Maelstrom

by Susanna Strom

  He grunted. “Kyle said that Rainier cherries were your favorite thing.”

  Ripper acting petulant? Laughter burst from my throat. “I believe he said something about Rainier cherries being my favorite thing to eat, and it’s true that I love them, but there are other things I’d rather put in my mouth.” I batted my eyelashes with mock innocence.

  “I like where this is going.” Ripper rolled onto his back and folded his arms beneath his head.

  I sat up and threw a leg over his hips, settling my weight on his upper thighs as I straddled him.

  “Hmmm...” I cocked my head to one side and swept a salacious gaze over his nude body. “Would you be willing to lie back and let me do whatever I want, for just a little while?”

  His lips parted. He drew in a long breath, then slowly expelled it. “I’m all yours, darlin'.”

  I nodded and tapped a finger against my mouth while I considered what to do first. Ripper silently watched me, his eyes glittering behind heavy, half-closed lids. Dear God, he was spectacular, his body a symphony of harmonious elements: supple, olive-toned skin, long limbs, and thick muscles. Hard work and self-discipline accounted for only part of his physical appeal. Luck—or divine providence—contributed the rest. I sent a silent thank you to whoever gifted Ripper with that full, biteable bottom lip. That firm jaw. The heavy lashes that framed his gorgeous dark eyes. The single dimple that dented his left cheek. The size of his...hands.

  A lazy, self-satisfied smile touched his lips as I ogled him. Ripper knew that he was hot, knew that his looks and dangerous bad-boy allure drove women wild, drove me wild.

  But did he know that I loved him? I’d never given voice to the sentiment. Actions speak louder than words. That’s what the old adage said, and Ripper’s actions told me that he cared for me. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, but the words stuck in my throat. Ripper always told me the truth, and I didn’t want to put him on the spot, to risk hearing a response that would shatter my heart. Someday, I’d say the words, I’d speak my truth, but not today, not when we’d just found our way back to each other and our reunion was such a fragile thing.

  “You gonna have your way with me, or what?” he asked, startling me out of my reverie.

  Oops.

  “Sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I must have been distracted by—” I gestured toward the naked body laid out before me like a feast.

  Laughing softly, he arched his hips, and his erect cock bobbled against my groin. “Lemme tell you what’s gonna get into you.”

  “You’re forgetting who’s in charge here,” I reproached.

  He moaned. “Then have at me, woman.”

  Exactly what I had in mind. Bending forward, I dragged my tongue over one flat nipple, then lifted my head and blew a stream of warm air over the damp skin. Ripper shivered and when his nipple puckered, I caught the taut nub between my teeth and tugged.

  I’d closed my eyes, so I didn’t see him remove his hand from beneath his head. His fingers traced the curve of my ass, and I drew back.

  “No.” I seized his hand and pulled it to the brass headboard. “You don’t get to use your hands. Just hold on here.” Obligingly, he wrapped his fingers around the vertical bar. “Other hand, too,” I demanded.

  He groaned a protest, but complied with my order, grasping the headboard with both hands. Was this the first time Ripper had ever ceded control to a woman? He was an alpha male, and as much as it embarrassed me to admit it, his natural dominance, his aura of command, was sexy as hell. I never thought I’d be turned on by a Ripper who let me take charge, but life was full of surprises.

  I splayed my fingers across his chest, then leaned forward to brush my lips over his. I teased his lips apart with my tongue, deepening the kiss. My nipples grazed his chest, constricting into tight buds as they brushed over his warm, smooth skin. His cock was sandwiched between our bellies, its presence too substantial to be ignored.

  After our talk about cherries, I’d intended to suck him off, to take my favorite thing into my mouth. But now that I’d taken control, why not flip the script in more than one way?

  You gonna have your way with me, or what?

  Yes. Yes, I was going to have my way with him. I broke off the kiss and shimmied up his torso, dragging my wet sex along the length of his shaft.

  “You’re going to make me feel good,” I pronounced.

  “Oh, yeah? What am I gonna do?”

  “You’re going to lick my pussy.” I slithered higher up his chest. “Fuck me with your tongue. Suck on my clit. And you absolutely, positively are not going to let go of the headboard. You understand?”

