by Wendy Stone
“Ahhh,” she groaned, her back arching as he played with one peak while suckling upon the other. “Stop, Nashe, God please.”
“Too much tongue?” he asked, his face splitting into a huge grin as he saw the look in her beautiful blue eyes. He reached up, wiping the blood off her chin with his thumb, blood that had been drawn while she fought to keep him from hearing her scream.
Terry watched as he brought it to his mouth, licking off the smear of blood before he came close again, his lips gentle as they covered her. A sense of surrealism took her as she felt her blood heat once more, her body craving his touch, craving his possession. The urge to feel him inside of her, to know if she could take all of him inside her body, seemed too much to resist. She gave in.
“Fuck me,” she whispered against his lips.
Nashe lifted his head, staring down at her. “What did you say?”
“You heard me, you prick.” Now that she’d made the decision, she wanted to get it over with. “Go ahead and fuck me. You aren’t going to stop until you get what you want, so just fucking do it.”
“Well, that was one of the nicest invitations I’ve ever received,” he said sarcastically.
“You’re the one who told me you wouldn’t leave until I begged you to fuck me, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer, hurrying on before she could lose her nerve. “Okay, listen closely. Oh Nashe, you big burly stud, fuck me please. I’m begging you, stick that big, hard cock into my tiny, wet pussy.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him as she finished her sarcastically insipid begging.
He stared down at her without moving but for the tick that twitched at the side of his mouth, then sat up, his hand moving from her breast. “You can be a real bitch, Terry.”
“Aww, does that mean you aren’t going to fuck me?” she asked sweetly.
“No, it just means that you’re a real piece of work.” He moved over her once more and she felt his cock, hard and thick, at the entrance to her sex.
“Wait!” she breathed, struggling against the restraints. “At least wear a condom.”
He dropped to his elbows, his hands smoothing her wet blonde hair back from her face. “Does that mean you aren’t on the Pill?” he teased, moving his hips just enough to push the tip of his cock into her and then back out.
“Yes,” she groused. “That’s exactly what that means. Besides,” she said with a gasp, “I don’t know how many skanky women you’ve been dipping your wick into. I don’t want to catch anything.”
Nashe laughed. He had the unmitigated gall to laugh!
“What’s so funny, you bastard?”
“You are, my sweet. You’re a hoot, Ter.” He captured her head with his hands, finding her mouth as he began to push inside. She could feel him stretching her, her wet flesh parting around his invading cock even as his tongue pushed inside of her mouth. Either sensation was enough to send her soaring into bliss, but the combination made her forget about pregnancy and disease, crying out in pleasure.
It seemed to go on and on until the fullness was all she could conceive. He pulled his mouth from hers, staring down the length of their bodies, watching as his cock disappeared inside her wet sex.
“Oh, God,” she groaned, unable to believe how good, how right he felt. When he reached behind him and undid the restraints on her ankles, she barely had time to groan at the relief she felt before he hooked her knees over his elbows, bending her almost in half, opening her to take all of him.
“You can call me Nashe,” he growled, looking down at her with that sexy half-smile on his face.
Her brain was on a sensation overload, unable to come up with a snappy comeback or even a suitably foul name. Instead, she tipped her head back, her throat arching as he began to move inside of her. His strokes were long and slow, and she could feel him watching her. Unable to resist, she opened her eyes, getting caught in the green fires in his.
Terry could see the pleasure he was feeling. She felt as if she could see into his soul. There was a strange blackness. It was a sadness, a pain that was almost all encompassing. She wanted to reach out, to touch him and try to take away that pain, cleanse his soul from whatever scarred it so black.
But she could do little more than lay there, his pawn. She was a receptacle for his lust, a lust that she felt as well.
“You keep looking at me like that,” he panted, “and I’m going to think you don’t hate me anymore. Come on, Terry, you’re not falling in love with me are you?”
“I take it back,” she snapped, though her voice was hoarse and her breathing was as harsh as his. “You aren’t a prick. You’re nothing more than an asshole.”
The smile that flitted across his face made her long to reach out and smack him. Instead, she closed her eyes, denying him and herself that closeness. She turned, burying her face against her arm and the pillow.
With eyes closed, she could do little more than concentrate on how he felt inside of her, how good it felt to be taken by him. The tension built, growing with every hard thrust of his deliciously-made cock. Tiny whines and whimpers were torn from her, muffled by her arm.
“Fuck,” he growled, slamming into her. “You feel so good babe, you’re so damn tight. It feels like you’re trying to squeeze my dick off.”
His crude words sent a thrill through her that she didn’t understand. She hated guys who talked dirty to her during sex, usually finding it distracting. But with Nashe, Terry felt as if she’d go up in flames.
“Tell me how it feels, babe,” he whispered, leaning close to her ear and taking the lobe in his mouth to bite.
“Wonderful,” she managed to squeak. “Don’t stop.”
“I don’t think I could,” he growled.
Her body shook at each punishing thrust, her breasts aching and swollen. She could feel his hard cock rubbing up against her clit with every movement. She was on the edge of a cliff, wanting to soar, waiting for the last push that would send her into the oblivion of ecstasy.
