Storm Conquered

by Magda Alexander

  I pound sand back to the bungalow where I find Hamish knocked out cold on the porch. English shrieks, Portuguese curses breach the darkness from inside the cottage.

  Front door’s been torn off its hinges. Four men are inside. One’s writhing on the ground grabbing a bleeding arm. Another one’s ripping off a nightie she’d thrown on. The last two have her pinned to the floor.

  A beast rises within me. I literally see red. A kick to the head drops one, a punch to the gut drops the next, the third lets go of Brianna and takes off for the back door. I jump on his back, and we crash to the floor. I hammer his kidney, turn him over, pummel his face. Blood spurts from his nose. He swings at me. I karate chop his arm. A crunch tells me I broke the bone. He faints, probably from the pain. His compadres are out cold as well.

  Brianna makes a sound and all thoughts of vengeance vanish from my mind. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

  “Yes.”

  Not knowing which question she answered, I ask, “Where?” I examine her half-naked body for wounds, but she’s not bleeding anywhere.

  “They didn’t hurt me, Jake. I’m fine.”

  Holding her arm as gently as I can, I help her rise. She sways a bit, but other than that appears cool as a cucumber.

  “No fucking thanks to me. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

  “I wasn’t alone. Hamish was out there.”

  I snort. “He’s taking a dirt nap out there.”

  “What?” She brushes her hair back. A scratch mars her forehead, but other than that she’s remarkably unhurt.

  “They knocked him out cold. I should have known they’d come after you.”

  She scrunches her brow. “You’re not a mind reader, Jake. No need to crucify yourself on the cross. It’s handled.”

  Anger burns through me. She almost got raped because I couldn’t get my shit together. So I won’t fucking forgive myself anytime soon. “I won’t leave you alone again. And I’ll double your security during the day.”

  “I don’t need—”

  “Yes. You do. You could have been hurt, killed.”

  “Yeah”—she smiles—“but I beat them at their own game. Told you I could protect myself.”

  She’s handling this a little too calmly for my taste. I don’t care who you are. When somebody attacks you, your body goes into an adrenaline rush, which is what’s happening to me. I want to draw, quarter and maim the ones who attacked her. “You shouldn’t have had to face them alone.”

  A knock by the entrance interrupts our conversation. Terrence and members of the security crew. Fucking bastards are standing at the open door ogling her.

  I step to the left and turn, blocking their view.

  “What the fuck happened?” Terrence asks, his gaze bouncing around the room.

  “Excuse me.” Brianna slips away.

  Into her bedroom I hope. Because I’d just as soon not beat the crap out of the idiots drooling over her. I spend the next fifteen minutes explaining what occurred. “We’ll need to double her protection. I don’t think there are any more out there. But for tonight, post a couple of men in the back and two in front. Tomorrow, we’ll come up with a new plan.”

  “How’s she doing?” Terrence asks, nodding toward the bedroom.

  “Fine. She fought them off.” I point to the one with the bleeding arm who’s passed out, either from blood loss or drink, and the spread-eagled bodies on the floor.

  “She did all that?” He points to the bastards on the ground.

  “No. Only the one. The rest I took care of.”

  “Jesus. What did you use?” All four of them of the assailants are bleeding. One has a compound fracture of his arm.

  “My hands, foot.”

  “Are they alive?”

  My glare cuts to him. “You think I give a fuck?” The bastards had been seconds away from raping her. Beating them had been too easy.

  Terrence orders his crew to pick up the men and throw them into the Wranglers parked outside. “We’ll drop them off at the urgent care center and alert the securities.” This far from the city there’s no hospital. But we have our own urgent care center that takes care of most emergencies. Those with serious wounds or ailments get transferred to the hospital in Natal.

  “If they regain consciousness on the way, try to get some information out of them. Rough them up if you have to.”

  Terrence’s brows take a hike. He shakes his head. “Jake Cooper advising violence. Never thought I’d see the day.”

  “They came here to rape her, hurt her. You think I give a damn about their rights? They’re probably low lives. My bet is the government officials wouldn’t complain too loudly if our interrogation technique got a little too physical.”

