by Alexa Riley
A cold finger of apprehension trailed down her spine. Crazier things had happened than a weird, no-fatalities encounter in a swamp, though, right? Her only option was to pretend he was a decent human being who had only chased her down to inquire if she’d gotten lost.
Sure.
“L-look. Thank you for saving me back there. Much appreciated, man. Like. Wow.” Morgan paused to swallow the nerves gathering in her throat. “You didn’t happen to grab my cell phone…” Nothing from the man. Just more shuddering of that massive chest. “Okay, no worries. Could you just point me toward the road?”
His right hand rose, one thick finger pointing at her ankle. He grunted.
Oh God. How far had she walked that the locals didn’t even speak English?
“Um. Yeah, it’s fine. Just a scratch. I’ve done worse shaving my legs.”
She trailed off at that final word, berating herself for drawing attention to her legs. Morgan wasn’t stupid. The odds that a man could come across a helpless female in the swamp—no witnesses for miles—wouldn’t take advantage? Very slim. Her pulse started to dive and skip as a result. No, please. He’s too large. He’ll kill me.
Personalize yourself. Hadn’t she learned a single lesson from all those true crime shows? Talk to him. Make him view you as a human.
“My name is Morgan,” she started to ramble. “I’m eighteen. I’m, like, really into photography and making my own soap and…uh. I’ve been taking voice lessons as long as I can remember because my mother is an ex-opera singer and wanted me to follow in her footsteps, but I’m awful. Really all I want to do is listen to biographies on audiobook and play dumb games on my phone. But I’m going to school in the fall and I’ll be studying under one of the best photography professors in the country and…do you understand anything I’m saying?”
He pointed to her ankle again.
“It’s fine, dude.” Frustration at the whole situation crept into her tone. And if she was going to be murdered by a monosyllabic overall-wearing swamp thing, she wasn’t surrendering her pride. “You know you shouldn’t just ignore all the other stuff I said. It was kind of personal.”
The man shifted in his mud-caked boots. “I have a camera,” he rasped in a voice that sounded like burnt cigar ashes. “You can use it.”
Morgan stared. “What?”
Impatience seemed to ripple through him. Impatience at himself? “I’m Rixen.” He stepped into the dull light…and presented the most incredibly intimidating face she’d ever seen. Chiseled angles, a boxed jaw covered in a beard, and drooping eyelids. Damp black hair hung down and clung to his cheeks and forehead. “You’re the angel I asked for.” One hand dropped to the lap of his overalls, where he massaged a ridge of swelling flesh. “Come with me now so I can give thanks.”
Chapter Two
Rixen
Rixen must have done something to please his God. Look at the gift he’d been sent.
Years. He’d waited years for a woman—and although she was more of a girl, clearly his waiting had not been in vain. Because he’d been given the sweetest of all females. Her lack of size made him worry for obvious reasons. His lust was already building to such a fever pitch that maintaining control once he was locked in her tight little body seemed unrealistic. Rixen would, though. The idea of hurting this beautiful creature made him want to howl.
His attention shot to her bleeding ankle and he snarled, the hands at his sides clenched into shaking fists. Her first day in his swamp and she’d already been hurt. If he could go back in time and snap the alligator’s neck all over again, he would do it in a fucking heartbeat.
Soon as he healed Morgan’s injury, no harm would ever come to her again. The swamp would cower when she passed, knowing death would be visited upon anyone who came close.
Rixen took a slow breath, catching the scent of something tropical—coconut oil or tanning lotion—and his blood pumped harder. Heavier. Who was he kidding? Of all the animals in this place, he was the one she should fear the most. The throb in his cock was so severe that already he’d begun to leak great, sticky drops down his thigh. Every ounce that escaped became his enemy. All of the semen in his body was meant to be released inside his gift. Right between her honey-colored thighs. Now. Now.
Patience. You’ve waited this long and she is in pain.
As Rixen approached his female, he forced himself to stop pumping his dick through the denim of his overalls. It was making her nervous, if her chanting “personalize yourself” over and over again was any indication.