Then she was over, flying, circling on an updraft of pleasure so intense, her toes curled. She screamed, she couldn’t help it. His name burst from her lips. Then she felt him follow, his cock swelling, his come bursting from the end, spurting inside of her. The last thing she heard was a moan which sounded suspiciously like her name. Darkness took her.
* * * *
The siren like noise of the alarm clock nearly sent Terry jumping out of bed. She looked around the room frantically, searching for some sign of Nashe. There was nothing. Glancing down in surprise, she found she still wore the tank top and pajama pants she’d put on the night before. Her face twisted into a confused grimace and she hurried to the bathroom, stripping clothing as she went.
There must be some sign of him , she thought. There had to. It had been too real to have been a dream. Besides, none of her wet dreams were ever that freaky or starred a man she couldn’t stand.
Pulling off her panties, she stood in front of the full length mirror in her bathroom, staring. She should have been a mass of bruises, cuts, and scrapes. The trees she’d run through should have marred her soft skin. But there was nothing, not a single bruise that she could see.
“Damn it, it had to be real,” she breathed, turning around and around in front of the mirror. She even went as far as to get a smaller mirror, looking for signs of penetration. Nothing.
“It didn’t happen,” she said, trying to convince herself. She felt like a fool.
Turning, she started the shower, determined to forget about her weird dream and Nashe Wolfe.
* * * *
Across town in a small condo, Nashe sat up in bed, a wide smile on his lips. He could still taste her. “Terry Taylor, who’d have thought you to be such a kinky little thing?” Lying back, he crossed his arms under his head. There were still a few hours before he had to be up and getting to the restaurant.
Closing his eyes, he conjured up the image of the blonde-haired, blue-eyed vixen who’d played such a wonderful part in his dreams.
A
Strange New Breed
Chapter Two
Lunch couldn’t come soon enough.
Terry barely managed to smile at the last person who stepped up to the large receptionist desk. She even managed not to snap at Shawna when she finally unplugged her phone and grabbed her purse.
“I’m going out for lunch. I might be a bit late coming back.” She turned quickly before Shawna could grumble or give her a bad time. Her hair flipped out behind her, a long strand coming to rest over her shoulder. She grabbed it irritably, pushing it behind her ear.
There was a cab outside, the door open and waiting for a fare. She slipped inside before the three men standing around talking could, giving the driver the address to Abstract, the restaurant where Nashe Wolfe was chef. “There’s an extra twenty in it for you if you can get me there quickly.”
“Lady, it’s lunch hour. You’ll be lucky if I can get you there in an hour.” He pulled out just as the three men realized that their cab was gone.
“Bitch!” one of them yelled.
Traffic was terrible. They came to a complete standstill about two blocks from the restaurant. She got out, threw more than enough money to cover the fare and the tip onto the seat and started off down the sidewalk. Her heels were loud on the cement, though the sound of horns and engines covered most of the noise. She’d taken about a dozen angry steps when her heel broke, twisting her ankle sharply. Terry stumbled, falling and skinning one knee and ruining her pantyhose.
“Damn it!” she sputtered, pain radiating up her leg from her ankle and knee. She leaned against the brick side of the building, standing on one foot while she tried to see the damage to her leg and ankle.
“You need some help?”
The familiar voice sent a shiver of remembered pleasure up her spine. It was exactly the wrong thing to happen at that moment. “No!” she growled, turning her head to glare at the man she considered responsible for everything that had happened to her since she’d dreamt about him the night before.
“You sure?” Nashe asked. “I mean, you don’t actually look like you can get too far on that ankle.”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, trying to prove it by taking a step. It crumpled under her weight. She would have fallen but Nashe reached out, sweeping her up and into his arms.
“Quit being so damned stubborn,” he said amicably enough. “Hardheaded women always seem to get themselves into the stupidest situations.”
Terry glared at him, mouth open in disbelief. He held her tight against his chest as if he expected her to struggle. With long strides, he moved quickly down the sidewalk, climbing the stairs that led to the restaurant.
“You can’t take me in there,” she squeaked. “Not like this.”
“Why not?” he asked, a frown marring his handsome face.
“Look at me!”
“Your ankle is swelling and you’re bleeding. Do you want me to leave you here on the steps?” He stared down at her as if she were being completely irrational.
Terry squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she were anywhere else. The man she’d come to tell off planned to carry her through a room full of people, her hair a snarled mess from the wind, her hose ruined, the heel hanging off of her shoe and her knee bleeding.
She felt him open the door, smelled the aroma of food cooking and heard her stomach growl. His chuckle let her know he heard it too and she wanted the floor to open under them, swallow her and spit him back out. Her cheeks grew rosy with embarrassment and even redder when she heard the people around them grow quiet as he walked by with her in his arms.
“Shit,” she hissed under her breath. “I’ll never be able to live this down.”
“It’s not that bad, Terry,”
She could feel the soft touch of his breath against her cheek, smell the minty clean scent of his breath that held just a hint of coffee. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she turned her face into his chest, burrowing as she tried to make herself disappear.
“I never thought I’d see the day that Terry Taylor would become a coward.”