  “They might cause trouble for Storm Industries, once they regain consciousness.”

  I snort. “Doubt it. They either acted on their own or were paid to attack her. Either way. They won’t complain.” After I bid goodnight to Terrence and his crew, I secure the inside of the bungalow, shove a cabinet against the back door, jimmy the front door back into its slot. Tomorrow morning I’ll get someone to install stronger locks and reinforced doors through the bungalow. No more of this balsa wood bullshit.

  The sound of water running in the bathroom tells me she’s taking a shower. Her solution to most problems. She loves to take baths, showers, soak in Jacuzzis. Tonight I suspect she’s doing it to get the stink and sweat off her body more than anything else. I pick up the place as best I can and pile up the ruined detritus in the middle of the living room. Thankfully they never got to her bedroom so everything in there’s pristine.

  A few minutes later, she strolls out of the bathroom as beautiful as ever, smelling of that maddening perfume that makes me hard. “Bathroom’s all yours if you want it.”

  “Thanks.” I don’t exactly smell like a field of clover so I take her up on the suggestion. I wash off the sweat, the dirt, the blood of the men I fought. No regrets on my part. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. When I finish I slip into the same tired old shorts. Damn. I should have grabbed fresh clothes before I headed into the bathroom. I’d love to give her the privacy she needs. Fuck knows she’s earned it, but I have to get weapons and clothes. If those bastards return, I want to be locked and loaded and wearing something besides my own skin.

  When I stroll into the bedroom, she’s spread over the covers, wearing a see thru white lace baby doll and matching panties which clearly display her breasts and blonde thatch. I swallow. Hard.

  One hand behind her head, she rests back against one pillow and stares at me. The siren glance’s been replaced by a no-nonsense, businesslike gaze. “The offer still stands.”

  Don’t need to ask what she’s talking about. She’s offering sex. And now I can’t find a reason to turn her down. Not after what happened tonight. I almost lost her without ever knowing the sweet taste of her skin, the supple strength of her body under mine. The thrust of my cock inside her.

  The beast in me demands I take her up on her offer. A quick fuck and I walk away. Free and clear. She’s only a woman after all, just like the hundreds I fucked before her. Goddamn it. Am I seriously considering this?

  Does she know what’s going through my head? How much I want this? Going by the resigned look on her face, she expects me to turn her down. But I need to take her up on the offer in a way she doesn’t suspect the hunger inside. And there’s one sure way to do that.

  “Are you wet?”

  Chapter 8

  ______________

  Brianna

  AM I WET? What kind of a blasted question is that?

  “I need to know before I do anything.”

  His deep voice rumbles right through me, setting off a wild rhythm within. That near-rape left me vulnerable. Hurting. I’d slipped into my bedroom where I’d given in to the shakes. Couldn’t afford to react in front of him. Not after the way he responded to the attack. I’d never seen a man’s eyes turn red before. His had. Afraid of what he’d do, I’
d controlled my reaction. If I hadn’t, I’m sure he would have killed the men. And that’s something I can’t have.

  But now I need reassurance, a bit of human contact from the only person I trust. Jake might not like me much. But he would never hurt me. And I believe he needs this as much as I do. We can help each other out. If he would just give in. “If you must know, yes, I’m quite damp.”

  His perceptive gaze roams over me, taking in no doubt the pounding pulse in my throat, my shortened breath, my moist skin. No doubt I’m emitting quite heated pheromones as well. What more does he bloody want? A neon sign flashing ‘Fuck me?’

  He points to my baby doll lingerie. “Take off that thing you’re wearing.”

  I give him my best pout. Need to keep up my shiny front after all. “Don’t you want to do it? Most men do.”

  He just stands there and stares at me. “I’m not most men.”

  I’ve never had to talk a man into fucking me. Not once. And here he is demanding things of me, questioning me. And I’m so stupid in lust over this man that I’ll give him whatever he wants. But I’ll do it my way.

