The Mansion

[LoganDarkHolme]

Once safely indoors of LI's abode, she made sure the door was locked and went to flop on his couch. "Crazy damn wolf. I wonder if LI left any liquor around here? I sure could use a drink.

((happy easter darlin))

He huffed a laugh as she launched herself into LI's residence, the resounding thud of the lock sliding into place he shook his wolven head, his eyes quickly looking over the lofty barn "You cant run forever darlin,", a bass growl rumbling his chest, he made his way around the Barn, LI had great taste when it came to decoration, he'd give the man that, reaching into the shadows he searched, Damn the man for leaving so many curtains open and allowing so much light into his place. It took some searching but he found a patch of darkness deep enough that allowed him to step through the ether into LI's bathroom, shifting back to human the thud of his boots echoed on the hardwood "Oh D..............." he called

 

[DarkWarrioress]

She didn't trust that sneaky wolf, not one bit and lit up the room with lighting. She couldn't stay here for long. He would find a way in for sure. That dang wolf thought she still belonged to him and she didn't. Not anymore.

"Crazy damn wolf," she muttered to herself.

 

[LoganDarkHolme]

"he snarls as she flips the lights on and he is thrown back through the shadows,*

"God dammit D," he roars as he lands on his ass outside "will you at least talk to me, Please! ". Getting up he dusts himself off, hurt, and fighting the beast beneath his skin to shift into his were form and rip the fucking door off. "Over a year ago you walked away from our mating, no word, no reason, and I respected the fact you needed distance and time, and I've done my level best to give that to you. But I'm not 100% at fault here, shit was taken out of context and misunderstandings happened on both sides all I want is to talk to you, I can't handle this tension anymore."

Inhaling deeply he tries lto et it out slow, forcing his eyes shut he leashes the wolf howling in his mind and shoved back the anger, hurt and rejection, opening his eyes once more they had returned to their human color

"I miss your smile, I missed your laughter and your humor, If you can ever forgive me, you know where my den is, "

Turning he steps into the closest trees and slips into the shadows, leaving her alone

 

[DarkWarrioress]

She folded her arms over her chest and huffed. How easily they forgot. She didn’t simply walk away. She had asked him if he wanted to break their mating and what had he done? Shrugged his shoulders and nobody was ever at a 100% at fault when it came to a relationship. Well, maybe sometimes that could be the case, it just wasn’t theirs. Over the last year she had learned that they were better off as just friends. They weren’t meant to be mates. While it had pained her to come to that conclusion, she knew in her heart it was the truth and she would not let Wolfie persuade her otherwise.

She heard him through the door and also knew when he had left. Thank heavens for Ice’s abode. She always knew she was safe here, well, except from Ice himself. A cheeky grin cross her lips. As soon as Logan left, she made her way back to her mansion, locking herself in and putting up her wards so he couldn’t get through until she dropped them and Logan could enter her home again. It wasn’t that he was unwelcome here, this was her sanctuary. Logan wanted her back and she there was no going back. Eventually, they would talk again and she would let him know he was welcome as a friend and nothing more. She was too busy with too many things to be involved in a relationship. How she let herself get into one in the first place, she wasn’t sure, but it had turned nasty and she had to admit, it had tainted their relationship.

Securing the locks on the doors around the house, she made her way to her study and sat down at her desk, determined to get some writing done today.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

The storms had passed. The sun was riding high in the sky and the air was warm. Perfect timing for her to get out and putter in her garden. As she did so, the wolf came to mind and she silently growled to herself. The man was ticking her off. She yanked weeds from the rose beds. He needed to go back and read what had been written some time ago. She stood by her words because they were right and she had written proof of that. More than ever, she was glad their relationship had moved into the past. She just needed some time and space. Right now? She was ticked. Majorly so. She found that weeding was therapeutic.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Since I don't have room in my Sig., I'm adding this here for those asking.

