Touched by Lightning Read online

  “I want you to ride me this way,” he murmured. “Want to give you the control you need and me the chance to touch all of you when and where I want.”

  Shivering from the low, seductive promise in his voice, she allowed him to position her over his lap, her legs on either side of his. With his hands on her waist, he guided her down onto his cock, the slow, relentless thrust causing her head to fall back in pleasure. Gyda grabbed his wrists, holding on for dear life as he kept pulling her down until her ass rested in the cradle of his hips, seating him to the hilt.

  It was so much deeper than before, the depth he reached hitting something inside her that was both painful and pleasurable. She sucked in a shuddering breath, her heart tripping over itself as she tried to adjust to it. But Brit didn’t plan on letting her assimilate to this new position. His hands left her waist to cup her breasts, his fingers plucking at the straining nipples, sending sharp waves of pleasure to her cunt, which tightened around him.

  “Ride me,” he whispered, his warm breath teasing the hair at her nape. “Ride me any way you want, but I want you to fuck yourself on me.”

  His words made her shiver, the slow grind he gave his hips made her shudder with want. She needed to come, the liquid heat between her legs a fire she needed to put out with his help. Brit let her move at her own pace, slow and tentative at first, her tight channel sliding up and down his cock, every inch of him dragging along her inner walls. He continued to pluck at her nipples, placing a soft, moist kiss on her shoulder or neck now and then, letting her set the tempo.

  Sweat began to glisten on her body, little beads of perspiration he licked from her skin, each raspy dab sending another rush of heat through her. It was hot and sexy and slow, a seductive dance they performed together and one that would have rocked her into orgasm if given enough time. But then one of his hands skated down her stomach, his calluses gently scraping her skin until he found the pearl between her legs. Gyda froze, a shock wave of electricity running up her body from her clit. And it wasn’t because Brit gave her some of his power. No, it was the intensity of the touch combined with the smooth friction of their bodies sliding together that set her off. All it took was for him to apply firm, tender pressure to her clit and rub. Twice.

  Before she went off like a rocket. A warbling cry escaped her throat as her orgasm crept up on her, demanding she work harder to reach it. No longer in control of her body, Gyda jerked and bucked her hips, riding Brit who responded by pumping into her hard and fast. Each hard clap of their bodies meeting pushed another cry out of her, her orgasm rippling and expanding, growing until she could barely breathe.

  The tension gathered and when it snapped, Gyda threw her head back, tears streaming down her cheeks from the power of it. Her response whipped Brit into a frenzy, his soft grunts accompanied by the hard slap of his hips against her ass as he pounded into her, his arm hooked around her waist to hold her in place. As if she’d go anywhere.

  Then, with one last slam of his hips and a low, growling moan, Brit came. He shuddered, his forehead pressed to the center of her back as he curled his hips, grinding his cock into her. Even through the continued flutters of her orgasm, Gyda could feel each pulse of him coming into the condom, feel the fine tremors that racked his big, muscled body as he held her to him. Gyda relaxed into him as he cuddled close, arms tight as though he needed her, as though he’d fall without someone to hold on to.

  She could have moved away. Should move away because she couldn’t feel her toes anymore, but she didn’t. Instead, she leaned back into him, letting him carry her weight, sated and relaxed. As their breathing settled and eased back into a more normal rhythm, Gyda stroked the arm around her waist, her fingers tracing the corded muscles there, a little in awe that this strong man could be so weakened by sex and have no shame in accepting comfort from her.

  She floated in a daze, her head resting on his shoulder as she stared out the window. The sun was pushing away the night, casting the first powerful beams of light through the glass. It was a magical moment, watching those dust motes float through the stream of light, Brit’s warmth cushioning her body, her muscles lax. It was special, a moment out of time.

  Then Brit kissed her shoulder and shifted beneath her. “Gotta get rid of this condom,” he whispered into her ear. “Sorry, baby.”

  Still too complacent to care one way or the other, Gyda allowed him to lift her off his body and gently place her on the bed. She curled on her side away from him, hands beneath her cheek, keeping her eyes on that window and the glorious sunlight that banished darkness. It was almost enough to make her believe in happiness, in love.