  Ripper’s eyes widened, and I swear he looked surprised by my brazen demands. “Is that so?”

  “Yes. That’s so.” I knelt over his face, cradling his head between my thighs.

  He could take back control in a heartbeat. Flip the script—and me—once again. The only thing holding him in check was his promise to relinquish power to me. And Ripper always kept his promises.

  I braced my arms against the wall, gazing down at his face. His nostrils flared. His eyes hooded. He licked his lips. “Haven’t touched your cunt yet, but I can taste how turned on you are.”

  Jesus. He could taste the scent of my arousal. “You can, huh?”

  “Yeah. Come here. Sit on my face.” His voice was a husky whisper.

  Good thing it pleased me to comply with his request. I spread my thighs, lowering my sex to his face. Undulating my hips, I sketched a figure eight, slowly sliding over his chin, across his nose and cheeks before settling over his mouth. Ripper lifted his head and dragged his chin over my slick folds. I hissed as stubble scraped across the delicate flesh, a sandpaper kiss that lit my senses on fire. His tongue swept through the folds, circling my clit—drawing near but never quite touching it—before spiraling down toward the entrance to my sex.

  Moaning, I rocked against his mouth. I opened like a flower beneath Ripper’s touch, a bud swelling until it erupted into bloom, petals unfurling one by one in the heat of the sun. Ripper used his entire face as an instrument of pleasure. He nuzzled and licked, his nose massaging my clit while his tongue probed the entrance to my sex. Again and again, he scraped his chin across the super-sensitive flesh, then soothed the abraded flesh with a wet, wide tongue.

  Desire robbed my limbs of their strength and my thighs began to tremble. Afraid that I’d collapse against Ripper’s face, I grabbed the top bar of the brass bed and held on for dear life. I shuddered, basking in bliss when he began to suck on my clit. He drew the engorged nub into his mouth, applying steady pressure while he tickled it with his tongue. White noise filled my ears, and my vision dimmed as my world constricted. Nothing existed beyond my clit and Ripper’s mouth and the tide of pleasure that swept away everything else. I began to pant as an orgasm danced tantalizingly near. Ripper’s teeth gently nipped my clit, propelling me over the edge. I shrieked, my entire body convulsing with pleasure.

  My enervated limbs could no longer support me. I rolled off Ripper and collapsed against the mattress, as limp and as helpless as a ragdoll. Through heavy eyelids I watched Ripper release his grip on the headboard and roll on his side, his face glistening with my juices.

  “You good, darlin'?” he asked. I nodded weakly, then my eyes widened as I watched his hand pump up and down his rampant erection. “Got plans for you.”

  “I’m game,” I said. “But I’ve got to tell you that I came so hard that I think I’ve lost all sensation in my lower body. I doubt that I’ll even feel it.”

  Ripper shook his head, thunderstruck by the very suggestion. He flipped me face-down onto the mattress, then sprawled atop my back. “You trying to tell me that you won’t feel it when I do this?” He shoved my legs apart, positioned his cock at my opening, then rammed it in.

  Fatigue fled and my benumbed nerves awoke, shocked into sentience by the undeniable presence of Ripper’s cock. “Lord have mercy,” I gasped.

  “Lord might, but d
on’t look for mercy from me.”

  He slowly drew his cock almost all the way out before slamming back into me, underscoring his point. Warm lips caressed my shoulders while his right hand slid down the length of my arm. Twining his fingers through mine, he held my right arm fast. His left hand claimed mine in a similar fashion. I bent my elbow and pulled his hand to my mouth. My lips seized his thumb, sucking it in and out of my mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his thrusts.

  Heat consumed me. The sweat of our exertions, trapped between our bodies, pooled until it trickled down my sides and soaked the sheets. Hot and slick, our bodies glided together on a sea of sweat as he pounded into me.

  So hot and so deep. In this position every stab of his penis battered my core and drove my hips into the mattress. Instead of shrinking from the bruising sensation, I gloried in it, grunting as I arched my pelvis to meet each thumping thrust. There was nothing gentle or sentimental about this. It wasn't making love; it was fucking, an act driven by the most primitive biological imperatives. Feral. Almost brutal.

