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One arm locked under his shoulder so he couldn’t spin on her, the other keeping him in a choke hold as she pulled the man backward, off balance and dragged him across the floor, two dozen people staring, wide-eyed at them, some exclaiming with sadistic glee.

Seeing the outright terror on the face of the ONE guy she’d been really interested in, Rachel had her first pang of regret for publishing that book. She laid Chuck down as he tapped out, She whispered “That’s the most basic move in the book, you can’t get out of that?”

Chuck was one of those “stolen valor” guys, who said he’d been in the service but obviously hadn’t seen combat; all bravado and condescension. Everyone knew who he was, an Aussie who spent a lot of time bragging about the firewall software he’d helped develop.

She’d been giving a talk about her self-published book at yet another security convention. The book was on basic security: Bouncing, a bit about technology and hardware, mostly from her nightclub experience with her own illustrations.

Of COURSE she was going to get people testing her. She hadn’t thought Chuck would go that far, though. “You couldn’t take down anyone over 200.” The Australian said under his breath toward the end of the panel, but loud enough for almost everyone to hear it.

“Pounds or Kilos?”

He sneered, “Pounds.”

She eyed him; he was certainly over 200 pounds. She beckoned him toward her. “Ooooo” came from a few people.

“Can I take you down?” She asked.

He smirked, but she could see he was sweating, he pulled out his asp and whipped it to full length “You could NOT take me down, but you can bloody try.”

Now that she had consent, she moved before the last word was out. Like catching frogs at the lake. The asp clattered to the ground and that was that.

He grumbled about “Not supposed to touch people” and “did it wrong” as he stomped out of the room. She imagined they wouldn’t see much of him around after this. When the door shut there was scattered applause, she bowed stiffly, grinning despite the knot of anxiety that settled in her belly.

Rachel preferred hanging out with the techs. A lot of the actual muscle at the conventions were tedious at best, the software guys were easier to deal with. She knew enough to keep up on the conversation but rarely let on unless she caught someone trying to bullshit her or the crowd; even other programmers’ eyes glazed over when an engineer got into minutiae. She made enough at her regular job the book sales were beer money at best. The REAL reason she went to these conventions were the after parties and hopes of finding someone who either didn’t know who she was or wasn’t flat out terrified of her, as an otherwise typical red-blooded security specialist, she had NEEDS.

One of the techs was Briggs. In retrospect he was an expert at being unobtrusive but not quite ignorable. She knew Briggs in passing from the after parties, he was one of the red hat guys who did volunteer security on the side. Often he would just sit on the smallest seat in the room and watch people, interested, curious, but nothing more, he was just relaxing. Occasionally he’d get into loud and boisterous conversation with old friends, but generally kept to himself, people watching.

Looking back it was interesting at a convention where there were at least eight or ten gatherings to choose from he was usually in the same room she was. She’d caught him looking at her a few times and raised her glass, one off-duty security person to another, a nod, that was it. Half the time he had a girl on his lap, though she hadn’t noticed him serving as anything more than furniture in that capacity, keeping the few women’s more persistent suitors at bay, the women had him pegged as one of the “safe” guys.

Hypervigilance being common in the circle, catching him looking at her didn’t even make Rachel’s radar. All this in retrospect of the first incident.

She was behind him as they headed up the stairs, it was about midnight and they were the only ones in the stairwell, he stopped before opening the door. “Hey.” He said quietly.

“Hey.” She paused, thinking it was just a friendly hello. She went to walk past him and a hand landed, palm flat, on the wall next to her head. Blocking her way to the door.

How did I piss Him off? That was a big hand. The artist in her chattered away, admiring the bones and structure of his wrist, the impressive, meaty forearm that advertised he wasn’t JUST another tech.

Open-mouthed she turned to face him, UP to his face, she suddenly realized Briggs was a BIG man, a solid 6’4″ she hadn’t noticed when he was sitting at the parties. His eyes blazed. For a second she thought it was anger, but he loomed over her and his lips curved just slightly, the smoldering gaze from those grey eyes turned her guts to ice.

Well this is new. Rachel’s usual internal alarm system was strangely dormant, but her heart was escort bostancı in overtime.

“Hi.” His smile grew, then his mouth descended on hers.