My SRP: https://forum.literotica.com/thread...rom-another-forum.705862/page-9#post-37247661

 

[DarkWarrioress]

She sat at her desk with a soft sigh. So much was going on and not only had she come down with a cold but certain aspects of her health had been acting up, as it were. Now, she was thoroughly on the mend. There were coming up engagements she needed to attend. Time was certainly flying by. Whirling in her chair, she studied the yard out beyond her window. Gardeners could have been hired but she wanted to s\care for her roses and such herself. This year, she started a small experiment and began a vegetable garden, of sorts. She had planted new flowers as well and everything was starting to show progress. There was a sense of accomplishment in such things for her.

The world beyond this one wasn’t exactly a pretty place, she thought with an inward sigh. She wasn’t even sure she could call it a place in progress. However, it was what it was and hopefully, things would balance out. The world abounded with idiots and she certainly hoped the Universe would balance them out too. Mother Nature and her volcanoes were giving a show as well. The world wasn’t exactly the prettiest or safest place to reside at the moment, but life certainly wasn’t boring, to be sure.

Whirling back her chair to face her desk, her thoughts once more turned to LI and hoped he was doing well. He had been invading her thoughts of late. Of course, she had thought to give him a call, but decided it could wait. Life, for her, was busy at the moment. There were life’s adjustments to accept, commitments to insure and a small host of other things to deal with.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Sitting at her desk with a fresh cup of coffee, she stares at her computer screen. Instead of reaching for her keyboard, she reaches for her coffee instead and turns her chair to face a window, staring out at her gardens, not really seeing the vast amount of color growing there. Instead, her mind is trapped in her creativity. A few sips of coffee and she turns toward her computer, setting her coffee near at hand before dragging her keyboard close and begins to type:

1. The Tainted Grail: I haven't figured out the storyline for this one yet. Fantasy for sure. That's my jam. I haven't decided if it's an actual object or if she is the grail. Stay tuned.
2. I love writing fantasy. Must be the nerd in me. I need more of this. Will work on it.
3. Dealing with a scenario in an apocalyptic manner. Two MCs that butt heads until they don't. Some shooting and death involved.
4. I need to go back and find the story I stashed here somewhere about a team sent in to deal with a cartel and I need to start it back up, maybe even leave it open to change with a co-writer. We'll see. It's just something I started on my own when I needed to write. I don't want to say bored because I'm always saying that if you have to use that word, "bored" then you're not doing something right. Get out there, do something. Read something.
5. While writing fantasy is my ideal, I enjoy modern settings as well. Give me a man in uniform and I'll turn into a puddle on the floor in an instant and I won't apologize for that. I was a military wife for too long back in the day.

I am a sub. Through and through. I enjoy dealing with Alpha males. I also enjoy being sassy when dealing with them. I enjoy conflict. Not only does it help build the characters and give them depth but it's fun. There are no-no's (boundaries) but those can be discussed.

I am a published writer, haven't published anything in some time, given the circumstances. I try to write everyday but that isn't always possible and my weekends are for family and myself. That may bleed over into Mondays, but I try not to let it happen often. If I'm taking off somewhere for any length of time, I do let my co-writers know and that it usually means I have no access to a computer for the duration. I refuse to be someone who gets after others for their grammar. So long as the story is going well, I don't give a flying fuck. Just please, no one-liners. I need more to work with than that. Sometimes, even I have to prod the old grey matter to fill in a response that will make the story move forward. If I can do it, so can anyone. Oh, and I'm not here to just write sex. I want a story. A build up with some meat to its bones. It has to make sense, just not jump right into the sex part of it. If you're looking to just notch your bed post. Go bother someone else, please.

I am on Discord and it's nice when a co-writer is too. If a question pops up, it can be answered fairly quickly. I also refuse to push a co-writer for a response. My feeling is that the world (other than here), comes first. Always. Also, I am only drawn to stories that are M/F. Sorry ladies, nothing against you. As an author, I've tried it and I'll pass. Okay, I need to get back to thinking on storyline ideas and figure out the whole "Grail" thing while I'm at it. Don't be afraid to stop by and hit me up if you have an interest in writing with me. I'm all ears. I'll write different stories with the same person. Done it, still doing it.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

HA! Finally found the thread I was looking for. I forgot that when a topic reaches a certain number the topic is shut down and you must start a new one. Anywho... The story was called "Jungle Heat" I'm reposting it here so I don't have to scroll all the back history of my mansion.

