BONE Page 6

  Stryker smiles and grinds against me again, this time moving a little lower so that the head of his cock digs into my mound and I feel the slickness of precum spread over me.

  "Please what?" he whispers against my ear.

  I know I don't have to tell him. I can hear it in his voice, how hard he's working to hold back.

  I tilt my hips slightly and he almost slips into me.

  "Uh uh," he almost chokes on the wry laugh as he takes my wrists and pins them to the floor above my head, "no fair, tell me."

  It's part plea and part demand and I'm surprised that he's holding out on me but his eyes are watching me and his lips brush mine as he begs me to beg him.

  Stryker

  Dammit, she's got me so wound up I can barely think.

  Jordan's cream is still on my tongue and coating my beard and her lingering taste is driving me crazy. I could eat her sweet pussy all night, make her come till she passes out, she tastes so good, but if I don't get inside her first, I'm likely to lose control like a teenager.

  I know she wants me inside her as I bad I do. The breathless way she whispers up at me and the glassy look in her eyes when I kiss her are like drugs that cloud my reason and it's all I can do not to drive my fucking rod home in one stroke.

  I'm determined not to do that though. I'm going to hold out and make her tell me exactly what she wants if it kills me.

  It's been long enough since I was with a woman that it might too.

  She almost gets me to cave when she squirms her hips beneath me. I feel the head of my cock brush against her entrance and the only thing that keeps me from giving in is how bad I want to hear that breathless little voice of hers begging me to fuck her.

  I have to pin her arms over her head so she can't drag me inside her and I swear it's like pouring gasoline on a fire when I look down at her with both her wrists clasped in one hand.

  I manage to choke out a laugh at her attempt to take control from her position beneath me. "Tell me, Jordan. What do you want?"

  The glazed look clouding her eyes clears momentarily. I watch her throat work in a hard swallow as she catches her lower lip between her teeth. Our eyes are locked together and something seems to pass between us. My cock throbs with new need to feel her on me and I'm about to give it what it wants without waiting for her answer.

  "Fuck me, Stryker." Her voice is soft but strong, clear and commanding, "I need you inside me."

  Her body twists under mine again and this time I can't hold out.

  Without another second of hesitation I slam into her in a single stroke. She's so wet, there's no resistance. She's so hot I think I'm going to lose it.

  Shit. I know it's been awhile but that's not what has me counting backward from a hundred just to keep from blowing my load too fucking fast. It's Jordan. It's the way her body fits mine and begs me to fill her with my seed. It's the way her hands cling to me when I forget I was holding them down and I wrap my arms around her and hang on for dear life. It's the cry in her voice and the soft profanities she whispers in my ear as I feel her body adjust to my intrusion. The smell of her body on my beard and the scent of her shampoo in my nostrils as I bury my face into her neck-- everything about this moment is filled with Jordan and on some visceral level I'm sure no other woman would feel this good.

  I hold her against me, pulling myself as deep inside her as I can get, and then I try to hold still and just savor the feel of her tight little cunt clenching around me.

  Jordan's not going for it. She stills only for a moment to take me in and then any trace of shyness is gone as her voice goes raspy with her demands as her body moves against mine.

  Whether it's the way her body reacts to mine or the far away sound in her voice as she repeats my name, she's making me lose it. It's all I can do to hold it together till I feel her walls grip my dick and clench down so tight I stop breathing.

  Jordan's fingers tighten on my biceps and her eyes fly open and find mine.

  That. That right there-- watching her look at me while she comes is my undoing. I feel my balls draw tight and before I can think better of it, I'm pumping my seed inside her by the bucket load.

  I swear I feel her tighten up on me and go over the edge another time with me but I'm so fucking lost in my own release all I can do is hang on to her till every fucking muscle in my body gives way on me and I collapse over her.

  "Thank you," I hear myself tell her. Damn, I sound like a fucking chump. I can't believe thank you is the first thing that came to my mind but I'm so damn close to passing out I'm surprised I could think of anything at all.

  My head fits perfectly into the space between her neck and her shoulder. Shit, maybe I oughta get off of her, clean myself up, let her clean herself up. Maybe I should go crawl into bed, give her the option of whether or not she wants to join me. But my head fits just right where it's laying above her breast and I can hear the steady beat of her heart as it slows back to normal under my ear.

  My arms feel good too, with one draped over her, pulling her close to me and the other stretched out on the floor above her head.

  I'd probably be more motivated to get up if her fingers weren't combing through my hair. She doesn't feel like she's ready to get up and she hasn't said anything that gives me the impression that she's uncomfortable. So I stay where I am. I let her soft touch lull me further toward sleep and tighten my arm around her.

  There's a sense of needing to make sure she's close, like I need to protect her from something-- make sure she's OK and nothing's going to be able to harm her or take her from me while I drift off to the feel of her hand tracing the side of my face, down my shoulder, and over the arm that's clinging to her like she's my prized possession.

  All those thoughts ramble through my brain on their way to someplace where they make more sense. Right now I just need to sleep with my body wrapped around this woman like she was mine.