Oh! Holy shit yes!

She didn’t hesitate or question, she met him, teeth scraping his lower lip, hand clasping the back of his neck, pulling him closer, tongue exploring, his body pressing hers against the wall. Her other hand grabbed his shirt to steady herself. He moaned low in his throat, a dangerous growl of approval that sent a bolt of aching tension through her core. She hummed needy little chirps as they kissed like desperate teenagers.

His other hand found her breast and rolled a nipple under her clothes, she gasped and thrust her hips against him while his lips worked their way hungrily along her jaw. She reached under his shirt and kneaded her fingertips down his back muscles, massaging the velvety granite chords she found there. He threaded his hand into her hair and made a fist, making her gasp.

Oh Gods Her heartbeat thundered in here ears, a tiny rational grain of her terrified that it would take very little persuasion to ride him right there in the stairwell, indecent exposure charges and all.

They heard the door in the stairwell below them open. She withdrew her questing hands, he smoothed her shirt, thumb deliberately caressing her nipple, he pulled the door open and ushered her onto the second floor.

“More later.” He growled quietly and strode down the hall toward the party, she right behind him. The part of her responsible for most of the trouble she had ever been in pulsed needfully.

“That never gets old.” She muttered, it being the first thing that came to mind through a roiling sea of endorphins. WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT COME FROM?! Being the second.

“Heh.” was all he said as he opened the door to the crowded bar. Her body’s need was almost physically painful. She bit the inside of her cheek, ordered a drink and tried to punish her raging libido to a less distracting ebb. She considered heading straight to the bathroom and rubbing one out, but people approached and started talking to her. Briggs mingled as well, occasionally casting sideways glances and a smirk, but not approaching her in the crowd.

She wondered what signals she gave that he took the chance to kiss her, or that his behavior didn’t raise any red flags at all, in fact, she felt irrationally safe near him. Nervous and unsure, yes, but absolutely safe.

As the party started to wane she realized he’d disappeared. She eventually made her way to her room and bed, questioning the next morning if it had really happened. Her lips tingled when she thought about it.

She didn’t see him for three months, again at a convention. He was helping run one of the vendor booths. Nothing save a nod was exchanged until that evening, he was headed toward her in the hall with the ground-eating strides of someone who had somewhere to be, he didn’t look at her, but slowed a little as he approached. “Peach whiskey in the room. 1735.” He said quietly on his way by and slipped a key card into her hand without breaking stride.

She watched him head down the hall -NOT toward the room number he’d given her. She slipped the card into her back pocket and continued toward the lobby.

She visited with other convention goers and was invited up to a publishers’ party. Not wanting to turn that down she went and hung out, asking questions of writers and war journalists for a while, she helped herself to glass of champagne and tried to ignore the anxious tension in her chest and the key card that felt heavy in her jeans.

After about 45 minutes she decided she wasn’t missing much and took the back way to 1735.

She let herself in, the promised whiskey, ice and two tumblers sat on the dresser by the TV. Otherwise there wasn’t much evidence the room was occupied.

She heard a noise from the bathroom and turned. He was topless, wearing just jeans and wiping his face with a towel.

“I was starting to wonder if you would show.”

“Were you waiting?”

“No.” He stepped closer, a self-assured smirk on his face.

She could feel the heat off his chest. Refusing to be intimidated, she stood her ground, just inches away. He smoothed her upper arms, his gaze turned from mild amusement to smoky. He took a deep breath and dropped his hands. “Whiskey?” head tilt, slight eyebrow raise.

She’d been staring at the expanse of pectorals that were at eye level, she closed her mouth and gave a little shake of her head to focus. “Yeah, sure.”

She watched his deltoids move under his skin as he stepped past her and filled the glasses with ice and whiskey nonchalantly. He handed her one, his movements deliberately slowed, posture that of someone offering food to an unfamiliar animal.

She took it with both hands, trying to hide the fact she was trembling a little.

“I wanted to ask you…” He said, taking a sip of ümraniye escort his drink.

Oh God here it comes. She felt panic, it was going to be something personal. About her ex or the scars or …. She swallowed and looked over at him, HE looked embarrassed. “Yeah?”

“How did you publish that book?” he was staring at the floor.

The fuck?! “Like what software did I use?”