  An image flashed before my eyes. When I was a child, my aunt and uncle gave me a black-and-white tuxedo kitten for my birthday. Years later, Abby slipped out one night. I tracked her down in the side yard, and found my princess writhing in ecstasy beneath a rangy tomcat, immobilized by his jaw’s death grip on the back of her neck. Intending to rescue my darling from the thuggish interloper, I’d turned the hose on him. Abby turned on me, hissing in frustration.

  I hadn’t understood then the bliss that came with being seized and mounted by the alpha male, pinned helplessly beneath him while he exercised his natural prerogatives. I was no pampered princess, but Ripper would make a convincing tomcat, streetwise, battle scarred, possessed of a swaggering virility.

  I twisted my right hand from Ripper’s grip and brushed aside my sweat-drenched hair, exposing my neck and shoulders. Ripper kissed my shoulder. No. Not what I wanted. Frustrated, I sank my teeth deep into the pad of this thumb. He took the hint and bit the side of my neck, gently at first, then harder as I moaned and writhed against his mouth. A growl, low and bestial, erupted from Ripper’s throat as his teeth dug into my skin. It hurt, a stinging pain that brought tears to my eyes, but which only fed my sense of urgency. I thrashed beneath him, held fast by his teeth and my need, unwilling and unable to escape until he was finished with me.

  Ripper panted against my skin, his thrusts increasingly hard and fast. A buzzing sound filled my ears and I blinked, trying in vain to clear the spots from my field of vision. My hands convulsed in Ripper’s fists, and I opened my mouth in a soundless scream as an orgasm rolled through me, consuming me. I trembled so violently that Ripper, his own climax come, flipped me over and touched my tear-streaked face, concern in his eyes.

  “Shit, Mac, you all right?” I nodded, too dazed and breathless to speak. Ripper turned my head to one side and fingered the bite mark he’d left on my neck. “That’s gonna bruise. You want me to see if there’s some ice for that?”

  “No.” I fingered the spot. “I like it.”

  He arched his brows, clearly puzzled. “You like it, huh? What got into you?”

  I rolled my eyes, sparing him the obvious rejoinder. Ripper groaned, pulling me against his chest. I yawned and despite our sweat-slicked skin, I snuggled against him. We lay in silence for a few minutes.

  “Missed you so fucking much,” he said. “I fought like hell to get back to you and to Miles.”

  I pressed a finger against his lips, cutting off his words. “I can’t...I’m sorry, but I can’t talk about Miles. Not right now. I just want to feel happy right now. I don’t want to think about anything else. Okay?”

  He nodded. “It’s all right, darlin’. I understand.” He stroked my hair while the sweat dried on our bodies and my eyes grew heavy.

  I jerked awake in a dark room, my heart racing and panic constricting my throat. “Ripper?”

  Silence.

  How many times during his absence had I dreamed that he’d come back to me, only to wake up the next morning to discover that my mind had played a cruel trick, granting my heart’s desire only to rip it away?

  “Ripper?” Our reunion on a smoke-clogged Portland street. Our desperate flight from the burning city. The explosion at the dam and our race against the rising waters. I couldn’t possibly have dreamed all of that, could I?

  My fingers flew to my neck and palpated the bite mark. I almost sobbed with relief when the spot stung beneath my fingers. Not a dream, then. I sucked in a calming breath, and it finally occurred to me to try the lamp on the nightstand. The light clicked on, confirming that I was in a guestroom at the Cherry Blossom Bed & Breakfast.

  Everything was all right, except where was Ripper?

  FOUR

  Kenzie

  The bathroom light was off; still, I stumbled from the bed to the bathroom.

  Please be there.

  Silence greeted my knock, and the door swung open to an empty room. I hovered in the doorway, torn by conflicting impulses. I didn’t want to overreact to Ripper’s disappearance, didn’t want to act clingy or desperate. But our separation was so recent and my panic so fresh that I couldn’t help seeking him out, just to set my mind at ease.