~Jungle Heat~​

Three months. Three damn, mosquito infested, damp months in the jungle. Shay Taggert stepped inside her tent, reaching behind her to pull the Glock 19 from it’s place of concealment and set it, holster and all on the table beside her bunk. Moving across the space toward a larger table that took up nearly one end of the tent and was littered with papers, Shay reached down to unstrap the Baretta from her thigh, setting it on some papers like a paperweight.

She was unbuttoning her fatigue shirt as she reached over to open the small solar powered, compact frig she kept in her tent and pulled out a cold beer. Normally, she didn’t care for beer unless it was Guinness but where the hell was a woman going to get Guinness in the jungle? She twisted the lid off the bottle and took a long drink. Maybe she could talk to Pedro. That guy could scrounge up anything.

Fuck. She glanced at her watch. It was 2220hrs and it was still humid and hot as Hades around here. The dark olive green t-shirt she wore under her fatigue shirt was soaked at the top with sweat. Shay shrugged out of the fatigue shirt, tossing it carelessly to the end of her bunk.

“Shay, got those---” he came striding into her tent with that damn low sexy voice of his just as she lifted the bottle to her lips again.

She was standing in profile to him as he entered, affording him the view of her taut breast, uplifted and pointed upward from the action of her tipping the bottle to her lips. She hastily lowered the bottle, swiping at her lips with the side of her forefinger. They stared at each other a moment. That moment was flagrantly charged with sexual tension. It had been like that for the last two months between them and getting stronger every day. She shifted uncomfortably, sliding her eyes away from his.

“Yeah, they’re right over here, hang on,” she turned, took a couple of steps, presenting him with an enticing view of her ass in the fatigue pants she was wearing as she leaned over the table that served as her desk. He let his eyes wander over the view, slowly.

She set the bottle down on the table, shuffled her sidearm, moved a few papers before she found the ones she wanted. She turned back, holding out the reports he wanted as she came toward him.

“Here you go. Santana and I checked on The Ridge. It’s a pretty damn good bet they’re not moving the drugs tonight.”

She watched him take the report and look it over. While he did, she moved to reach for her bottle of beer, taking a swig. She felt this need to do something with her hands all of a sudden. He glanced up.

“That looks pretty damn good,” he nodded toward the bottle she was holding. She glanced at the bottle then to him.

“Would you like one? I’ve got plenty. Sure does taste good on a humid night like tonight.”

She didn’t wait for him to reply, opening the frig, withdrawing two beers. She set her open one and a new one on top of the frig while she twisted off the cap of the third, moving to hand it to him.

“Here you go.” She held it out to him, startled to find his eyes on her.

The air got thick again. She swallowed and retreated the moment he relieved her fingers of the proffered chilled bottle. He shifted the papers into one hand, taking the beer. His eyes never left hers as he tipped it to his lips, drinking deeply. Her own eyes were glued to his hand, the bottle and then his lips. Her lips parted slightly, the tip of her tongue running along the edge of her upper teeth. His eyes darkened and a small low guttural growl emitted from his throat. The sound brought her eyes sharply back to his. She backed up a step as he slowly lowered the bottle and took an involuntary step toward her, then stopped. His eyes took their time meandering over her body. Her breath caught in her throat. When his eyes meet hers again, there was no mistaking the look in his eyes and what he wanted to do, right this moment.

“I better go,” His voice said he wanted to do everything, anything, but go. It snapped her out of her lethargy and she nodded.

‘Of course. I’ll be working on those other reports. I’ll get them to you as soon as I can,” she reached for her open bottle of beer.

Suddenly, her mouth felt dry. What she didn’t say was that it was deliberately going to be a few days before she got those reports to him. He turned sharply and left. As soon as he cleared the entrance, her shoulders visibly sagged with relief.

(continued in next post)

​

 

[DarkWarrioress]

~One month later~​

“What the fuck happened?” He was growling, his tone was vicious.

All four of them were crowded into Shay’s tent as Travers carried her in and laid her on the bunk.

“No, not the bed, Ben. I’ll bleed all over it.”

“Fuck the bed, Shay. Damn it. You’re bleeding here. Hello. We need to get it stopped.”

