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

by Meg Ripley

  Max changed his position so that he was on his knees between her legs and eased her thighs apart. Ariel was not expecting the intensity when he drew his finger up through her folds. She was wet and ready for him, the warmth spreading across her inner thighs as he traced the pad of his finger in slow, deep circles on her sensitive, swollen pearl. He stopped and Ariel moaned her protest, but fell silent when she realized he was unfastening his belt and pushing his pants to the floor.

  Max removed his trunks, revealing an erection that made her bite down on her bottom lip and whimper. She wanted to open her thighs and ask him to touch her again, for him to make her come and to watch him lick the slickness from her body. More than that, however, she wanted to show her submission and let him be her Alpha.

  Holding his gaze, she reached down between her thighs and let her fingers delve into her own body, mimicking the slow torment he had performed on her moments before. She gathered the hot liquid onto her fingertips and sat up to touch him, wrapping her wet fingers around his shaft so she could glide her hand across it. Ariel leaned forward and opened her mouth to let the head of Max's cock slide onto her tongue as she stroked.

  Max cried out and even in his human form, Ariel could see the wolf inside him. He was what she had always wanted, what she had craved with her mind and body, and she was ready to give into the intense draw she had felt from the moment she saw his picture.

  "Max," she said and he opened his eyes to look at her.

  "Yes?" he said and she could hear his trembling growl just beneath the words.

  "Please mate me."

  Max plunged forward, filling her suddenly and deliciously. He was thick and hard, and Ariel cried out at the blissful intensity of their bodies melding into one. He fit within her with such perfection it was as if she was crafted specifically for him and she truly knew now that she was.

  Max groaned as he sank deeply into her in a fast, steady rhythm. His hand came to her neck, cupping around it with gentle but insistent pressure that showed his dominance and intensified the pleasure he was sending through her. After a few moments, Ariel gripped his hips to stop him and pushed up so that he withdrew from her body. She wrapped her hand around his glistening cock again, subtly twisting her palm over the head as she stroked him.

  "You are my wolf?"

  Max panted with her masterful strokes, but nodded.

  "Yes."

  "My Alpha?" she whispered and he groaned, digging his fingers into her thigh as her words pushed him close to the edge of his control.

  "Yes."

  Ariel smiled rolled onto her stomach, arching her back to lift her hips and present herself to him.

  "Show me."

  A primal growl poured from Max's mouth and he entered her with one hard thrust. She felt him wrap an arm under her hips and pull them up so she was on all fours. Her body shivered as his tongue touched the small of her back and licked up along her spine until his body stretched across hers, his chest and stomach creating luscious pressure on her back.

  "Good girl," he whispered into her ear and Ariel whimpered, feeling her body respond even more intensely to him.

  He nipped at her neck and bit into her shoulder before sitting back on his knees; he used one hand to press down on her shoulders so that her elbows bent, her nipples brushing the sheet. In this position, he pounded into her with animal intensity, each hard thrust eliciting a sharp cry of pleasure. She felt his hand slip around her hip to slip between her thighs and within seconds her walls contracted deliciously, leading him into his own orgasm as she gripped him tightly within her.

  The beautiful feeling only intensified as Max throbbed within her, spilling hot streams into her body that made her feel even more bonded to him. She struggled to catch her breath, sounds like small sobs gasping from her throat at the intensity of their passion. Max rolled his hips slowly, riding out the last waves of his orgasm with her final tremors.

  He stopped and carefully withdrew from her, and Ariel felt his hands on her arms, gently turning her around so that she looked into his eyes. She adjusted her position so that she knelt in front of him, her body pressing against his as she kissed him slowly, trying to drag out this deliciously sweet, sweaty moment a little longer.

  Max's hands stroked along her hips and around the ample swell of her behind, pulling her against him so he could return her kiss.

  "I love you," he said when their lips parted.

  Ariel sighed at the words. They had come, exactly as they were meant to, after she first allowed herself to realize the impossible and believe the fantastical; when she gave herself over with unwavering trust that his was the story she wanted to be a part of for the rest of her life, and had for her entire life.

  "I love you, too.”

  "You are mine," he whispered, leaning down to nuzzle her neck.

  "Always," she whispered back, running the tip of her tongue along the soft dip between his collarbones to lick away the sweat.

  "You will lead the pack with me," he said, kissing her neck, "and we will create the most incredible stories together."

  Ariel pressed against his kiss and sighed, her body responding to him, the ache building within her again as their primal connection took over.

  "I just have one question," she asked, bringing one hand up to tangle in his hair and the other between them to run her fingertips along his shaft so it started to spring to life again.

  He gasped and grabbed her arms as if to steady himself.

  "What's that?" he asked.

  "When do we get the sequel?"

  His eyes met hers and she saw them sparkle. Max gave a playful growl and flipped her onto her back, coming down on top of her again. Ariel squealed with delight, wrapping her arms and legs around him and opening her mouth to him as he captured it in a deep kiss.

