Nymph (A Paranormal Romance Trilogy, #1) (2 page)

And when he stood up, he towered high, half a foot about six feet, his body so taut and toned that he was all muscle and sinew, no fat, no waste. He was a hunting machine.

He slipped his hand into the deep pocket of his hoodie and let his fingers caress the weapon, feeling its shape and size, familiarising himself with it for when it would be needed.

A breeze danced across his body, and he sniffed at it, getting a better idea of where he needed to be. The smell was coming from upwind, and so he moved with a practiced stealth through the brush, and alighted behind the thick trunk of a giant tree, peering around it, and seeing his prey.

A car was parked up, and within, he saw a blond woman and a young guy with a crew cut. One looked nervous, the other looked like she was in a hurry.

Hunter watched.

The couple was becoming more and more amorous, getting hot and heavy in short time, and as they did, he saw people emerging from the woods. Half a dozen bodies, staggering out like zombies, stumbling towards the car as the windows steamed up and the springs started to rock. They gathered, pressing their faces to the glass, peering in, an orgy of voyeuristic pleasure. Some started to fumble with themselves as they took in the show, and the stench of it all grew thicker in Hunter’s nostrils.

The noise from within the car grew louder, as she bucked and writhed on the man’s lap, screaming and swearing, telling her audience just how it felt as she fucked for them.

One of the onlookers suddenly stepped back and wandered away, fastening his fly as he walked. Hunter watched him go, watched him step back into the woods and hover behind a tree, catching his breath, swigging from a hip flask as his chest heaved and his skin cooled.

Back over at the car, things seemed to be reaching a climax, a crescendo of loud, hard sex. And just after its peak, the bodies around the car began to disperse, some heading back into the woods, others moving silently down the road to their own cars. No one spoke, no one shared their thoughts about the sordid experience, they just skulked off in silence.

And Hunter watched them.

Then the car door opened, and the woman climbed out, still half naked, her breasts exposed to the chill of the night air for a moment, before she clutched her shirt over them and moved away at a steady trot.

Hunter mirrored her movement in the trees, matching her step for step, keeping her in his sights at all times. A few yards further and she too stepped into the trees, coming close to him, but not seeing him, not even aware of his presence.

He fingered the weapon in his pocket.

She took a drink from a bottle, and then retrieved clothes from a bag hidden behind a trunk.

He watched as she slipped into the familiar uniform of the LAPD, pinning her shield back over her heart and plumping her swollen breasts, her nipples still huge and hard beneath her black shirt.

The smell of it all still clung to Hunter’s nostrils, even with this unexpected turn of events. He hadn’t expected her to be a cop.

It didn’t change much, he’d just have to be more careful than ever.

The woman stepped back out onto the road, moving more deliberately now, her poise different, changed by the uniform, and the weight of the gun and radio at her hips. He watched her ass moving under her pants, watched her walking down the hill.

It would soon be time.

A movement on the other side of the road marked the moment.

It was a blur, so fast and so silent that Hunter barely had time to react. The shape moved rapidly, heading straight for the woman.

Hunter burst from his hiding place.

Their bodies met in a bone crunching collision, Hunter’s shoulder slamming hard into the side of the other man, lifting him from his feet and carrying him back into the woods.

The woman moved on, unaware.

Hunter smacked the other man into a tree, hearing the air wheeze from his lungs. He had the upper hand for now, but the other man’s strength, guile, and speed would soon turn the tables, he knew it.

He lunged for the weapon in his pocket, annoyed he hadn’t grabbed it sooner, had it ready. He’d been distracted by her ass.

As he fumbled, he lost momentum, and the other man chopped hard down on either side of Hunter’s neck. The pain made him recoil, staggering back a few paces, and he used the cover to wrap his fingers around the weapon and pull it free.

But the speed of the other man surprised him; this one was strong and fast.

He piled forward, head first, smacking his skull hard into Hunter’s jaw.