“Cut her out of the fucking shirt, Travers.”

“Give me just a second, Boss. Shit. Be real still, Shay. I don‘t want to cut you.”

Ben Travers got out his Ka-Bar and slid the tip into the opening left by the bullet that had struck her ribcage. If it had gone just an inch to her right, it would have torn through her heart. The Ka-bar slid across the material like butter. He pulled it off as soon as it got the buttons. He hurriedly unbuttoned her shirt flipping back the upper cut part to expose the blood-soaked t-shirt underneath. Again his knife worked across fabric and then went the hem of the t-shirt, slicing upward.

“Boss?” Ben looked at him, the tip of sharp steel poised over her bra.

“Cut it.”

The blade dipped and cut between her breasts. The material separated. Travers was urged out of the way, as Damien Cane took over. He probed her wound. Shay turned even paler and a moan of pain left her lips this time. She closed her eyes and squeezed the hell out of Santana’s hand.

“Went clean through. She was fucking lucky.”

Well. Duh. Tell her something she didn’t already know.

That was her last thought because whatever Damien Cane had poured into and over her wound, made her pass out.

~~ 0 ~~​

A soft low groan. The rustle of paper. The small creak of a chair.

The groan came from her own throat. A hand moved toward the covered wound but another, much stronger, masculine, stopped it. Fingers wrapped around her wrist firmly, staying all motion of her hand.

“Don’t touch that, Taggert.”

His voice was gruff with emotion. Damien Cane. The Boss.

Of course it was. One of his team had been shot. She couldn’t blame him. There was a soft rustle of paper again. He guided her hand away from the wound. Her eye cracked open. Her lips parted to say something but no sound came out. She ran her tongue over her lips and tried again.

“How…”

She inhaled, swallowed, continued.

“How long?”

Funny, that didn’t sound like her. The voice was raspy, weak. Her hand was placed high on her chest. He was careful to avoid the wound to her ribs. He sat back in the chair.

“Three days.”

“What?!”

She struggled to push herself up on the pillows. She had barely moved when two palms pressed against her shoulders, pinning her to the bed. She couldn’t have fought him if she wanted to. Pain, bright and sharp, flooded through her being and made her pale and gasp.

“Taggert, don’t make me tie you to the bed because I will.”

She blinked, trying to bring her eyes into focus. Her stomach heaved, the room was spinning and whatever smart ass remark she was about to make, was never known because she passed out. Again.



The next time she surfaced it was to the feel of cool humid air on her abdomen, her shirt tucked close to her breasts and masculine knuckles brushing against the underside of one breast.

“If those knuckles linger any longer, I’m going to break your hand.”

Now, she sounded like herself again.

“Shay! You’re awake.”

It was Travers. She managed a grin.

“Hello, Captain Obvious. How long was I out this time?”

He finished taping her bandage and shrugged before he gently tugged down her shirt.

“Half a day would be my guess. “

“Where’s the Boss?”

Ben rolled his eyes.

“Where the Boss always is.”

“So, did you guys give the report?”

“Hell Shay, we not only gave it, we had to repeat the damn thing, twice.”

“Help me up will ya, Ben?”

She threw back the covers and went to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, pausing when she saw she had on a pair of her sweat pants. She hadn’t gone out on the mission in sweat pants. Her head swung sharply in Ben’s direction.

“Who put me in the sweat pants?”

Ben slipped his arm under hers and slowly, gently helped her to her feet.

“Who do you think? The Boss wasn’t letting any of us do it. Even if I did get to cut your shirt and bra off you.”

Travers grinned boyishly. Not one hint of apology was in his eyes.

“Yeah, well, that’s the only part of your fantasy coming true, Travers.”

Her elbow found his ribs. His only reply was a grunt as he rubbed his ribcage. Shay took a hesitant step or two, wobbled and stopped.

“You gonna need some help, Shay?”

She shook her head and waved him away.

“Naw, I got it. Get out of here. “

She watched Ben head for her door.

“Ben?”

“Yeah?”

He turned with the door slightly open.

“Thanks.”

For a moment he was serious and inclined his head.