  I kneel on the bed and, making a strip tease out of it, scooch one strap down one shoulder, then the other, and pull. When the lingerie gathers around my waist, I sneak a peek to see how my little show affected him.

  His expression hasn’t changed one iota. He looks like a man waiting for the next train to arrive in the London Underground, curious but not terribly excited by the prospect.

  I cup my tits and display them for him. A sort of ‘come and get them’ invite. That’s one of my better moves, guaranteed to drive a man dumb, deaf and stupid.

  He arches a brow and casually searches out the room. “Where are the condoms?”

  Fine. Two can play at this game. I abandon the femme fatale approach and nod to the other side of the room. “Night table.”

  He yanks open the drawer, rummages around, fetches the box of rubbers. He snorts, throws it back in the drawer and slams it shut before marching out.

  Where in the blazes is he going? Surely he didn’t change his mind.

  A minute later he strides back with a string of prophylactics in his hand labeled ‘Condoms for the extra-large man.’

  Showtime. Thank God.

  But then he doesn’t do a thing. Just stands there, staring at me. He scrubs his face, blows out a breath.

  Enough. I’ve endured sufficient humiliation to last me a month of Sundays. “Look if you don’t have an interest in doing this.”

  He yanks down his cargo shorts, points to his erection. “Does this look like I’m not interested?”

  Slack-jawed, I shake my head. I’ve fucked plenty of men with large cocks. That’s what I’m known for. But never, and I mean never, have I seen a cock the likes of Jake Cooper’s. Long, thick, hard, curled up all the way to his belly button. A sliver of drool slips from my mouth.

  He loses his shorts, rolls the condom over his cock. While he’s doing that, he barks, “Scoot up.”

  “What?”

  “Scoot up on the bed.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it!”

  The second I do, he crawls over me. We’re skin to skin. Both naked, except for my lace panties and the baby doll gathered around my waist. I thread my hand through his military cut wishing it were longer. But as soon as I do, he traps my hand with his own and holds it hostage above my head. “No touching.”

  No touching? How does he figure that? Hard not to touch when you fuck.

  He must have seen the question in my eyes because he pipes up with, “I don’t want your hands on me.”

  Why not? I want to ask, but this is Jake and he’s finally, finally shagging me. So I’m not about to ruin the moment by asking that question. I’d just as soon contemplate the beauty of him. The hard angles, the sexy scrub. I always thought his eyes were black, but they’re not. They’re a deep brown with gold flecks in their depths. “You have beautiful eyes, Jake.”

  “I don’t like to talk when I fuck.”

  No touching. No talking. Figures he’d have rules during sex. He’s got them for everything else. But damn it, I want his big, rough hands on me. Disobeying him, I thread my fingers through his and drape them over my breast. The palm engulfs it. You can’t even see my nipple. A shot of heat races through me. He’s so bloody big, so strong. And soon I’ll hold all that power within me. What will he feel like? I can’t wait to find out. His hand wanders to my other breast, and he plucks the tip. When it buds, he makes a noise. It’s the sound of an animal helpless in some trap. I’ve heard it enough times in the jungle. He’s fighting his hunger for me. But it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let him off easy.

  His eyes narrowed, he glances up at me. Panting, trembling, I lick my lips and stare right back, willing him to take what he wants. After an eternity, he tastes my nipple, suckles it, gently, so gently for such a large man. Last thing I want is gentle, but for now I’ll let him have his way. I rub my leg up and down his, urging him on. The feel of all that muscle against my skin emboldens me. I clamp my hand on his bare ass and his erection jerks against me. He may not want my hands on him, but his body’s telling a different story.

  Taking a chance he won’t say no, I brush my drenched panties against him and he groans. He quits suckling and nibbling on my tits and goes lower, kissing his way down to my mons. Rather than tear off my panties and baby doll, he shimmies them off and tosses both pieces on the chair by the foot of the bed. His eagle-eyed gaze finds mine once more as he kisses my ankle, my calf, nibbles the side of my knee. My thigh he kneads before he nips it. And then finally, finally, he reaches my clit.