  Don’t be a moron, Sixteen muttered.

  His morning had certainly started off well, Brit thought as he tied the condom off and threw it in the trash. He grabbed a tissue and gave his dick a halfhearted swipe. He hadn’t expected Gyda to go for that position, had feared she might even tell him to fuck off, but she’d let him guide her and it’d been amazing. He shook his head. No, not amazing. It’d been un-friggin’-believable.

  There was something in the shy, almost timid way she approached sex before she got lost to it that made him want to show her everything he knew and even learn new things. Not right now though. She’d thoroughly drained him. But later…

  Smiling at the thought of what he could teach her next, Brit turned around to see she’d curled up on the bed with her back to him. And the reality of what he’d felt on her skin was met by the visual evidence. Scars littered her back. Some were deep and vicious, others were smaller, longer.

  The sight ripped his heart right out of his chest. He’d seen pictures of people who used scarring the same way they did tattoos, using them as artwork, but whoever had gotten hold of Gyda wasn’t out to create art unless they considered visible torture artwork. The small, long scars had gone silvery with age, but he recognized them as marks from a whip. They feathered over her back from hip to shoulder. Someone had beaten her. He’d known that. Had read about the damage done to her, but whoever said seeing is believing hadn’t lied.

  The whip marks were awful, yet even that wasn’t as horrible as the deeper, more vicious scars that covered the greatest surface of her back. This scarring was brutal, as someone had etched the word WHORE into her skin in an almost childish scrawl. Brit’s throat tightened as though someone was choking him, but it was only his heart and soul crying for the girl who’d suffered so goddamn much.

  He wanted to scoop her into his arms and swear vengeance on the bastards responsible, but he didn’t want Gyda to think he pitied her. That would be the death knell of any relationship with her. She was a strong woman who hid a delicate interior and she wouldn’t appreciate him coddling her. So instead of wrapping her in bubble paper, Brit slid into bed behind her, molding his front to her back. She stiffened a moment, settling in only after he kept his body still and relaxed.

  Spooned behind her, he was able to close his eyes against the tears stinging them without having to explain to her what had ruined his good mood. Well aware of her dislike of being held down, he gently rested one arm across her waist and when she didn’t stiffen again, he pressed his hand flat to her stomach. She was so small, so fragile in body, yet so strong. She humbled him. He dipped his head, burying his nose in her hair, breathing in the spicy sweet scent of her.

  Her soft, answering sigh made his heart ache and he probably would’ve dissolved into a wet, slobbering mess from crying if the door of his bedroom hadn’t slammed open. Brit sat straight up to see Murphy pound into the room, observant gaze taking in everything in a split second before he covered his eyes with a growled, “Fuck, sorry, Brit.”

  He hadn’t had time to pull the covers back over them, leaving them naked and exposed. Knowing how shy Gyda was, fury filled him, his power sparking to full, dangerous life that radiated out from him. Brit sprang from the bed, throwing the sheet over the very naked and beautiful woman in it. He turned back to Murphy, ready to blast his metallic ass into the next county.
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  “I told you they were naked,” Desta called out from the hall, being smart enough not to have entered the room. “But nooo, you wouldn’t listen to me. God forbid you actually pay attention when I use my ‘woo-woo’ powers to tell you what’s going on.”

  If Murphy’s face turned any redder, Brit would think he was about to have a heart attack. The other man ducked his head. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologized in a deep growl. “You’re just…” He peeked at Brit, his gaze darting to Gyda before dropping again. “You’re usually up by this time.”

  Desta’s frustrated sigh was audible as she said, “And I told you, he was up.”

  A muffled snort came from the direction of the bed, drawing all eyes that way. Gyda had her face buried in the pillow, her shoulders shaking. Brit shot a glare at the big man who appeared ready to sink into the floor. If Murphy had ruined the progress he’d made with Gyda, he’d electrocute the ass.

