Madeline tugged her hood back over her head, even as the wind fought to toss it away again. She tried holding the front partially closed with one hand, but the wind-maddened rain ran down inside her sleeve, soaking her to the elbow. Fucking grand.
Her coworkers had warned her, each stopping by her office on their way out into the dark and stormy night. Like some novel of old, she’d thought to herself wryly, as each one uttered words of dread.
“It’s realllly coming down out there, Maddie.”
“You shouldn’t stay here alone, you know the power could go out at any moment.”
“Maddie, come with us…there’s strength in numbers you know!” This from Cat, her best friend at work. She’d looked up from the computer at that one.
“Strength in numbers…from rain? Cat…really?” and she’d laughed.
“Well, you know, it’s pouring out. And it’s windy as hell. And you have a long ride home. You could come home with me…”
“Right, and watch you and Evan coo and cuddle each other.”
Cat had smiled unrepentantly at her. “I could have his brother come over…?”
To which Maddie had shook her head vehemently. Michael was a piece of work. Too danged bossy. She’d only met him once, but that was enough. She’d shooed Cat out.
“Look, I’m almost done. If you all will stop bugging me, I’ll be out of here in 20 minutes. Tops.”
Two hours and 20 minutes later, with the storm howling up a gale outside, and rattling her windows, the lights had blinked, then gone out. She’d gotten two worried texts from Cat, the last one just before she left. She’d texted back “going, worry wort, sheesh”, and closed down her computer. Deciding that the better part of valor was traveling light, she left everything except her purse in her desk, and headed down the stairs.
In the lobby, she stopped for a minute, catching her breath. Phew! She’d gotten way too spoiled using the elevator. The rain pelted the front windows, sounding like beebee pellets.
“Not a good night out there, Miss.”
“No, Charlie, not at all. Have a good night.” With a backward wave, she’d stepped out into the fray.
No one else braved the streets, and she wished she’d had the forethought to call for a taxi. The odds of catching one now were slim. To maybe, none. Turning, she headed uptown. Within two steps, she had puddles in her shoes, and began muttering “fuck” every other step. Her toes curled, her heels rubbed, her elbow was dripping, and a wild gust of wind threw itself at her like an enraged harpie. Her hood whipped off her head, her neat bun was torn to shreds, her long hair blowing and blinding her. It was all she could do to stand upright. Grabbing for the nearest light pole she held on for dear life.
“You fucking idiot!” Arms came around her and supported her. She knew that voice…it was unforgettable. “What the fuck posessed you to go out walking in this?”
She looked up, rain streaming down onto her face, nearly blinding her.
“I don’t need your help, you know,” she shouted up at Michael Cox. He looked down at her, scowling as dark as the weather. He tugged her off the pole and all but stuffed her into his burly SUV. It was parked just behind the pole she had been anchored to; she’d never even heard him drive up behind her.
His door slammed shut. She cast a sidelong look at him, through dripping tendrils of hair. The shiver caught her by surprise, shaking drops of water onto her hands, which were clenched in her lap. Quickly she unclenched them. No point in letting him know he was getting to her already.
He sat and looked at her a moment, before he started the engine, and moved the purring beast out into the storm. Wind still threw buckets of water at them, but was unable to break into the dry and warm interior. Vainly she tried to finger comb her tangled hair into some semblance of order.
“You look like a drowned rat.”
She gritted her teeth, then decided to fight fire with simpering simpleton, which she knew would grate on his nerves.
“You always say the sweetest things,” she purred. Fuck him! Rather than glaring at him, she gave him a saccharine-sweet smile, one that slid away as she turned and looked out her side window. Better to look at the storm than him, the handsome devil. She tried to not recall the rain-slicked dark hair, the full lips that were curved into a faint sneer. Nor would she remember the feel of the strong hands that had muscled her in here, the same ones that were gripping the wheel expertly, guiding them safely through the storm. She remembered that he was special forces or something like that. Cock-sure bastard.
His brief laugh made her glance at him. Immediately she looked back at her hands. Damn, they were clenched in her lap again. He was too fucking handsome for his own good. And damned if he didn’t know it. Compressing her lips together tightly, she was determined to not say another word until he dropped her off at her apartment. Yet, peering out the window, she realized they were not going the right way. At least, she didn’t think so. It was hard to see much beyond the arc of the headlamps. The sheeting rain was silvered by the light. All else was lost in the gloomy darkness.
