Rowdy: A Scorched Souls Spinoff

by C. L. Riley

  He kisses me with complete control, devouring my mouth, sucking my tongue, nipping my lips.

  I battle back, seeking to claim every part of him. I want to give while he takes. I want to take as he gives. I want all of him.

  There is no doubt in my mind, he wants the same.

  Two broken people we might be, but somehow we are putting each other back together, piece by piece. I should be paying him a million dollars for healing my heart.

  “You still want me to wash your hair?” he whispers into my ear, before sucking on its lobe and biting gently. I whimper and he chuckles.

  His hands are busy too, below water, squeezing the globes of my ass, kneading them with expert precision.

  “Only if I can wash yours.”

  “Deal.”

  He grabs the shampoo bottle, and we spend the next few minutes alternating between washing and touching. Washing and kissing. Washing and grinding our bodies together in a prelude of what’s to come.

  Between the bubbles and shampoo, we’re both beyond slippery, which allows me to slide my body down the front of his, revelling in the way my soft curves glide along his chiselled muscles. It’s like he’s been carved from stone.

  It’s evident from his next comment, I’m not the only one caught up in the sensations.

  “Babe, your skin is like fucking satin. Bet your sweet pussy is hot, tight, and feels like a silk glove.”

  His words act like a lightening rod, firing electricity through me, from my head to the very tip of my toes, before cumulating in my core and causing my channel to clench in anticipation.

  Every growl, whisper, and dirty word of praise amplifies my desire while nailing the coffin shut on any lingering uncertainty.

  I’ve never been surer about anything...anyone.

  “Do you trust me?” he asks, as if reading my mind; at the same time he turns the tub’s jets to the lowest setting.

  The water settles around us, a lull before the storm.

  He doesn’t wait for my reply and unleashes a tempest that is all Rowdy.

  Slanting his mouth over mine, he conquers my mouth like a warrior king, driving me deeper into his kingdom where my deliverance waits. Our tongues tangle and twist, searching and probing. When he pulls back, far too soon, I groan, making no effort to hide my frustration. “More...”

  He gives me a wolfish grin and presses for the answer to his question. “My Queen wants more? Does she trust me enough to see what I have in store for her?”

  His gaze holds mine, daring me to meet his challenge, willing me to trust him completely. Once I give myself over, he will give free reign to the tsunami he’s somehow kept contained.

  Rowdy isn’t an abuser. He’s the man you love. The man you trust.

  My inner voice speaks the truth. I’m ready...ready for anything Rowdy has in mind.

  From the roguish expression he’s yet to relinquish, I have no doubt anything will be everything I want and exactly what I need.

  Despite that knowledge, I need him to confirm his commitment to me one final time.

  Rowdy

  I’m not going to last, not this first round. There’s no way. I’ve never been this long without sex, and I’ve never been this beguiled by a female. Odds are definitely against a leisurely session of love making.

  Trina’s next words act like a sword. They slash through my remaining restraint, while somehow softening my heart in the same breath and making my cock even harder, if that’s possible.

  “I trust you with my heart, soul, and my body, so you better not break me.” She captures my gaze, waiting to see if I understand and accept the full extent of her surrender.

  “Break you, fuck no. I intend to own you—heart, soul, and body. You’re mine. My queen. And I’ll kill anyone tries to hurt you. If you haven’t figured it out yet, beware. I’m a possessive motherfucker who protects what he loves. And you’re at the top of that list.” I can’t believe I just professed my love to a woman. It might have come out a tad brutal and unconventional, but I said it, and more importantly, I meant it.

  In spite of the rough delivery, what I said must have hit the mark because she lets out a little gasp. “Then hurry up and fuck me. I’m about to explode.”

  She doesn’t need to ask again.

  “Stretch out on your back, reach your arms over your head, and grab the bar by the steps, then, just relax and float. I’ll do the rest. And don’t let go of the bar until I tell you to. Promise me.”