  With that big hand of his, he slowly spreads the folds. I practically jump off the bed when his thumb goes to work on me, circling, pressing down. Damn me. He’s avidly watching my reaction. When he finds the spot, I moan and bite down on my lip to keep words from spilling out. While keeping his avid gaze on me, he leans down and licks my clit. I almost come off the bed. He grins as if he finds pleasure in mine. One second, he does something with his tongue, his teeth. And the next? God Almighty, he’s eating my pearl, licking, nibbling. He bites down and I scream.

  Maybe it’s the fact it’s been over two months since I last had sex, and maybe it’s the fact it’s him, Jake Cooper, and he’s so very, very good at it. But there’s no way I’m going to be quiet not when he’s doing these things to me. I tremble, squirm, shiver beneath the onslaught of his mouth. Where did the man learn to eat pussy like that? My legs shake, and he clamps down on them to still me, so he can feast on me some more. A train wreck of an orgasm’s bearing down on me when he thrusts one of those long fingers of his into my quim. And just like that, I fall apart, bucking, calling out his name, the name of the almighty and a couple of saints.

  He doesn’t wait for me to come off my high, but notches his cock into my opening. He’s big, but I’m wet and slick and I want him to fuck me more than next breath. He bends my legs at the knees and drives between my thighs, stretching me, filling me until he’s so deep he’s gotten to the end of me.

  He pulls out, and I scream.

  Grunting, he slams into me. His rhythm goes to double, triple time. His sweat pours off him unto me. We’re two slick human beings, sliding against each other, intent on nothing but gaining the most pleasure. We keep up that maddening pace. I scratch his back, his arms. He ramrods me with that mighty hard cock of his, showing no mercy, not that I want any. My eyes fly open and I come the hardest I’ve ever come. Again. A full body tremble claims him, he climaxes and collapses on top of me. For a few seconds, we lie together, asking nothing more of each other than to breathe.

  Resting his head on my shoulder, he suckles the skin there. “You taste like peaches.”

  Actual words. From him. “Do I?”

  He doesn’t say anything else. Guess it’s too much to hope for him to respond. After a minute or two, he rises and heads for the bathroom, probably to get rid of the condom. When he comes back, I fully exp
ect him to slip back into bed. Instead, he grabs his cargo shorts and steps into them.

  I can’t believe what he’s doing. “Where are you going?”

  “Out. To patrol the perimeter.”

  Is he fucking kidding me? “There are enough guards out there.”

  “They’re not me.” He spins the combination of his weapons locker and pulls out a pistol which he jams into a pocket. He grabs a smaller pistol, jams it into the back of his shorts, spins the lock, and strides out of the room. The slam of the front door echoes through the bungalow effectively signaling an end to another round of sex with the hottest man I’ve ever fucked.

  Chapter 9

  ______________

  Jake

  AN HOUR LATER after doing a recon of the area, I slip back into the cottage. Didn’t see or hear anything, nor did anyone else. Not for a minute do I think whoever masterminded this has given up. That attack was too bold to have been the work of some local rifraff. Someone’s pulling strings designed to tear her apart. And whoever’s in charge is sure to come at her another way. But they’ll never get near her again. This much I vow.

  I enter her bedroom to find her fast asleep, her beautiful body in glorious naked display. The scent of our lovemaking still imbues the air, and I’m tempted to take her again. Dammit. I shouldn’t have accepted her offer. But how could I have turned her down? If I hadn’t satisfied my hunger for her, it would have caused a problem. Hell, it already has. I’ve spent more time thinking about having her beneath me than finding out who’s behind the thefts and destruction.

  Fucking her should have taken the edge off. But it’s just the opposite. I want her that much more. And she won’t turn me down, not anymore. She enjoyed what I did to her even though I was a total bastard about it. Refusing to let her touch me other than what’s absolutely necessary, shutting her up. Not that it made any difference. My craving for her has grown.

  But I can’t let her know the extent of my need for her. If she were ever to find out, she’d dump me and walk away or use it to her advantage until she tired of me. And that I can’t have. So my best course of action is not to have sex with her. Ever again.