Everything went white, and a high pitched noise filled his ears. Every time he moved, there was nothing but white blur, the shrill tinnitus starting to pierce his ears painfully.

He swung his arms in front of him, knowing another attack was coming, just trying to fend it off until his sight and hearing returned.

And yet, nothing came.

He blinked, and saw some vague shapes.

Another blink, and things got clearer.

He saw the trees, saw the ground, but didn’t see the other man.

Shit.

Hunter span, and something filled his vision.

A fist.

It cracked into his nose, and he immediately tasted blood in the back of his throat.

And then a smack in his wrist, and he let his weapon go, sending it flying out onto the road.

Hunter came to his senses, and managed to block and parry two more punches, dropping low and sweeping his leg. That upended the other man, who landed on his side and kicked out in annoyance, but Hunter was already moving back to the road to retrieve the weapon.

It had landed in a pool of light beneath an ageing lamp pole, framed in the orange glow.

Hunter stooped and grabbed, and span round ready for another attack.

The other man was quickly on him, screaming a spine chilling scream, trying to bite Hunter’s head and face.

Hunter forced him away, and lunged forward with his weapon.

He missed, but he saw the man’s eyes widen when he saw it, saw him retreat and put up his defences more tightly.

The momentum had shifted once more.

And Hunter took advantage.

He sold the other man a dummy, sending him left as he himself went right, arm extended. The point of the weapon pierced the man’s ribcage with a loud squelching crunch, and Hunter felt it penetrate the man’s heart.

A wheeze bubbled out of his mouth, followed quickly by blood.

He must have punctured his lung too.

The other man’s hands grabbed for Hunter’s wrist, but only took a weak hold, before his knees gave way, and he slumped down to the ground. Kneeling now, Hunter pulled it free, and watched as the man fell on his side and died, the final rattle of his throat so sickening, even as blood pooled around his chest.

Hunter looked to the moon, gasping for air, sweating hard, every muscle aching to the bone.

And when he looked back down, the body was gone.

T
he noise of the bar was making it hard to hear, and Chloe was examining her reflection in the mirror as she fingered a shot of whisky. The surface of the bar was sticky, and so was the floor, and the smell made it seem even more of a cheap dive.

And that’s what was making her clit tingle.

She knocked back her drink in one, and clunked it down, letting the bartender know she needed another.

Beside her, Patrick stroked the condensation off of his tall glass of Coke. The shift had been hard, and he wanted to unwind a bit before going home to his wife and kids. So she’d bought him here, hoping she might meet someone she could hook up with after he’d left.

Bad idea, as it turned out.

He was on edge, and that put her on edge too.

And so they sat there, in silence, the cacophony of their surroundings like white noise in their ears, making it even more awkward to talk. She wanted to scoop up her jacket and purse and sweep out of there, maybe go home; but more than that, she needed a cock.

Why was she like this?

She didn’t know, and she didn’t wanna analyse it. She was tired of the guilt; she was entitled to do whatever she pleased, especially if it pleased her.

And especially after a shift like the one they’d just had.

It felt like the whole city was on edge after the latest of these Southland Slayings. It was all over the news, twenty four hours a day, and it put folk in a scared mood. Which meant itchy trigger fingers, and explosive arguments.

No wonder Patrick needed to unwind.

He didn’t have an outlet for it like Chloe though, and she felt for him because of that. But there wasn’t much she could do except sit here and listen.

Shame the noise was preventing that.

Patrick fiddled with his stirrer for a moment, pulled it out, sucked it dry, then plonked it back into his ice filled glass. With that, he stood up, gave her a look, and left.

She didn’t know if the look was annoyance, regret, or what; and to be honest, right now, the way her clit was making itself known, she didn’t really care. They’d talk it out next shift.

She knocked back her new drink, and span round on her stool, spreading her arms out beside her along the bar, and looking about the place to see who was here.

Her vest top was a size too small, and she swelled around it, her cleavage full and swollen, her nipples poking hard through the flimsy cotton. There were no faces here she recognised, which made it even more exciting.

