What if she’d never been with a man before? The girls guessed she was around 23 or 24, it was hard to be certain. But what if she was a virgin? She didn’t think so, but there were no stored memories of that milestone being breached. For all intents and purposes, she was one now, aside from that brief tryst with Coral. And that was a lot of drama to put on a guy. Especially this type. Even if they didn’t rape and murder and pillage, she couldn’t trust one of them enough to tell them all this about herself. Why she might appear shy or scared, despite how her body was reacting.
So two more days, then she’d have time to think things through, discover more about herself, and have the other women she was getting to know better around to ask questions. With the men around most had taken to spending the majority of their time outside the compound. Em had only trained with her once in the past four days. Oakley desperately wanted the structure of a schedule.
So just two more days, that’s all they needed to get through. But then that night came the oddest request from Jo.
“Stone’s working on his bike, he’s having trouble. He won’t be joining everyone for supper.” The women handed over a tray loaded with food, her eye twinkling. “Bring this to him.”
Oakley looked at the tray, then back at Jo. “Why? Why me?”
Jo lowered the tray, sighing. “Because he likes you, Oakley. There are only two more nights then the guys are gone. Every time they leave they go off to war. They deserve something nice to remember, and so do we.” She nodded encouragingly. “Just bring it to him. I see how he looks at you. He might be just as scared as you are.”
Oakley laughed. “Trust me, he isn’t scared.”
“Scared of how beautiful you are. Or how innocent you appear. I’ve known Stone for a while. He’s a good man, one of the best out there. You won’t regret it.”
Oakley took the tray, compelled by the way Jo said that. “What have you seen?”
They weren’t supposed to ask that but she couldn’t help it.
“I’ve seen happiness for you, Oakley. Now go and take this to Stone. He’s in the garage. Alone.”
Strangely, Jo’s premonition eased her. She nodded and turned for the stairwell, picking her way in the dim light down the steps and outside. It was already dark, the sky lit with a million points of light. Her skin tingled as a cold breeze picked up. Everything seemed immediate, real, and surreal at the same time.
Or maybe Jo was just getting to her.
It wasn’t hard to find the garage on such a clear night. Along the way she heard evidence of more merriment taking place within the canvas tents, nowhere near as lewd as it had appeared that first night. Or perhaps she was growing accustomed to it.
The garage seemed like it used to store tractors, but she had no idea how she would’ve known that. It was a Quonset, a curved roof that met the ground on both sides with a heavy sliding door at one end big enough for machinery to pass through. Set in the door was a smaller one big enough for a person to fit. That was the one she used.
One part of the garage was brightly lit, so she headed that way and paused just outside the ring of light, taking him in. Stone was sitting on those roller things that mechanics used, his knees high in front of him because he was so tall, elbows on knees with hands hanging down. His brow was pulled down in concentration, glaring at the heap of metal in front of him. He might have started out in coveralls, but the top had been pushed off his torso and he was down to the skin on his chest, back, and arms. The coveralls bunched at his waist.
Oakley couldn’t avert her eyes. Out of manners and courtesy maybe she should, but he was so…large. Imposing. And yet she felt no intimidation being in this room with him.
“What? My face dirty or something?” He barked out the first word, but the rest sounded as though he was amused by her.
“They told me to bring you dinner,” she said, hearing the nerves in her own voice. He likely thought she was scared, but she wasn’t.
She was just…interested.
“Did they?” he asked, reaching for another heavy metal item from the table behind him before turning back to the hulking motorcycle in front of him.
She looked down at the tray in her hands, feeling stupid. “If you’re not hungry—”
“Bring it over here,” he interrupted, jerking his head towards the work bench. “I’ll get to it in a second. I don’t want to lose my train of thought.”
She carried the bowl of thick stew and the slices of bread to the flat service he indicated, pushing a few items out of the way to make room. When she turned back she was once again struck mute by his size, and now by the colorful artwork completely covering his back. There was a set of angel wings colored in unlikely tones of bright green and a deep, blood red. In the center though, the image did not suggest anything like an angel. It was a fearsome-looking serpent with blood red scales, breathing fire across the small of his back. The eyes were icy-blue, and she shivered because it seemed as though they were looking at her, knowing what she was thinking.
And what was she thinking? She almost didn’t admit it to herself, but at the sight of his bare torso under its sheen of sweat and dirt she was warm everywhere with an unsettled urge in her to touch him. And have him touch her, too.
Oakley must have stood staring far too long, because he shot her a look over his shoulder. “What?”
“Nothing,” she sputtered, heading for the door. Her face felt hot and she felt ridiculously stupid all of a sudden. All she knew was she had to get out of the garage.
“Oakley.” His voice stopped her, and she turned not five steps from the bike, fighting to appear composed. Or so she hoped.
“Yes?”
He was watching her, head tilted. He got up with a quick surge, his height making her skin break out in chills like it had outside. He stopped three strides from her. “You scared of me, Little One?”
She took the time to swallow, hoping to get rid of any nervousness in her voice. “No.”
“That’s good.” He moved forward another step. “Every time I see you you’re running away from me, though.”
“You say things that make me uncomfortable.”