  The smile she graces me with is pure seduction, and she follows my instructions exactly and without hesitation. I wish I had something nearby to secure her wrists with. But for now I can only hope she stays in position.

  Once she’s settled, I take an extended moment to admire her exquisite form.

  Floating on her back, arms extended over her head, and her hands gripping the rail, she makes an unforgettable image. Adding to the enticing vision, a few scattered bubbles shimmer over her dark skin, giving her an otherworldly glow. Her breasts rise from the water like two perfect peaks, nipples tight and inviting. Her hair fans out around her face, making her appear enchanted; my own magnificent mermaid.

  My gaze roams downward, resting on her firm abdomen. There’s a lone bubble that blinks from inside her belly button when the overhead light hits just right, making it gleam like a diamond. Her legs are parted, and the water lifts and supports her body in such a way I can see her smooth mound and a hint of her pink clit.

  It’s like I’m staring at the world’s best, most exquisite, buffet spread, forced to choose what to feast on first. She shivers and opens her legs wider, sending ripples through the water. It’s all the invitation I need to dig in and claim the main course.

  Trina is not very tall, so her positioning is perfect. I can stay seated on the underwater ledge and pull her right up to my mouth. Gripping her butt cheek with one hand, I run my other palm over her mound and upward, across her taut tummy, until I reach her breasts. I take time to palm each magnificent peak before pinching the nipples and running my hand back down. This time when I reach her mound, I give it light slap that makes the water pop.

  She jerks and moans, legs splaying more, begging for my mouth to take over.

  Using my palm, I push firmly against her clit and cup her pussy, making circles against her heated flesh and increasing the pressure with every rotation. She squirms and I squeeze her ass, a warning.

  “Stay still. I guarantee you’ll appreciate the effort.”

  She groans but obeys.

  I continue massaging and watch as she struggles to follow the “no move” command. I’m struggling myself, fighting the urge to rise up and spear her pussy with my cock. But fucking her without tasting her first would be an unforgivable offence. So I slide my other hand under her rump and pull her closer.

  The movement forces her arms to go rigid, but she doesn’t let go. Instead she releases a gasp followed by a soft, pleading whimper.

  Seeing her laid out before me, open and vulnerable, has me undone. I attack her pussy with my mouth, lifting her up until I have complete access.

  I’m like a wild man, starved for her slick heat. She’s soaked and not just from the water. Flattening my tongue, I start at her perfect little rosebud and lick up through her folds until I reach the swollen button just begging for my attention.

  I don’t just flick her clit with my tongue, oh no. I’m too far over the edge for that. Instead I make love to her with my mouth; my tongue twirls and darts, sucks and savors. I growl against her pussy, my tongue dipping lower.

  She disregards my no moving command and bucks against my mouth, causing the water to rock, creating waves. There’s little time left before she completely unravels, evidenced by her deep moans and rapid pants. Amazingly, she’s still clinging to the bar, her knuckles white.

  Without warning, I impale her with my tongue, stabbing it deep inside. I’m relentless, using it to fuck her without mercy. When her channel clamps down and she screams my name, I lose control, s
narling like a savage animal. I allow her to ride my face with complete abandon, gorging on her sweet release.

  When I’m certain I’ve devoured every drop, I lift her up and onto my lap.

  She wraps her arms around my neck and straddles me, her pussy skimming the tip of my cock. I grab her hips at the same time I crash my mouth over hers, making sure she gets a taste of herself on my tongue.

  She murmurs into my mouth, “Now, Rowdy. Now.”

  I open my eyes and meet her gaze, my fingers dig into her hips.

  In one smooth motion, I drag her down and slam my hips up, filling her with my first thrust. I give her a second to adjust to my invasion.

  She lets out a long, gasping moan, and her head falls back, she squeezes my shoulders until her nails break the skin, but the biting pain spurs me on.

  Thrust after thrust, I piston my hips up, drilling into her. She’s so fucking tight, but she’s found a way to relax enough to take all of me.