The possibilities of it all were getting her wet, and she squirmed a little on her stool thinking about it. And the idea that she might not be able to hook up, that people would be too on edge to take any risks; well that made her slump a little.

Then she saw the face looking out from the shadows in the corner booth. His piercing eyes were bright, even in the dim light, and they were fixed on her, filled with lust and desire.

Chloe didn’t need a second invitation; she never needed one.

She got up from the stool and sauntered to the booth, sliding in beside him, feeling the shadows enclose them and she sidled closer and let him feel her leg pressing against his thigh.

He didn’t baulk, always a good sign.

She glimpsed his lap, noting the bulge there, framed her cleavage for him and licked her lower lip, not saying a word. They always spoke first.

Yet he said nothing.

And made no effort to disguise the fact he was staring at her tits.

Which made her nipples poke harder and more forcefully through the cotton for him, which just made him stare more.

And her clit really began to sing with the attention.

She dropped her hand to his thigh and stroked it, getting higher each time until she tickled at his trapped bulge with the lightest of touches of her thumb.

And still he said nothing.

She felt her breathing grow deeper, felt her body responding to his presence, his smell, his body, and his proximity. Her fingers curled around that bulge now, feeling his heat, feeling him stiffen in her hand, feeling his shape grow and expand to her touch, and she hovered her face so close to his, so wanton, so teasing, knowing she would never let him kiss her.

And still he said nothing.

Her fingers pushed the denim of his jeans tight around his trapped erection now. It was so big, so hard, and so alluring. She wanted to drop her head under the table, take it out, and feast on it, as she slipped her hand inside her panties and give her clit the attention it was demanding.

And still he said nothing, the heat of his breath on her face now.

She pushed her mouth to his and kissed him hard, deep, wet, her tongue pushing into him and exploring him with a desire that made him grow even bigger in her hand.

He sucked her tongue so hard she let go of his cock and bought her hand to his face, stroking it tenderly as he did so.

It was enough.

She broke from the kiss and took his hand in hers, leading him out of the back door and into the alley way.

The exposed brickwork was crumbling, garbage was piled high, and hardly any light seeped in from the street at the end of the alley. It was so grubby and disgusting it made her sigh with delight.

She lead him along for a few feet, and then stopped, turning to kiss him and pull him back so that she was leaning against the wall, her legs stepped apart, as one hand stroked at his bulge and the other squeezed his ass. All the while, he kissed her hard, breathless, rough, eyes open, staring lustfully into hers.

It was too much.

She pulled her face from his and stared him deep in the eyes, tearing open his belt buckle and yanking his fly apart, loving the sound of the buttons popping, before she reached inside his shorts and fished out his giant, rock hard, red hot prick.

Chloe had no idea if she could get her hands around it, let alone fuck it.

She swore breathlessly, and cupped his swollen balls in one hand and wrapped her fingers around the top of his shaft, starting to pump it hard, watching it as she did so. He grunted and sucked for air, tensing as she teased his cock in ways that pleased him and got her so fucking wet out here in the filthy alleyway.

She felt like such a cheap whore as she pumped away at this giant cock belonging to a man who wouldn’t speak to her, to a man with no name, a man who buried his head in the nape of her neck and bit into her flesh with such venom she hissed and swore, gripping him harder.

He grew bigger in her tight grip, and bit down harder, his hands snaking up under her vest top and pawing at her naked tits, finding each nipple and pinching it tight, twisting it from side to side, pulling it, making her swear again, making her clit ache for more and more here in this squalid environment.

Chloe didn’t want to let go of this massive prick, and he didn’t seem to want to let go of her tits and nipples, pawing and massaging them roughly as his teeth bit along her shoulder. And yet she needed to rip open her own jeans now, to plunge her hand inside her damp panties and relieve her clit, give it some attention before she tried to fuck this beast.

That cock stiffened and swelled in her hand, and she knew she would have to fuck him soon, otherwise it would just be a mess all over her wrists.