Stryker's Desire

by Meg Ripley

  “I’m sorry I don’t have a fabulous, detached attitude about my entire life going to pieces around me,” Chelsea said, carefully keeping her voice low. She could feel the anger rising inside of her, the temptation to raise her voice, to scream, to shout, making her throat tighten.

  “You should do something to relax,” Johan said matter-of-factly. “Take a bath, or get a massage. I’m fairly certain the mini-bar is well stocked.” Chelsea clenched her teeth, suppressing the shriek of indignation that threatened to rip through her throat at the dry, almost bored tone of Johan’s voice.

  “Take a bath?” she asked him finally. “When someone could bust through the door at any minute, you suggest I take a bath.”

  “You’d have ten minutes or better to get dressed before they broke in on you,” Johan pointed out. “Or if you don’t mind fighting naked, you could use that time to find a weapon.” Chelsea stared at him in utter disbelief.

  “Are you even listening to the words coming out of your mouth right now?” She bit off the rest of the words that threatened to tumble past her lips as she heard the volume of her voice rising. Johan set his book down, regarding her for a long moment. Chelsea felt a thrill of instinctive fear at the sight of him seated a few yards away, absolutely still, completely silent.

  “I’m going to need you to calm the fuck down, Chelsea,” Johan said, his voice a low almost-growl. The sound sent a shiver down Chelsea’s spine; somehow his accent was more pronounced, the rasping edge of his tone sharper. “Go take a bath. You look exhausted, and if you’re going to keep moving for the next few days, you’re going to need to sleep at some point.” Chelsea felt her mouth go dry; there was something about Johan’s absolute stillness that reminded her of a predator about to strike. “If you aren’t in the bathroom and running a bath in the next five minutes, I will pick you up and carry you there, and instead of a nice hot bath, you’ll have a cold, fully-clothed shower.”

  For just a moment, Chelsea’s brittle rage rose up, and she reveled in the thought of defying him, of telling Johan that she was not about to do what he said, that he wasn’t in charge of her and she would take a bath or not as she damned well pleased. But after the satisfying fantasy played through in her mind, she felt the fatigue of her inadequate sleep, even less adequate caffeine, and the stresses of the day come crashing down around her.

  She turned away from Johan, walking quickly in the direction of the master bedroom. “I’m not doing this because you told me to,” she shouted over her shoulder, casting a resentful glance in the direction of the back of his chair. Chelsea knew it was petty; but she couldn’t resist saying it, as she closed the door behind her and began to strip off her clothes. Irritation carried her through as she peeled off her jeans and tee shirt, as her arms tangled somehow in the straps of her bra. Chelsea flung her clothes away from her with bitter disregard for where they ended up, muttering to herself as she twisted the knobs on the taps. “I need to calm down, he says. I look exhausted he says…maybe, Johan, that’s because I am exhausted, because my entire life is falling to pieces around me and I have no idea what the hell is going on.” She plunged one foot into the water and hissed, reaching out blindly and turning the cold water on to lower the temperature.

  Chelsea climbed over the high lip of the deep tub, appreciating it almost resentfully. As she sank down into the water, the bitter words crowding their way past her lips began to ebb, and she felt her muscles slowly relaxing as the heat swirled around her. Try as she might to hold onto her resentment, the warmth and support of the water surrounding her began to lull her mind, even as the ache of fatigue flowed out of her body. She found a ridge in the wall of the tub and rested her head on it as drowsiness overcame her.

  ****

  For the fourth time that day, Chelsea fell out of a deep doze, her sleep interrupted by the sound of someone tapping at the bathroom door. “Are you alive in there, Chelsea?” Chelsea glanced in the direction of the door, scowling even though the person on the other side of it obviously couldn’t see her face.

  “Yes,” she said, sitting up slightly in the still-warm water.

  “I have something for you,” Johan said. “Consider it a peace offering.” Chelsea raised an eyebrow, her lips twisting into something that wasn’t quite a smile. She glanced around the room.

  “I’m naked,” she pointed out, raising her voice just enough to be heard through the door.

