Stryker's Desire (Dragons Of Sin City Book 1)

by Meg Ripley

  By the time Sophie pulled into the guest spot next to her building, I’d sobered up a little bit; enough that I was sure I could get it up, at least. I climbed out of the passenger seat and hurried around to where Sophie emerged from my car, taking my keys from her hand and wrapping my arms around her waist. “I have been waiting all night to have the chance to actually do this,” I murmured, kissing her on the lips.

  “You--mm--you could have done it before,” Sophie replied, bringing her arms up and wrapping them around my shoulders. I pressed her against the side of the car, feeling the heat of her body through her clothes. All night, I’d watched the filmy, almost transparent material of her shirt sliding and shifting on her body, occasionally slipping off of her shoulder, hitching up to reveal a flash of one of her tattoos just above her hip, or otherwise showing tantalizing glimpses of her body. Then there were the shorts: the sight of her ass in them whenever she turned around, or walked past and away from me to take care of another customer or to get something from the back, was almost more than I could take. I’d stayed until closing not just because I’d given her a ride in and didn’t want her to have to catch a ride from one of the other members of the staff, but because I couldn’t stand the thought of not having sex with her after all that buildup.

  I rocked my hips against Sophie’s, rubbing up against her, and she moaned against my mouth, holding me tighter. The next minute though, she was pulling back, breaking away from my lips, panting but definitely not lulled. “Something wrong?” Sophie gave me a sharp look--not the dreamy expression she got whenever she was seriously turned on, but the knowing, penetrating look that made any thought of how cute she was almost a lie.

  “We are not going to have sex in the parking lot,” she told me. I frowned, wondering where she could have gotten the idea that I wanted to, and then realized that I’d been trying to get my hand down her shorts; I hadn’t even thought about it, I’d been so lost in the moment.

  “Sorry,” I said, giving her a quick kiss on the lips again. “Inside?” Sophie nodded. I took a deep, shaking breath and stepped back. My knees felt rubbery; all I wanted was to get all Sophie’s clothes off--and mine too--and just keep at it until neither of us could stay awake for even a moment longer. I took her hand and we walked across the parking lot to her unit. I held myself back, even though I was already hard enough that my cock was starting to throb, and waited for Sophie to get her door unlocked.

  Drogon came out of the bedroom as soon as we stepped into the apartment, and I made myself wait patiently while Sophie greeted the black cat and checked on his food and water. It should have been a total buzzkill, but watching her kick off her shoes, hearing her murmur to the cat, somehow made the whole situation that much hotter. Sophie looked up at me from where she crouched and raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t we start in the shower?”

  I nodded, already starting to reach for the bottom of my tee shirt to take it off. “I’m game,” I told her. She laughed and opened the sliding glass door to her porch just enough for the cat to be able to come and go as he pleased, before turning towards her bedroom. I stripped off my shirt and followed her into the bedroom, straight to the bathroom.

  Sophie hauled her shirt over her head and the sight of her full, heavy tits, barely covered by the lacy bra she wore, was enough to bring me back to fully hard. I stopped her hands, leaning in to kiss her on the lips. I found the fly of her shorts by touch and unbuttoned and unzipped it, and Sophie followed my lead; she began working on my jeans. We stripped each other naked bit by bit, and I let my hands wander wherever they wanted to go on her body, touching and teasing her. I cupped her tits as soon as I got her bra off, teasing her nipples until they hardened into firm little nubs between my fingers, and Sophie moaned, reaching down and wrapping her hand around my cock, stroking me up and down slowly.

  We stumbled into the shower and I turned the water on, pulling Sophie out of the path of the first cold burst to press her up against the wall, to kiss her again and again while my hand slipped down between her legs. She was already wet, the heat of her coating my fingers, slick like silk, and I grinned, pulling back from the kiss. “What do you want to bet we end up wasting all the hot water?” Sophie snorted, giving my cock a lingering stroke before disentangling one of her arms to check the water flowing through the shower head.