  I know that's not the case. It's not what I want and judging from our earlier conversation, it ain't what she wants either. We're just two lonely people coming to a mutual understanding for the little bit of time we're together in the same place.

  That's all I'm looking for anyway.

  As soon as the gas tanker gets here, Jordan'll be on her way back home to figure out whatever the fuck she's going to do with her life next and I'll be here minding the store, drinking beer with the mutt, and letting the stars at night remind me why I stay.

  "Wish you could stay longer," I think I hear myself mutter as I softly kiss the skin I'm laying on, "there's plenty of room for you."

  Her voice sounds like it's coming from very far away and I don't really hear what she says when she answers. I'm already asleep and just starting on the sweetest dream that someone's finally redecorated this dump.

  Jordan

  I must have dozed off for awhile because I'm still on the floor when I feel something warm and wet on my face.

  At first I think it's Stryker, kissing me and maybe starting another round, but when I finally open my eyes I realize Stryker's dead asleep with his large frame curled around my back. He still has one arm over me, holding me close against him like he's worried someone's going to steal me while he sleeps, and his other arm is stretched out under my head like a pillow.

  It's Ninja nuzzling my face between kisses that I find when I finally coax my eyes open fully.

  It takes a long time for my eyes to adjust to how dark it is in here and when the dog realizes I'm awake, she whines quietly and I hear, more than see, her as she goes to stand at the door.

  Stryker makes no indication of waking up to let his dog out so even though I'm comfortable and having the best night's sleep I've had on this trip, I work my way out from under his arm so I can open the door for her.

  It's not easy. As soon as I try to move away from him, he tightens his hold. It's tempting to give in to his unconscious order and relax back into his hard chest and let the strength of his arm pull me back into the deep sleep I was enjoying before Ninja wok
e me up. It's been a long time since I slept so soundly and something about the way Stryker's body is positioned makes me feel safe.

  The thought strikes me as odd as I wiggle out from under him against my will. I don't remember ever feeling unsafe, really. Not on my crazy motorcycle trip or anytime before that and yet, Stryker makes me feel safe from something I never knew I was in danger of before.

  I shake my head at the absurdity of the thought and chalk it up to dream hangover and not being fully awake yet. The air in the apartment is chilly now that I'm not wrapped up in Stryker's warmth, so I grab a blanket that was folded up over the arm of the couch and bundle it around me before opening the door and walking out on the upstairs landing while Ninja bounds down the steps and disappears into the night.

  Damn, it's cold out here! I think of Stryker still asleep on the living room floor and about as naked as he can get and I make sure the door is closed so the cold night air doesn't make it any colder inside.

  Turns out, the man isn't just fun to look at, he's also a decent guy and a hell of a good fuck.

  I can hear Ninja's dog tags jangle somewhere below the balcony and I look down, trying to focus in the dark but my eyes won't do it. That's when I realize how fucking dark it is out here.

  Last night I was in my tent on the front side of the store where the sodium vapor lamp keeps the night at bay with it's dim vigil glowing constantly. Out here, the building blocks all evidence of the solitary street lamp out front and there's no other trace of artificial light that I can spot.

  It's dark. Dark enough that the black dog rollicking somewhere beneath me is invisible. Dark enough that my eyes take much longer than I'm used to before I can make out the dim outlines of the cottonwood trees I saw along the back of the property earlier today, the fence that runs off into the distance on one side, and the vague shape of hills in the distance to the west.

  I've spent enough nights sleeping outdoors to know that there must be light coming from somewhere if I can see anything at all, so I tip my face in the only direction left to look-- up.

  Holy shit. I gasp out loud.

  The stars!

  I've been in places where the night sky has taken my breath away plenty of times, but this-- this takes it to a whole new level.

  By the time I feel Ninja's damp fur brush against my bare legs I don't even notice how cold it is out here anymore and it takes more whining at the door to get me to go back inside than it did to get me to let her out.

  Stryker's not on the floor where I left him and there's a pale glow coming from the room at the end of the hall where I'm supposed to be sleeping.

  Ninja runs past me, down the short hallway, and I hear her tags as she shakes to dry her fur after rolling around in the grass outside.

  "I thought you were gone." Stryker comes to a sudden stop just inside the living room when he sees me. He looks a little lost and a little surprised to see me. "I woke up and you were gone," he sort of repeats himself, this time sounding a little less worried about it and more like he realizes he sounded a little worried the first time.

  "Ninja needed to go out," I tell him and I'm surprised at how much I want to put him at ease, assure him that I'm fine and that I didn't sneak off.

  He turns and looks down at the black mop of fur that's followed him out of the back room and it's like he suddenly remembers his own dog.

  "Oh," he says softly, "OK."

  He bends over and scratches her ear and then crosses the room till he's standing right in front of me.

  "Let's go to bed." His voice immediately loses the hint of panic at not being able to find me and takes on the grogginess of waking up from a sound sleep. His arms wrap around me, blanket and all, and when he leans down to kiss me tenderly on the lips, there's not a chance in hell of me arguing with him as he guides me toward the room at the other end of the apartment...his room.