“Yeah, how did you get it online everywhere?”

She told him. “Were you writing something?”

“Just editing. John wanted me to publish something for him.” His friend and blade vendor. John was clever but a little lost when it came to technology.

“It’s not hard, but find a couple of copy editors. I swear we went over mine about eight times and I’m still finding mistakes.”

He nodded, took a drink.

She realized she hadn’t touched hers and downed half of it in one go. It burned pleasantly. “Oh this is good. You didn’t have to get me drunk for me to answer that, though.”

His demeanor changed completely. “Oh that is NOT why I invited you here.” He smiled slowly, it became a full malicious grin.

She matched it. “Really? So, Briggs, why did you invite me here?” She took another drink and put it on the dresser, he set his down and stepped closer. My God those shoulders.

“I think you know why, Rachel.”

“I kinda don’t.” She said dumbly. The torso she’d been admiring filled her vision. Suddenly he was very, very close. Her hand traveled, unbidden, to the middle of his chest, she ran her fingers through the hair there, it was surprisingly soft.

“Oh you do.” His index finger curled under her chin and tilted her head up. He leaned in to kiss her and she was lost. Lips, tongue, teeth, hungry, desperate, needy, her fist clenched in his chest hair and she used it to keep her balance, briefly wondering if he was self-conscious about it.

He moaned helplessly, his arms coming around her and crushing her to him. She caught herself panting with need. “Gods.” she said pulling back and meeting his fiery gaze with her own pleading one.

He stepped back and climbed onto the bed, holding out a massive hand. There was a moment of stillness and she followed, crawling up and straddling him, grinding against his jeans, massaging his shoulders and meeting his lips again. His growl sent her blood running hot, she quelled the urge to attack him like a starving lion.

He pulled her shirt out of her jeans, running his hands up bare skin slowly, kneading her breasts, gently rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger, causing her to gasp and whimper against his mouth. He growled again, this time with intent, pulling her shirt over her head. She raised her arms complacently and he tossed it on the floor, her gaze captivated by his chest as he worked the clasp on her bra, she tossed that off once he had it.

Gods. Oh Gods. So much man. So much. She gave into her desire to be in full contact, her lips and teeth went to work on his neck, his chest rising, silky and rough at the same time under hers. He gasped.


“Mmm.” her tongue flicked his ear.

He swallowed; “Rachel I’m wearing too many clothes.”

She whispered “You are.”

“Let me…”

She swung her leg over and was off of him. Feeling self-conscious, she stepped off the bed and removed the rest of her clothing, heard his jeans hit the floor and turned, schooling herself to be still and exposed.

Naked. Both naked. They stared.

Those hip bones, the muscular thighs, the way the tendons in his hands and forearms jumped as he gripped the covers. He had more scars than she did, longer, deeper. Her eyes moved to the goods. Mostly hard, resting to one side between his hip and his belly. Not huge, not for his body size. Perfect.

She shuddered thinking that was minutes away from rubbing the exact spot that needed it right now. She had to look twice: Circumcised. How interesting. He must be older than she’d thought.

He met her gaze, one eyebrow lifting, a question. He swallowed nervously. “Well?”

Now what? She smirked, realizing he was more curious about what she thought of him than any visible anomalies she had. “Well.” She pointedly looked him over. Puppy eyes? Puppy eyes. Such range. “Hello, Briggs.” She took a huge breath, he looked uncertain and a little scared. She shook her head, suppressing a grin and scanning his form again, then back to those eyes, “May I?” Climb all over that sexy body.

He spread his arms, palms toward her, in invitation.

Moth to a flame. She approached to one side, massaging his offered hand, working her way up, getting closer, fingers working the muscles in his upper arm, then she straddled him again, high enough up his torso he couldn’t spear her, kneading his shoulders and moving down to his chest. God it’s like straddling a picnic table. Her hands roved over him in wonder, this creature, heart beating, chest rising beneath her kartal escort bayan hands. She smiled contentedly.

His hand maneuvered between her legs, fingers making a pass at her, once, twice then slowly working their way in, she squirmed. He’s good at this. Her breath came in little pants as his fingers found wonderful tight tingly places inside her.

After too short a time he pulled away, she let out a disappointed whine.