  He crawled across the bed to touch her shaking shoulder, prepared for her anger or her tears. Except when he gently urged her to her back, he saw her smile, her lips parted as she laughed. It was a husky, rough sound that showed how deeply her voice had been damaged, but it was also the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

  Stunned by her laughter, Brit sat back on the bed, staring at her, the way her eyes sparkled in the early-morning light and felt an answering smile pull at his lips. He wasn’t so sure what she found funny, but seeing something other than fear and misery on her beautiful face lightened is heart, banishing some of the shadows that threatened to ruin the amazing morning they’d had.

  Desta gasped in the hallway. “I didn’t mean up that way!” she squeaked. “I meant awake!”

  That was the tipping point for Brit. He collapsed next to his squawking, rusty-laughing girl and joined her. The intimacy of their morning was gone but not forgotten as they met each other’s eyes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Fucking her into submission wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I gave you permission to come out here with her.”

  Brit spun around, completely unprepared for the sight of Joe standing in the middle of his bathroom, looking as though she’d stepped out of Vogue. Mr. Dimples sat at her side, his head lifted to sniff the air. Brit’s hand shot out to grab a towel and wrapped it around his waist before she got a really good look at his junk.

  “There’s this thing called privacy, Joe. You might want to look it up next time you accost a man in his goddamn shower,” Brit snarled instead of addressing her statement.

  Gyda had just slipped out of the bathroom after giving him a mind-numbing orgasm under the hot spray of water before accepting the same from him. If Joe had arrived any earlier she would’ve gotten quite the eyeful. He glared at her balefully, ignoring the adorable smirk on her face. She blinked big eyes at him and giggled when his face heated.

  Because she was right and he hated it when Joe was right. Since that day in the bathroom and in his bedroom, he and Gyda had spent every night together. He’d learned what buttons to push to make her go crazy, until she rode him like a demon. But he never pushed to have her beneath him despite wanting to dominate her in bed. What man could have anything to complain about when the woman he wants pins him to the bed so she can take her pleasure? No man in his right mind would bitch about it. He’d lie back and let his girl do what she willed. And love every minute of it.

  Three weeks of complete bliss, of watching Gyda blossom a little at a time with only the occasional slip into darkness. She still refused to speak around the others, using her notepad instead of her voice because she hated the sound of it, but everyone noticed the difference in her.

  Most importantly, she’d begun to join in the training sessions with the others. She was far more advanced in the martial arts and hand-to-hand combat than the raw recruits and was often used for demonstrations because of it. With Brit only. The couple of times Murphy or Ted worked with her, Brit nearly lost his ever-lovin’ mind. The guys learned not to touch her and Brit had to live with constant ribbing from them. But what the fuck ever. Everyone had their crosses to bear. His just happened to be rabid possessiveness.

  He’d put up with a lifetime of pranks and jokes at his expense if it meant Gyda would always be happy. But that wasn’t likely. Since they’d begun sharing a bed every night, he’d awakened at her sudden jolt and her screams more times than he liked. Fuck, those screams were nightmarish. It didn’t happen every night. It only happened when she had an especially good day, or an extremely strong orgasm before sleep. As though her demons were punishing her for enjoying herself. It was sick and made Brit even more determined to find the assholes who’d hurt her and kill them single-handedly. The more time he spent watching her suffer, pretending everything was fine when she was with the others, the more he liked the idea of vigilantism. Something he’d always been against. Until now.

  Joe’s hair bounced as she shook her head sadly. “How the mighty have fallen,” she murmured with a smirk. “Is she still Tic-Tac-Toe with a knife or has she moved on to other targets?” Her blue eyes surveyed Brit from head to toes and she grinned. “You don’t appear to be missing any body parts, so I’m going to assume she hasn’t chopped off anything you hold dear.”

  Brit folded his arms over his chest. “You could’ve knocked or waited until I was dressed to have this conversation.” He wasn’t ready to talk about Gyda or his feelings for her. Not yet. “Besides, we still have several weeks before you can take her back for evaluation.”

  But Joe shook her head. “That’s what I’m here to talk with you about.”