  “I’m betting nothing on it, because I’m going to at least get clean first,” she told me tartly. I snickered and watched her step under the torrent of water, tugging the hair ties out of her hair and tossing them blindly into a caddy on the showerhead. In an instant, she was drenched, and I couldn’t resist the temptation to step up behind her, to let my hands slide over her slick body and touch her everywhere. Sophie turned around in my arms to face me and I kissed her, pressing my body against hers so she could feel how hard I was, how much I wanted her.

  She broke away from my lips after a few moments and looked up at me through her eyelashes. “The sooner I get clean, the sooner we can get to the main event,” she murmured, raising an eyebrow. “Want to help out with that?”

  I grabbed a bottle of shampoo and held it up to confirm that it was what Sophie wanted me to use. She nodded and I got to work, lathering up her hair and then scrubbing her down, making sure to soap up every inch of her body--especially her tits--while she worked conditioner through her hair. “Fuck,” I said, shaking my head as I watched her rinse off, the water gliding over her body, glittering in the soft yellow light of the bathroom. It was all I could do not to pin her to the wall and take her right then and there.

  “You’re more patient than I would have thought you’d be,” Sophie said, grinning at me as she stepped out from under the shower head.

  “Are you done?” I could hear the heaviness of my own voice; my cock was throbbing, aching from how turned on I was. Sophie giggled, reaching out and wrapping her hand around my cock even as she looked up at me through her wet hair and eyelashes.

  “I am,” she admitted. I groaned as she stroked me, but I made myself push her hand away. I wasn’t interested in her getting me off with a quick handy--I wanted the real deal. I wrapped my arms around her waist and lifted her up carefully; we were both--obviously--incredibly slippery from the shower, but I didn’t even want to wait long enough to dry off. I carried her carefully into the bedroom and spilled her onto the bed without giving her a chance to get dry, and immediately slithered on top of her. I kissed her again and again, rocking my hips against hers, slipping down between her legs. “What were you saying about patience?” Sophie laughed breathlessly as I guided myself up against her soaking wet folds.

  “I take it back,” she replied, pushing her hips down against mine, rubbing the slick, wet heat of her pussy against me.

  “Good. Good,” I said. I dipped down to her throat and licked at the shower water still there on her skin; I nibbled at the spot just below her ear and Sophie moaned out, twisting underneath me. I slid into her as slowly as I could, holding back as much as possible--I was too fucking hungry for the feeling of her wrapped around me to hold back that much--and started to move almost immediately. I kissed Sophie over and over again, swallowing down her moans, pushing deeper and deeper inside her body. “God--fuck, Sophie...you feel way, way too good,” I told her.

  “Better--better every time,” Sophie agreed, half-moaning as she moved with me. We fell into a rhythm together, and our hands slipped and stuttered on each other’s bodies, touching everywhere. I kissed Sophie’s lips, her throat, down to her tits. I teased her nipples with my mouth, worshipping her with my lips and tongue, looking up into her eyes as I thrust deeper inside of her, rubbing along her tight, hot inner walls.

  I lost myself in the moment, pounding into her faster and faster; I reached down between our bodies and found Sophie’s clit by touch, and began to stroke and rub her, trying to keep time with our movements, trying to bring her to climax before I totally lost control. The last thing I wanted was to come and get sleepy before she got off--I wanted the gratifica
tion of making her come first, the relief of knowing I didn’t need to do anything else. I read Sophie’s body like braille, feeling the tension in her muscles, listening to her moans turn into little gasps and shuddering cries as she got closer and closer.

  All at once I felt her whole body tighten around me. I heard the sharp little breathy gasp and then she exhaled on a long, low moan, and her muscles fluttered around my cock, tightening in erratic little spasms. I tried to hold out for just a minute longer, to ride through her climax for as long as possible, but I felt the tension snap deep down between my hips, and I came less than a moment after her, groaning against her neck, barely able to hold myself up to keep thrusting as my cock twitched and throbbed inside of her.

  I collapsed onto the bed next to Sophie, gasping and panting for breath, still dripping wet, and turned to look at her as we both struggled to recover. “Jesus, I think it’s like--what, five-thirty in the morning?” Sophie giggled and shook her head.