“My pleasure. Santana and I are just sorry you got shot. We underestimated those guys.”

“We all underestimated them, Travers. I’m still breathing. We’ll get them next time.”

“Yeah. Yeah we will. Besides, one good thing came of it.”

“What’s that?” She asked softly.

“I got to see your boobs and they’re just as I imagined them to be.”

He didn’t get out of the door fast enough. The pillow hit him on the back of the head.

“Ow. Ow. Ow.”

It was worth it. The effort. And the pain. Butthead.

~~ 0 ~~​

“We’ve had to stall until Shay healed properly but we should be back on track now. I don't have to tell you that, that last incident set us back, but I am anyway. I sent in Robles to do some fast talking and convince them that their men were just being jumpy and that we’re not too happy with the fact that they shot one of our own. We’re willing to let bygones be bygones but we’ve upped the ante. That shooting is going to cost them. They weren’t too happy that we killed all their men, but we’ve got the money and they want it.”

Shay leaned forward, wincing slightly as she reached for the beer bottle on the table. She had her knees drawn up in the chair, a couple of papers resting on her lap as Damien spoke. Their eyes met as he passed out another paper, holding briefly before his glance moved on to Travers. Her hand shook a little as she replaced the bottle on the table. It had nothing to do with her injury and everything to do with the boss. Damn him. She wasn’t sure how much longer either of them could keep up this cat and mouse game and all this pretending, oh, not with each other, but in front of the others. Whenever they found themselves alone together, which was real brief these days, the air between them was so thick you could cut it with a Ka-Bar.

God, she needed out of this damn jungle. She didn’t care where so long as there was civilization, good hot food and plenty of drink. She was getting tired of beer. For god’s sake, she hated beer. She’d even consider letting Travers cop a feel with both hands if he could produce a bottle of tequila. She glanced up from her perusal of the top paper in her lap and caught Damien’s eyes on her again. She absentmindedly swallowed and ran the tip of her tongue over her top lip. Big mistake. His eyes shifted to watch her tongue tip. She damn near squirmed in her chair when she saw his eyes darken. Even from where she sat, she couldn’t have missed it. Fuck. She glanced down at the paper on her lap again.


“Okay. So everyone knows what they’re doing.”

That hadn’t been phrased as a question.

“Meeting scheduled for 06:30 tomorrow. Get out of here. Make sure everything is up to speed and then the day is yours. I want you all sharp and fresh for the morning. “

“Shay?..... Shay? Hey. Earth to Shay.”

She glanced up. It took a moment to focus.

“Sorry. Yeah, Santana, what’s up?”

She got hastily to her feet, grasping the papers in one hand and her beer in the other.

“We’re headed over to the watering hole, wanna join us?”

The watering hole was a small place they found doing recon one day. Rocks, a small waterfall, a pool of water. It was a refreshing relief from the humidity. They usually took food and beer and lazed around, relaxing. She cut him a small smile.

“Sure thing. I’ll join you guys in a bit. I want to clean my rifle and the glock.”

“Hell, Shay I’m willing to bet they’re clean and well-oiled already. You, more than anyone else in camp, are the most diligent about their weapons.”

She laughed, clapping him on the shoulder as they left the tent together.

“You’re probably right but it never hurts to go over them just to be sure. I’ll meet you guys down by the Hole in an hour. Hell, I’ll even bring the beer.”

Entering her tent, she tossed the papers on her desk negligently. The beer bottle was upturned, drained and tossed in a waste basket. Walking over to a tall cabinet, she withdrew the rifle case.

~To be continued~​

 

[DarkWarrioress]

While digging around in my past posts, I found this and even though May has come and gone. It could use reposting. From May 2011:

The Study- Memorial Day Tribute.

Golden Sunrises and Dusky Sunsets, I still see them. I still believe in them.

Below, resting in the crater are dozens of plaques with small replicas of our country’s flag, given credence to the undisputable fact that there are many who have given their all for a cause, a basic belief we all have. This. This is nobility at its finest. The names mean little to me. I can’t put a face to any of them. I don’t have to. It is enough for me to know that here lies someone’s brother, someone’s husband, a father…son.