  I shrugged on the robe, tiptoed past the other guest rooms and down the flight of stairs to the front landing. Moonlight revealed the empty living room and front hall. Pushing aside a curtain on the front door, I scanned the yard. Back home, Ripper sometimes disappeared at night, riding his Harley through the dark streets, or pacing back and forth across his yard. A solitary man, despite the ties that bound him to his club, he always needed time alone to think and make plans.

  Following my intuition, I walked to the kitchen, peered out the back window, and saw Ripper’s broad back bent over some task. I frowned at the tarp spread on the ground beside him and the dark form stretched out across it. Moonlight bleached color from the tableau, rendering the images in black and white and silvery gray. Barechested, wearing only jeans and boots, Ripper was digging a hole. The muscles in his arms and shoulders flexed as he threw shovels full of dirt onto a pile.

  Alone and in the middle of the night, Ripper was burying Frank next to Evelyn. One more gruesome task he took on his shoulders. Responsibility and authority came naturally to him. Bossiness, too, if I was being honest. Still, he never allowed his innate sense of responsibility to hold me back. He taught me how to shoot and how to fight, insisted that I be able to look after myself in the new world. Yet here he was, in the middle of the night, shouldering this burden alone.

  As if sensing eyes on him, he turned toward the house. I stepped back from the window so he wouldn’t catch me watching him. I wasn’t the same squeamish girl he’d met eight weeks ago. Full of resolve, I ran back upstairs, threw on my dirty clothes and my sneakers and returned to the kitchen.

  Ripper turned his head when I opened the door and stepped outside, watching silently when I crossed the yard and stood beside him.

  “I want to help,” I said.

  Moonlight reflected in his eyes as he considered my offer. “There’s another shovel in the garage.”

  Without another word, I fetched the shovel and took position at the opposite side of the hole. Ripper worked with brisk efficiency, me, not so much. Every time I stomped on the blade, the tip turned in the hard ground, scraping up a paltry amount of dirt. I threw out one shovel full of soil to every five Ripper produced, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that I stood at his side, doing my best to help out.

  When the hole was deep enough, we each grabbed one end of the tarp, slid it over to the pit, and dumped Frank’s body into the grave. I averted my eyes as the corpse tipped into the hole and winced at the squelching sound.

  Suck it up.

  Covering the body with the soft soil took only a few minutes. Ripper tamped down the earth, then took my hand as we stood over the grave.

  “I think they would be glad that we did this for them,” I said.

  “Ye
ah,” Ripper agreed.

  He examined me in the dim light, no doubt taking in the smudges on my face and tee where I’d rubbed my dirt-covered hands. Without a word, he grabbed my shoulders and yanked me forward, kissing me with an urgency that made me gasp.

  “Whatever happens, whatever comes, we’re sticking together, Mac. You got that?”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “We won’t end up like Frank and Evelyn. Odds are, we’re both immune. The flu’s not going to get us. We’ll go to Valhalla, and we’ll figure out what comes next.”

  He pressed his forehead against mine, and we held on to each other, no further words necessary. After a few moments I lifted my head and glanced at the grave. “Rest in peace, Frank and Evelyn.”

  We carried the shovels back to the garage. The waning moon hadn’t reached its highest point in the night sky when we came indoors, still hours to go before dawn. We went upstairs and took a shower together before returning to bed. Instead of sliding in between crumpled sheets that stank of sex and sweat, we shifted over to a fresh bed in the next room.

  I was physically tired, but my brain had trouble letting go of the events of the day. Even while Ripper and I spooned, my restless mind made me twitchy. With a sigh, he rolled me over onto my back.

  “Anything I can do to help you sleep?”

  “How about you make me forget everything but you.”

  “Yeah, I can do that.” His hand slipped under the sleep tee I’d put on after our shower, and his fingers spanned my rib cage. “You’re gonna lie back and let me take care of you.” Hair still damp and tousled from the shower, he had a lazy smile on his lips as he eased his body over mine. He looked perfectly relaxed, perfectly at peace. It was an illusion, of course. If anything happened, within the space of a single heartbeat he’d be on his feet and ready to fight.

  Daring greatly, I touched his cheek. “Make love to me, Ripper.”