  “I don’t mind if you don’t,” Johan replied. Chelsea rolled her eyes, catching her bottom lip between her teeth and worrying it for a moment in thought. Curiosity won out over both spite and modesty. She reached out and pulled the shower curtain along the length of the tub, providing what little cover she could for herself.

  “Fine. The door’s unlocked.” She realized that Johan could have easily just walked in; she had been so angry and so tired when she acceded to his demand that she take a bath that she hadn’t even given thought to locking it. Chelsea’s cheeks heated up from more than the humid temperature of the room.

  A moment later, Johan came through the door, bearing a large basket full of items that Chelsea didn’t have the energy to examine in more detail. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of the shower curtain and shrugged, shifting down into a crouch only a few feet away from her. “It occurred to me that if I expect you to relax, it would make more sense to help you relax.” His tone was not quite apologetic; Johan gestured to the basket. “I ordered this from the spa downstairs off the room service menu—it has toiletries, massage oils, candles, I think a bathrobe…” Johan shrugged again.

  “Are you suggesting that I massage myself?” Chelsea asked him, glancing from the basket to Johan’s face doubtfully. Johan smiled slightly.

  “I am suggesting that I could give you a massage,” Johan said. “I studied it a few years ago.” Chelsea opened her mouth, found that she wasn’t entirely sure what to say, and closed it again, staring at Johan in silence as the explanation filtered through her brain.

  “You—how, exactly did you study it?” she sat up slightly in the tub, heedless of the fact that more of her body showed. “I mean you’re—what, some kind of bodyguard-assassin-commando kind of guy?” Johan smiled, his bright eyes glinting with amusement.

  “Sometimes cover means working as a massage therapist, and that cover works better if you know what you’re doing.” Chelsea bit her bottom lip, trying to absorb that information.

  “So, you’re suggesting I let you rub me down with oil to relax me,” Chelsea said slowly, the heat intensifying in her cheeks as she spoke, spreading down over her chest. She finally realized that her breasts were in Johan’s view and shifted slightly behind the shower curtain.

  “You’re blushing,” Johan said, his faint smile deepening. “Why’d you move? I was enjoying the view.” Chelsea grabbed at the shower curtain, her heart beating faster.

  “I’m not getting a massage from someone who’s already leering at me,” Chelsea told him tartly.

  “I’m not leering,” Johan said matter-of-factly. “I forget sometimes how Americans feel about nudity.” He licked his lips, his gaze flicking up to meet hers. “Of course, we could have sex. That’s another way to relieve stress—and it kills time.” Chelsea’s mouth opened in surprise. “You’re a beautiful woman; I’ve been told that I’m very good in bed. There’s nothing worth watching on TV, and it would serve the purpose of giving you some appetite.”

  “That has got to be the least romantic come-on I have ever heard,” Chelsea said, staring at him in a mixture of confusion and amusement.

  “I started with you being beautiful,” Johan pointed out, amusement flickering in his blue-green eyes. “You are. As soon as you came in here, I thought about that solution to the problem of you being so tightly wound.” Johan leaned in slightly closer, his gaze never leaving her face. “When was the last time someone got you off, Chelsea?” Chelsea bit her bottom lip, uncomfortably aware of the fact that she was completely naked, nothing more than some fabric and plastic separat
ing her from Johan. “See, I think it’s been entirely too long—or you’d have an answer for me.”

  “It’s none of your business,” Chelsea said, crossing her arms instinctively over her chest.

  “Oh-ho,” Johan said, grinning broadly. “It’s been a while then.” The smile disappeared in a flash, and Chelsea felt her body heating up in a way that had nothing to do with the water swirling around her as Johan gazed at her intently. “You can’t sleep in the tub; you’d drown or dissolve.” Johan rose to his feet in a lithe, almost feline movement, reaching out and nimbly snatching one of the towels off the rack without even looking. “You’ve gotten as much relaxation out of this as you possibly can, and I can see it all over your face that you’re still on the edge of another panic attack. Let me help you, Chelsea.”