His words stiffened and she almost started struggling, but realized how bad that would look as she glanced around the crowded dining room. People were staring, but most looked at her with concern, noting the blood on her leg and her disheveled appearance. Before she had a chance to really look around, he’d gone down a small hallway and into a tiny office. A desk, a chair and a small couch were jammed inside. Behind the desk were a safe and a shelf that held office supplies, like rolls of adding machine tape.
Holding her with one arm, Nashe cleared a spot on the surface of the messy desk, setting her down carefully. “I’ll be right back,” he said, glancing up into her face. “I have to go get the first aid kit, it’s in the kitchen. Do you think you can wriggle out of those pantyhose?”
Terry nodded, though for once she wished she’d worn thigh-high lacy stockings instead of clumsy looking pantyhose. She kicked off one shoe, cringing when she tried to pull off the other. His hands moved hers aside, gently grasping her foot. With slow, careful movements, he freed her swelling foot.
“Oh,” she moaned, both from the feel of his warm hands on her and from the pain as blood rushed to her foot, causing it to swell more.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, holding her foot against his stomach as he moved his hand over it.
His stomach was hard, warm against her heel. His hands were gentle, probing with such care that she barely felt pain. Instead, she felt heat tingling up from where he touched. It rolled over her with sensual force, making her remember his kiss. His true kiss, from the morning those men attacked her.
“Does this hurt?” he asked, pushing gently at the swelling around her ankle.
“No,” she whispered, cringing when he looked up and caught her staring at him. “I guess I owe you my gratitude.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Nashe said, carefully moving her foot to see if the bone was broken. “I’d hate for you to have to be nice to me out of some misguided sense of gratitude. I prefer your bite.” He looked up at her and grinned.
For a moment, Terry was confused. Then her face flushed. She’d bitten him in the dream or whatever it was last night. In her pleasure, she’d sunk her teeth into him. And he knew it!
Her eyes narrowed but before she could open her mouth, he turned away and headed towards the door.
“Get out of those hose. I have to check on my kitchen and get the first aid kit, then I’ll be back.” He closed the door after his last word, leaving her to seethe.
Terry grabbed the first thing that came to hand from his desk, a sterling silver letter opener, and flung it with all her strength. It landed tip first, embedding itself into the door, where it quivered.
* * * *
“It’s about time you showed up.”
Nashe grinned at his first assistant. “Aw come on, Sam,” he said to the short brunette with the button nose and big, brilliant blue eyes. “You know you live for the times I leave you in charge.”
Samantha Church, a woman as competent as she was cute, narrowed her eyes at her boss. “Yeah, sure, and if you’d just learn to stay out of the kitchen and manage the restaurant then this place would run a lot smoother.”
“You’re just jealous that I can do both and make it look so darned easy,” he chuckled, turning toward the rest of the kitchen, his practiced and trained eye easily checking on the progress at each station. With a growl, he stomped over to where his newest employee was spooning stock into a pan.
“Damn it, how many times have I got to tell you?” he snarled. The timorous little man jumped. His hand came down on the handle of the pan, spewing its contents all over the floor and counter. “Damn it!” Nashe jumped back, feeling the spatter of the hot stock as well as tiny pieces of risotto.
Sam stood for a moment, doing her best not to burst out laughing at the look on Nashe’s face before hurrying over to step in between the two men. “Get it cleaned up and start new. Now!” she snapped, handing Nashe a towel.
<
br /> “Samantha,” Nashe growled. “What did I tell you last time?”
“He’s got a family, Nashe. His wife is pregnant again and they are barely living from paycheck to paycheck. You make him nervous. David is great when you aren’t around to scowl and berate.”
“Are you telling me this is my fault?”
“I’m telling you it wouldn’t hurt for you to be a little more human around him,” she snapped.
Nashe ground his teeth. If she only knew, she wouldn’t be asking him about his “human” side. “Fine, I don’t have time for this right now. Get it cleaned up and put a rush on the risotto. Our patrons come first.” He turned and grabbed the first aid kit off the shelf above the dishes. “If you need me, I’ll be in my office. I really don’t want to be disturbed, though.”
“Does this have something to do with the busty blonde you were carrying in?” Sam teased, unimpressed by her boss’s anger. Of course, knowing her past the way he did, he knew it took a lot to scare her.
Nashe narrowed his eyes at her. “Nothing escapes you, does it?”
“Not when it comes to Abstract,” she smirked. “Besides, you had half the wait staff in here sighing over your knight-in-shining-armor routine. You know how employees gossip.”
“Employees? Does that include you?” he asked, stopping at the out door of the kitchen to hear her answer.
Sam smiled, winking at him. “I’ll never tell.”
* * * *
Terry stood unsteadily on one foot, trying to ease the ruined nylon off her blood encrusted knee. She’d already gotten her good leg out, but the blood had dried and her hose was sticking to it. Every time she pulled, she yanked open the cut some more and it had started bleeding again.
“Can this day get any worse?” she whispered, cringing as the pain shot through her. She could handle lots of things, but pain wasn’t one of them. She turned into a bundle of frayed nerves whenever she got hurt or had to see other people’s pain.