  Stryker

  "So your mom named you Stryker?"

  She's leaning against the counter in front of the coffee maker at the store just like she was a couple days ago, only this morning she's had a shower, a hot breakfast, and a thorough fucking.

  This morning, she's also smiling as she interrogates me over her third cup of coffee since we came downstairs and opened up the store.

  She's fucking gorgeous.

  "Yup, it was Mom's idea," I grin as I answer her.

  "Why Stryker?" she keeps up with the 20 questions routine as she joins me behind the counter and starts eyeing the name on the permits hanging back here and investigating all the other junk I have stashed in the nooks and crannies that no one else ever sees.

  "I don't know," I tell her as I roll my chair to one side so she can continue her self-guided tour. "She probably got it from some romance novel she read or something, she was always reading that kind of stuff."

  "Huh," she grunts softly, like it all makes sense to her now. "That sounds plausible, I don't know where else someone would come up with a name like Stryker."

  "You don't like it?" I'm not sure how I feel about that possibility. Mom named me and Mom's gone. The name is one of very few things I have left of her.

  Jordan takes her attention off the old snap shots I have printed out and pinned below the counter. She fixes me with those eyes-- this morning they're a deep, olive green-- and tilts her head down with one eyebrow raised. It's the same look I spent a lot of time memorizing that first day I met her and I still haven't figured out what it means, exactly.

  "It's a cool name," she finally tells me. "It just sounds made up, you know? Like a stage name for an actor that thinks he's going to be the next Hollywood hunk or something."

  I watch her shrug and take a sip of her coffee, which must be getting low or cold since she frowns into the mug she brought down from the kitchen this morning and heads back toward the pot.

  "I like it," she says when her mug is full and I can see steam rising from just below the rim again, "I like it better knowing it's your real name and not something you made up to sound cool."

  She laughs when I do and I like it. I like that she likes my name, and I like that she's smiling at me this morning.

  It feels good having someone to share my meals with and having someone curled up against me on the sofa after dinner, and it sure as hell feels good to have her warm, eager body on mine every night for these last few days.

  We've gotten into the routine of beginning every morning with a round of wake up sex and sharing a hot shower before breakfast and then coming down here and opening the store up together.

  It feels good to be friends with Jordan and I'd be lying if I said the sight of the tanker truck pulling into the lot out front didn't make my stomach feel like the bottom just dropped out.

  I swivel from watching the truck park and the driver hop out and start filling the tank to watching Jordan watch what's happening outside.

  It's hard to figure out what she's thinking from the expression on her face. I can't tell if she's excited to finally be able to get back on the road and headed home, or if she's feeling the same thing I am.

  "Oh good." Her face doesn't light up with excitement, but she does set her coffee mug down on the counter and walk out the front door of the store.

  I watch her watch the tanks being filled.

  Yeah, sure, I know she's got a life somewhere far away from here. She's going to have to find a new job and probably a new place to live since she says she can't afford her place now on what she'll get from unemployment.

  Staying here was never the plan. Staying with me was never the plan. Neither of us are looking for a relationship, no one wants to get tied down into something long term or complicated. That's what's made these last few days so easy-- so perfect-- knowing that it was temporary from the beginning.

  We're just a couple of strangers with great chemistry that ended up getting along after all and managed to make the most of our time together.

  This is the talk I'm having with myself while I watch her head around the back of the building
and reappear, pushing the little Yamaha 250 motorcycle her dumbshit ex bought her a few years ago because he didn't want her riding on the back of his bike.

  If I ever run across her ex I'm going to punch the loser. I've heard all her stories in the short time we've been hanging out and I've had plenty of time to get to know Jordan well enough to know she deserves a hell of a lot better than that guy. Or the guy before him. Or any guy who doesn't have the good sense to recognize how fucking amazing she is.

  Taking off on her own on her bike like she did, traveling on all these back roads where there's about nothing for cell signal and no way of knowing when she'll come across gas, or food, or a place to sleep.

  Jordan's strong and independent and her psycho ex tried to convince her those things were faults, not assets. He couldn't handle her spirit, so he tried to make her believe that no other man could either.

  If she'd believed him she'd have sold the little dual sport motorcycle that she just pushed up in front of the gas pump. She'd have never taken off on this adventure to prove to herself that she could do it.

  She'd have never ended up out of gas and camped in front of my store.

  She'd have never ended up in my bed.

  I'd never have met her.

  Now I'm the one standing just outside the front door of the store, my hands shoved in the front pockets of my jeans, nervously fiddling with the lose change I picked up this morning when I made the rounds of the parking lot.

  Jordan's out there laughing and gabbing with the driver as he finishes up the job. He laughs and says something back to her before he reaches into the cab of his truck and grabs his clipboard and then I watch them both walk toward me.

  I need to sign off on the the paperwork so the driver can get on his way and I have a feeling I'm going to need to grab the keys to unlock the pump so Jordan can fill her tank...and be on her way.

  An irrational need to stop one of them burns in my gut.