  “Just enough time to get in a nap before the meeting then,” I replied. “I’ll lock the door on my way out.”

  “The sheets are soaked,” Sophie told me, though she didn’t look any more interested in getting up out of the damp bed to take care of the problem than I was.

  “They’ll dry off soon enough,” I promised her. “Besides, it’ll stay cooler this way.”

  “I don’t have the energy to fix them,” Sophie admitted. “This is the last time I’ll ever suggest a quick shower before sex.” I snickered.

  “It was fun though, you have to admit,” I pointed out. “You loved every minute of it. Don’t lie.” Sophie rolled her eyes and turned over onto her side, rumpling her already messy hair and lifting her head to turn the pillow over onto the dry side.

  “We’ll see if I think it’s worth it after I wake up,” she told me. “If it was…” she half-shrugged and yawned, and I threw my arm over her, pulling us closer together.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” I promised her. “If you want.” Sophie nodded sleepily.

  “We’re doing your place,” she told me. “I’m not on at Respects. Make it an early night so we can catch up on sleep.”

  “Or we could make it a late night, just at home,” I suggested. Sophie murmured something that sounded vaguely like an agreement and we both drifted off without deciding what it was we were going to do with ourselves.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I was barely on time when I got to Ron’s office in downtown Delray, just off Atlantic Avenue; I never really understood why he had an office there, but it was handy to about half the band--and it wasn’t that far from Sophie’s place--so I decided, as I walked up the two flights of stairs to his suite, that I wasn’t going to bitch about it. We mostly recorded down in Miami, and I was pretty sure he had an office of some kind in that neck of the woods as well--maybe out in Wynwood, or somewhere like that--but he’d made the Delray office his base, and that was the one we all usually met at, when we were going to do something official as a band.

  I’d gotten pizza just like I’d promised, and I carried it with me into the little reception area attached to the office. “Hey, Julie,” I said to the chick who ran the front desk; she was Ron’s niece, going to school for something industry-related, though I’d never really gotten the answer to what it was specifically. “Am I the last to show?”

  “You are, in fact,” Julie said, smiling at me with a little flirty gleam in her eyes. There was an unspoken law in the band--from back before any of us had girlfriends--that Ron’s niece was off-limits. In fact, we’d decided as soon as Ron had started managing us that none of us were going to have anything to do with any of the female staff he had working for him; it’d be too much like dating one of our band mates’ sisters, and on top of that it’d open up all kinds of petty jealousy if anyone thought someone in the group was getting a better deal, or more press attention, or something like that. It wasn’t worth getting into, or even trying to work around. Better by far to just avoid it altogether by declaring all of the women working for Ron out of bounds.

  “You haven’t heard from Mark, have you?” Julie shook her head. Sometimes--since she kept the big man’s contacts for him, and managed his social calendar--someone in the band would talk to her, get her to pass something along to Ron if we couldn’t get the manager directly.

  “I can tell you that Uncle’s pretty stressed out about the whole deal,” Julie said confidentially. “He’s hoping you guys can figure it out on your own--but if not, he’s going to bring the pain.”

  “I’d expect nothing less,” I told her. “Buzz me in, will you?” There was a door that separated the reception area from the office proper, and only three people controlled it: Julie, Ron himself, and one of his daughters, who was also working her way up in the industry, following in Dad’s footsteps. Julie nodded and hit the buzzer on her desk, and I heard the lock turn over in the door. I hurried over to it, making sure I at least turned the knob and pulled it a little bit before the timer would automatically re-lock the door. “I’ll catch ya later,” I told Julie, and she turned back to whatever it was she did when she wasn’t answering phones or greeting people who came in.

  I walked through the little office space, noticing the fact that Ron had apparently given up on the idea of the open office plan; instead of one big conglomeration of desks, it was a sea--or at least a lake--of cubicles, each one half-hiding one of Ron’s employees. He had about a dozen people working for him, and I thought to myself that if it weren’t for Molly Riot, he’d still have maybe five employees total; between Alex’s antics, Nick’s high-profile girlfriend and Jules dating another up-and-coming band’s lead singer, Molly Riot was hot shit, and everyone in South Florida wanted to be signed with the guy who’d ushered us into our fame.