Seconds later, her guess was confirmed. A sharp right, and the sudden cessation of rain and wind made her blink in surprise. The silence was deafening after the cacophony of the raging weather. There were in a parking garage, lit only by his headlights. He pulled into an open space. A sign saying “Occupant only” was her first clue.
“Wait. Wait just a minute, bucco…”
His voice walked over the protest.
“I rescued you, but there is no way I’m putting us at risk by driving all the way to where Cat said you live. Deal with it. Or sleep in here. On second thought, you’re wet enough that you’d damage my seats. Grab your stuff and come with me.”
It sounded like an order. She wanted to balk, but that submissive streak she kept locked down in her deepest depths responded to it. Responded to him. Unfortunately. She wanted to roll her eyes, to protest, to argue, even as she opened her door, and slid out of the SUV. Her feet hit the garage floor with an audible squish. Oh fuck. Her favorite pumps were ruined. She took a deep breath, and turned. He was right fucking there. In her face, in her space. ‘Challenge, much?,’ she thought to herself. Oh, he pushed her buttons. Made her mad as hell. That was it. Mad. She kept her eyes on the middle of his shirt. One that was soaked through and clung to his taut frame like a second skin.
“If you move I can…” Her words were cut off as his hand gripped her chin, as his lips came down and savaged hers. His tongue pierced her lips, slamming into her mouth, and tasting her. He stole her breath, her brains, even. She shivered again, as a gust of wind cut through the concrete garage, and drove up and under her skirt. He tugged her closer, the heat of him branding her as her chest pressed against his. He was hard, and hot and strong; she was soft, and wet, and lost.
As quickly as he had begun, it ended.
She stood there, almost panting, as he stepped away. He spoke, not of the kiss, that searing, branding of his mouth on hers, but instead, called for her to follow him. Like a dog. Like a servant. Like…a slave. Swallowing down the burst of savage lust that nearly boiled her blood, she took a step. And another.
He took her arm and led her up the steps to his apartment. The emergency lighting cast a green and eerie glow over his features. Yet she continued to move with him, caught in a spell woven so fast, so intensely, that she could do nothing else.
There was a rattle of keys, the creak of a door, and his terse “wait here” as he let them into his dark apartment. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, but she heard him move away. Yet in moments, a soft glow became a strong beam as he returned carrying a safety lantern. He took her by the arm and led her down a hallway. She caught ghostly outlines of artworks without any idea of what she was seeing. They could be Picasso’s, or cartoons, she couldn’t tell. Still affected by his kiss, she mutely trailed him, her fingers locked in his hand. He tugged her into a bathroom, setting the lamp on the back of the toilet. His hands went to work, pulling her skirt down over her hips until it plopped with a wet splooshy sound onto the floor. Those clever fingers unfastened her coat, then her blouse. The pile at her feet grew, until she was standing in bra and panties before him. Gooseflesh erupted along her wet skin, then suddenly a thick towel was draped around her. He rubbed her body vigorously, arms, legs, belly, back. Her bra fell to the pile, then her ruined hose and panties joined it. Tugging the towel around her tightly, moving her hand up to hold it closed, he began to remove his own wet clothing.
Her lips tingled. Was it the remembered kiss, or the baring of his skin that was waking the need in her? This was a new feeling for her, the animal craving that made her blood boil. She felt like that storm outside, something raging and wild just under her skin.
Without thought, her hands rose to his buckle, as he tugged the sodden shirt out of his pants. Trembling a bit, whether at her temerity, or the chill, she released his belt, then the fasteners of his slacks. Her thumbs slid inside the waistband, and tugged off his pants and his boxers simultaneously. Lower they slid, over his slim hips. The towel fell away, leaving her as naked as he, and kneeling at his feet. His hand moved to her head as he stepped one leg, then the other, free of the clinging fabric. His cock bounced, just at face height, and already thick and half-hardened. In the strange illumination from the camp lamp, his prick cast a massive shadow on the far wall. She tilted her head back, then rose up just a bit to lick the tip of it. His hand curled around her head, pulling her forward onto his shaft, as he sank into her mouth. She choked a bit, gagging for breath as his hand forced her onto him relentlessly.