  THE END

  The Vampire’s Prized Possession

  A Story By Eva Pierce

  Story Description

  I opened the shop and went about my normal routine of assisting customers, moving items and assessing the condition of questionable antiques. My day was ritualistic, predictable, and slow—until he walked in.

  He almost reminded me of the man I had seen in my dream: tall, muscular, and exuding a dark intensity that I found irresistible. I felt like my heart stopped the moment I sensed him walk through the front door. He gave off such an intense energy that I could literally feel him from across the room.

  When he looked at me for the first time, my heart stopped for just a moment. The room felt a lot smaller as his eyes caught mine, and suddenly, I had the feeling that he was looking at me the way a hawk would survey its prey.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but found it difficult to think clearly enough to form proper sentences. My mind kept racing with the realization that I had seen him before.

  It was then that I realized...he was the man from my dream...

  "You don't want to buy this one," she said, placing the small clock back on the table. "Bad history."

  The man before her sputtered, "Wh-what do you mean, bad history?" He pointed vehemently at the small antique. "This clock has been in my family for several generations! If I wanted my fortune read, I’d go to one of those circus crooks, not the local antique shop."

  "Sorry sir, my granddaughter has spoken." Miriam's grandfather put his arm around her protectively. "Her judgment has always served me well, and I’m not about to begin doubting her now."

  "Bad history," the man mumbled. He snatched up the little clock and angrily shoved it into his backpack, turning hotly on his heels as he walked out the door of the small antique shop.

  "So?" Her grandfather looked at her expectantly. "What's the verdict?"

  "I'd say call the police on this one. I think it might be stolen," Miriam explained.

  "I don't know how you do it," he said, scratching his head, "but I sure am glad for that gift you have." He smiled proudly at her, then proceeded to hobble to over his back office to make the anonymous report.

/>   Miriam had the uncanny ability of sensing where an object came from, whether it was store bought, or had a history that went back hundreds of years. Miriam didn't know how she knew, she just did. Although she couldn’t tell what the previous owners’ specific identities were, she could sense the type of individuals who owned these objects before they made their way into her grandfather's antique shop.

  Perhaps she wasn't gifted, as her grandfather put it, but just had a sense for appraising antiques.

  Either way, her grandfather was the only one who had noticed her unusual ability, which was why he'd enlisted her to work in his shop over the summer. It worked out, as Miriam needed the cash to pay for her studies in the fall.

  She liked the casual pace of working with antiques. The store was quiet, which created the perfect atmosphere for reading up on the historical topics she’d be studying in the upcoming fall semester. She hoped to one day work at a museum, and working here was her first step towards that goal.

  The bell above the door jingled and Miriam looked up from her book.

  "May I help you?" she called out when she realized she wasn't able to see the customer. The front door was obscured by a bookshelf filled with baubles. She moved out from behind the desk, wondering if the disgruntled man had returned. She heard someone breathing, but no reply. She sensed something was very, very off. "Excuse me?" she called out again.

  The door jingled again, signaling that the stranger had left. She paused for only the briefest moment before she decided to pursue the mystery customer, fearing that he might have stolen something.

  As she swung the door open, she toppled over a small cardboard box that had been left on the front steps. Miriam let out a few frustrating expletives and realized that the strange customer was nowhere in sight. She quickly picked herself up and dusted off her jeans, kicking the box for good measure; just then, she noticed the fresh scrapes on her hands beginning to sting.

  It would appear that the mystery customer had left something behind. She was curious to know why someone had found it necessary to leave behind a box full of—well, she wasn't quite sure what it was yet. She decided, against her better judgment, to carry it inside for further inspection.

  As she brought it in, she called for her grandfather to come take a look. The older man shuffled his way out to the front counter, took stock of her bedraggled appearance and raised a curious eyebrow.

  "Don't ask…"

  "I wouldn't dream of it," he chuckled. "What's in the box?" he asked as his attention turned to the package in Miriam's arms.

  "I don't know, but want to take a look?" Her eyes gleamed with the excitement of a mystery.

  Miriam pulled back the cardboard flaps in order to take a peek inside.

  "Yeah, it looks like it's just junk."

  "Are you sure?" her grandfather prodded. He reached in and pulled out a copper medallion. "Here," he said, extending the shiny object towards her, "why don’t you hold this and see if you can get a reading on it."

  Miriam took the medallion, but as her fingers touched the ridged sides, she felt nothing. It appeared to be valueless junk. "Nothing," she reiterated.

  Her grandfather shot her a curious look. "Perhaps," he mumbled as he began rummaging through the box.

  "Well, while you explore your new treasures, I'm going to go clean myself up." She held up her scraped hands as proof.

  As she cleaned her wounds, she pondered the possible reasons why someone would leave this box on their doorstep. The cynical part of her figured a neighbor was cleaning house and saw their shop as an opportunity to do the old dump n' dash.

  "Typical," she muttered. She finished up in the bathroom, then returned to the front counter and her book, yet, despite her best efforts to focus her mind on the words in front of her, her eyes kept roaming to the box in the corner.