His face glowed with mischievous accomplishment, “Wanna go for a ride?” One eyebrow arched, grey eyes blazed. He reached for a condom on the nightstand.

Where’d that come from? “Yes. Yes please.”

He grinned.

She swung off of his belly and knelt at his side, taking the little packet from him, using the opportunity to brush her fingers against his and run her middle finger up his palm. She was rewarded with the tiniest of impatient growls.

She opened the package with her teeth, reaching for his cock with her other hand. Hmm. He wasn’t fully hard. This wasn’t going to work. She worked it a little, his eyes smoldered, that look making her heart pound. Only one thing for it, she leaned over him “May I?”

“Hell yes.” He trembled slightly. Her tongue circled the head once, an intake of breath, his arms tensed. She took it in, putting pressure on the vein with her tongue as she did so, sucked hard. Now a dilemma, keep going or put the condom on and … Who the hell am I kidding?! Be a little selfish, Rachel.

She went down once, twice, tasting copper and salt and hey presto, a mast hard dick just for he…rrr Holy shit he got big. She took him into her mouth again as far as she could, then up, rolled the thing on, fingers circling him firmly, pushing it down.

She swung a leg over, moving him to her core with her hand, circling, seeking, then down, in, he was sheathed. Sensation blazed into her like a freshly lit torch.

Heads thrown back, both moaning. He gripped her thighs, she put her hands over his and rocked her hips.

Grinding, harder, find the spot… he lifted to meet her.

“Oh GAWWWD.” Her jaw trembled and her voice broke.

“Oh yeah.” He whispered. “Fuck me Rachel.”

She moved on him, rocking, grinding, he met her, she squirmed to hit that spot… She bit her lip when she caught herself making little mewling noises. Closer…. Her thighs burned with the strain.

In a sudden move he was up, she was on her back, one leg over his shoulder and he was thrusting into her, rough, his gaze distant, determined. Gravelly, low noises emanating from his chest. His shoulders shifted and tensed, his massive form looming over her with brutal, focused intent, his eyes blazed hungrily.

She threw her head back, her other leg wrapped around his waist and she focused everything on her center.

Her core sang. She gripped the bed and shifted just a little, arching into him THERE.

The spiral started, spread like frost through her with each thrust, wresting control to the most primal threads of her system until everything was alight from toes to scalp.

“I’m going to come now.” She whimpered, it sounded far away. Her heel on his back pulled him closer, he increased speed and she was shuddering, clenching, crying out as her hungry sheath milked him and the rest of her body twitched and rolled under him, “Don’t stop yet.” her voice hoarse, straining.

He sped his pace, releasing a determined, satisfied growl, nails digging into her thighs, “Ready?”

Lost in the first wave of orgasm, she managed “Uunnh.” Legs and hips trying to bring him closer as he pulled back, slammed into her one last time and they were both there.

Pumping into her, a slave to his own body, mouth open, eyes rolled back, he let out a soft roar that sounded like he’d been wounded.

She continued to shudder, grip, claw, whine low in her throat. Just when she thought it was over he’d twitch and another wave would hit, he grew soft inside her, yet his thumb went to her now oversensitive clit, she cried out in surprise and shock. Too much! Too much! Simultaneously bucking her hips and trying to squirm away from that damn thumb. “Stop it!” She gapsed. “Staaaahhhp!” She grabbed his wrist and dug her nails in. He chuckled fiendishly but he did pull his hand away.

They stayed locked together as orgasm ebbed, catching their breath. She absently stroked his forearms, still twitching occasionally. He watched, fascinated, wearing a close-lipped accompished smirk.

He pulled out cautiously and flopped onto his back. He delicately removed the condom and dropped it on the trash can by the bed, she moved to all fours, head down, trembling, panting.

An eyebrow raised and he put his hand out. She shakily crawled over and curled against him, head on his shoulder, arm across his chest, stroking it weakly, still giving the occasional shudder.

“You OK?” He rumbled, his tone amused.

She nodded, gave him a thumbs up, then an index finger at the ceiling, gimme a minute, you monster.

Finally she relaxed completely, sated and content, possibly for the first time in years. Safe. “How did you know?”

He looked down at her, hesitated, nuzzled the top of her head. “Know what?”

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