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

by Meg Ripley

  “That looks like a mistake, don’t you think?”

  Rayne let the hand guide her back up the stairs and through the throng of fucking guests to a track that led back up the hill, presumably to her cabin.

  Rayne looked up at her rescuer; her heart flipped when she saw that it was Ben. “Did you…” her words were slurred, “Did you see that?”

  Ben gave a slow nod and continued to steer her up the track at a brisk panting pace. Once they got to a clearing, Rayne was able to realize where they were. The waterfall she had passed on her way to her cabin was just ahead. Ben released her arm and took a few pointed steps away from Rayne. They stared at each other for just a few moments, both panting, the rhythm of the bass echoing up the track.

  Ben shook his head and rubbed his face with his hand. “You are so beautiful, I...I have to do this,” he said as he dropped his hand and rushed forward, locking his arms around Rayne, bringing his bristly face down to plant his soft lips upon hers. His kiss intensified as she threw her arms around him and pressed her curves into his.

  Ben pulled at Rayne’s dress and scooped her up so she could lock her legs around his waist; she was at the perfect height to feel his rock-hard length through his pressed trousers. Ben carried Rayne through the track like she weighed nothing, halting as they came to the waterfall lagoon. Gently lowering her back to the ground, Ben motioned to the lagoon and started to strip. Rayne stood dumbfounded as the moonlight revealed his chiseled abs and broad set of shoulders. Fiddling with his pants, Rayne was even more excited to see firm, muscular legs poking out of his boxer briefs. Peeling off his underwear, Rayne gasped with delight to see his rigid, thick cock spring free and point at her. Ben took a running jump and dove into the lagoon, surfacing far from his splash and calling out for Rayne to join him.

  Torn between her desire and self-consciousness, Rayne turned her back and unzipped her favorite dress, letting it fall gently to the ground. She then unhooked her bra and stepped gingerly out of her panties, giving a final over-the-shoulder look to see what Ben was up to. Ben had walked toward the shore and was standing waist-high in the lagoon, the water casting gentle shadows over his ripped body. Rayne slowly turned, and watched as Ben let his eyes venture greedily over her ample bottom and hips, nipped-in waist and pillowy breasts. The water was only a little cooler than the air around them, but it still took her by surprise as she walked in, and made her nipples pucker deliciously. Making it just to knee-height water, Rayne was taken off-guard as Ben waded purposefully toward her and scooped her up so she again wrapped her legs around him; this time, he angled her body so his thick length slid straight into her tight, hot wetness. Rayne gasped at his thick girth and Ben gave a groan as she slid slowly down his rigidness. He pressed his mouth to Rayne’s and they returned to kissing hungrily. Her throbbing center squeezed and pulled at him, causing him to buckle as his hips moved involuntarily in thrusting motions.

  Ben staggered toward the shallows and sank into the ground so they were semi-submerged. His mouth wandered down Rayne’s neckline and suckled gently at her breasts, instinctively causing her slit to tighten in delight. Unable to control the white-hot desire that screamed for them to move, Ben began to gently ease his cock in and out. Rayne angled her hips and let Ben’s bristly hair rub her swollen clit, sending wracking spasms through her body. Turned on, Ben started to thrust harder and harder into Rayne’s wetness, the squelching of her juices mingling with the splashing of the lagoon waters. Feeling her edge building, Rayne signaled for Ben to stop and shoved him down into the soft, salty earth. Straddling his narrow hips, Rayne wrapped her hands around her partner’s twitching cock and slid the head back between her pink lips, pausing and pulling him out so her muscles milked the head.

  “Fuck, Rayne...fuck.”

  Rayne was practically dripping with desire and let her hips drop down, sliding Ben’s full length into her opening. Arching her back so her clit could rub harder against her sexy partner, Rayne opened her thighs and rode her stallion until an almighty orgasm sprung from between her legs and rocketed up her body. Crushing his cock with wet intensity, Ben angled his hips up to let wave after wave of cum explode from his body, feeling it squirt back as Rayne’s slit engorged with it.