“I need to tend your wound, Morgan.” He let his gaze wander over her strawberry-blonde waves, wishing for light so he could determine the color of her eyes. “We will reach our home faster if I carry you.”
“Our home?” She paused in her litany, looking confused. “What did you mean, I’m the angel you asked for?”
“Exactly that. I’ve prayed for you. Every night for decades.” Another hot spurt of seed made a trail through his leg hair. “My two brothers already had their prayers answered, finding wives in town. I…” Embarrassment lanced him in the middle, remembering how vastly different his experiences had been compared to his brothers’. “I have not. Until now.”
“Oh, no. No, no. I’m not her.” Morgan tipped her head back and let out a relieved laugh. “This is one big misunderstanding. I’m just on vacation with my mother in Key Largo. Or I was until she started sucking face with a guy who owns way too much Tommy Bahama. And I blew a tire back on the road.” She gave him a big smile and reached out to pat his shoulder once. “I’m not wifey, man. Glad we cleared this up.”
“You are…wifey.” The word sounded ridiculous on his tongue and he scowled, a bolt beginning to turn in his stomach. Was it possible his gift didn’t know she’d been sent for him?
If so, how would be convince her?
Unlike his brothers, Rixen held no appeal for women. He’d assumed when his angel arrived, she would be prepared to live with him in the swamp forever. Morgan seemed determined to leave as soon as possible. Was this another test of his strength? His decades of waiting were the first. Perhaps an unwilling mate was the next one? If so, he would conquer it. He would conquer anything for the girl in front of him.
The closer he got to Morgan, the more her beauty enraptured him. Not only due to the fullness of her mouth and the splattering of freckles on her nose. No, her spirit rang out like the church bells he sometimes heard in the distance. Honest and clear. She had been scared of the alligator, but also refused to give in to the fear. Rixen admired that. Admired the determination he’d seen in Morgan to keep running. And even now, she was clearly afraid of Rixen but refused to give an inch of ground. A fierce beauty all his own.
Mine.
God, his hands ached to unfasten her shorts and explore her pussy with his fingers. Would she be as warm and wet as he’d imagined all those lonely nights? What would it take for her to release a flood of pleasure into his waiting palm? He’d been studying books on how to mate ever since he’d woken up with soaked underwear as a teenager. Just waiting for this day. His chance to apply everything he’d learned. Now that Morgan stood in front of him, more gorgeous than he could have ever imagined, his wealth of knowledge didn’t seem like enough. Her perfection demanded the world.
“You’re making me nervous, Rixen,” Morgan murmured.
Rixen realized his breathing had grown labored, his gaze fastened to the juncture of her thighs. “You have nothing to fear from me, my gift.”
She hummed. “Mmm. I don’t know. Sounds like you’re not thrilled with the idea of pointing me back toward the road and going about your evening.”
Although her tone was almost playful, Rixen could see her confidence ebbing. Yet it was becoming obvious he could do nothing to ease her concerns. She wanted to leave. He couldn’t allow that. Ever. “That won’t be happening. Your place is with me now.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” she whispered, then a thought seemed to occur to her. “Wait. What if yo
ur actual wife-to-be shows up? Aren’t you worried she’ll be mad when she sees me chilling in her place?”
Rixen took a step closer to Morgan, his hunger clawing at him, begging him to drag her down, muffle her screams and unburden the load between his thighs. No. No, he would not scare his mate. No harm would come to her. And fucking her without calming her fears first would definitely be harmful. “When I saw you facing off with the animal, I knew with my whole being that if he killed you, I would spend my days wishing to follow you.” Craving the softness her skin promised, Rixen cupped her cheek. “My body knows we’re meant to be joined. It leaks with the proof. And every time you force your fears away and speak like you’re in charge, my heart grows more and more positive that you’re mine. This forest could be full of women in the morning all claiming to be my gift and I wouldn’t be able to stop staring at you—needing you— long enough to listen. I am yours from this night on. And you are most definitely mine, Morgan.”