  She put her book down in frustration. Miriam knew she wouldn't be able to focus until she gave the items a second look; she wanted to make sure she didn't miss anything.

  As she peeked inside the box, it was the copper medallion that drew her attention. She picked it up and played with it in her hand, turning it over and rubbing her thumb over the rough edges. Despite her best attempts to use her gift to gain a reading on the object, she felt nothing. This was odd, as Miriam usually had no problem picking up on an item’s past.

  She picked up a different item: a small tin cup. Her mind began to tingle as her senses came alive; this had been a birthday gift for a young boy.

  She picked up the medallion again: nothing. It was like trying to read a blank slate.

  Miriam pocketed the medallion and returned to her book. She figured the piece was worth holding on to, at least until she could discover the reason why she couldn't read its past.

  ****

  Dominic Kane roared in frustration the moment he realized his medallion was gone and proceeded to tear apart his penthouse apartment in search of it.

  "Gone," he breathed. He felt wild without it; it was the one entity that had the ability to control his bloodlust. The medallion helped Dominic hold onto his last shred of humanity; without it, he would just devolve into a merciless creature of the night.

  He lifted a mahogany side table and threw it across the expansive room. It crashed against the stone fireplace and shattered into several pieces.

  "Bloody hell," he roared again.

  "Is something amiss?" asked Rogan, Dominic's brother, as he entered the room.

  Dominic zeroed in on his younger sibling. "Everything is fine," he seethed through gritted teeth.

  Rogan raised an eyebrow, surveying his brother with the scrutiny of a trained predator.

  Dominic's eyes met his in a challenge, daring him to incite him further and give him a reason to redirect his rage.

  Dominic knew that Rogan was too clever for that. Rogan was tall, with a slim build and sandy blonde hair; the antithesis of his own darker energy. Dominic was tattooed, muscular, and had an intensity about him that intimidated those around him.

  "Why are you here, Rogan?"

  "I came to invite you to Mother's dinner party," he replied. Rogan's chirpier tone just added to their differences, his light ease contrasting with Dominic's broodiness.

  Dominic shot him a suspicious look. "You’ll have to extend my apologies," he replied sardonically.

  He hadn't returned home in a few years and wouldn’t dream of doing so without his medallion; his Anima. When certain vampires are turned, their humanities are tied to objects as a way of reminding them that even immortal creatures have their weaknesses. If they become separated from their respective objects, they begin to swiftly lose control, becoming senseless, bloodthirsty fiends. Dominic did not want that to happen.

  "She will be quite disappointed," Rogan mocked in falsetto.

  "Are we done yet?" Dominic cut him off. He only had a few days—a week tops—before his inevitably grim transformation would begin.

  "Tsk, tsk, Brother," he said as he clicked his tongue. Rogan turned to leave, but tossed one final mocking look over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.

  Dominic returned to searching his house with desperate fervor. When his search yielded no results, he knew that he would have to resort to using dark magic to track it—something he had hoped to stave off, as it would only accelerate his dark transformation.

  At the moment, he knew he had no other choice.

  ****

  Miriam awoke gasping for air. She felt disoriented and it took her a moment to realize that she was in her room at the back of the antique shop. She'd had the most strange, vivid dream.

  A handsome, enigmatic man strolled through a room full of courtiers. He was dressed in traditional Elizabethan wear, but his clothing couldn't hide the fact that he appeared out of place in a room full of opulence, deception and schemes.

  He spoke to a well-dressed couple first, before he approached the red-haired woman sitting upon the throne. She smiled down at him, revealing blackened teeth. It didn't seem to di
sturb him, as if he had seen far worse than a woman who had allowed her penchant for sweets to ruin her smile.

  He bent to whisper something in her ear; Miriam strained to hear.

  Miriam continued to watch him from afar, as if she were an outside observer looking in on a scene that she should never have witnessed.

  The man must have sensed her gaze, as he suddenly turned away from the woman on the throne and leveled his piercing brown eyes at her.

  Their gazes locked—

  She'd awoken with a gasp.

  She’d never had such a vividly accurate dream before. Furthermore, she had never seen that man in her life, yet he appeared as real as if he were standing before her now. It left her with a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  She got up and went about her morning rituals in an attempt to push the strange dream—and even stranger man—to the back of her mind.

  Miriam opened the shop and went about her job of assisting customers, moving items and assessing the condition of questionable antiques. Her day was ritualistic, predictable, and slow—until he walked in.

  He was exactly as she had seen him in her dream: tall, muscular, and exuding a dark intensity that Miriam found intriguing. She felt like her heart stopped the moment she sensed him walk through the front doors. He gave off such an intense energy that Miriam could literally feel him from across the room.

  When he looked at her for the first time, her heart stopped for just a moment. The room felt a lot smaller as his eyes caught hers, and she suddenly had the feeling that he was looking at her the way a hawk would survey its prey.

  Miriam opened her mouth to speak, but she found it difficult to think clearly enough to form proper sentences. Her mind kept racing with the realization that she had seen him before.