  The water rolls between us, and my legs start to quake in time with her quivering body. My balls have already tightened to the point of pain, and I’m going to shatter any second.

  “It’s time for you to come again.”

  “Yes...please. Harder...” she gasps. “Fuck me harder.”

  I’m not sure how she knows, but she does. I’ve been holding back, but with her final plea, I unleash the beast, slamming into her at a frenzied speed, every ounce of my superior control gone. I roar like lion, claiming its territory, and she answers with an all-consuming wail of delight as we combust in unison and are hurled over the edge, our bodies united in a rapturous blaze.

  The way she clamps down around me, her whole body shuddering, has me coming longer and harder than ever before. It’s like she milking me dry. I have no doubt my shoulders are bleeding by now from her relentless hold, but the pain and pleasure blend together to form the perfect aphrodisiac. My vision blurs, and I finally finish inside her with a satisfied grunt and a nip to her bottom lip.

  And I thought I was undone earlier. Holy Hell, was I ever wrong. Now I’m undone...utterly and completely.

  She gives me a satisfied but saucy smile, as if aware of her power over me.

  “Fuck, I love you, Trina.” I can see no reason not to remind her how much.

  Her own feelings are reflected in her eyes, and they mist up just enough for me to notice.

  “Hey, now isn’t the time for crying.”

  “I’m happy. I’m scared. I feel like I’ve been laid bare. And I feel like a queen.”

  “Cause you are a queen. My queen.” I kiss her until she smiles against my lips, and only then do I start to lift her out of the Jacuzzi.

  “Oh, no you don’t. That is not good for your knees,” she scolds, half serious. “I won’t have a hurting man. Not when we’ve got the whole night ahead of us. First I’ll clean up your arms, sorry by the way, and then we eat and talk before we get back to the good stuff.”

  “Don’t be sorry about your claws. I like a skin scratching now and then,” I tease, releasing her. “As for my knees, Nurse Trina, I will follow your sage advice. I intend to be the perfect patient.”

  “No need to worry. You’ve already captured that title.”

  I swat her bottom as she takes the first step out of the tub. “Is that all I’ve captured?”

  She makes a little snort I find cute as hell. “Must I stroke your ego now, Rowdy? You know darn well you’ve captured my heart.”

  “I like hearing my Queen is happy. Is that a problem? And as for stroking...I’ll be really happy when you stroke more than my ego.”

  Dr. Martin

  “Keep her there,” I hiss at my security chief.

  I don’t wait for him to answer, ending the call and accelerating past a truck. I resist the childish urge to fly my middle finger. I’m six blocks from the clinic and don’t want to waste time in a road rage incident. Instead I focus on something positive.

  Unlike other drivers, I don’t have to waste time hunting for a parking space. I have my own designated spot. Being the boss does have its perks. And better than any work perks, it appears my personal luck has shifted.

  After my meeting with Mr. Mobster, Brandon, I expected a rapid resolution. I was wrong and have no idea what is going on inside his organization. There has been nothing but silence on the matter of Trina Templeton, and I’ve been hesitant to reach out after our last encounter.

  But today, out of nowhere, my patience has been rewarded.

  Cheryl Cunningham, a friend of Ms. Templeton, is waiting at my office, demanding to speak with the missing nurse. She’s unknowingly walked right into my trap. Depending on how things play out, she might become the bait I need to lure Number 23 home.

  Law enforcement has not approached me in any capacity, so I’ve grown bolder and have been visiting Brain Matters regularly, cutting my self-imposed vacation short to attend to business. My past record has proven not indulging my appetite for playthings leads to boredom, and I need to stay busy or people end up dying.

  To combat my propensity for violence, I’m dividing my time between working on my third book and running the clinic, but it is not enough to keep my mind occupied.

  Cheryl Cunningham may be the spark I need to reignite my creativity and occupy my full attention. A woman under my command is always a major motivator.

