a laugh, because she had never before entertained a thought like that about any man.
Nina knew she was a complicated girl. A hot mess, honestly. A study in wasted potential. A twenty-two-year-old ex-con standing at a crossroads, trapped between a world she’d sworn off and a world she couldn’t seem to understand, much less join. And whenever the square, work-a-day world rolled its eyes at her, surly pride and the promise of a quick buck whispered from the shadows of her past.
And that whisper was always the same voice. Her father’s.
Nina was a confident woman, but for a long time, she had been drifting, coasting along, skimming across the surface of total disaster. She could still smile, still laugh, still enjoy simple things, but she had lost her faith in people… and in no person more than in herself.
Despite her quick smiles and easy laughter, she had formed a hard shell against the world. She got along with nearly everyone but kept all of them at arm’s length.
All of them but her kid brother, David, that was. But his mother made it almost impossible for Nina to see him.
Which had, in its way, strengthened Nina’s armor against the world.
Brawley, however, had smashed through her shell, not just busting a hole in her defenses but vaporizing them. And suddenly, Nina Mack, the supposedly jaded, streetwise, independent woman, was crushing as hard as a giggly schoolgirl.
This man with his scars and his drawl and ridiculous name—Brawley, for crying out loud; who names their son Brawley?—had swept her completely off her feet.
It bewildered Nina to admit to herself, but she was smitten.
She wanted to fawn for him. Wanted to cavort. Wanted to spread herself at his feet in naked submission, bowing low and crossing her wrists like the girls in those Gor books she’d read during high school.
And that, friends, made no damn sense at all.
She was a strong, autonomous woman. Always had been. Only one man had ever been able to manipulate or intimidate her, and that was her father, a powerful telepath who knew her every switch in her psychological fuse box and never hesitated to throw any or all of them to get what he wanted.
Getting locked up had strengthened Nina against even him. No thanks to the lame ass counselors, though. Jail just sucked. Hard. Every minute of every day. The unrelenting lack of freedom; the way some of the guards were such petty assholes; the starchy, ugly uniform; the shitty food and the way it played hell on your complexion; the sour smell of the place, all those bodies crammed together, hating; and most of all the other inmates.
These women sat around, talking shit and telling lies, swinging back and forth between swearing fierce allegiance to their kids and barking about how they were stone-cold bad asses. Night and day, these bitches flapped their lips, trying so hard to
sell their bullshit that they started buying it themselves. Hell, they talked so much they couldn’t even recognize how frequently they contradicted themselves.
It was maddening.
Jail punched Nina hard enough that she had since found the strength to resist her father’s manipulations. She had stuck to the straight and narrow, and even though she had not yet found a place in the fuggles’ work-a-day world, she would not deviate from her course, because nothing mattered to her more than staying the fuck out of jail.
But if her Dad found out about her new power, he would try anything and everything to rope her into another job.
One last score, he would croon. The very last. A safe bet. And they would be set forever.
She wanted no more of his bullshit.
All she seemed to want in this moment of afterglow was more Brawley. And not just more sex. Their melding had done something to her. Something confounding and, frankly, absurd.
She could imagine nothing more appealing than bowing down to Brawley and pledging herself to him, mind, body, and soul, in total and eternal submission.
Which was fucking crazy, thank you very much.
She could feel some kind of mysterious psychic webbing lingering faintly between them, as if fibers of their psionic essences had woven invisibly together.
She wanted to play with him. Protect him. Pamper him.
Forever.
I’m drunk, she thought. Drunk on psi power. Brawley overloaded me somehow. But this will pass. I’ll return to myself and laugh about the whole thing.
Right now, though?
Right now, her eyes were riveted to that big, thick pole of his. And judging by its size and extreme rigidity, Brawley was feeling pretty good about her, too.
She reached out and took him in her hand.
What’s the harm in having a little more fun? she thought, opening her mouth and struggling to stretch her lips over the swollen head of his massive cock. If nothing else, it’ll take my mind off these crazy emotions.