  “Now that’s a ride.”

  ****

  Rayne woke the following morning back in her bed, alone. Ben had insisted on guiding her back to her cabin, and had in return been conned into a shower where Rayne had spent a good few minutes paying lip service to his instrument.

  Rayne smiled at the memories, but a darker thought flittered under the surface. What in the actual hell happened?

  Breakfast had been left at her cabin door as instructed; it was a continental breakfast with freshly brewed coffee in a glass percolator. As she was spreading a thick layer of butter on her toast, her cabin phone started to ring. Cramming a bite into her mouth, and then quickly regretting it, Rayne swept up the phone and pretended to cough to mask her noisy swallowing.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning, Ms. Baker; this is Katie from customer service. I trust you had a pleasant evening?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “That’s good to hear. Now, not to alarm you, but two of our guests fell ill last night. We think they may have been bitten by something while out in the forest.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry--are they alright?”

  “They are being looked after, but we want to make sure that it’s contained outside of the resort. If it’s not too much trouble, do you mind if one of our nurses drops in to take your temperature?”

  “Oh, sure. I’m just having breakfast.”

  After agreeing to a time, Rayne slipped into a bikini, t-shirt and short combo in preparations for the day’s activities. She was going on a canoeing trip down some river to the beach. The nurse turned up exactly on time, leaving Rayne to wonder if they arrive early and just stand outside the doors waiting for their watches to tick over, and lugged a medical case into the cabin.

  The nurse, dressed exactly like the rest of the staff, had poorer language skills than her co-workers and chose to communicate solely through hand gestures. With Rayne sitting at the kitchen table, the nurse bustled around with her case before pulling out a penlight and shining it into Rayne’s eyes. She thrusted a tongue depressor into her mouth to take a look at her tonsils and finally took out what looked like a fancy version of an ear thermometer. The nurse seemed to have trouble calibrating the instrument, so she placed it down on the table to check her bag for something. Rayne took a good look at the thermometer and was intrigued; the display seemed to list a lot more than just temperature. There also seemed to be more buttons than any thermometer she had ever seen; perhaps it did more than just temperature readings, she thought.

  The nurse picked up her instrument and tweaked a couple of buttons, satisfied after her fourth adjustment. Without any preamble, the nurse tugged Rayne’s earlobe and stuck the metal cone into her ear canal, going a bit deeper than Rayne would have liked. After several long moments, the nurse pulled out the device and read the screen, a little disappointed by the looks of it.

  “Am I alright?”

  “You fine, enjoy day.” It was the most she had ever said, and as quickly as she arrived, she swept out again leaving Rayne to rub her sore ear.

  A motley crew of canoeists stood on the shore of a slow-flowing lagoon that they were told wound down to the beach. The group had been shepherded by resort staff and shoved into brightly-colored life jackets. Rayne stood alone to the side, unsure of how the rest of the guests would react after the previous evening’s debauchery, but the strangers made no outward sign of registration. They mingled in small pockets, fiddling with their jackets and adjusting the straps to fit. The very last person to arrive was Billie; she floated into the group silently and looked around at her surroundings, bewildered.

  “Like the latest fashion?” Rayne had sidled up to Billie and struck her best attempt at a model pose.

  “Sorry...wh
at?” Billie’s voice was impassionate.

  “Oh, the jackets; aren’t they a crime to your eyes?” Rayne forced a chuckle.

  Billie shrugged and looked blankly into the distance. Billie didn’t look anything like she did previously; her face was devoid of makeup and she lacked her usual animation. Maybe she’s just unwell, Rayne thought. “Hey, did you have a nurse see you this morning?”

  “Hmm? Y--Yes.” Billie turned and walked away toward the pile of waiting canoes, her interest in the maybe-rich Rayne fleeting.

  Fine, you magenta-haired bitch, let’s see you out-paddle me.