  In minutes, I’m parked and headed up the elevator, feeling significantly better. There’s a bounce to my step that’s been lacking since Trina vanished. I am indeed more motivated than I’ve been in weeks.

  I greet staff and patients with uncharacteristic good cheer, earning a few puzzled glances.

  They are no doubt questioning what or who has triggered the sudden change in my attitude, but they won’t ask, at least not directly. They’re probably relieved to see I’m no longer moping around like a broken-hearted school boy.

  No wonder I never pined after a female. It’s downright embarrassing to be seen as “that guy,” the one who is always sad and lonely...a pity fuck.

  Straightening my tie, I find my famous smile and stride into conference room one, eager to meet Trina’s friend.

  I’m not disappointed. She’s a beauty.

  Where Trina is dark and mysterious, curvy and petite; Cheryl is bright and blonde, willowy even, with legs that go on for days. She’s pacing, while William Thatcher sits, back rigid, staring at his laptop. I swear the guy has no personality to speak of and no life outside Brain Matters, at least none I’ve seen.

  “Sir, this is Cheryl Cunningham. She insisted she speak with you.” He finally looks up from his computer. “She’s concerned about Trina Templeton.”

  “I want to know where she is,” Cheryl demands, wasting no time on formal introductions.

  She plants her hands on her hips and looks me up and down, not bothering to hide her appraisal.

  “William, I’ll handle this. Thank you.” I dismiss my security chief, keeping my gaze locked on Trina’s friend.

  “Perhaps―” he starts to protest.

  “If I need you, you’ll know.”

  The man realizes he’s already pushed too far and doesn’t finish his sentence. Wisely, he makes a rapid exit, laptop in tow. I shut the door behind him and close the window blinds. My curious colleagues are already finding reasons to linger near the conference room.

  “Please have a seat? Can I get you any—“

  “No thank you. I don’t want water, coffee, or tea. I want to know where the hell my best friend is. I know she was dating you for awhile, and you’re still her supervisor. I figured if she wasn’t returning my calls, she would, at the very least, be in touch with you.”

  Making certain to keep my composure without abandoning my confidence, I take my normal chair at the table’s head. I resist the urge to snap her lovely neck and shut her insolent mouth.

  “I wish I had something to share, but I don’t. When I heard you were here, I was actually hoping you might have information about Trina’s whereabouts. We’re all worri
ed. She’s an excellent nurse, and the patients and staff miss her a great deal.”

  At last, Cheryl sniffs and her eyes mist over. She slides into a seat near mine. “Sorry I was so―”

  I raise my hand, putting a halt to her apology. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you what I do know, and maybe we can piece together where she might have gone.”

  She nods and places her cell phone on the table and gives me a grateful look, relieved to have found a potential ally. “I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule for me. I’m at a loss. It’s not like Trina to up and vanish. Her career is her life. I can rarely get her to do anything social, let alone go out of town. This whole thing is way out of character.”

  It doesn’t take any special investigative skills to see Cheryl Cunningham is worried and has no clue where her friend might be. I listen to her repeat, over and over, how her closest friend isn’t the type to disappear. When she finally runs out of words, I give her a quick summary of the letter Trina left behind.

  “That makes no sense. If she had a friend or family member in need of help, she would have told me. Seriously. We’ve never gone more than a week without speaking or texting. Most of the time we talk every couple of days, and we always connect on Facebook or Snapchat...something. None of her social media accounts have been updated since February. Should we go to the police?”

  Shit. I’ll need to handle this situation with caution. Trina’s friend is a livewire and surprisingly persistent. I hope my next words provide enough assurance to keep her from digging deeper.

  “I’ve already taken the liberty of hiring a private investigator. And I have a buddy down at the precinct, but he said they’ve got their hands full, and considering she left a goodbye note, I’m not sure they’d give her case the attention it deserves. My investigator has a qualified team, working specifically on Trina’s disappearance. I promise they’ll find her before the best detective gets off his ass.”