Freedom is not free. This country of ours, for all the good, the bad, was built on the sweat, tears, blood of the courageous, the noble, the dedicated. Sacrificed souls we can not even begin to understand. We can not hear their calling unless we have heard it ourselves. Unless we have walked in their path.

Upon each grave I have left a single plumeria flower a small symbol that none are forgotten, that their sacrifice was for naught. Yes, I have stood in this place before. They call it the Punch Bowl.

I have stood at the harbor, right over a sunken ship that still leaks oil to this day. A watery grave for oh so many. Silent is the harbor as Taps is played and echoes off the water. Flowers of tribute float gently on the water. There are so few men left from those days to remind us so we must do it for them.

The men in my family have been part of the Korean War, the Viet Nam conflict and Desert Storm. Luckily for me, they all survived. They also instilled in me a deep abiding love for my country. I have seen and lived in third world countries. I am proud to call America my home. We’re not perfect but what we have is far better than what many other countries have. We have the right of choice, the freedom of speech.

I have stood at attention, while we buried a young serviceman in my hometown's Veteran's Cemetery. A Marine. Semper Fi. Always Faithful.

We have buried too many active duty service members. One is too many as far as I'm concerned.

Taps echoed through the silent foothills, resounding back at us and perhaps my imagination played with me but I thought I could see the souls of those gone before come and bring this new one to their ranks.

The cemetery is filled with silent granite headstones of many service members, of different ages, from different wars. There are those who survived the fates of war but time has taken, the natural progression of life. Some are not so lucky. It is the younger ones my heart bleeds for. They died too young, never to become wife, husband, parent.

Taps. Played by a single bugle sends chills through me. It hauntingly reaches deep into my soul and grabs it in a fist, squeezing. Sorrow roils up, threatening to choke me. Instead, I feel tears slip from my eyes, sliding down my cheeks as I look away momentarily from the coffin that is ever so gently being put into sweet Mother Earth. He isn’t my brother, my father, my son, my husband or my lover but I feel his loss all the same.

War is a necessary evil and someone always dies.

No, Freedom isn’t free nor is the fundamental principles we live by. People will always pay the greatest price, sacrifice their best, to insure those aren’t lost. The very least the rest of us can do is not let them be forgotten. Ever. They will not have died in vain. Forgotten. Nor are those who belong to us but are still unaccounted for.

So thank you.

To those who have gone before.

To those who serve now.

You have not been forgotten.

You will not be forgotten.

You are appreciated.

You are honored.

Your sacrifices, your time, were not given in vain.

~SEMPER FIDELIS~

 

[DarkWarrioress]

One of my new favorite authors is Lola Glass. She has now got me hooked on werewolves. Alpha werewolves to be exact. I don't have any ideas in mind just yet, but I'm working on it as I work through one of her series of books on the topic. More on this later as my fertile brain kicks in.

When it does, she mutters as she shuffles off for another cup of coffee, hoping that will help.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

As she sat at her desk looking up a recipe for a marinade she wanted to make, she got to thinking about last night before the storms hit. The sun had gone down and all was peaceful. She sat in her garden with her drink and watched the lightning bugs flit around. Before she had made this her home, she had heard about them but hadn't actually experienced them and she found that they relaxed her, giving her, oddly enough, a sense of peace as her day ended. She never felt like catching them in a jar as some might do. No, she simply wanted to watch their little lights flash around her garden. The sense of peace she felt, at that moment, was something that was hard won. Her days were always busy. There was always something that needed to get done. So that, right then, she was grateful for. It was a simple thing really, but she found that all blessed things were.

Then the storms started to rumble in and she got inside quickly before they hit. Thunder rolled and lightning split the sky. The power of nature. It was awesome! The rain came first and the sound of it made her smile. When the storm rolled over her house, the thunder growling and the lightning flashing directly overhead, she was in awe as she stood at a window in the Great Room and watched. The power of nature was breathtaking and awe-inspiring.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

One day had turned into another. She got things done as they cropped up. Now, she was ensconced in her kitchen, elbows deep in dough as she made cookies. Music blared from the speakers above. The oven was on preheat. Baking sheets stood nearby just waiting to be filled.