  Before she could react, before she could think of anything to say to the offer, Johan pulled the shower curtain aside, his gaze trailing over her body in a quick appraisal before he reached down, his hand closing firmly around her arm. He pulled her up, out of the water, and Chelsea shivered as the cooler air hit her. Johan lifted her over the lip of the tub, wrapping the thick, warm towel around her body. His arms coiled around her waist, drawing her close, and Chelsea gasped as his hard, muscular body pressed against hers. Johan’s hand moved up, tilting her face slightly, and he brushed his lips against hers—a barely-there caress, feather light at first.

  Chelsea’s legs weakened, her body swaying against his as Johan deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against her lips, his hands beginning to move over the curves of her body. She opened her mouth, moaning softly as Johan held her tightly, his tongue slipping quickly past her lips to probe and explore. The towel fell away from her, but Chelsea barely noticed, her own hands coming to life, trailing over Johan’s broad shoulders, exploring the muscled plane of his chest through the thin fabric of his tee shirt, trailing around to his back.

  All at once, he broke away from her mouth, his lips gliding along the line of her jaw, the softness of his skin contrasting with the roughness of his stubble. Johan nipped sharply at the spot just below her ear where Chelsea’s pulse fluttered, rabbit-fast. “You should never be allowed to wear clothes,” Johan murmured, his hands gliding down along her waist to settle at her hips. “Never anything more than a towel. It’s a sin to cover this up.” His hands slid upward to cup her full, heavy breasts, giving them a light squeeze. “Or these.” Johan’s teeth closed around her earlobe, nibbling at the tender flesh, and Chelsea gasped, arching into his body instinctively, a slight whimper breaking through her lips as Johan’s fingers claimed both of her nipples at once, rolling and twisting the already firm nubs. Johan’s lips traveled down along the column of her throat, his stubble rasping against her sensitive skin as he kissed and nipped, making Chelsea gasp with sweeping laps of his tongue.

  All at once, Johan broke away from her, his intent gaze capturing her eyes for just a moment. “You want to do this,” he said, the sentence not quite a question. Chelsea nodded, tingling all over, unable to bring her mind to think of words. Johan lifted her up into his arms, draping her legs around his waist and coiling one arm underneath her buttocks. He carried her out of the bathroom as if she weighed nothing at all, kissing along the line of her neck almost meditatively as he brought her into the bedroom.

  Johan gently deposited her on the bed, taking a step back. Chelsea blushed as his intent, avid gaze trailed over her body slowly, drinking in every inch of her with undisguised hunger. “Hey,” Chelsea said breathlessly, resisting the urge to cover herself up. “How come I’m the only one naked here?” Johan blinked, glancing up from his admiring inspection to look at her face. He smiled slowly.

  “That’s easily fixed,” he said. Chelsea licked her lips as his hands moved to the hem of his tee shirt. He pulled the fabric up, revealing the flat ridges and planes of his abdomen, the swell of his pectoral muscles, a dusting of wheat-colored hair spattered across his chest. Chelsea glanced down to see the deep crease of his pelvis just above the belted waistband of his jeans and felt something inside of her tighten at the sight. Johan unbuckled his belt quickly, not even bothering to free it from the loops of his pants before he attacked the fly of his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping it in a movement almost too fast for Chelsea’s dazed eyes to catch. Her breath caught in her throat as Johan hooked his fingers in the waistband of his pants, tugging them down over his lean hips, along his muscled thighs. He stepped out of the fabric, standing in almost absolute stillness for a moment in nothing more than a pair of boxer-briefs. Chelsea’s mouth watered even as her throat tightened at the sight of the ridge his hard cock formed at the front of his underwear; Johan’s erection strained at the tight confines of the material, giving Chelsea a moment’s trepidation. She swallowed convulsively, her body heating up even more intensely as Johan pulled at the elastic waistband, dragging it down. His cock sprung free, fully erect, and Chelsea’s eyes widened; even if the shape of him had warned her, she was still surprised at the sight of his thick, hard, long cock.

  In an instant, it seemed, Johan was on top of her, his body covering hers. He claimed her lips with his own, his hands dancing over the curves of her body, tickling and teasing and caressing her everywhere all at once. “Feeling relaxed?” he murmured lowly against her lips, as one hand drifted down between her legs. Chelsea shivered as his fingertips brushed against her slick folds, barely touching her.

