Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

And if I don’t want you to leave? I want to say, which is the most idiotic thing ever. But I nod again, because he seems to expect an answer. He probably thinks I’m mute and an idiot. Well done, Ray.

Although that’s for the best.

It’s only when he releases me and steps away, toward the steps and the still raging storm, that I find my voice.

“I’m Raylin,” I say.

He stops, and I see that the tattoo on his back is a flock of blackbirds tangled with snakes and flowers, black with touches of red and light blue. He glances at me over one massive shoulder.

“I’m Storm,” he says, and I believe it as he vanishes back into the rain.

STORM

What’s with this girl?

I stumble into the house, dripping and leaving puddles behind me as I head toward the bathroom. I’m limping, too. My leg aches, the healed fracture from four months back throbbing with the humidity and the running. I like pushing my own limits, and even as I stumble inside, I don’t regret it.

Not at all, especially since I met her.

I toe off my sodden running shoes and tug down my drenched shorts. I’m hard, have been since I pressed my body to hers under the roof of the beach terrace.

Seriously, what is it with her? She’s a fraud, that much I know. That house where she’s staying? No fucking way is she housesitting. The place was sold a few months ago, Hawk told me. He knows the previous owners. They’ve been here, on and off, and are supposed to come by and grab the rest of their things any day now.

Hawk. Rook. Damn.

I should tell them where I am. They are my only true friends. Our bond goes beyond friendship. We’re the same blood. We’re sworn to secrecy, branded with roses and thorns.

Still, I hesitate. Call me paranoid, but after the last accident, I’m lying low. Better they don’t know where to find me. Better nobody does.

But this girl. Dark hair, bangs dripping in her face, wet lips parted and eyes wide, the rain molding the thin blouse and shorts to her curves… So hot. Pressing against her in the rain was like a spark of life, a spark of fire lighting me up from the inside. Making me feel again.

Why did she drag me out of the storm? Why was she out there, watching it wash over the land and sea? Does it excite her, like it does me? What does she want?

Why did she back away from me after she led me to the house? I thought

it was an invitation, but fear lurked in her eyes, and I wouldn’t take her against her will.

But fuck, I want her. She pulls at something in me, and I can’t let go. I want to hold her, protect her, draw out her secrets. Rip off her clothes and sink into her, fuck her until I can’t think anymore.

My balls ache, and when I wrap my hand around my cock, I groan between my teeth. Christ, when was the last time I was so hard? Can’t remember. Maybe before the car crash four months ago, but even then I can’t recall being so damn desperate for release.

I tug on my hard-on, hissing at the pressure, as my other hand traces the surgical scar running down my side. The skin itches there, tight and strangely numb.

Which is like I feel most of the time.

Pulling harder on my dick, I enter the shower stall and turn on the water on warm. From the giant rainforest showerhead, a soft cascade falls, warming me up. I brace one hand on the tiled wall and bend over, working my aching hard-on, my fist sliding from the base to the head slowly. Drawing the pleasure out. The need.

My head dips forward as I jack off to the image of her face, that ripe mouth, those wide eyes, those pretty tits with their pretty dark nipples visible through the soaked cloth. Long strokes that stoke the pressure behind my balls.

Her mouth on my dick, sucking. Taking me deep. Those damn eyes looking up at me, dark and wide. My hand tangled in her long hair, pulling. Her teeth scraping the underside of my cock, teasing.

My stomach clenches, and my whole body jerks as I come, splashing my cum on the shower wall. A groan catches between my teeth, my leg muscles trembling with the force of the orgasm ripping the seed from my balls.

Fuck. God.

I bow over, hair falling in my eyes, water choking me as I struggle to catch my breath. Ow. I think I have no more cum left in me, and I reach down for my deflated balls to reassure myself they’re still there.

Just from thinking about her. Without even tasting her, or kissing her, or touching her skin except to hold her hands in mine.