  His heart stilled at her words, but his power rippled through him like a living thing. It didn’t like the threat of having Gyda evaluated before he was ready. “You promised me eight weeks.”

  “That was before one of Murphy’s recruits spoke with him and he in turn contacted us.” She leaned against the door as though she weren’t in a bathroom with her mostly naked employee. She waved a hand, her wide smile making a reappearance. “Honey, if you’ve seen one hot man with muscles and a towel, you’ve seen them all.” Then she became serious again. “You realize Millicent Tillman has mild healing abilities, right?” When Brit nodded she continued, “She accidentally touched Gyda during a training exercise and felt all kinds of internal scarring that might be causing her body distress. She’s not strong enough to fix them, just able to sense them and what she senses is pretty bad.

  “I don’t know how it was missed when she was first rescued, or why it wasn’t fixed then, but I suspect Gyda was so traumatized the doctors didn’t want to push her too much.” She shrugged. “Regardless, we want to send in one of our most powerful healers to work with her.”

  He was able to breathe easier. They weren’t taking her away from him. Recalling her silent pain about children, things were a little clearer. He’d wondered about a botched abortion and now he was certain the men who’d had her hadn’t cared how hurt she was as they took care of the baby. His hands tightened into fists he had to force to relax.

  “Who are y’all bringing in?” he asked, instead of swearing the way he wanted.

  Joe nodded as though agreeing with his need for violence. “Because this is the ass-end of nowhere anyone wants to be, we’re bringing in Asa Quigley.”

  Brit hid a grimace behind his hand as he swiped at his face. If it had been for anyone but Gyda, Brit would’ve told his boss hell to the fucking no. But there was no denying Asa was powerfully gifted. It was said he’d tested off the charts with his healing abilities, was frequently called into work on political leaders around the world. But he was also a dick. And he was coming to Brit’s cabin to heal Brit’s woman.

  “He won’t stay too long,” Joe said in a commiserating tone. She apparently didn’t like him either. “He’s the best there is and all five sector leaders agreed to send him in at Sector Leader Gale’s suggestion.” She rolled her eyes with a self-depreciating smile. “I’d rather have my eyes gouged out than have him touch me, but he can f
ix whatever’s wrong with her faster and easier than anyone else.”

  “I know,” he muttered with another swipe of his face. Shit, he’d have to prepare Gyda, let her know not to be alone with Asa. “When is he getting here?”

  Joe winced. “I put him in the spare bedroom and told him we’d meet with him before he formally meets Gyda.” She paused to look at her watch. “Which should have happened about five minutes ago. Hopefully he’s learned patience—”

  “Fuck,” Brit barked out because Asa was anything but patient and if he knew his patient was in Brit’s bed, there was no telling what mischief he’d stir up. “You should’ve told me that first.” He threw his boss a hard glare and raced from the bathroom to intercept the creep before he got to Gyda.

  * * * * *

  Gyda panted as she ducked a right cross and came up beneath Steve’s unguarded arm to hammer his ribs. He grunted, backing away. Sweat trickled down her spine, her hair was plastered to her face. It was hotter than hell out here in the middle of Brit’s clearing, training with the recruits, but the only other time she felt this alive was when she was in Brit’s bed. She dodged an uppercut and retaliated with a roundhouse kick that got Steve in the breadbasket.

  His breath left him in a whoosh of defeat and he held up his hand. “I surrender,” he wheezed. “Jeez, Gyda, you’re hell on wheels.”

  She grinned at him before sauntering out of the training ring to sit in the shade of a massive tree to cool off. The rest of the recruits were still going at it, unwilling to concede defeat. She glanced at the cabin where she’d left Brit leaning against the shower wall. And she grinned again before turning back to the group.

  Murphy and Ted moved among the fighting pairs, giving guidance and slaps on the back where needed. That was something she found she really liked about the recruits and trainers with the O.T.. They picked on each other, but they also supported each other. There were just as many compliments and constructive observations as there were pranks and jokes. Sure there were scuffles between the guys and posturing between the girls but none of it was vicious. It was like being in a family, something Gyda had ached for so badly since her childhood that it felt a little surreal to experience it now.