Taking advantage of her open-mouthed surprise, Rixen scooped her up into his arms, turned on a booted heal and started back toward his home. Lord above, holding this girl close was like being drunk, while at the same time being totally clearheaded. She fit against him perfectly, her feet dangling on one side, her head on a swivel as she took in the passing scenery.
“Do not worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“You’re what’s happening, bro.” She squirmed in his arms, but he held her still. “Oh my God. This is real. I’m being kidnapped.” A sob fell from her mouth, assaulting Rixen’s ears. “On the one hand, I don’t have to constantly worry about being kidnapped anymore. It’s done. It happened, you know? This is one immersive way to face a fear.”
Rixen frowned, something sharp eating into his chest. “I do not like that you’ve been scared all this time. I was right here, Morgan, waiting to protect you.”
“What if I don’t want to be protected?”
“You said you were afraid.”
“Yes, but I was protecting myself. And also yes, I did just say that while being carried by a giant through the Everglades to a second location.” She leaned back in his arms, seeming to scan the trees. “Is it too much to hope for that CCTV is picking this up?”
“I’m not familiar.”
Rixen stepped over the body of the dead alligator and Morgan whimpered. “You know, my car is up on the road. It’s a back road, but still. Someone is eventually going to come looking. This is going to look much better to a jury if I’m not found chained in your basement.”
He stopped walking. “Why would I chain you up?”
Morgan wet her lips and he almost exploded in his pants from the sight. “Okay, so…you’re what? A zip ties kind of guy?”
This was definitely a test. Rixen finally meets the girl who he planned to worship until his final day on this earth and she was convinced he had evil intentions. “Angel, I want to bandage your ankle, feed you and…” He used a wave of willpower to beat back the lust before it swallowed him whole. Not easy when her tits bounced around at her neckline with his every step, the smooth backs of her thighs sending signals of need to his cock. “After I do those things, I want to take off your shorts and lay you in my bed. I want to find your little clitoris and lick it. I want to lick it so fucking bad.” A groan ripped out of him, his mind commanding him to devour what was his. “Do most kidnappers want their victims to come on their face?”
“Was that rhetorical?” Morgan rasped, before shaking herself. “S-so this is totally a sex thing? B-because…” A shudder wracked her. “I think that’s what I’m most afraid of, man. You’re like the biggest Viking that ever Viking’d.” She shook harder. “And I’ve never…I’ve never done this. Or anything like it. Oh my God.”
“Virgin,” he rasped, his balls tightening all the more. Possession burning through his blood. “You’ve never had a man.”
“What tipped you off?”
Rixen glimpsed his house in the distance, outlined by the moonlight glinting off the water. Pride welled in his chest to be bringing home his mate. Any minute now, they would step over the threshold. “I’ve been waiting for my angel, and you arrive to me pure. Innocent of any touch but mine. And still you have doubts that you were chosen for me?”
She sighed up at the sky. “Oh, you’re a chauvinist, too? That’s just the icing on the cake.” Rixen didn’t know the word chauvinist, so he stayed quiet. “What about me? Don’t you care if you were chosen for me?”
“Ah but I was, Morgan.” Rixen climbed the porch of his home and kicked open the door. “I come to you pure, too.”
Chapter Three
Morgan
No way this rough-hewn bayou man was a virgin, just like Morgan. No. Way.
Granted, he wasn’t attractive in the classical sense. He was filthy and his hair hadn’t been brushed since the Obama administration. But he was built like a freaking skyscraper. If he wanted to get laid, there had to be some swamp girls who’d be down to hit that, right? She didn’t have a vast knowledge of backwoods America, but a man who could provide and protect in this kind of environment had to be a commodity.
And had Rixen seemed a little…embarrassed when he’d admitted to being a virgin?
Just like that, Morgan was relating to a man who’d made an alligator his bitch.
Oh God, how long did it take for Stockholm syndrome to set in? Was she setting a record here for feeling sympathy for her captor? No. No, be strong, girl. Don’t look at the prideful set of his chin and wonder if maybe, just maybe, this man really wanted nothing more than to cherish her with his tongue and some squirrel stew.
