Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

71. Rain

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It rained almost non-stop in Imp City for over a week. Floodwater covered a majority of the roads and sidewalks, and the cool moisture in the air combined with the persistent autumn wind chilled me to the bone the few times I set foot outside. On the tenth day of rain, Striker and I holed away in my apartment. After finishing the cheese omelets he had made for a late brunch, we relaxed on the couch and channel surfed until we found a movie to watch. The heavy rain beat on the windows of my living room, and I could hear the faint roar of thunder in the distance. There was sure to be another bad storm later that evening, I could feel it.

I tossed the TV remote on the coffee table and leaned into Striker's frame once I landed on some obscure hellborn movie. We lay parallel on our sides on the couch, sharing one of my larger throw blankets, and he adjusted himself behind me and slid an arm underneath so I could rest my head. He draped his other arm over me, stroking his knuckles against my shoulder.

I smiled at his display of affection and nuzzled further into the warmth of his body, and in response, he tightened his hold on me and kissed my temple.

"I love you," he muttered softly, his fingers travelling down my arm in a light caress. He wandered down my side and past my hips, finally stopping at my thigh. Not wanting anything in the way of his touch, I hiked up the hem of my nightgown, and he gently squeezed the flesh on my thigh before gradually moving up to my hip.

I bit my lip when Striker's hand migrated to my groin. He rubbed my womanhood over my panties, moving in slow, rough strokes. I sighed into his sleeve, covering his hand with mine.

"Lemme make you feel good again, darlin'," he whispered in my ear and slipped his hand into my panties. He planted long, hot kisses on my neck and shoulder as his fingers danced across my womanhood, eventually settling themselves on my clit. I mewled, loosely grasping at his forearm to guide him toward my opening. Striker obliged me, shifting his hand downward before quickly sliding a finger inside me. He grinned at how easily it went in — even after all this time, it still took very little for him to make me wet with arousal.

"You're soakin' wet already," he mused smugly. He stroked my sweet spot for a moment, then removed his finger and brought his hand back to my clit.

I moaned, my hand tightening slightly around his wrist. I spread my legs open for him, allowing him full access to my most private parts. He pulled me closer to him and slipped two of his fingers inside me as deep as he could fit them. His hand stroked my walls in tantalizingly slow movements, applying more pressure with every sigh and whimper I made. The heel of his palm pressed against my clit, rubbing the sensitive flesh over and over with each motion. His free hand found my face, and he gingerly took hold of my jaw and turned my head to look at him. His eyes glowed like burning cinder, a spark of lust beginning to ignite in them. A smile tugged at my lips, and I craned my head to plant a firm open-mouthed kiss on his lips. He returned the gesture, his long forked tongue mingling with mine. He pressed his groin to my backside, moaning softly into my mouth as I ground my rear into his growing erection.

"Oh, Striker," I mewled against his lips.

"Tell me what you want, darlin'," he murmured, kissing my jaw.

A sigh of pleasure escaped my throat, and I lifted my hand to hold the back of his head, keeping his eyes locked on mine.

"It's been so long," I said breathlessly, my face becoming flushed with arousal. I shook my head in desperation. "Just make me feel good."

My words earned a satisfied smirk from him, and he kissed me fervently. His free hand travelled to my chest, fondling and squeezing my breast through the thin fabric of my nightgown. He picked up the pace, causing me to lose focus, and I gasped when he hooked his fingers inside me and quickened his thrusts even more. I moaned louder, clinging to him by the nape of his neck. I closed my legs around his hand, and I bit my lip at the bolt of pleasure that the friction sent through me.

Striker let out a quiet chuckle. "Open your legs for me, darlin'," he purred, his gravelly voice rumbling in his chest. "I can't make you feel good if you don't let me try."

Reluctantly, I did as told and spread my legs apart, freeing his hand. My frame shuddered as he continued to stroke me, and I slapped a hand over my mouth when I felt myself already approaching the edge.

"Oh, God, Striker," I whimpered through my fingers. "Oh, God — oh, f-fuck . . . !"

My words devolved into unintelligible whines as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. The tightening coil inside me snapped, and I was suddenly cloaked in a blanket of ecstasy. My whines and moans turned to loud gasps at the overwhelming sensation. I winced when the spasms that racked my body agitated my belly wound, but I ignored the pain and tried instead to focus on the delicious feeling that I had so badly craved for months.

I rested my head on Striker's arm while I slowly floated down from my high, panting into the crook of his elbow. Striker smiled and pressed his lips to my cheek, his hand still lazily playing with me.

"You alright?" he whispered. "Are you hurtin' any?"

I shook my head, looking up at him and tiredly mirroring his smile. I brought my hand to his cheek. "My love, I am wonderful," I answered, pulling his head down for a long, open-mouthed kiss.

Striker finally removed his fingers from me and returned the kiss with equal fervor, a tiny moan escaping him. I pulled away and stared into his glowing eyes, my passion still burgeoning within my core.

"I don't think I've ever wanted you more than I do right now."

A wide grin tugged at his lips, and without hesitation, he sat up on the couch and swooped me up into his arms. He kissed me hard, clutching my frame tightly to his, and stood to walk down the hall toward my bedroom.

"I've waited a long time for this, darlin'."