  The tour had been surprisingly fun. The guide had pointed out that the forest had an unusually high level of native medicinal plants and that scientists were still unravelling the mystery of the island to unlock medical marvels. He also pointed out locations where quiet visitors might spot certain animals, and they sat milling in the stream while a family of tiny monkeys jabbered and leapt across branches. Rayne was a keen rower at school; it felt good to feel the muscles tighten around her back and shoulders as she cut through the water.

  Finally making it to the ocean, the group dispersed when they were told there was a lunch marquee waiting for them. Despite being the last to make it over, Rayne wasn’t in a position to go without; there was more than enough food for several tour groups. Rayne was concerned about Billie, who had picked up a sandwich but was nibbling mindlessly at it. Billie hadn’t interacted with anyone on the tour, and had taken only fleeting looks at the amazing scenery, which was unusual for someone who made an impression everywhere she went. She had also caused some concern with the other guests, who muttered among themselves that they found her intolerably rude.

  Without the hostess watching, Rayne gathered up a selection of foods and snuck it back to the tour guide and his staff who were busily loading the canoes into a trailer. “This is just an extra thank you. You can’t refuse--I insist you take them. Throw them into the trees for all I care.” She pushed the food into the hands of the guide, spun around and left, satisfied when she heard the first crunchy bites into a bread roll.

  The rest of the evening had been uneventful. She had sunbathed on the beach, had a long shower and was getting ready for dinner. Tonight, her dinner was to be prepared by a personal chef in the cabin kitchen. A menu had been slid under her door and she had ticked the boxes promptly before popping it on her door handle. An evening alone in her cabin had been an attractive option, but knowing that there was a sex god roaming the island made her want to fling the schedule into the wind. Nonetheless, she endured the chef and his amazing culinary skills. She ended up eating--and sleeping--alone.

  ****

  Rayne woke earlier than usual the following morning. Slipping into another bikini, short and t-shirt combination, Rayne had planned on using one of the canoes and hoped to score a private hire for the morning. Just her luck: the guide and his team were setting up for the morning as she arrived. They all smiled; it was easy being recognized when you’re the largest woman on the island.

  She asked demurely if she could borrow a canoe for an hour to paddle down and then back upstream. After some haggling and promise of more bread rolls, Rayne clipped on a life jacket and slipped into the stream with a canoe. Paddling upstream is hard work, and being unconditioned, Rayne took her time floating downstream for a while before paddling strongly back to the starting position. Her shoulders were burning pleasantly, and her silence on the water meant that more wildlife was about. Rayne slid into one of the many lagoons and decided to take an extra-long break. She lazily paddled around, watching amphibians climb the damp rocks back to their perches.

  She had come to the end of one rocky formation and was going to cut across the middle of the lagoon to the next when something she saw made her freeze--there was something bobbing in the water. Rayne silently slid her canoe over to check it out; it looked like a matted buoy caught under the surface of the water. Using her paddle, Rayne gave it a shove. The mound dipped and began to spin, revealing--to Rayne’s utter horror--a bright magenta plumage and a torn, gaping mouth.

  Rayne jolted in her canoe and would have gone overboard had she not sat so deeply in the water. The rest of Billie was gone; it was just her head. Rayne gasped and felt bile rise in her throat. She splashed away from the head and made it to shore, pulling herself out onto the soft earth and throwing up into a bush. I have to go back and tell someone. Rayne climbed dizzily back into her canoe and was prepared for the long paddle upstream when she heard voices coming from afar.

  “Where did you hide it?”

  “By the lagoon above section three.”

  “What? You know that’s tidal--it could be anywhere along the river by now!”

  “Nah, it’ll be there.”