  “More and more relaxed by the moment,” she answered almost absently, gasping sharply as Johan’s fingers slid between her labia to stroke her slowly. She was already soaking wet; Chelsea could feel the heat of her fluids along the folds of her pussy, spreading along her inner thighs.

  “I’m going to make this last,” Johan told her, trailing his lips down along the column of her throat to her collarbones. His fingers found her clit by touch—but barely missed it, making Chelsea’s hips twist as her body struggled for better contact. Johan chuckled lowly, dipping his fingers down to her inner labia, stroking and rubbing slowly—achingly slowly. Chelsea murmured an incoherent protest, a soft whimper leaving her throat as she moved underneath him in instinctive reaction. “Patience, Chelsea,” Johan said with a chuckle, one finger barely sliding inside of her before withdrawing to tease once more. “We have nothing but time right now.”

  “You are such a jerk,” Chelsea told him, clenching her teeth as she writhed and squirmed, twisting her hips. Her hands kneaded and caressed, exploring the lines of Johan’s lean shoulders, the ridges of his spine, and the dip at the small of his back. “You’re…supposed to be…helping me relax…not—not making me more tense.” Her breaths came in panting bursts, her whole body humming with sensation, tingling with anticipation as Johan brought his fingers to just below her clit over and over again, denying her the touch she wanted more than anything in the world.

  “Stop fighting it then,” Johan murmured, nipping sharply at the base of her throat. “As soon as you stop fighting it you’ll enjoy this much more.” He brought his fingertips up to swirl around her clit for just a moment—a flicker, no more than a heartbeat—and Chelsea cried out, every muscle in her body seemingly tensing from the short-lived relief. Johan teased her relentlessly, bringing her to the point where Chelsea was on the verge of pleading him to give her what she needed before he gave her pleasure-center a lingering stroke of his fingers, only to dip down lower once more. Chelsea gave into the torture gradually, the rising heat in her body making it impossible for her to continue fighting; she writhed and twisted underneath Johan, her hands wandering all over his body, reaching down to stroke his hot, hard cock and then up to clutch at his shoulders in desperation. Threats, promises, pleas, left her lips in a rush that she barely heard as Johan brought her to the edge of orgasm over and over again.

  Finally, he withdrew his fingers altogether, pulling himself up as his hips shifted downward between her legs, and Chelsea opened her eyes without knowing when she had closed them to see him looking down at her intently, his brilliant eyes b
lazing with lust. “Keep your eyes open,” he told her lowly. Chelsea shivered as she felt the heat and hardness of his cock sliding against her drenched labia, barely rubbing against her as he rocked his hips slowly. “Let go of everything but me, Chelsea.” She nodded, not quite certain what she was agreeing to, her mind hazed over completely with the need for relief.

  Johan shifted against her, and Chelsea felt his finger barely brush her as he guided the tip of his cock between her slick folds. He thrust into her in one slow, steady movement, pushing past the resistance of her flexing muscles. Chelsea gasped as he filled her up in seconds, barely managing to keep her eyes open. Johan’s lips curved in a satisfied smile as his hips met hers. “Feel me, Chelsea,” he murmured, brushing his lips against hers. He stayed absolutely still for an agonizing moment, his cock buried deep inside of her, twitching slightly. Johan began to rock his hips once more, somehow pushing deeper and deeper inside of her, the thick heat of his cock rubbing along her inner walls with every movement. Chelsea gripped his shoulders tightly, falling into his rhythm like a tidal flow. Johan’s bright eyes gazed into hers even as they both began to move faster, panting as the heat built up between them. Chelsea felt her pleasure mounting moment by moment, her whole body tingling with it, and gave into the rush of sensation that coursed through her, holding Johan’s gaze even as she moaned out again and again.

  “Fuck—fuck, Johan…” her fingernails bit into the skin of his back as she struggled to hold back, to savor the tingling, hot and cold flashes of sensation that crackled through every nerve in her body.