Didn’t matter. She wasn’t sticking around. Maybe if she could lull the giant into a false sense of security, she could run for the hills once his big, broad back was turned.
“Hey, uh…”
Morgan trailed off when Rixen carried her over the threshold of his one-story cabin—the symbolism of which was not lost on her—and set her down. A muted glow emanated from a gas lamp in one corner of the room, casting dancing shadows over…the most glorious room she’d ever seen in her life. Thanks to her rich parents who’d spent years trying to outdo each other, she’d seen some swank hotels and fancy vacation rentals in her time. But this rustic retreat put them all to shame.
Embers twinkled in a broad-mouthed fireplace, cushy animal pelts lining the floor in front of it, just begging to be napped on. Book shelves curved in patterns along every wall, as if following a loopy, lazy cursive. A huge picture window took up almost the entire wall opposite the fireplace, looking out over the moonlit water. And the furniture. It looked ready to swallow her whole and never let her up, its comfort was so obvious without even touching it.
Morgan turned to find Rixen watching her from beneath weighted eyelids. An enormous erection tented the lap of his grimy overalls, tension rippling in his gladiator muscles. Despite her limited experience, she knew this was a man in desperate need of relief. Wet spots dotted one denim leg and they continued to spread the longer they regarded each other across the living room. Unbelievably, Morgan found her breath coming faster, her nipples beading inside the triangles of her bathing suit top. What was happening to her? Was something about restraint in the face of his obvious hunger making her hot?
Rixen approached slowly. Here it was. The moment he threw her down and used her body like a sex doll, no regard for her screaming, searing pain.
But instead, Rixen took her hand and guided her into a bathroom, lighting another gas lamp once inside. With the effort it takes to flip a book page, Rixen lifted her onto the sink, putting her face on level with his hairy, muscle-swelled pecs.
“Does it hurt, my gift?”
“A little,” she whispered, shocked at her desire to comb through that coarse hair with her fingers. “Do you have modern medicine out here?”
“I have everything you need,” he said without missing a beat, lifting her ankle in a rough, callused hand. “Anything you want that I don’t have, I won’t rest u
ntil I get it.”
“Oh.” Morgan swallowed. “Cool, cool.”
Rixen’s mouth lifted at one end as he leaned in, reaching past her to turn on the sink tap. The hair of his beard grazed her cheek and a hot shiver tickled her spine. Oh man. Full on Stockholm’s. It would claim her unless she fought. If he noticed the conflict in her, he didn’t comment, his focus on her ankle. Cleaning it off with a surprisingly soft washcloth, spreading a salve across the gash and bandaging it, his fingers so gentle, brow creased in concentration. When she found herself studying his mouth a little too closely, she cursed herself inwardly.
“Why haven’t you done it yet?” Morgan blurted, needing a reminder of the situation. Kidnapping in progress, girl. “We both know I won’t be able to fight you off. Maybe you’re getting off on making me wait? Letting me agonize over the when and h-how—”
“You will not fight me if I do it right.” He frowned. “That is my hope.”
“What if I do fight?”
“I will go back to studying how to please you.” Morgan held her breath as Rixen knelt down and kissed her bandaged ankle. “As far as the when, I said I would feed you first.”
“I’m not hungry,” she murmured like an idiot, completely thrown off by the way this alligator wrestler had kissed her booboo.
Rixen’s eyes flared. “I will lick you now, then.”
“W-well, wait.” She searched her mind for a way to stall. No one had ever seen her nether regions before, let alone tasted them. She’d always hoped she’d have the opportunity to get drunk first. Plus, she was supposed to be buying herself time to escape. “You have to clean up first!”
He rose to his full height, forcing Morgan’s head to tip back. “Clean up?”
“Yes. You’ve got dirt all over your face. If you…do that thing you said…all that dirt is going to get on me, too.”
Horror crossed his features. “No. I don’t want that.”