  Rayne had no other alternative; she paddled as quickly and silently as she could away from the voices, downstream. Getting behind a bend, Rayne climbed out of the canoe, hoisted it onto the bank and crept slowly back. Two men wearing yellow biohazard gear emerged from the undergrowth, their faces covered. One made a show of pointing in a direction and freaking out that the head was gone. They glanced at the downward stream path and would have walked over to reveal Rayne’s hiding spot had they not taken another look at the lagoon and seen Billie’s bright hair. The men walked around the lagoon and waded in, dropping Billie’s torn up head into a thick black bag. The men then walked back to where they came from, their yellow suits disappearing into the green undergrowth.

  What in the actual fuck is going on?

  The rest of the morning was a blur for Rayne. She had returned the canoe to the chirpy staff and wandered aimlessly in the forest for over an hour until she careened into Ben.

  “Rayne, where have you been?”

  Shaken, Rayne looked around uneasily “Why?” she couldn’t hide the edge in her voice.

  “There’s been an evacuation called. Plus, I didn’t see you yesterday. I was worried; they said guests have gotten sick. More have disappeared today.”

  Evacuation? Today? More missing?

  “Well, where were you? Yesterday, I went canoeing and sunbathed; dinner was served in my cabin.”

  “I was… I was… around, I guess you could say.”

  Rayne went to back away, but Ben’s firm hand grasped her wrist. “What have you seen?” he asked, his once friendly brown eyes now taking on a frightening blackness. “Where is Nelson Patrick? Where’s Billie Toms?”

  Before she could open her mouth to scream there was a thundering explosion from behind them; gunshots peppered the serene rainforest atmosphere. Ben had released Rayne’s arm, giving her the perfect chance to take off. Spinning on her heels, Rayne pumped her arms and legs down a track and then off into the dense underbrush. Behind her, she could hear Ben calling her name and his heavy footfalls—he was gaining on her!

  Rayne leapt over logs and used trees to swing herself down the slope without tumbling head over heels. Another noise joined Ben’s crashing: motorbikes. Shrill, revved engines tore down the slope in front of and behind Rayne, causing her to skid to a halt.

  “Hey, hey! Over here!” she waved her arms.

  With an almighty crash, Rayne was spear-tackled to the ground from behind just in time to hear a thick shot of bullets blast where her torso should have been. Rayne gasped for air from under Ben’s crushing body.

  “You hurt?” Ben hissed into her ear. “No? Good, this place has gone to fucking hell and we need to get out of here. Come with me.”

  Ben yanked Rayne up and half dragged her through the rainforest. The bikes were still around, but making it back up the slope and sighting their quarry was virtually impossible. “They’ll have to circle back and guess where we’ve gone,” Ben explained.

  Just as they reached the hire shack for the canoes—which was now deserted—there was a peppering of bullets and the wide, ancient trees next to them exploded. Rayne instinctively stepped back and grabbed Ben, pulling him away in time to see a large crossbow arrow split a neighboring sa
pling. There was another crash, and a figure in camouflage leapt out from the undergrowth, pulling Ben down. In a flurry of fists and kicks, Rayne could see that Ben was out of his depth with this raging killer. Instinctively, she rushed over to the hire shack, grabbed a double-ended paddle and charged back to the fray, bringing the blade of one paddle down hard on the foe’s head with a mighty roar. The attacker slumped and collapsed onto the ground, leaving Ben gasping for air. With no attackers watching them, Rayne dragged Ben toward the shack, lifted an unlocked roller door and shoved him underneath before climbing in. Luckily, there were no staff members hiding inside.

  “What the hell is going on here? And who are you?” Rayne snapped out the words, carefully trying to tend to the cuts that opened on Ben’s face. “Ben?”

  “I’m…I’m not Ben. My real name is Malcolm Derby. I’m an investigative journalist here to find out what’s going on, and I think I know what’s happening.” It had flowed from Ben/Malcolm’s tongue so easily that Rayne stopped what she was doing and sat back on her heels.

  “What?”

  “How did you get invited?” he asked, wincing from the pressure she applied to his wounded face.

  “I accidentally picked up a card dropped by a woman at a train station.”