He frowned. “I do?”
She just nodded, then he took another step.
“When have I done that?”
“You keep asking about your nipples, for one thing.”
Now she got the smile, and with him this close it did nothing for the spine she was trying to grow. “You started it, Little One. I assumed you liked them.”
“I asked you to let me go, you wouldn’t.”
“You didn’t say please.”
“You didn’t let me go.”
The smile slipped a bit. “Sorry, honey. Everyone teases. I thought you were playing with me.”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t. I wanted you to let go of me.”
Now he took two steps in the opposite direction and she felt the loss of heat. Or maybe it was disappointment that he was pulling back. “I meant nothing by that, Oakley. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have ever forced you or hurt you, though. You gotta believe that.”
“I do,” she replied, feeling pleased that he took her seriously now. “I’m still very new to all this. It doesn’t matter to me how everyone else behaves. I’m just…uncomfortable. Most of the time.”
He had walked back to the work bench, now he turned to her and leaned against it with both hands gripping the edge, arms wide. Oh god, the span of those shoulders, the thickness of his arms, the sheen of sweat on him, the tribal pattern done entirely in red that stretched from his collarbone onto his pecs, the way the coveralls were drooping to show the line of dark blond hair under his bellybutton…
Oakley was staring. Outright staring, and he stood there just watching her do it. “S-s-s-sorry,” she sputtered out. Eventually. “I’m being rude. I’m staring.”
“Doesn’t bother me, Little One. Should I put my shirt back on?”
“No,” it flew out of her mouth, making one side of his mouth
twitch up. “I…I mean…” Damn. She was blushing again. “If you’re comfortable, you should…” Shit. Just stop talking.
“Come here, Oakley.”
His eyes had that sparkle again, and his mouth was threatening to go full-on smile at any moment. She could get out of there right now and feel fine about it. Or she could get closer for that smile.
She took three steps before his smile hit, then she crossed the rest of the space, completely enchanted by it. She stood close enough to feel his warmth and smell the clean sweat on him, but not close enough to be touching. She had no idea what might happen if she touched him.
Or, she did. But she was still scared to take the initiative.
“You still look scared, Little One.”
“I am.” And she was. Her desire was something odd and foreign. The first time she was feeling it in this reincarnation of herself. She didn’t know if Darlene, if that had been her name before, had ever felt anything so intense. Such as she was, this was the first time she’d know such passion.
“Are you scared of me?” His tone indicated her answer was important to him.
“No. Just…scared for myself.” If that even made any sense.
“Don’t be scared Little One,” he said low, softly. His hand came up, cupping her jaw. Oakley’s breath caught and her eyes closed, and that’s when he kissed her.
It was so soft, impossible given his size. But his lower lip brushed upwards over hers once, twice, and she pressed her mouth to his to stop that teasing torture and kiss her proper.
With a low growl he wrapped one arm around her back, picking her up off the floor and mashing her body to his. Likewise, his lips were crushed to hers almost hard enough to bruise. Owning the kiss, taking over her whole body with it.
Oakley wasn’t scared, not at all. Their tongues wrestled, her hands dug into his hair and held on, and Stone’s arms crushed the breath from her as surely as the kiss had. She became aware of a hardness along her belly, and as the thought excited her she flexed her hips downward, rubbing her stomach on that heat. He growled again, turning her so her butt landed on the low work table. His hands slid up under her shirt, desperately seeking skin. They were hot and rough, the callouses thrilling on her sides, sliding up over her ribcage, the ache between her legs intensifying. Oakley pulled one hand from his hair, letting it run down his bare chest. She had to feel it and it didn’t disappoint. His skin was smooth, save for the hair at the centre of his chest, and the strength in his body was obvious. He was as firm as steel, unyielding.
He parted their lips with a loud gasp, moving both hands to her head to hold her in place. He was looking into her eyes, the heat in his own nearly feral. Her hand was still on his chest, so she slid it over to his pec, brushing across his nipple. His intense stare faltered, and she couldn’t help it.
Oakley smiled.
“Little One,” Stone grunted. “You’re fixing for a good fucking you keep that up.”
Her body clenched all at once. She’d never had anyone speak to her like this, and she liked it. She pinched his nipple softly once, making him close his eyes. Then she did it again, harder, just as he was opening them up.
“Fuck, Oakley,” he snarled, and rather than fear lust raced up her spine. She leaned in to kiss him and he took it with ferocious intent, his tongue plunging deep into her mouth like he wanted to taste all of her.
With fast hands he pulled the long-sleeved thermal shirt she was wearing off over her head. Her bra was plain, beige, and her breasts were small. Still, his eyes went to them and it appeared he didn’t mind either fact at all. “Look at this skin,” he was groaning, lowering his head to kiss the top of each breast. Oakley fed her hands into his hair, burying her face in it as he kissed and nipped and licked all the skin he could get to. When he forced the cup of her bra down and took her left nipple in his mouth it was her turn to groan, throwing her head back. Her skin was charged with electricity, and all the sparks went off right between her legs when he did that.