  I walked past the desks, headed towards the big office where Ron normally held court, pizza in one hand and the other holding my keys still. I nodded to the few people who looked up from their work, wondering what they were thinking; were they stressed out about the fact that Molly Riot seemed to be in crisis mode? Or was it just another day in their office job life?

  The door to Ron’s office was open, and I spotted Alex seated in the chair closest to the big man’s desk, taking the unofficial official leadership role. Nobody was seated in Ron’s chair, which made the whole situation feel weird to me--but then I thought to myself that I’d feel even weirder if someone had sat down behind the desk; it would be like they were claiming a higher authority. Alex saw me coming and waved me into the room, saying something I couldn’t hear to the other two guys.

  “Close the door behind you,” Jules said as I came in.

  “I was going to anyway; I don’t want those gophers hearing whatever it is we end up discussing,” I told him, pulling the door behind me and listening for the click of the automatic lock. I took a second to look around the room, trying to figure out which way the wind was blowing. Nick I was pretty sure was on “my” side--that is, if there could be a side in the whole stupid mess our band had become. He’d been behind me on the issue with Mark, and I was pretty sure he didn’t blame me for what our drummer was choosing to do. Alex and Jules were harder to read; they were sort of removed from some of the more involved parts of the band anyway, wrapped up in their girlfriends so much that they didn’t really go out as much as they used to. Nick--even though he had a steady girl--still occasionally found time to hit shows, and even go bar hopping. Alex’s girlfriend Mary had turned him into something of a good boy, and Jules and Fran were so busy working on material together that it was a wonder that either of them had any time for their actual bands. Okay, so maybe you can relate to Mark a little better than you thought.

  “So,” I said, setting down the three boxes of pizza--pepperoni, meat supreme, and six cheese--on the desk. “What are we going to talk about?”

  “I’m pretty sure you know what the subject is already,” Alex said. I shrugged and threw myself down on the beat up old couch in the corner. Ron had kept it from the old
days, before he could afford a proper office; he said he wanted to remember where he’d come from, but I was pretty sure that he mostly kept it to try and maintain his cred.

  “We have to figure out how to get back to work,” Nick said bluntly. “We need Mark, but obviously, he’s not talking to any of us--not really, anyway.”

  “I wonder about that,” I said, licking my lips.

  “I brought beer if you want one,” Jules interjected. He waved towards a cooler close to the center of the room and I nodded, getting up long enough to grab a cold one before I sat back down. Alex opened one of the boxes of pizza and helped himself to a slice.

  “I mean, obviously, he started this bullshit tantrum when he found out about Sophie and me,” I continued, cracking open the beer and taking a sip. “What’s his beef with the rest of you?” Nick shrugged.

  “I think he’s probably got deeper issues than he wants to talk about, but that doesn’t excuse what he’s doing,” Alex said, sounding a lot like his counselor girlfriend. God save me from psychobabbling good influences, I thought to myself. Alex was happy; that much was obvious. But I didn’t like the Boy Scout version of himself he’d started to become.

  “I told him he was being an asshole about something petty, and he cut me off after that,” Nick admitted. I glanced at Jules.

  “I don’t really give a fuck why he’s being such a little shit,” Jules said with a shrug. He stood and plucked a piece of pizza out of one of the boxes. “If we can find a way to move this fucking album forward, we can deal with whatever else afterward.”

  “I don’t know if we’re going to be able to move this album forward until we deal with whatever-the-fuck Mark’s problem is,” Alex countered.

  “I propose we get Ron to talk him into doing sessions,” Nick said. He raised his hands up to keep Jules and Alex from talking over him. “If his main beef is with Dan, we’ll separate them. Mark can work a few hours during the day, lay a few tracks, get his shit done, and Dan can come in after he leaves. Or they can take turns or something.”