He wasn’t going to ease up on her, she realized. She swallowed, taking him deeper into her mouth, relaxing into the moment, accepting that she had given the control to him. Her nipples tightened, the skin of her breasts growing taut as they hardened into little beads of lust. She moaned, deep in her throat, vibing along the head of his cock. He pulled out, then slid back in, fucking her mouth quickly.
He pulled away, his cock slick with saliva. One thread of precum attached them for a moment, a silver strand of sex juice that stretched from the head of his raging dick, to her swollen lower lip. And then he moved back, pulling her by her hair.
‘As if she had a choice,’ his fingers tangled tightly against her scalp, she thought. Her pussy throbbed. How many fantasies had she had about this kind of dominance? She had known he’d be trouble. Deep in her pussy she had known that he could be just this way.
Pulling his hand free, he reached for her nipples. Despite the darkness, he found them immediately, pinching them between his fingers and rolling them this way and that. She gasped, would have fallen to her knees, if he hadn’t pushed her up against the bed.
“OH! Ow! Ow!”
“I notice you don’t say ‘stop’…” his voice was amused, dry. Popping one hand free of the torment on her tits, it coursed down her body, to cup her pussy. Those long fingers found the slit and followed it to the hot wet place between her legs. The other arm released her, then tugged her close, holding her with his arm around her neck. Her nose pressed into his chest, the mat of hair there tickling her nose.
Gods, he smelled divine. Hot, masculine sweat. A faint tendril of cologne applied hours ago. And rain. The temptation was too great; her tongue slipped out and began to lick. He was stirring a dark storm inside of her- the tempest outside was nothing in comparison to what was happening in here. His fingers probed deeper into her slit, her tongue slid hotly on his skin.
“You’re so fucking wet.” His voice was a low dark murmur against her head as the probing fingers found her weeping hole and began to tease. Groaning, she felt her hips sway to ancient rhythms, pulsing with the beat of her heart, and the pulsing of need. His cock pressed between them; the hard length of him was a promise in the dark. She swore she could feel him throb against her belly.
His hand fisted in her hair, pulling her backwards, and she fell onto his bed, feet still on the floor. His hands cascaded down her body like a waterfall, until they caught behind her knees and lifted. Her legs slid over his shoulders as the head of his cock bumped against her slickness, and without a second of hesitation, he banged into her. Arching, she took him deep, her ankles crossing and pulling him closer. Hands on her hips biting deep as he tugged her down the bed, down onto his cock, her ass hanging in space. Withdrawing a bit, it took only a heartbeat for him to screw his cock into her cunt again. It was a rough brutal fucking, banging hard into her, his balls a slap on her ass with every beating stroke, her hands fisted in the comforter, her ass rising in invitation for him to come deeper, deeply into her belly. She welcomed the brutality, welcomed the animal mating, his hands bruising her hips, then rising to tug himself deeper into her fuckhole, by holding her tits like guide ropes. There in the darkness, storms raging inside and out, they came together, a fusion of need and power.
Sunlight sluiced across the floor, casting questing beams across the bottom of the bed. She stirred, feeling like she’d been run over by a bus. She tried to ignore the sun, burying herself under the heavy dark blanket. It wouldn’t budge. She came awake trying to figure out why her blanket was stuck, until she turned and remembered every fucking moment of last night.
He was looking at her with that smile on his face. The smug one. The annoying one. Frowning, she pushed up on her elbows. She was not a morning person, not by a longshot.
“What’s so funny?” She tried hard not to glare. She settled for squinting. It was pretty damned sunny in here.
“You look like you just went through a hurricane.” He laughed, then ran a hand over the tangle of her hair.
“Hurricane Michael, so, yeah. I guess I did.” She gasped as the hand against her hair tugged. She moved up his body, fast, until she was plastered against him, and still he tugged on her hair. His lips slid over her throat, biting softly, making her gasp at the discomfort and the fast stab of lust.
“Lookout, it’s going to blow!” He murmured against her collarbone, before rolling her over and letting the storm carry them away.
**storms, even impending ones, do something primal to me…I wrote this in one (two-hour!) sitting, including edits…I guess the storm swirled through me and released this one! I don’t think I’ve ever written a story this long so quickly…it virtually wrote itself! ~n~**