One of her hands was reaching for where his coveralls were hung. He evaded her hand while continuing to tease one breast, then the other as her legs pinned themselves to his hips, flexing in a need for friction in another incredibly sensitive part of her body.
As big as he was, and as intense as her lust was, she realized he was being surprisingly tender. Not at all like she’d expected from him, from how she’d seen the other men when they were with women.
Her bra released and that’s when she realized his hands were on her back, making her shiver. She dropped her arms so he could pull the bra free, then when she tried to pull him close again he leaned back, holding her arms out to the side, his eyes running over her hungrily.
“Stone,” she whispered, desperate to cover herself. Or have him do it, that would be better.
“Untouched perfection,” he whispered, then his hands were at the fly of her pants. She helped him get them open then over her hips, propping herself up on the tabletop while he whisked them away under her bottom, along with her underwear. Again he stared down at her body, eyes possessive and ravenous. This time when Oakley went for the waist of his coveralls he let her, eyes coming to her face now to watch her reaction to him.
His erection was not difficult to find, at all. And it was perfectly proportionate with the rest of him. She closed her hand around his shaft and moaned. Her fingertips barely reached her thumb when she did it. And as she dragged her hand upward she felt the wet between her legs. Her hips shifted on the edge of the table and he saw it, staring down at the juncture of her legs where they were spread, right at his waist.
“Oakley,” he growled, pulling her hand off of him. “You need to be sure because once I’m in there there’s no stopping.”
That didn’t scare her either, that thrilled her. “I’m sure. I want this.” To prove it she took his hand and pressed it between her legs. He felt the wet and his head fell back, fingers sliding into her as he moaned. Loud.
She moved her hips against his fingers but he wasn’t in the mood for that. He shoved his coveralls down to let them drop around his ankles and wrapped both hands around her knees. They were pulled upward, then he hooked them with his elbows, yanked her to the edge and planted his hands on the worktable beside her hips, leaning her backwards a little. Then suddenly he was inside her.
Oakley bellowed; it was so sudden. She was stretched, pulled taut with a delicious bit of pain. There was no extra space, he filled every inch. She had to brace herself back on one elbow, barely managing to find purchase when he pulled out and surged into her again. This time she whimpered, her free hand clenching on his arm. Nails dug into skin. And he thrust into her again.
Something was building, deep in her belly. Coiling tighter with every powerful push of his hips. She watched his face, the way he was panting through his open mouth, the way his neck strained, the corded muscles of his upper body springing into sharp definition with every movement. The scent of sweat and motor oil and the manly smell that had to be unique to Stone.
His eyes fell from her face to where they were joined, and she followed the gaze just as he delivered another punishing thrust. Seeing it made her moan louder, nails in his skin deeper. On the next thrust she was off and tumbling from this height he’d built, the uncurling pleasure in her body almost exactly like free falling. When she dared to open her eyes again he’d stilled, staring down at her.
Her entire body was flushed, but her heart fell slightly. “What’s wrong?”
Then he grinned. “Nothing, Little One. That was…beautiful.”
“What was?”
“Watching you come. Been a long time since someone didn’t fake it with me.”
Jesus, she couldn’t imagine this not working for someone.
With a grunt he scooped her up off the table like she weighed nothing, turned around and started walking. He cursed a little, trying to get free of his boots and coveralls. She had no fear that he’d drop her, though. He was still fully planted in her, rock h
ard, so the plain act of walking was suddenly much more interesting. Then he stopped and swung a leg over his bike.
She squealed as he sat down, bracing herself on his chest. They were backwards. Or, he was. She was facing the handlebars while he was…well, he was laying back with her astride his groin.
“Come on, Little One,” he grunted, hands on her hips. “Let’s take a ride.”
Oakley had no idea what to do, but when he pulled up on her hips and dropped her down again there was a flutter of that same delicious tension that had broken before. His cock brushed against a part of her that really enjoyed the attention. He did it again, then she took over.
No, she’d never done this before. But she knew what she wanted now; more of that feeling, the orgasm, climax, whatever you wanted to call it. That was what she wanted. Her feet found leverage on some part of the bike and she pushed her weight up then dropped back onto him. He grunted, wincing, growling, eyes bright. She did it again and his gaze was hot on her chest, down her stomach, and then he was watching again while she took him inside.
He seemed to like watching, which brought things to mind. Things a lot like the way she’d had to satisfy herself just to get to sleep these last four nights. She let one hand slid down her body, then she was touching herself while riding him.
With a grunt he pushed her hand away, replacing it with his own roughened thumb and that was better. So much better. She moved her hand to her breast instead, and he pushed that one away too. His hand was coarse on her nipple and he went into a curl to pull her part way down, just enough to take her other breast in his mouth.
She had no choice but to grab the handlebars. There was nowhere else to brace herself. She continued grinding down onto him, and he kept her clit and nipples fully engaged. Oakley closed her eyes and enjoyed it.
She came hard enough to see stars, throwing her head back and letting out an intense enough yell that her jaw cracked. Her entire body twitched with the pulse of her insides, and when she was done Stone dropped to his back again, a lazy smile on his mouth. She flexed her hips. He was still hard, he hadn’t finished.
Initiation (Gypsy Harts #1) Page 8